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shadow_vector2010-03-17 06:17 am
Sky and Ground 29 Summoned
Sticky
Bayverse AU
BarricadexSkywarp, SkywarpxStarscream
Barricade lay half in recharge for a long time, simply reveling in the warm glow and nearness of Skywarp’s body. He could not describe how much he’d missed even the little details: the soft hum of Skywarp’s engine, the smell of warmed joint lubricant, the feel of the weight on top of him. They all felt like love to him now.
And…more. His interface systems had cycled on during his recharge, no doubt also aware of their own associations with Skywarp’s nearness. He’d awakened from a memory purge that left him almost breathless: Skywarp pinning him down growling with lust as he rode Barricade’s spike. Unsurprisingly, Barricade woke up with an aching, slicked spike, and those memories lapping at his sensor net. He was a little ashamed to say that he missed that. Skywarp was not ONLY that, of course, but he did miss that part as well—the almost tender violence of their intimacy. The way Skywarp would look at him—fiercely possessive, almost mad with desire—no one had ever looked at Barricade that way. And the violence: he knew it was there, but compared to Skywarp’s careful gentle consideration? He could not deny either truth: the brutal assaulter nor the considerate lover. Both were Skywarp, and he loved Skywarp.
And he wanted him. Wanted to show him with his body what he didn’t trust words to convey.
He wriggled upward, the jet’s heavy frame sliding over his, until he could reach Skywarp’s face, pulling the jet down into a gentle one-sided kiss. He pressed his mouth against Skywarp’s for a long moment, simply feeling as much as he could from his mouth plates, letting memories of other kisses—tender and fierce—wash over him. No one had ever kissed him like Skywarp had. He parted his mouth, his glossa tentative against Skywarp’s mouth, tasting the texture of the satiny armor. Even Skywarp’s face was heavily armored, unlike Barricade’s lighter plating. Yet Skywarp could move even these heavy defensive plates so gently they felt like feather-touches.
Barricade ached with emotion, the most beautiful pain he could imagine. His talons reached up, stroking Skywarp’s helm, tracing delicate lines along the heavy collar armor, as his mouth worked against Skywarp’s mouth, coaxing it into a kiss.
“Muh!” Skywarp jolted awake, the red optics unshuttering and flickering to life. He blinked, blearily, at Barricade looking up at him, hands still extended toward his sensitive audio. He bent down into an actual kiss, his mouth probing at Barricade’s, arms coming up to stroke the smaller mech’s sides. His glossa danced with Barricade’s. Barricade could hear the soft growl in the jet’s throat. His systems trilled in response.
“Bad way to wake me up, little spike,” Skywarp teased, his voice husky.
“Is it?” Barricade grinned. His spark leapt with a kind of joy. This was his Skywarp again. Intense, but playful. “Can think of other ways to wake you up.” He wiggled his foot, which was just about the level of Skywarp’s interface hatch. Skywarp smiled back.
“You are going to start all sorts of trouble for yourself that way,” Skywarp admonished. He reached over, casually, and pushed one of Barricade’s wrists against the berth. The memories from that gesture flooded over both of them—Skywarp’s smile took on a lewder edge as Barricade arched his spinal cables in response. “You really like that,” he said, wonderingly.
“Yes,” Barricade said, simply. He liked anything Skywarp did. Skywarp’s optics drooped, almost as if he was overcome by some emotion Barricade could not name.
Skywarp’s grin returned. “Your mistake, little spike, is that you have awakened a sleeping Seeker. The penalty is very, very high.”
“Is it?”
“Mmmm, yes.” Skywarp dipped his head down, flicking his glossa at the air intake in the center of Barricade’s chest. That spot that…so long ago, it seemed, he had told Barricade was his favorite. Barricade squirmed, victim of his own sensor net as the touch sent flickers of liquid heat and pleasure through him. He couldn’t keep the giddy smile from his face. Oh Primus, how he’d missed this. What he’d had, what he’d done with Starscream was pure physical need. This was…so much more than that.
Skywarp looked up, his optics strangely shadowed. “You trust me to…?”
His hesitation stabbed at Barricade’s spark. “Yes,” he breathed.
“Shouldn’t be this trusting,” Skywarp said, softly, almost sorrowfully, as he slithered down Barricade’s body, the bulge of his cockpit sliding between Barricade’s thighs, his free hand teasing at Barricade’s headlamp, before he reached over with one of his thumbs and snapped open Barricade’s interface panel. He paused over the covers, hot ex-vents hitting the newly exposed metal. Barricade whimpered, longing for contact, twisting his hips upward. His spike ached in its housing—he could already imagine the warm inviting pressure of Skywarp’s mouth, or his valve. Ohhhhhh, how he wanted that. How he wanted to feel it, but more, he wanted to know that Skywarp enjoyed it. The black jet had been through so much—more than Barricade could even imagine—and if his body brought him any solace, Barricade was more than willing to give it.
Skywarp teased the spike cover, laughing as it clicked eagerly open. “You DO want me,” Skywarp teased, the vibrations from his laughter and his baritone voice sending electric shimmers across Barricade’s net. He licked his glossa up the length of Barricade’s spike, teasing the nodes as he went. Barricade’s hips lifted, trying to prolong contact.
Skywarp’s entire frame suddenly went rigid, the smile dying from his mouth. Barricade felt his supraorbital crest furrow in worry. What? A bad memory?
Skywarp swore, in a deep, savage tone Barricade had never heard before. He pushed away. “Have to go,” he muttered.
Part of Barricade—the part that his spike was attached to—howled in outrage. He wanted Skywarp so badly: hadn’t even had the chance to give anything back to Skywarp. He suddenly felt abashed at his own greed—that he had just lay there, and not tried anything to please Skywarp. And you say you love him, he berated himself. Selfish.
Another part was worried—Skywarp did not seem pleased. His entire body language was anxious. “You—you okay?”
Skywarp pushed himself to the edge of the berth. He sat, for a long moment, his broad back to Barricade. Barricade softly snapped his interface hatch closed, and rose up on his knees, draping his arms around Skywarp’s shoulders, his chassis wedged between the jet’s engines. He pressed his cheek against Skywarp’s. Skywarp hadn’t answered his question, but he didn’t want to ask again. He just wanted to take the tension away. Skywarp shifted, brushing his mouth against one of Barricade’s forearms. “Have to go,” he repeated, numbly.
“Right now?” Barricade tried not to sound pettish.
“Trine.” As if that explained everything. It didn’t: it filled Barricade with an icy dread.
“No. Don’t go.” He hated saying no. Not to Skywarp.
“I have to, little spike.” Skywarp’s voice was thin, unhappy. Shut up, Barricade snapped at himself. Don’t make it any harder. He released his arms from around Skywarp’s neck.
“Okay,” he said, softly. Submitting.
Skywarp murmured something comforting, and left. Barricade flopped back onto the suddenly gapingly-empty berth, feeling a chill as if Skywarp had taken all the heat from the room with him. He will be fine, he told himself. And he will come back to you. He came across how many parsecs of space back to you? Do not lose faith now. Do not.
He thought of following Skywarp, barging in. Thundercracker’s haughty dismissal of him in the hangar hadn’t stung him before, but it did now. He mattered. And he wanted to make sure Thundercracker knew this. And he would step in for Skywarp. Help him.
He moved to the edge of the berth, his foot brushing something that clattered on the floor. What? He sat up to retrieve it, his fingers closing around the shape as though he ought to know what it was. He knew—with a shock as hard as a stone—what it was.
His spark chamber cover. Skywarp had taken it off. Barricade closed his eyes in misery, curling into a ball around the discarded metal and his heartbreak.
***
Starscream pushed him back against the door as soon as Skywarp stepped through, planting fierce, hot kisses, almost bites, on his armor, long hands skittering over his armor, seeking out gaps in the plating, tracing along the overlapping ridges. His own interface systems, primed from Barricade, flooded him with sensation to the point he could not think clearly. All he could do was keep himself upright, a feral whimper in his vocalizer. Thundercracker sat on the berth, leaning forward, keenly interested. Yes, of course. Starscream’s sudden—if mild—aggression was doubtless Thundercracker’s idea.
Starscream slid down Skywarp’s frame, his mouth a spot of heat and lust as it travelled over his chassis, licking around the mounting of Skywarp’s cockpit like a little tongue of fire. Starscream’s hands explored the interstices in Skywarp’s leg armor. Tickling along the knee joint, down to the jutting piston of his heel, Starscream’s mouth tickling Skywarp’s interface hatch, begging, gently, teasingly, for admittance.
Skywarp wasn’t sure he could reciprocate in kind. More: he knew that Thundercracker didn’t want him to. Nor…probably…Starscream. “No,” he croaked. The only warning he could give, and halfhearted at that. Starscream flicked the hatch open with a clever twist of his glossa and lower lip. Skywarp shoved at Starscream’s shoulders, sprawling him on the floor. He felt Thundercracker’s optics on him as he dropped to his knees between Starscream’s legs. His desire for Barricade had been pure and clean and honest. This…he could feel the tendrils of darkness, intangible as smoke but stronger than tungsten, rising up, taking him over.
Starscream’s hand pulled his head down, another uncharacteristically forceful gesture , his mouth insistent on Skywarp’s. Skywarp fell forward onto his forearms, pushing into the kiss. His spike surged against its cover. No, a thin voice protested in the back of his processor, even as he pushed his glossa into Starscream’s mouth, as Starscream’s fingers teased lightly at the rims of his thrusters. It was desire and lust and power and Skywarp was helpless before it.
Arms hauled him off Starscream—long and blue—and he felt a nip at one of the energon lines in his throat before Thundercracker murmured gently in his audio, “We belong together. The three of us.” Between his legs, Starscream scrambled to pull his limbs underneath him, his optics glazed with passive desire. Wanting, and wanting to be wanted.
“Yes,” Skywarp said, weakly. Thundercracker’s hands ran down the front of his armor, crossing and squeezing at his hips, pulling him back against him.
“Starscream wants you to take him.” A command and not a command—it was true. And Skywarp shivered as he knew that he wanted to take Starscream. Thundercracker laughed softly against him, releasing his grip on the black-armored hips as though giving him a signal. Permission.
Skywarp lunged at Starscream, one long hand wrapping around the folded wingpanel, flipping Starscream onto his belly against the berth. Starscream spun his torso, lashing a backhand at Skywarp’s face. The black jet let it hit, let it cut into him (it was pain and rightful and he deserved it yet at the same time it fed the very thing that should have been cowed), before snatching the arm out of the air, twisting the wrist underhand until Starscream whimpered. “You know,” he heard his voice say, like a distant muddy echo, “that never works.”
Starscream knew, just as he knew that lashing with one of his barbed heels against Skywarp’s thigh wouldn’t achieve anything more than inflaming Skywarp further. “You could never take me,” he said, his voice ugly. “You know that. All this bravado of your abilities and,” he slammed his Trine mate hard against the berth, crushing one knee into the back bend of one of Starscream’s own legs, “you can’t even save yourself from this.”
He heard the familiar hitch in Starscream’s vents that sent a blaze of pure black lust through him. He pushed further, physically and verbally, sidling his hips against Starscream’s, his open interface panel bumping against Starscream’s closed one, leaning over, his cockpit pressing between the turbines. “You’ve always been weak, Starscream. Unless,” he dared to strike at the heart of the truth in his brutal lust, “you want this. Unless you want to be forced. Pathetic.” Skyfire’s name was trembling on his lips, but he had…that much decency. That much control. Barely.
A sob, and Skywarp reared back, tearing open Starscream’s hatch. The valve cover released itself instantly, in an abject admission of submission. Skywarp drove his spike into the valve, snarling, shaking with desire for release and rage. He could feel Thundercracker’s gaze on him, goading, approving; his thoughts drifted to Barricade. What would Barricade think, seeing him now? He’d been aroused, before, a little bit. Enough to try to play with Onslaught. But…knowing now? He’d know it wasn’t play anymore. Wasn’t the same, was a raw gaping open wound into the darkness of Skywarp’s psyche.
He hauled Starscream’s shoulders off the berth, wrapping his arms around him from behind as he reared up on his knees, driving his spike with a furious rhythm into Starscream’s valve. Skywarp’s mouth found a gap in Starscream’s collar armor, scraping against the rim, growling as his bronze Trine mate twitched in pain. His talons raked across Starscream’s chassis, screeling metal on metal. The bronze jet quivered, whimpering, but not begging. Tacitly asking for more.
Skywarp felt the energon line tear beneath his denta, tasting Starscream’s pain and fear along with the sweet tingle of the energon itself. He growled with pleasure, clutching his arms more tightly around Starscream’s chassis.
Starscream’s hands folded over his forearms, the head tilting back, exposing more of his throat, leaning more into submission, leaning, draping, trusting, yielding utterly to Skywarp. He had a sudden flash of fantasy—Barricade, whimpering in his arms instead of Starscream; Barricade’s back kibble against his chassis; his energon lines between Skywarp’s teeth; his valve juddering under the assault of Skywarp’s spike.
A tendril of despair seized at Skywarp. “I’m sorry!” he managed to push out, between violent thrusts. “Forgive me. Can’t help….” His body shuddered, an overload tearing across his systems, leaving his thigh servos trembling, his talons dug into Starscream’s armor, his face ground hard against Starscream’s bared throat.
“Always,” Starscream murmured, in a mild delirium, rocking back into Skywarp’s embrace. “Always, always.”
no subject
The despair in this chapter is almost tangible which is super excellent writing on your part XDDD I look forward to more ^___^ (is how much enjoyment I get from the misery of your characters a bad thing?)
no subject
Glad you liked!