Payback

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
IDW
Drift/Perceptor, cameos by Springer, Kup
sticky, misuse of equipment, meeting disruption
kink meme fill (maybe? Not sure it fills it well, as it is far more cracky/funny than it is hawt) for this prompt. And it's a kink meme fill, so...some liberties have been taken.

“My fault.” Drift’s voice was thick with apology, barely audible over the hum of the dropshuttle’s engines and the quiet murmur of the other Wreckers.  His hands clutched contritely around a first-stage repair kit.

“No.” Perceptor squeezed his hand over the gash on his shoulder.  Shrapnel…wasn’t Drift’s fault. Wasn’t anyone’s fault except maybe Perceptor himself for not getting out of the way fast enough.  Energon oozed between his fingers, one droplet running over the back of his hand.

Drift stepped over, frowning, pushing Perceptor’s hand aside.  “Going to let me patch it,” he said, in brusque tone that was him attempting to give an order while not quite sure he has the right.  Perceptor nodded, ceding to Drift. It did need to be patched.  And, as Drift worked, Perceptor felt his servos relax: Drift knew what he was doing, at least this much. His hands were gentle and sure as they tugged out the jagged plate, hooked under the split line.  He held the tube of sealant with a practiced ease in his mouth, squeezing the black gummy substance onto his fingers. 

It struck Perceptor that Drift had probably gotten so much experience doing this back when he was a Decepticon. It didn’t matter, not to Perceptor, but he did look at Drift, trying to imagine the scowling Deadlock equally intent on another mech’s repairs.  “You’re good at this,” Perceptor said, softly.

Drift gave a dismissive cock of the head. “Did all my own repairs for a long time.” He didn’t specify how long that was.  Perceptor thought he could guess. 

Drift unhooked his fingers from under the line, letting it sink back into the orderly flow of lines and cables.  He considered Perceptor’s shoulder for a long moment, before tapping an impact dent with one hand. “Have to pull that.” 

“Cosmetic,” Perceptor said.

Blue optics met his. “Impedes mobility.”  Drift held his gaze for a klik before bending down, digging in the kit to come up with a suction puller.

“Drift, really,” Perceptor said, blinking. “It’s not necessary.”

“Is.”  Drift rubbed the sealant on the cup, before pressing it down around the dented panel.  Perceptor made a strange, tight sound as the suction took, pulling up on the sensor filaments in his dermal armor.  It was not unpleasant.  Only…inappropriate under the circumstances. 

A flare of a grin on Drift’s face as the hand tightened over the pull bar, and the cup hauled at Perceptor’s metal. It gave with a dull ‘pop’, the dent smoothing out, and, Perceptor felt, decompressing  a trapped power line.  Not necessary but…nice.  Even nicer when Drift ran a slim metal blade under the cup, breaking the seal.  Perceptor fought a delicious shiver.

“Better,” Drift said, eyeing the panel critically, then reached for a rag and began swabbing at the sealant, and the energon Perceptor had bled. It also felt good, Drift’s touch light and gentle.  Perceptor felt his optics dim for a klik before a burst of laughter from Topspin on the other side of the shuttle bay reminded him where he was. 

Drift stepped behind, and for a moment the touch disappeared, before, abruptly, Perceptor felt it return, the cloth soft and fuzzy against his scope.  “Drift!”  he managed, the word wheezing from his vocalizer, the rest of him overcome with sensation as the rag rubbed silkily over the sensitive equipment.

“What?” Drift didn’t stop. “Energon.  Just trying to….” He held out the rag, splotched with energon.

Perceptor exvented, carefully, his entire sensornet shimmering with sensations rippling out from Drift’s touch.  “All right.” He could handle it:  Perceptor didn’t want to reject Drift when Drift was trying to make up for what he’d thought was his fault.  He felt, rather than saw, Drift smile, the rag sliding over the scope, and then cool, steady fingers curling into his collar armor.  Drift couldn’t know what this was doing to him, how his core temp was climbing upward, his interface systems firing on. His ventilation hissed through his vents, tight, struggling for control as the rag swept down the tube of the scope, then flicked over the lens. 

“Guh!”  Perceptor jolted rigid, the rag over his lens sending an almost painful amount of sensation, bliss so sharp it hurt, through him.  His valve cycled on with a tingling wash of lubricant.

Drift froze, hand tightened nervously at Perceptor’s collar armor. Perceptor fought with his sensornet, shoulders heaving, EM field throbbing.  “Perceptor?” he asked, quietly.

“Fine,” Perceptor managed. “I’m fine.”

Drift’s fingers released but the rag moved again, swabbing gently along the cylinder. Perceptor tilted his head back and saw a sly, teasing grin spread on Drift’s face, pushing aside the apology and concern. “Are you, now?” he drawled, following the trail of the rag with one coy finger. Perceptor felt a shudder through his systems. He squeezed his optics shut against it, trying to force himself immobile.  Drift purred, leaning close enough that Perceptor could feel the engine revving against his shoulder.

“Drift,” Perceptor whispered.

“Perceptor,” Drift stage-whispered back.  “I owe you this.” 

Perceptor squirmed. “Drift,” he pleaded.

“Hey.” Springer’s voice, sharp and gruff, as he wove through the crowd. “How’d you hold up?” He took in the split panel, the repair kit open on the bench beside Perceptor, and the stained rag. 

“Fine,” Perceptor murmured, unable to meet Springer’s gaze, trying to squeeze his rising desire in tight black fists.

Springer nodded. “You did good out there—none of us could spot the mortar.”

Drift drew the rag up the scope, letting a loose edge graze over the lens.  Perceptor twitched. “Thank you,” he managed.

Springer’s gaze snatched Drift’s.  “Think he’s clean enough.” 

Drift shrugged. “Just trying to help.”

Springer’s mouth thinned. Drift was…not his favorite mech. He liked Drift just fine in combat, but as soon as mechs stopped shooting at Drift, resentment flared. As if Drift was only tolerable when he could be shot at any moment.  “You want to help, why not actually do something useful.” His optics fell on the dent puller. “Like that.”

Drift ducked his head. “Yes, sir,” he murmured. Only Perceptor saw the edge of a grin as Drift picked up the dent puller.  Springer gave a dissatisfied grunt and moved away, muttering something dark about useless swords and a lack of common sense. Drift surveyed Perceptor’s body, optics lighting at a battered caved-in area inside one of Perceptor’s thighs. 

“Drift!”  Perceptor’s hands tried, feebly, to swat Drift away, his entire sensor net surging, wanting release. “What are you doing?” Drift ran a quick ring of sealant around the lip of the puller’s suction cup.

Drift dropped to one knee, lifting his head, optics glittering in a mix of arousal and irony. “Following orders.”  He leaned forward, pressing the tool against Perceptor’s thigh, the cup’s suction causing him to jolt forward, hands digging into his knees.  He grinned up at Perceptor, sliding the back of his hand over Perceptor’s pelvic armor, optic winking at the heat seeping through. He curled his fingers slowly around the pull bar, wiggling the device.  Perceptor was riveted, not daring to move, barely able to control the shudders that ran over his systems.  Inside its housing, his spike whined against the equipment cover. 

Drift’s shoulder jerked back, the white armor sliding against Perceptor’s chassis, and the dent popped.  Perceptor jumped, thighs trying to squeeze shut, head tilted to the shuttle’s ceiling. Drift gave a throaty laugh, prying the tool up, then letting that hand wander to Perceptor’s interface hatch, whisking it open.  Drift gave a quiet growl, hand cupping the spike’s housing.  “Think you want something, Perceptor,” he said.

“Not here.” 

“Shy?” Drift looked at him from under the sweep of his helm’s crest. His fingers circled the housing, lightly. The cover snapped open under his touch, the spike jutting into Drift’s hand. 

Perceptor whimpered, hands clutching at the bench. “Drift,” he pleaded, openly, even as his torso rocked forward into Drift’s touch. The hand was strong, knowing; thumb gliding along the top row of nodes with a practiced ease.  “Please.”

Drift said nothing, his optics lidded and sultry as he knelt between Perceptor’s  knees, hand twisting, pulling on Perceptor’s spike. Perceptor couldn’t look away, transfixed by the blue optics, the way the glossa flicked out along Drift’s lower mouthplate.  His desire surged within him, EM field pulsing in sharp hard pushes of energy. He felt Drift’s own EM, aroused, throb back against his, which quelled any objection. Drift wanted this and he? He wanted what Drift wanted.

“Drift!”  Springer’s voice, from across the bay.

“Working,” Drift called out. 

“On what?”

Drift’s mouth curled. “There’s a kink in a hose somewhere. Trying to clear it.”  The lie was so smooth that for a moment Perceptor almost believed it.

“Well, do it fast. Perceptor looks uncomfortable.”

“Perceptor’s a wuss.”  Drift jerked his chin, smothering a laugh at the look of outrage on Perceptor’s face.  Wuss?   Drift smirked. “You heard the mech. Guess I have to hurry up.”  He squeezed the spike, hard enough that Perceptor gasped.  “Can’t have you looking uncomfortable, after all.”

Perceptor felt his systems whine under the strain of staying still, vents short and sharp, hands digging in to the point of pain on the battered metal bench.  His systems raged, his entire attention queue taken by the impossibly vivid and bright sensations of Drift’s hand dragging over his nodes, the lubricant heating with contact, small shocks traveling over the nodes, and above them, Drift’s sultry gaze, wanting him, enjoying his aroused discomfort.

But the others. Right here. Watching. Did they know? Could they guess?  He didn’t know which answer he wanted, just that their gaze on him filled him with a  kind of sharp, wobbly trembling. 

His spike leapt in Drift’s hand, nodes crackling current, sparking bright enough to cast highlights on Drift’s face. Drift’s other hand came up, cupping against the spike, catching the spurt of transfluid, as Perceptor cried out, nearly jolting off the seat. 

“Drift!” Springer’s voice.  “Stop breaking Perceptor.”

“Just clearing the line,” Drift said, his own vents uneven, bright. 

“Got it cleared now?”

Drift’s grin was incandescent, as he dared a saucy wink to Perceptor, who was still shuddering in the throes of the abrupt overload.  He held up his palm, coated and dripping with the silver fluid, marked by Perceptor’s lust. “Yes. All clear.” 

[***]

“This looks…boring.” Drift frowned at the datapad’s screen, the meeting’s agenda scrolling—and scrolling—down the screen.

“Maintenance schedules,” Perceptor said, leaning over Drift’s shoulder, as they waited for the conference room to open. “Important, if not interesting.”

“This will take all morning,” Drift grumbled. 

Perceptor nodded. Very likely it would.  The door beside them whisked open.  Perceptor stepped forward, filing with the others into the room. Drift trailed, but stepped to one side to file to the opposite side of the conference table. Perceptor quirked an optic at him: Drift always sat next to him at these meetings, where he could feel the warm fuzz of the smaller mech’s EM field and, if necessary, elbow him awake.  Drift was a marvel on the battlefield, but not much for bureaucracy.  Perceptor wondered, sometimes, how he’d been as a Decepticon.

Probably the same.

Drift grinned. “Just in case you had some plans for, you know, revenge,” he said, settling down opposite Perceptor. “You know, for the shuttle incident.”

The shuttle incident.  Perceptor hadn’t had any plans for revenge, but he found himself, suddenly, making them, as he lowered to his seat, studying Drift. From this distance, though…the sensitive helm finials were far out of his reach, as were the scabbards. The Great Sword’s attachment point was far too far away. He’d have to get creative. 

Perceptor’s mouth flattened to a thin line, studying Drift. First, he had to figure out what tactical advantages he did have. 

A bump against one of his feet, that then drew itself slowly up his ankle. “You look upset,” Drift goaded.

Perceptor said nothing. But the touch gave him an idea.  He did, after all, have longer legs than Drift. Much longer.  Long enough that…he lifted one foot, carefully, moving blind, until he felt the long line of Drift’s thigh.  He slid his footplate along the plane, until he tapped against Drift’s pelvic armor. His optics blazed triumphantly.

“You wouldn’t,” Drift said, one hand disappearing under the table, trying to push away the foot.

“Wouldn’t what?”  A steady, cool blink.  He wiggled his toe plate against Drift’s hand.  To his left, Kup was calling the meeting to order, and Perceptor showily turned his attention to the front of the room.  Part of his attention, anyway.

//You realize this isn’t fair.//

//Fair.// Perceptor’s voice over comm always held more timbre and emotion than what he allowed to seep through his vocalizer. His gaze remained focused on Kup, who was droning through a status update.

//Look, I was trying to make it up to you that I’d hurt you,// Drift said. 

Perceptor knew Drift’s logic well enough by now to know that that was the truth. As Drift saw it.  It still hadn’t been Drift’s fault he’d been hit. //Maybe this is my way of thanking you.//  He buried a smirk. He slid his toe plate across the pelvic armor, feeling a rush of heat against its lower sensor, where Drift’s spike housing lay.

//You can, uh, thank me later.//

Perceptor gave a quick glance over. //Rather thank you now.//  He curled his other foot, using the heel plate as a hook, around Drift’s ankle, tugging the legs apart. 

//Fine,// Drift retorted. //I can handle this.// His optics narrowed. //Sooner or later we’ll be alone….// 

//And what will you do to me. Alone.//  Perceptor fought the smile, feeling his sensornet throb as Drift squirmed on the seat.

//Throw you over this table.  Lick that scope of yours till you overload.// A minute shrug. //That sort of thing.//

//Ah.//  He paused to scroll his datapad to keep up with Kup’s presentation. //Would this be before or after I pin you to the table?//

//You?//  Drift was, Perceptor noted, completely awful at hiding his reaction, optics widening. 

//Mass advantage,// Perceptor replied. 

//Oh. And what would you do to me, pinned?//

Perceptor turned his chin toward Kup. //Audial finials,// he said, his voice over comm husky.  //Then down, into your throat.  Biting just hard enough that you whimper.  And I can feel the whimper vibrating against my mouth.//

Drift’s ventilations gave a sudden hard chuff, his fingers clutching at his datapad, trying to study it. Or at least trying to look like he was studying it.  Perceptor wiggled his toe again. Oh no, Drift. Pay attention.

//And then,// he continued, //down your frame.  I want,// he paused, waiting until Drift leaned forward in anticipation. //I think I’d lick your valve till you overload.// He pressed his mouthplates together till they nearly squeaked, fighting the grin at Drift’s sudden jolt. 

“Drift!”  Kup’s voice, as unsexy as used motor oil, cut through Drift’s lust-filled haze.

“What?”  Drift’s head snapped to the front of the room.

“Some kinda glitch?”

Drift squirmed.

“Perhaps he got hit last battle,” Perceptor suggested, voice quiet.

“Shoulda gotten in checked out, then.” Kup’s glare narrowed.

Perceptor shrugged. “It’s Drift.”  Drift and medbay went together like  Sunstreaker and humility.

Kup nodded. No explanation necessary.   Perceptor stopped himself before suggesting that Drift avoided medbay because he was a ‘wuss.’  But the thought was there, and very, very tempting.  “Get him checked out after this, all right?” 

Perceptor nodded, graciously.  Drift glared.  //Cute.//

Perceptor’s voice barely held in laughter. //I think so.//  He wiggled his toe again.

Drift growled. //Not going to work, Perceptor.// He wriggled his hips back on the bench.

Oh, really?  Perceptor caught Drift’s gaze, letting his reticle optic wink, just before activating the magna-clamp in his foot, jerking Drift forward.  The magnetic field penetrated the metal of the pelvic armor, tugging at the sensor nodes. Drift twitched, a vent gasping.

//You were saying…?// Perceptor modulated the magnetic field, lowering and then reversing polarity.  Despite himself, Drift’s body rocked with the magnetic field, as it tugged on the nodes in his interface equipment.  Drift’s hands clutched around the pad, staring unseeing at its surface, mouth open.  He tried to squirm his hips away, but they were deck-rated magna-clamps, made for a mech rated far heavier than he was. 

//This isn’t fair,// Drift muttered, his voice thready and thin.

//No,//Perceptor agreed.  It was not at all fair. However, it was…fun?  Drift’s squirming was impossibly exciting to watch, and feeling his thighs clamping around Perceptor’s ankle, as if trying to wring some control from him, was arousing. He wouldn’t admit that he was also having some difficulty paying attention to this meeting.  Drift, aroused, was a beautiful thing.  And the knowledge that he was the one doing it brought a new level of pleasure to Perceptor. 

Drift gave a whimpering cry, the charge building from the magnetized field pushing him closer and closer to overload.  The datapad cracked in his grip, the screen buckling then splitting down the middle, Drift’s powerful black hands crushing it. 

“Perceptor.”  Kup again, highly displeased, waving his cy-gar dismissively at Drift, who was bent over the table, shuddering. “Get him out of here. Being disruptive.”  Kup shook his head. “Don’t bring him back till he’s fixed and ready to behave.”

Perceptor nodded, clicking off the magna-clamp before rising smoothly to his feet to come around the table.  “Come on, Drift,” he murmured, letting his palms slide up Drift’s chassis armor before hooking under his arms. His voice was like honey, sweet and warm, as he poured it in Drift’s audio. “Let’s get you taken care of.”  He buried the smirk he could no longer hide in the back of Drift’s helm, nuzzling against a finial.

//I’ll get you back for this,// Drift said, weakly, knee servos wobbling and unsteady, forced to lean against Perceptor, the larger mech’s EM field lapping around his.

//Perhaps,// Perceptor said, philosophically. //But not today.//

Comments

[fauxfaia.livejournal.com]

TEE HEE HEE OH YOU GUYS

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

^___^

[fauxfaia.livejournal.com]

All of it was wonderful, but I utterly lost it at this line: Kup’s voice, as unsexy as used motor oil, cut through Drift’s lust-filled haze.

I just--

I couldn't handle it anymore, I was trying SO hard not to laugh at their already hilariously sexy evil antics, and then you had to pull that line and I could SEE it and then ALL OF IT just barreled right in and ruined me

I HOPE YOU ARE PROUD OF YOURSELF

[mieka-writes.livejournal.com]

heee.. oh go Perceptor...

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

He gives as good as he gets! Poor Drift!

[mieka-writes.livejournal.com]

oh yes he does.. and oh my is it nummy..

WIN

[dreamerchaos.livejournal.com]

....Can I not say enough how FANTASTIC these two are together?

And oh the interaction.... <3

>///< And I was burning tomato red guhhh it was so subtle yet so scrumptous at the same time~

Re: WIN

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

They seem to have two speeds of sex: angsty and competitive! Both are kind of cute. :D

[ravynfyre.livejournal.com]

omg, the evil these two do to each other... delicious, delicious evil. I love it. Guh.

Perceptor, I wanna see you make good on your threats! TOTALLY!

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

It's sad that they're the only ones the other trusts, and this is how they treat each other! :D

And oh in my brain, Perceptor drags Drift down to medbay. tentacles ensue,

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

They're just being silly here. It's probably woefully OOC, but...*shrug* cute!

[oni-gil.livejournal.com]

*flails* I enjoyed this A LOT. Oh them two and all that teasing, and I love that it's not a simple question of "top" and "bottom" because they each know how to drive each other nuts in all sorts of wonderful ways. Also makes me wonder how much the others know. XD

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

In my head most of the Wreckers really can't wrap their heads around the idea of Perceptor having any sort of sex life, so it's debatable.

They're just being cute. :P

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Glad you liked! :D

[kamiraptor.livejournal.com]

XD Oh, you guys..!

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

They are so rough with each other. ;_; And creative. And saucy. And kinda hot.

[kamiraptor.livejournal.com]

XD Dude, not "kinda" hot, really hot!!! And the rough and the saucy and the creative just makes it hotter. ;-)

*.....goes to read again*

[karanseraph]

Awesome. So many points for use of completely utilitarian tech as sex toys. Wish I thought of those two. Might have to steal sometime.

[silaphet.livejournal.com]

oooh, now i wants magna-clamps & and Ben Wa balls ... you are endlessly inspiring!

[gatekat.livejournal.com]

Such fun, and lovely teasing. I adore these two the way you write them, whether kinky and deadly serious or playful.

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

hnnng hot. So hot. *hugs Perceptor* And fraggin' brilliant!


gotta wonder, though.. if Kup knew what was really going on. Or Springer, too. *giggle*

[swindleslog.livejournal.com]

This one made me lol. Its a terrible battle of manual-sneaky-public overloads, and it sounds like Drift is going to lose this one. Hard. He's just out matched for once. And oh Perceptor- that whole thing was evil. I know Drift was bad earlier, but Perceptor was eeeevil. Using magnets to pull him back, and the fact he has a better poker face, AND that he has much longer limbs.

You're going for humour in this one, and I suspect that's part of it, but it does sound like they've been together a while in this one. They're much more comfortable with each other. Drift, in being defeated, maybe embarassed, and to the suggestion of submission (or at least some more tit for tat), and Perceptor is much more comfortable pushing that, joking with him, and just generally yanking his chain.

Its cute. They're not tip toeing anymore, or feeling a need to reassert roles.

[darkeyes-17.livejournal.com]

true, more cracked than steamy, but so wonderfully cracked! I couldn't stop laughing.

[ladyofdragons.livejournal.com]

Sneaky public sex is some of the best. I love the shift in Drift from business-like to mischievious. Its a good attitude on him And the way Percy got his revenge is fantastic. So creative!