![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
niyazi-a.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
shadow_vector2010-02-27 08:30 am
Strategic Deployment
Rating: R for sticky PnP and as per usual crack
Grindor prided himself on looking at everything strategically. He had a problem, there was a strategic answer. Right now, his problem was just…a little different, that’s all.
The problem was he had a painfully large crush on Blackout. Like, whoa. Every time he saw the dark-plated copter, his capacitor’s current fluttered. He was…so hot. And even the copter’s notorious shyness was a complete turn on. It was keeping Grindor up during recharge cycle, thinking about the other copter—especially the friendly way he’d pat Barricade on the head, or the little smile he got when he teased the interceptor’s tires, or the few times Grindor had seen him kissing Starscream. That was not a comfortable way to be kept out of recharge—aroused and envious. He wanted Blackout to smile at him like that, to whimper like he did when kissing the jet. Only…kissing Grindor.
Something—something strategic—clearly had to be done.
“Hey Brawl,” he said, too casually, falling into step with the tank as he left the refectory.
“What d’you want?” Brawl gave him a look that was equal parts suspicion and hostility.
“Oh, you know, just…being friendly. On the same ship together and, well, you know camaraderie?”
“Kama—what? Wait. That’s that pervy book!” Brawl’s optics widened in his flat little face. “No way. I don’t go for airframes.”
Grindor blinked. Uhhhhh, no. Like, ‘not enough high grade in the world’ no. “Right. No, not really about that. Just…you know, trying to be friendly.”
The optics narrowed. “You keep your friendly the frag away from me,” Brawl said. “Especially if your friendly is the gropy kind.”
“What?” He’d read personnel files—there was nothing about Brawl being prone to delusions.
“I know you want me,” Brawl said, confidently. “I’m hot. Bonecrusher told me.”
What? This…defied rational belief, and completely distracted Grindor from his objective. All while actually being physically painful to picture: Bonecrusher and Brawl?! “Wait, Bonecrusher told you you were hot.”
“Sure did! Said I was so hot I measured a whole degree above zero-Kelvin.”
“Wow, uhhh, yeah, that’s a lot of hot all right.” Remember, Grindor, you need to get information from him. Bad strategy, though: the weakest link here was also, apparently, the stupidest. “Kind of surprised I’m not bursting into flames standing next to you, actually.”
“See!” the tank preened. Which was…disturbing. Quick: a good strategy can salvage this…really bad contact.
“Hey, I heard you, well,…,” Oh, smooth. Thankfully, Brawl didn’t seem to be running high wattage himself right now, “I mean, I notice you fuel with Starscream. And Barricade.” (And Blackout) he added silently. Don’t say that part out loud—even Brawl will figure that one out.
“Yeah. They’re pretty cool to hang out with. You know, when, like Bonecrusher’s busy and stuff.”
“He get busy a lot?” Oh, Grindor, your morbid curiosity will lead you to a sea of regrets.
“Busy doing the weirdest stuff! The other day he said he had to wax his targeting reticle—which must be really shiny since it took him like four cycles! And then he was too busy contemplating the awful route his life had taken.”
Uhhh, okay. Wow. Brawl really didn’t get it. “Anyway,” he said, the word hopefully hurdling him over all that stuff he didn’t want to think about, “like, how’d you do it?”
“What? Fuel with them?” Brawl looked at him disdainfully, as though he were dumb. “Went over, sat down.” Somehow being condescended to by Brawl felt…really bad.
“I mean, well, maybe, why?” The three didn’t seem to reject the idiot…what the slag did they see in him? Not exactly a great conversationalist: He was barely coherent.
“Oh!” the tank brightened up. “They were nice to me! I want to sit with them to thank them!”
“Frag,” Barricade muttered, passing by them, “Want to pay me back for getting you laid with that rolling monstrosity, you’d do better by NOT sitting with us.”
“See!?” Brawl beamed. “We’re awesome friends now.”
Barricade shot Grindor a pained expression. “That mech has clearly skewed your perspective.”
“Screwed my what? What is it with you mechs harassing me?” Brawl’s optics grew fearful. “First Grindor with his Kama-whatever thing and now you?” The copter gritted his optics shut, praying as he had never prayed before that Barricade gave him..well…some credit. “Don’t you mechs ever think of anything else?!” Brawl ‘s fists balled. And he looked…punchy. Grindor took a step to one side. Just to be safe.
“Personally?” Barricade said. “No. Do you?”
“Ummmm, not really.” Brawl hung his head.
The word ‘hypocrite’ was at the queue of Grindor’s vocalizer, and while he was distantly curious to hear how Brawl would pervert that, he didn’t think he could handle it right now. His processor was overclocking from trying to follow the stream of nonsense as it was.
“So…Grindor,” Barricade said, “What catastrophe has lowered you to the misfortune of willingly talking to the walking IQ cesspool?”
“Cesspool! That’s what Bonecrusher calls me!” Brawl blurted. His optics got misty.
“I…uhhhh, Just, you know.” Grindor looked down at his hands.
“He wants to frag one of you!”
Grindor stopped in his tracks, his rotors clamping to a narrow line in sheer mortification. How the slag had the moron figured that out?
Too late, he realized that his reaction would also not escape Barricade, who was many things, but not stupid. “Any idea who?” Barricade asked, a particularly evil grin spreading across his face.
“I think Blackout! Because copter on copter would be HOT!” Brawl bounced, his cannons moving as if retargeting. Grindor did not want to think about Brawl thinking about him.
“Hrm,” Barricade considered. “Copter on copter WOULD be hot.” He eyeballed Grindor, who was wavering from bolting entirely to trying (somehow) to salvage this conversation. “Can’t believe I agree with you.” He looked vaguely disturbed. “Gonna run a systems diagnostic as soon as I get in my cube.”
“And also,” Brawl chirped, encouraged by the second-to-last part, “Bonecrusher kinda wants you for himself.”
Oh good. Now at least Grindor had company in the ‘please may I die of embarrassment right now’ line. “Uhhh, Bonecrusher is being ironic when he says that,” Barricade said, adding, quietly, “Oh frag I hope so.”
Grindor felt that particular kind of relief one feels when someone else feels stupider than one. He thought the humans had a word for it, schadenfreude or something like that, but he couldn’t even think of that now without worrying about how Brawl would screw that one up. Ignorance is bliss, especially when confronting Brawl’s ignorance.
The best strategy, perhaps, when forced to cope with Brawl’s ignorance, might be to ignore him altogether. Conversation with him was a losing proposition: time, words, and definitely dignity. Time to regroup. “So,” Grindor said, addressing the small grounder, “I was, you know, just wondering….”
“You want the copter.” Barricade said. “I mean, well, the other copter.” He shrugged. “Just ask him. He’s pretty laid back.”
“No! I mean, I can’t. What if he says no?”
“Why would he say no? He’s ‘faced with me. Standards aren’t exactly stratospheric.”
Yeah, hey, thanks, Grindor thought. Then, well, at least he thinks I’m a better choice than he is. “Well, what if he thinks it’s like kinky or something?”
“Isn’t that why you want to do it?” Grindor’s face plates overheated. Well, yeah, of course, but…it sounded so pervy!
“I think it’s kinky, and HOT!”Brawl blurted.
“Kinky and hot?” Starscream came up behind them. “This absolutely confirms my suspicion that mechs talk about me when I am not present.”
“Not talking about you, jet,” Barricade said, rolling all four of his optics so hard he nearly lost his balance. “Apparently everyone thinks it’s my sub-MOS to get everyone else on the fraggin’ ship, well, fragging.”
“If it is something at which you excel,” Starscream said, mildly, “you should embrace it. As I do with being kinky and hot.”
“Don’t forget delusional,” Barricade muttered. “Because we were talking about getting Grindor here with Blackout.”
“Ohhhhhh, that is positively scrumptious.” Starscream’s optics raked hot trails up and down Grindor’s frame. “I wholeheartedly approve of this endeavor.”
“Only if I get to watch,” Barricade muttered.
“I volunteer my assistance. In…any way necessary.” The bronze jet trailed a talon down one of Grindor’s rotors. Grindor shivered, remembering those same hands stroking down Blackout’s rotorblades.
“Hrm,” Barricade considered. “Has to be a way to get this done. I mean, if I can get Bonecrusher….”
“You can! Any time you want!” Brawl burbled. “Fact, we can see if he’s busy right now!” Brawl’s claw reached for Barricade, who recoiled so hard he stumbled.
Starscream laid a hand on the tank’s treads. “Brawl, we shall have to instruct you in the proper way to pander,” Starscream said, patiently. “Barricade especially requires special treatment.”
“Because he’s so small and squashable?”
“Among other things. He is also fragile emotionally.”
The smallest of the mechs glowered at the jet.
“Yeah, well,” Grindor said, “You know, like…never mind. Stupid idea anyway.”
“Hey, seriously!” Blackout came jogging up behind them, his rotors rattling like small thunder-sheets. “Not cool of you to leave me to clean up the table, you guys.”
“Blackout,” Starscream said. “What a delightful yet unsurprising coincidence. Grindor here was just telling us—“
“NOTHING. Uhhh, nothing important. Just… you know, talking.” Tactical retreat was obviously in order.
“Wait!” Brawl looked confused. “I thought you were telling us how bad you wanted to—“
“No. I definitely was not. Not anything like that. At all.” He looked frantically at Blackout, who was looking at him as though he were suffering from a possibly contagious terminal glitch. Oh great. Ruined your chance altogether now, you genius. He thinks you’re a shorted capacitor. Only Barricade was grinning, which did not make him feel better—Barricade’s grin could only be described as ‘devious’. Brawl looked confused, upset that he’d somehow misunderstood the conversation (even when, for once, he hadn’t), and Starscream’s optics were traveling from him to Blackout as though they were stitching the copters together in his mind.
“Uhhhh, I have to go.” Grindor turned and bolted down the next turnoff, staggering as he whacked his shoulder into the bulkhead with a loud clang.
Blackout stared after the other copter, head tilted. “Any of you guys gonna tell me what that was all about?”
“Oh, sweet stars, no.” Starscream snickered. “It is much more entertaining this way.”
****
Barricade tapped his talons across his console. There had to be a way to do this. He had a reputation to uphold, now, and dammit, it needed upholding, especially in the name of coptercest. He’d hooked in Blackout with the jet to shut the damn copter’s mooning; and while he hadn’t been in his right mind in the whole Brawl thing, tormenting Bonecrusher with it had been a delicious payoff. Oh yes, he had it all on video. That mech better not cross him again. Or lick him. No. Definitely no licking. This one, though, he actually wanted to see. As in…rowrf. All those rotors. Frag, he kind of wanted in on that one. Like, right in the middle. Copter sandwich. Primus yes.
The only problem was…how to make it happen? Blackout was really laid back—once you got to know him. Til then, though, he was ridiculously shy, especially about interfacing.
This meant…deceit was the only viable option. Well, deceit was always the preferred option, to Barricade, but this would call for extra deceptive deceit.
The door to his work cube chimed before opening. And…Blackout stood there. Looking extra delicious. Barricade pushed himself upright trying to put off the air that above all, he had NOT been having pervy thoughts about the copter. Much less…with another copter. Oh…frag that was so HOT!
Right. Concentrate. Not thinking of copters. “Hey, Blackout,” Barricade managed. “What, uh, brings you here?”
Blackout held up a stack of input rods, grimly. “Work. Too noisy in my cube. Was hoping you’d let me borrow your secondary console?”
“Yeah, sure.” Barricade reached over to activate it with his codes. “Want to know why it’s too noisy?”
“Brawl.”
Morbid curiosity. “Uh…what’s Brawl doing in the Aerial Planning cube?”
“Starscream is teaching him something, allegedly to impress Bonecrusher.”
“Something? Oh Primus, he’s not making him SING, is he?”
“I said noisy, not hellish,” Blackout muttered. He logged onto the console, pulling up a spare chair. “Reciting a poem or something. Brawl’s memory is…awful and it doesn’t help that Starscream keeps making lewd comments at him and freaking him out.”
A poem? That sounded…wrong on so many levels that for a handful of kliks, Barricade’s processor slowed just to try to count them all. “Wow. Starscream’s…awfully…masochis
“Yeah, well, wish he’d keep it to himself. Least during dutycycle.” Blackout inserted one of his input rods into the console, bringing up data. He turned to wink. “Y’know?”
Okay, this was not making it easy to stop thinking about copters in sexual situations. “Hey, uh…Blackout?”
“Yeah?”
All Barricade could see was Blackout’s broad back, to which his imagination kept adding coptery hands reaching around to stroke the rotors. What happened to Blackout’s tail rotor when he overloaded? Barricade HAD to know. “How, uh…how you feel about the other copter?”
“Grindor? He’s okay, I guess. Supposed to be some kind of genius or something.”
“You sounds…skeptical.”
“Frag,” Blackout laughed. “You saw him: mech can’t even walk down a corridor.” He turned suddenly, his optics clearing his looming shoulder kibble, the light glossing off the manifold of his main engine, slicking his rotors. “Why you ask, Barricade?”
“Uhhh, no reason.” Barricade tore his optics clumsily away from Blackout’s back. Blackout tilted his head at him, considering.
“He bothering you or something?”
“No!” Barricade said, hastily. Having Blackout try to confront the silver copter would be…counterproductive, to say the least. Though a little hand-to-hand copterfight that turned into copterwrestling that turned into… oooohhhhhhhh, Primus that was the last waldo. He couldn’t concentrate until he got these two laid. “No, he’s not bothering me.” Slag it, it’s these images of the two of you interfacing that are bothering me.
“If you’re sure.” A shrug that set the rotors moving. “If he is, though, you let me or Starscream know, okay?”
Barricade bridled. Whut? Blackout was seriously misreading something here. “Uhhhh, okay.” Stop thinking about copters. Stop thinking about copters. And their delicious rotors.
“Good. You’re a little guy and…well, kinda worry about you.”
Barricade glared. “Fraggin’ worry about me,” he growled. “Anyone crosses me, they better be worried.”
Blackout grinned at him. “Fraggin’ adorable when you talk like that, you know?” He cast a look at the closed door of the work cube. “Hey, you wanna?”
Barricade clawed for Blackout’s interface hatch. “You are always asking stupid questions, copter.” Frag it. Damn copter’s fault anyway.
***
Blackout tapped Starscream’s shoulder as they were both heading down the airframe recharge corridor. “Hey, can I talk to you a klik? About Barricade?”
“What has that adorable nuisance done now?”
“Uhhh, I think he has a thing for the new copter.”
Starscream stumbled. “Grindor?”
“Yeah, I mean, you saw him smiling at him like an idiot the other dutycycle, right? With Brawl? And later he was asking me what I thought of him.”
“Ah,” Starscream said, amused.
“So, like, it’s really obvious he must, you know, want him.”
“Blackout, you look a little sad.”
“Well…I mean, I kinda like the little pervert. But…you know.”
Starscream tilted his head. “Are you…jealous?” He seemed to find this funny. Blackout frowned.
“Uhhhh…hey, seriously. Can’t a mech be concerned for another mech without it being all weird? Just..you know with the way Barricade has to do it and all, I just don’t want this Grindor guy to be all judgmental, and, you know, hurt Barricade’s feelings and such.”
“I was…unaware that Barricade had feelings,” Starscream smirked.
“Aw, come on. You know what I mean.”
Starscream grinned. “I shall, you realize, never let you live this down.”
Blackout punched him, lightly, on the chassis. “Oh, like you don’t care either?”
Starscream punched him back, the barbs on the back of his hand singing against the metal. “So, do you have some kind of plan?”
Blackout grinned. “Yeah, well, I was thinking, you know, that if he really wants, you know, we could hook him up. After we make sure this Grindor mech isn’t a creep.”
“I do not think that he is,” Starscream said, coyly.
“What makes you say that?”
“Ah, I heard part of the conversation before you arrived, Blackout.” Starscream’s optics glinted slyly. “Grindor was intimating that he wanted to interface with Barricade when you showed up.”
“So THAT’S what that was about? Wow. But…why’d he run away?”
“He was…obviously…afraid you would be jealous.”
“Really? Huh. Guess I do seem kinda…protective of the little pervert.” He frowned. He didn’t notice Starscream’s relieved sigh. “We gotta fix this.”
“We?”
“Yeah, don’t you want to help?”
“Help Barricade get with Grindor?” There was something Blackout couldn’t quite figure out going on behind Starscream’s wicked smile. “I find myself incapable of resisting.”
***
Barricade frowned at his datapad. He’d been summoned to Briefing Room Theta, but with no instructions what he was supposed to brief. He’d loaded everything he could think of onto his datapad and headed down, a little worried. Frag it, all these frustrated thoughts of unrequited coptersex were distracting him from his usual level of paranoia. Which made him…paranoid.
He was a little surprised to see Grindor there ahead of him, but…the copter was new and probably trying to make a good impression. Ha. Nerd. Barricade set up his datapad and a few input rods by the main console and waited. Fidgeting. Slag, where was everyone? And why hadn’t he gotten this copter laid yet? He wished the others would show up so he had something to think about other than how much he wanted to sink his talons—and his glossa—into that looming engine. And his plans to get the two together? abject failure. He was about ready to turn himself in to the Home for Weak Processors in sheer despair.
He frowned. Grindor watched him, nervously, toying with his own datapad. Primus, all ready to take notes and everything. Barricade upgraded him from nerd to dork. He was just about ready to comm the alleged Air Commandork when…the door coded shut. Even from the front of the room Barricade could see the alarm lights blink. Grindor bolted to his feet, looking at the indicator panel to see what threat could cause an alarm code.
“Well now,” Starscream’s voice came over the door comm. “What an…interesting situation.”
Barricade threw a datapad at the comm’s speaker. “Are you fraggin’ serious? This is derivative!”
“It’s okay, Barricade,” Blackout chimed in. “We’re just trying to help. I know you want him.”
Whut? Barricade’s optics flew wide, his hands sweeping a flat denial. “No! No way.” He raced to the door. “Let me out. Not funny.”
“Barricade,” Starscream explained, reasonably, “We know you have a thing for rotaries.” Barricade gulped. He did NOT have a thing for copters. Just…well…they were kind of hot.
He forced a laugh. “Yeah, super funny. Awesome. Seriously. I’m apoxic from laughter on the inside. Can you let me out now?” He didn’t even dare look over his shoulder at Grindor.
“This is your chance. He wants you, you want him. You just need, you know, a little nudge.” Blackout sure sounded proud of himself.
“He doesn’t want ME, you copter glitch. He wants YOU.” Just kinda…step right over that second part. Smooth.
“ME?!”
“Yeah, you. Look at him. Does he look desperate enough to want to do me?” Barricade’s talons poked his override futilely into the panel. The panel blatted. Starscream had overridden his overrides. Frag. He was going to kill that jet in his recharge.
“Hey, uhhhh…,” Grindor felt obliged to say…something. He subsided. This was just a little weird. What was going on? And why were they talking about him like he wasn’t here? And about…the freaky little grounder?!
“Shut up, other copter. Trying to talk to the copter, here,” Barricade snapped.
“We are looking out for your best interests, Barricade,” Starscream said, smoothly.
“You shut up, too, jet. Why you doing this to me, huh?”
Blackout broke in. “Hey! I got an idea. Grindor—you do Barricade and sure. I mean, you could have just asked, but hey.”
Grindor tilted his head, considering. Blackout hadn’t found wanting to interface with him weird. In fact, he was willing to do it? Grindor considered the grounder—what he could see of him. He did have a pretty cute aft. Oh well. A good strategist adjusts to meet the challenge.
“WHAT?! I am not a piece of meat! Don’t you dar---ooooongh. Primus, what is it with you guys and doorwings?” Barricade melted back against the copter’s chassis as the silver mech’s large fingers explored his armor.
Grindor hated to admit that part of this was kind of exciting. He’d never had a grounder before. And not with…witnesses. Could they see him? The thought really aroused him.
“Hey, Grindor? Why didn’t you just ask me?”
“Well, it’s…kinda kinky.”
“Ah yes,” Starscream cut in. “But apparently forced exhibitionism is not.” Well…Grindor ducked his head. He guessed maybe kinky wasn’t such a problem for Blackout after all. “By the way, Barricade likes having his tires rotated.”
“Jet, I am gonna fragging—“ a long, unsteady moan, “Ohhhhhhh, seriously? I hate all of you. Everything that flies? I hate it.” Barricade staggered back against Grindor’s chassis.
“Slag,” Blackout said, “You want kinky, Grindor? Should’ve locked you in with the jet. Telling you, I’ll never look at a coolant flush the same way again.”
“Hot, and kinky,” Starscream murmured, pleased with himself. Yeah, Barricade thought, woozily, as his interface systems blazed alight. Just what the Air Commander needed: MORE ego.
“Uh, copter?” he said. “Shut up.” It occurred to him that no one had probably briefed the new guy on Barricade’s little…glitch. But right now he was too busy trying not to melt into a puddle of goo as the silver-skinned copter bent down, nuzzling into his neck. Barricade tilted his head to one side, exposing his throat, helpless in the talons of his lust. Do not have a thing for copters, he told himself, weakly.
“Blackout?” Starscream said. “I am surprised at Barricade being so submissive.”
“Huh. He is a little…passive.”
Barricade tried to growl, squirming in the copter’s grasp.
Grindor chuckled against his throat. “Bigger than you are,” he murmured. “Just in case you want to try something.”
“Don’t start what you can’t finish, rotorbrain,” Barricade managed. His talons skittered over the silver armor.
Another soft chuckle that vibrated red and deliciously across Barricade’s sensor net. “I was just going to tell you the same thing.”
Holy.... Barricade’s sensor net blazed again. He twisted out of the silver copter’s grasp, one set of his talons clawing under the copter’s forearm plating, while the other reached around Grindor’s head, pulling the silver mech into a hard kiss. Grindor growled in the back of his throat.
“Whoa,” Blackout said, his voice muffled. “Kinda hot, isn’t it?”
“I shall show you ‘kind of hot’,” Starscream murmured. Blackout yelped.
“Hey,” Blackout squeaked, “Kinda want to watch this.”
Starscream sighed, pouting. “Fine. I shall demonstrate when your attention is not divided.”
Barricade growled back at the larger copter, his smaller hands scraping down the split in Grindor’s cockpit armor. The copter hissed, his hands flattening Barricade’s doorwings, torquing them in their mounts. Barricade squirmed, his module pinging him. Frag, he didn’t want this copter. He wanted…okay…both of them. Fine. He gave up. He wanted copter, any copter. NOW.
The copter’s hands scraped against his back kibble—that pain that really wasn’t pain. Barricade’s module gave an audio ping. Grindor chuckled. Oh sure, make fun of me because you’re hot. The system, Barricade decided, was unfair.
Barricade gripped the back of the copter’s neck, jamming his knee into the back of one of Grindor’s legs, pulling down with his hand to yank Grindor further off balance. He stepped aside as Grindor dropped to the floor. Oh Primus look at those rotors, he thought. He threw his weight on the copter’s back, his hands grabbing for the rotorblades. Grindor tried to push back to his feet, but whimpered as Barricade’s talons closed around the mounts of his rotorblades.
Barricade snickered. His turn to laugh. “Not talking so tough now, copter.”
“Primus, he is hot when he gets dominant,” Starscream stage whispered to Blackout. “However, they are moving out of the vid feed, which is…disappointing.”
Grindor muttered, “Keep it up, grounder. Sooner or later, I’ll get up.” His vents became shallower, rough, aroused. Barricade rolled the rotor blades against each other, grinning as the copter writhed.
“Let’s try for…later.” Barricade reached down, his module already in his talons, and flicked open the silver copter’s interface hatch. He paused. “Yeah?”
Grindor snarled, reaching to try to dislodge Barricade from his back, his rotors twitching helplessly in Barricade’s other hand.
“If you require a translation,” Starscream stage whispered, “That is a ‘yes’.”
Barricade paused to glare at the comm speaker, and bent down, plugging his module into the copter’s access port. Grindor moaned at the contact—the cool module fitting snugly into the seal of his port. Barricade snatched the copter’s module, shifting carefully to make sure Grindor could not see him behind the looming bulk of his main engine, and, with a nervous glance at the speaker, surreptitiously tucked the module in his mouth. Grindor arched up, gasping. “Frag, what are you doing back there?”
Barricade growled, tightening his grip on the rotors, squeezing at the module with his glossa just off the temp of his own datastream. His growl sent another wave of vibration over the module. Grindor’s vents changed to sharp, short pants, his hands clawing at the floor. Frag, Barricade thought, he was so hot. Stupid copters. Not fair being so hot. He felt Grindor’s entire frame heave and shudder under him, his module’s datastream pulsing hard against the access port, in time with Grindor’s panting. The pulse-buzz of his datastream filled his audio entirely , until the copter shuddered, his rotors tearing themselves out of Barricade’s grasp, one of them slapping him hard in the arm-tire, as he writhed with overload. The pain somehow just roiled in with the flood of sensation from the overload.
Barricade collapsed onto the copter’s back for a long moment riding the silver mech’s heaving chassis and the fadeout from his overload, the copter’s overload energon warm and tingling in his throat. His claws dug into the armor plates. Slowly, he pushed himself up, reaching to uncoil his glossa from the copter’s module when a shadow fell over him. Starscream and Blackout had taken his…distraction as an opportunity to enter. He should have felt some sort of modesty—caught out with a module tucked in his mouth, visual testimony to his damage—but…not with them.
Blackout grinned. “So fraggin’ hot when you do that,” he said. He scooped Barricade up off of Grindor’s back, pulling the smaller mech’s mouth against his. Grindor moaned, only able to feel the shifting pressure against his module and connector cables: a warm sliding presence up and down the module’s components. What the pit was going on back there? To his module? He felt vaguely worried. He tried to roll to one side, looking up to see Barricade, and his connector cables and Blackout somehow intimately combined. Blackout, touching his module. Grindor shivered in a rush of desire. Well, the copter had promised….
“Oh frag,” he gasped. “What the…?”
Starscream knelt over him, hand slicking his rotors. “We are here to make sure you do not…mistreat Barricade. Or,” he seemed to wink, “you can simply consider us a package deal.”
“I think he’s done a fine job taking care of himself,” Grindor said, trying to push to one elbow. “Frag what is he DOING to my module?”
“I would say…handing it off to Blackout,” Starscream smirked, as the darker copter sat down heavily on the floor, pulling Barricade on top of him, laughing as he prodded the smaller mech with skillful fingers, Barricade writhing and moaning on top of the bulk of his chassis. It looked…kind of cute. Grindor felt a flash of something like envy at how familiar they were with each other.
Envy faded: Grindor gasped as he felt his module seat in an access port. No, this wasn’t at all like what Barricade had done. A shudder ran through his body so hard that his rotors quivered. “Now, if you would like to actually touch Blackout,” Starscream stood, moving out of the way.
Grindor lunged at Blackout, pulling him into a ferocious kiss, one he wouldn’t have dared to do earlier, except the overload and the excitement of the whole thing had pushed aside any of his objections and/or modesty. He felt small hands gently reach for his access port, replacing one module with another. Another datastream—hot and eager—hit against his already-primed sensor net.
One of Blackout’s arms reached around his shoulders, pulling him down bodily on top of Barricade, squashing the smaller mech between the two chassis. Grindor’s own hands ranged fiercely over Blackout’s armor, his rotors dangling over the pair, bobbing gently in time to the datastream rhythm they were exchanging. Barricade moaned softly.
“Barricade,” Starscream said, gently, “Are they hurting you?”
“Ruining the experience, jet,” Barricade’s voice drifted from the mass of quivering metal. “Primus…copters….” He sounded…happy.
The two larger mechs’ hands became more desperate, clinging, pawing at each other, seeking out the edges of armor plates, teasing along exposed cables.
Grindor shuddered again, just as Blackout roared, his rotors slicing along the plane of the floor. Starscream leapt lightly out of the way of two pairs of flaring rotors before squatting down, close in. “That was,” Starscream said, “deliciously hot.” He ran his own hot, eager hands over the sheen of the armor plating.
Blackout groaned, happily. “Yeah,” he managed. “Woof. Forgot how another rotary felt.” He tapped Grindor on the shoulder—the silver skinned mech had nuzzled his face against Blackout’s shoulder. “You okay?”
“Mmmmmhmmmmm,” Grindor said, dreamily.
“Barricade?” Blackout asked. He looked down at the mass of Grindor’s main engine on top of his chassis. Somewhere…under there…was the grounder. He’d feel more than a little guilty if Barricade got squished.
“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” the voice floated up. “Can die right now. Be totally okay with it.”
Grindor sheepishly pushed himself off. “Sorry, there.” Barricade lay flattened across Blackout’s chassis, one taloned hand toying lazily with the copters’ connector cables.
“’M not.”
“Hey Starscream?” Blackout asked lazily. “Why’d you tell me it was Barricade who wanted Grindor?”
“Because I am evil.” Starscream preened. “As well as kinky and hot.”
***
“This,” Bonecrusher’s voice came from the doorway, “is an absolute outrage.”
“Dear Primus,” Barricade muttered, “Why couldn’t you have taken me a few kliks ago? It’s true: the gods hate me.”
“Bonecrusher,” Starscream said, “I am rather surprised to see you without your burbling companion.”
“Brawl and I are playing a rousing game of Hide and Go Fraggin’ Die,” the mine destroyer said, calmly. His tails whipped, annoyed. “Right now he’s in a storage closet trying to remember how to count to ten. If no one sees him, say, tomorrow dutycycle, remind me to go get him.” He paused. “If like…anyone cares.”
“I shall definitely notice the absence of the smell,” Starscream said. “But you should treat him better.”
“But this doesn’t explain THIS outrage,” Bonecrusher pointed to the pile of mech on the floor. “And I’m entirely unsurprised to see Barricade somehow in the middle of this.”
Grindor shifted his position, gently unhooking himself from Blackout. “Bonecrusher,” he nodded. “Really enjoyed our talk last night.” He leaned back against Blackout’s legs, a bit of daring familiarity that sort of surprised him. He wanted in on the circle’s comfortable familiarity, at least just a little. He glowed when Blackout didn’t protest.
Bonecrusher’s tails stopped their irritated sweep, almost as if embarrassed. “Yeah. Me too.”
Barricade perked up. “What, pray tell, did we talk about?”
“Nothing that concerns you,” Bonecrusher said, hastily. “Just…stuff.”
Even Blackout was interested. “Stuff? I like talking about stuff.”
“Not YOUR kind of stuff,” Bonecrusher denied. “Unimportant. What really matters is that this is an outrageous abuse of a briefing room and rest assured that I am—“
“Poetry,” Grindor said, calmly. “We were talking about poetry.”
Starscream crowed. “I knew I was brilliant! And kinky. And hot. And evil.”
“POETRY!?” Barricade sat up, torn between burying his face in Grindor’s rotor mounts and this equally tasty bit of intelligence. Maybe he could compromise—bury his laughter in rotormounts.
“Yeah, he writes it. Showed me a really great sestina he’d written. Subject was a little cliché, but it was really well handled.”
“Subject was NOT cliché.” Bonecrusher’s tails whipped again. “Though I’m still unhappy with having to slant rhyme ‘outrage’ with ‘low wattage’.” He muttered, “I hate slant rhyme.”
“How do you feel about haiku?” Starscream asked. “I am trying to help Brawl write one for you.”
Bonecrusher shrugged. “Like ‘em fine, but Brawl can’t count to seventeen so…good luck with that.” He blinked. “Wait? Whose idea was this?”
“Brawl’s, of course. He wanted to do something for you and I tried to steer him away from…more dangerous enterprises.”
“Yeah, don’t let him do art for you,” Blackout said. “He did my name—kinda—by gluing cogs to a sheet of scrap metal. Only he ran out of room. So apparently my name’s now ‘Blackou’.”
Barricade snickered. “Oh so many possibilities---ow!!” He winced as Blackout pinched his arm tire.
“Yeah, like that one?” Blackout grinned.
“Well. Losing focus here,” Bonecrusher muttered. “Key points: Outrage. Abuse. I demand a bribe to keep me from feeling the need to report this any higher.”
Starscream tilted his head. He was still in charge of handling complaints on the Nemesis. One thing Megatron refused to dirty his hands with was the continual stream of complaints about the food, the cleanser temperature in the washrack, the lack of cleansing cloths, who ate all the squishiefish from the vending machine…. “Bribe? Such as?”
Bonecrusher pointed at Barricade. “Give me the little one.”
“Frag no!”
“Frag yes!” Bonecrusher’s tails whipped. “You owe me, pervert. Big time.”
“You LICKED me.”
Bonecrusher shrugged. “You going to blame me for your cute little aft?” He frowned. “I hate bargaining.”
“One condition,” Starscream said.
“No! Seriously! No! Are you kidding me? The rolling monstrosity here will rip my limbs off!” Barricade clutched into Grindor’s rotors, digging in, as if they were already tearing him away to hand over to Bonecrusher. Grindor gave an aroused sigh.
“You starting something again, grounder?” he murmured.
Barricade quivered, torn between another rush of lust and the thought of Bonecrusher having his way with him. It was like matter meeting antimatter. Kaboom.
“The condition is that one of us is there to watch.”
“Perverts. The lot of you.” Bonecrusher’s optics flicked over the four of them. “Which one?”
All three of the airframes raised their hands.
“My idea,” Starscream said, “I shall do it.”
“Frag no! You get too easily distracted,” Blackout countered.
“I just want to watch.” Grindor shrugged. “What? Less weird than anything else that’s happened today.”
“Uh, don’t I have any say in this?” Barricade gripped the rotors, harder. So…tempting to just bury his face in those mounts, smell the clean oil, the slight diesely scent from the engine. Guh. Fraggin’ copters.
“No,” Bonecrusher said. “You have had more than enough say so far.” He lumbered over awkwardly on his wheels, his long arms extending easily behind the bulk of Grindor’s engine, stroking at Barricade’s back kibble. “Make it memorable.” He snickered as Barricade recoiled.
“Take a hammer to my cortex to destroy that part of the memory core,” Barricade countered, trying, futilely, to shrink away from Bonecrusher’s touch. “Come on, guys. Not funny. Even less funny than the copter here.”
“Barricade,” Starscream said, his voice soft and slightly singsong. “What if we told you we desperately, DESPERATELY wanted to watch?”
“Stop it,” he said, weakly.
“It would be super hot,” Blackout said, his hands joining Bonecrusher’s, stroking lightly down Barricade’s back kibble. The interceptor struggled to separate: Bonecrusher’s touches: bad. Blackout’s: good. His sensornet didn’t fraggin’ care. He buried his face in the rotor mounts, hyperventing. His sensornet trilled, but…Bonecrusher. Eww. Grindor sighed as Barricade breathed into his rotors, a strangely erotic sound that pushed Barricade, he suspected, beyond his sanity. Fragging. Copters. “Okay,” he said. “Just once.”
Bonecrusher smirked. “You say that now, pervert.” He leaned closer, over Grindor’s shoulder. “I hate one-night stands.”
no subject
I lost it right about ^ there. I couldn't explain it to my hubby, either. And the ending line? Fantastic! Will you do more with this storyline? 'Cause I loved it!
no subject
no subject