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shadow_vector2012-05-01 12:01 am
Diplomacy
IDW Halcyon AU
Drift/Wing/Perceptor
sticky
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ravynfyre's request. Thank you so much!“He’s got this,” Drift said to Perceptor, his voice pitched low and soothing. In front of them, Wing crouched on one knee, vocalizer clicking and buzzing with the language of the twelve or so reptilian creatures ranged in front of them. Sunlight gleamed off the purple and bronze of the leader, glittered from beads dangling from its spines, as he spoke to Wing, one clawed hand gesturing broadly over the white sands, punctuated by massy stone pillars that seemed to hold up the sky.
There had already been enough fits pitched about this, Drift thought. First, Springer, about needing to negotiate in the first place. Then Kup, for the interpreter being Wing, instead of him. It made sense to Drift: of all the Wreckers, Wing was the only one with a gram of diplomacy or manners. He was, perhaps more importantly, the only one with a xenolanguage mod, from his people’s long megacycles of wandering.
The elder nodded his head, sagely, the chartreuse knobs of his eyes rotating around, independent of each other. He spoke, another series of hums and clicks.
Wing paused, looking back bemused at the other two Wreckers.
“What’s he saying?” Drift prompted.
Wing held one finger up to signal a pause, turning, pushing off his knee to rise to his feet. “Apparently we have trespassed on one of their most sacred events. They would like some amends.”
“Amends,” Perceptor echoed.
“What kind of amends?” Drift’s expression said it all: ‘Springer will not be pleased.’ Not that, to Drift, Springer ever was.
“It is, ah, a sacred time of year for their kind: when their clutches hatch.” Wing gestured over, to where one of the elders held up a greeny-gold ball that it took Drift a long moment to realize was a…very small lizard creature. “They celebrate the renewal of life. Szkar-kgah—the elder—“ the bronze purple lizard tilted his head, catching his name, “requires us, to share our, uhhh, procreation.” Wing looked a little sheepish.
“We don’t…procreate,” Perceptor said.
Wing nodded. “And I have tried to explain that to him.”
The elder tapped the horned knob of his tail against the stone, requesting attention. He spoke—another long string of sounds.
Wing went still, his wingpanels quivering.
“What?” Drift said, defensive, hands floating to his sword hilts.
Wing hesitated. “He is…he is inquiring about our intimacy.”
“Intimacy.”
“Interfacing,” Perceptor said, quietly.
Wing nodded. "He says that, well, that would be an acceptable recompense.”
“He wants you to interface with him?” Drift was torn between outrage and horror. “How would that even…?”
Perceptor cocked his head to one side, the thoughtful pose of a mech receiving comm. “Springer,” he said, “wants an update.”
“Talking,” Drift snapped, curtly. “These things take time.”
Szkar-kgah clicked for attention again.
“He says that pleasure and joy are gifts for the festival. Wishes for the hatchlings.” Wing’s expression was distant, as if he wasn’t entirely sure he was translating it correctly.
Drift gave a grunt, then stepped forward, turning Wing around by the nacelle, pulling him into a fierce, rough kiss, his other arm wrapping tight around the jet’s waist. Wing gave a yelp of surprise, that got mashed into the kiss. His own systems fired on, his hands clinging to Drift’s shoulders, optics lidding with desire.
Drift pulled away, fingertips still cupping the ends of the wingpanels. “There. Enough?”
“Never,” Wing whispered, but he turned to the assembled aliens.
Szkar-kgah clicked. Wing’s grin faded. “He says…no.” The lizard ambled forward, raising one claw, and rapping smartly at Wing’s pelvic armor. Wing quivered. “No, thank you,” he said, swiftly, before realizing he was speaking Cybertronian.
“What?” Drift glowered down, preemptively, at the lizard.
“He…asked if we perhaps needed some instruction on how to use the equipment.”
Drift pursed his mouth, glaring at the lizard. “No,” he said, to the elder. “Don’t need your help.” He swept one foot against Wing’s ankle, leveraging Wing to the ground, dropping to one knee between the silver thighs. Wing’s ventilation caught, startled, his hands reflexively on Drift’s thighs.
Drift grinned down at him, bracing himself with one hand, the other reaching between them, opening their interface hatches. He shook his head. “The things you get me into,” he said, his mouth in a lopsided grin.
“What are you doing?” Perceptor said.
“The obvious.” Drift slid his hips lower, sinking into the jet’s open valve. Wing whimpered, optics flaring under the noonday sun. Drift saw his body casting greyblue shadows over Wing’s whiteness as he moved, slowly, rocking his spike inside Wing. He heard susurrus footsteps, leathery padding as the other lizard creatures moved closer, curious, studying the spectacle.
Drift grinned. “We have an audience,” he murmured, sliding his free hand up the jet’s torso, fingertips soft as feathers on the satiny armor, tracing the complicated lines of the armor plates; the sand gritted beneath his other palm, the contrast powerful and alluring.. Beneath him, Wing arched up, into the touch, his thighs sliding over Drift’s hips, between the scabbards and body. “You like being watched, don’t you?”
Wing whimpered, his own hand sliding down Drift’s back, under the Great Sword’s channel, coaxing and caressing. Wing was beautiful, Drift thought, open and willing and wanting, even in the blazing sun, even with witnesses. He could feel the valve twitch and ripple excitedly around his slowly surging spike, and it took all of his self-control not to shift pace, to drive himself into the jet with powerful, ferocious thrusts. For a moment he felt the curious gazes of the lizard creatures, like a tingle over his sensornet, before they seemed to fade from sight, and everything became Wing.
Drift growled, dropping his weight onto the jet, pulling his arms around Wing and rolling, onto his back, spike still sunk inside the valve. Wing spread his legs, straddling Drift’s hips, stealing a slow, lingering kiss before pushing his weight back. Wing took up the rhythm now, his hips rising and falling, maddeningly slow. Drift’s hands rested on Wing’s thighs, thumbs just under the skirting panels of his hips, feeling the push and sink of pistons underneath the metal, while his optics fed on Wing: the jet’s mouth parted in desire, optics lidding, the golden sun kissing the white armor, the wings flaring out for balance. Even the hot pants of the jet’s ventilation system aroused him—the stir of air, the rhythmic sound. But mostly, as always, it was that Wing wanted him. This beautiful, elegant creature, pure and powerful, wanted…him. Had been willing to trade his life for Drift’s.
How do you repay something like that?
A lifetime of adoration, he hoped, would be enough.
Wing cried out, optics flaring to rival the sun, his hands clutching at Drift’s shoulders, valve crimping down on Drift’s tormented, aroused spike. Drift hissed, his own overload tearing through his body, feeling the vibration of Wing’s overload under his palms.
A clicking chirr around him, and he recalled the observers: he’d lost them, in his focus, in his desire, his world shrinking and magnifying to only Wing.
Perceptor stepped forward, letting his foot grate on the sandy stone in warning. “Springer,” he said, quietly, “wants to know what’s going on.” He was hiding something behind his words.
Drift pulled himself from his languor, feeling the overload still throbbing through his body, a sweet, sharp release. He felt heavy and sated, spread on the white sand. But he knew Springer. “What, exactly, did he say?”
Perceptor cleared his vocalizer, optics darting to one side. “He said, if you must know, that you two should ‘stop screwing around’.”
“Did he, now?” Drift grinned, reaching up and catching Perceptor’s wrist, pulling him down, hand snaking up behind the shoulder to tug the taller mech dow. Wing, still atop Drift’s body, tipped his face up, inviting a kiss, which they all knew Perceptor wouldn’t begrudge.
“Tell him,” Drift said, hand roaming down to the sniper’s black hip, “’No’.”
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That was wonderful.~
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"Tell him, 'No'."
Just so fragging hot!
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