Reassurance

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
IDW Halcyon AU
Perceptor/Drift/Wing
sticky, mostly pwp. for 1readervb's request

Perceptor coded the door to the quarters on the Xantium that he shared with Drift and Wing.  He’d gotten used to the jealous looks from the other Wreckers. That was at least easier to deal with than…this.

Drift pulled away from the wall, where he’d pinned Wing, their bodies entwined. One of Wing’s legs wrapped around Drift’s hip, over the scabbard, his hands still raised from where they’d been cupping Drift’s face into a kiss. “Perceptor,” Drift said, his voice silky with arousal, optics half-lidded.

“…just getting some things,” Perceptor said, dropping his gaze.  They were too beautiful, too perfect together, white and red armor in sleek, elegant shapes.  Perceptor was big, and blocky and clumsy compared to their lean grace. He didn’t belong here.

“What things?”  Wing unhooked his leg from Drift’s hip,

“Things. That I need.”

Wing shook his head. “I don’t believe you. If you came for things, you would have a list.”

“He’s right,” Drift said.  “It’s us, isn’t it?” Drift moved, standing between Perceptor and the door. As if he knew Perceptor might try to bolt.

“No.”  He sounded insincere, even to his own audio.

“Lying, Perceptor?” Drift tilted his helm, something like a smile on his mouthplates.  

“I just…don’t want to interrupt.” The image of them twined together burned in his memory.

“You weren’t interrupting,” Wing said. The smile came more easily to him, gentle and teasing. “We were trying to give you a welcome.”

 “Welcome.”

“You really think we’d know what time you got offshift, and do something to leave you out.” Drift looked almost hurt, and Perceptor felt a pang in his spark at the thought. No, they wouldn’t.  Lose track of time, perhaps, but they would never deliberately omit him.

And that was part of the problem, too. Their politeness could be simply that: manners and not desire.

“The last thing we want,” Wing said, sliding around behind Perceptor, trailing one finger on his coolant hoses, “is  for you to leave right now.” 

Perceptor could feel the jet’s gaze, like a warm line, tracing up his legs, to his shoulders.

“Now,” Drift said. “Going anywhere?”  The familiar grin, optics flaring in challenge.

Perceptor hesitated.

“I could be more convincing,” Wing murmured, and Perceptor felt the EM field closer to his back, one hand probing down the black of his pelvic frame, fingertips probing the gap between his thighs. Perceptor’s ventilation fans kicked on. 

“Or we could tie him up,” Drift said, casually. “That would work for me.”

Wing laughed, behind Perceptor, his EM wash bright and tingling. “Maybe we should give Perceptor some say.”

“He…doesn’t seem inclined to talk much.”

“We could change that.”

Perceptor yelped, feeling a hot mouth on the end of his scope.  Drift burst out laughing, the sound open and genuine and more arousing than any sound Perceptor could remember.  He stepped forward, and Perceptor found his mouth covered by Drift’s, in a quickly fierce kiss, Drift’s hands sleeking down his chassis, skimming over his waist.

“This,” Wing murmured, close enough to the scope that his words vibrated against the sensitized metal, “was more what we’d  had in mind.”

“Getting there, at any rate,” Drift murmured.

Perceptor had no choice but to surrender: He might have withstood Wing’s gentleness. He might have braced himself against Drift’s hard teasing. But the two, combined, was more than he could stand against. He had no choice to succumb to four skillful hands, two eager mouths, drawing him back to the berth, pulling him down into a nest of limbs, caresses. 

A hand—he couldn’t tell whose—deft and gentle, popped open his interface hatch. Fingers tangled over his equipment covers.  He squirmed, the touches feathering over him, but everywhere he moved, sleek, warm, beautiful armor.  A hand, behind him so it must have been Wing’s, hooked under his thigh, lifting it up, opening access to his still covered valve, while another hand circled the rim until it clicked open, a thin wash of lubricant seeping from the dark lining. 

Drift purred at him, blue optics meeting his as he wormed in closer, hand moving to the spike cover. Something probed into his valve from behind—a spike, or a finger—nosing at the rim.  He felt himself panting, sensations colliding over him. 

A whimpering hum behind him, Wing’s mouth tracing a line of kisses along his shoulder, the back of his arm. There was another push at his valve. “I want to,” Wing said, his voice a diaphanous whisper.  Perceptor groaned, nodding weakly.

Wing’s arm slid under his, the red blade of his forearm flashing in Perceptor’s line of vision as the jet wriggled closer, his spike working its way carefully into the valve. Wing sighed, his spike pushing the calipers apart, moving in his slow, gentle way, inside Perceptor.

Drift pulled back, watching the two: Perceptor’s face, his mouth parted with sensation, and behind him, Wing nuzzling into his shoulder. His own hand stroked the spike cover, fingers parting around Wing’s spike as it entered Perceptor’s valve. Wing shivered, behind Perceptor.

Drift rocked forward, mouth finding Wing’s again, the gold optics shuttering into the kiss, their hands still roaming Perceptor’s frame. The gold optics slitted open, tipping back just enough for words to pass between them, at a whisper Perceptor could hear, that sent quivers of anticipation and desire over his net. “Please,” Wing whispered.

Drift growled, leaning in for another kiss that was almost a bite, sliding down the mouth to Wing’s throat, his body shifting and writhing against Perceptor’s front. And Perceptor felt another presence at his valve, the fingers replaced by Drift’s spike. Wing gave a hiss of pleasure, rocking back, his spike’s underside sliding against Drift’s.

Perceptor gasped, as both of them pushed in together: Wing’s friction-warmed spike and Drift’s cool, slick spike, spreading the calipers, scraping against the rim. They went slowly, each attuned to the tiny twitches and whimpers and hesitations of Perceptor’s frame, patient and gentle, until each was seated deep in his valve, his calipers pressing their spike nodes together.

Drift let Wing set the tempo, slow and surging, Perceptor moaning between them. Perceptor’s hands clutched at them: Wing’s forearm, Drift’s spaulder, raking down one thigh, and his mouth found Drift’s, burying a cry of pure lust in the other’s kiss.  His spike was pressed between his belly and Drift’s, each slow thrust of the swordsmech’s hips aroused it, tingling and alive.

Wing’s dentae sunk into his shoulder, his body continuing to surge and fall against Perceptor’s backframe, the spikes sliding in an exquisite syncopated rhythm inside him. His valve, stretched, was flooded with sensation, filled with the both of them, wanting him, wanting his responses.

The climax came too soon, it seemed; the slide of limbs, the rise of trembling pleasure was a net of sensation Perceptor could stay in forever. The overload sang through him, resonating a keening note sung out by Wing. Perceptor’s spinal struts arched as heat, and fluid and pure desire burst in his valve, tearing his mouth from Drift’s, his optics wide and distant. His spike jumped, and he felt the hot spurt of his own fluid on their joined bellies. Drift’s mouth fell to his throat, moving in slow, short licks. 

Wing sighed, nuzzling against Perceptor’s scope, his spike stilling in the valve, Drift’s own spike sliding to a halt.  “Now,” Wing murmured. “No more silly talk, Perceptor.”

“Or we’ll do this again.” Drift licked his way up Perceptor’s chin, rubbing his nasal against the silver cheek.

Wing laughed, the vibration thrumming between their bodies. “Maybe that’s not our best gambit, Drift.”

Drift gave a soft chuckle, watching a smile begin to break over Perceptor’s face. “I don’t know,” he said. “Seems pretty win-win to me.”

Comments

[ultrarodimus.livejournal.com]

^w^ Loved this. Poor Perceptor; he can fend off either of them alone but is utterly defenseless against both of them at once

[ravynfyre.livejournal.com]

I vote for again! *shifty-eyed look*

Have I told you that I adore these three together? I really don't have words for how much I adore these three together. They're hot and gorgeous and beautiful and so damn sexy... And Percy makes my heart ache with his self-confidence... ;_;

[renegadewriter8.livejournal.com]

I love these three, they are so awesome together. Oh Preceptor you silly mech, you know you can't say no to them XD Loved this!

[deedeesaurus.livejournal.com]

Aww, gotta love these three, so delicious and tender.

[acidgreenflames.livejournal.com]

*Making room in the freezer*

Amazing! Simply amazing! I've always loved the Halcyon series and this is another fantastic addition. I love seeing Perceptor so insecure, yet Drift and Wing are so willing to give him the reassurance he needs. XD

[1readervb.livejournal.com]

Thanks! Best birthday fic ever! I loved the reassuring quality to the smexings, and you even added DP- one of my lesser-indulged kinks! Gracias! 8D

[lithium223.livejournal.com]

So lovely. I adore the way your Drift and add in Wing and Perceptor and its 10 times hotter. Now if you'll excuse me...

*squeezes into freezer*

[silaphet.livejournal.com]

win-win for the win! or is it win-win-win? *JoyousAdoration*

[kageokami666.livejournal.com]

Oh that was simply wonderful. Perceptor should engage in such silly talk more often if that is the resulting reaction

[playswithworms.livejournal.com]

EEEEEEEE!!! *happy face*
Lookit, you made me forget I could emoticon! XD

[ladyofdragons.livejournal.com]

Never enough OT3. <3 Percy's reaction is completely understandable. And what better way to affirm him than with direct action? Drift and Wing make a wicked, wicked team. *fans self*

Can I be super jelly of Percy? Oh, to be the meat in that sandwich...UNF.