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shadow_vector2012-06-07 09:22 am
Speed and Status part 13 and epilogue
IDW
Blurr, Drift, Perceptor
sticky, angst
Drift hesitated for a long moment, finger hovering over the last digit of the keycode to Perceptor’s room. Odds are, he thought, Perceptor had changed the code. He would have. So this whole thing was just a gesture, one doomed to fail, but he had to make it anyway. Because Kup’s words rang true. And action was better—far better—than teetering on indecision.
He pressed the last number, almost jerking back as the door actually cycled open. The familiar, air—the scent of Perceptor’s systems, the combination of the polish he used, his system oil, the tang of the charging packs for his pistols: it was all almost distressingly familiar.
A shifting sound, and blue optics slowly warming in the darkness. Drift stepped through, letting the door whisper closed behind him.
“Drift?” Perceptor’s voice, thin and scratchy from his powered-down vocalizer.
Drift nodded, knowing the blue optics would convey the answer; not trusting his own voice, his own words. He crossed to the berth: he’d stayed in the room himself long enough to navigate it in the dark. He dropped to the berth, hands finding Perceptor’s shoulders, hauling him upward into a kiss.
A hesitation, and then the long arms twined around him, Perceptor’s mouth opening into the kiss, glossa shyly seeking Drift’s. Drift’s hand wandered over the other’s body, down the chestplate, teasing over the vacuum hoses.
Drift’s hands slipped lower, finding the interface hatch, releasing Perceptor’s hatch, before delving even lower, fingertips riding around the rims of Perceptor’s equipment covers.
“Drift!” Perceptor’s gasp broke through the kiss, as his interface equipment fired on, his spike tingling awake as its cover clicked aside.
Drift answered with a husky laugh, sliding lower down the other mech’s frame, mouth trailing over the blue chestplate, the reinforcing gaskets, flicking down the abdomen before circling around the spike’s housing rim. Perceptor shuddered, his hands clutching at Drift’s shoulders, as the glossa flicked into the housing, against the spike’s head nodes.
Drift growled, mouth parting, taking the spike inside, glossa exploring the spike’s surface, finding and circling the small sensor-nodes, lip plates ringing around the spike’s base. Drift knew so many tricks, learned from the gutters, where he’d had to do this, at times, to beg for fuel, to bribe a guard to go uplevel. Sometimes, it was his only fuel, a taste bitter and salted with humiliation, so unlike the sweet taste of Autobot energon.
This time, though, he used those skills willingly, wanting them, wanting the little tricks of pleasure, those that aroused and held off, those that built the overload to the point where it tore itself, almost with violence, over a mech’s systems, and left him shuddering, weak-kneed and wrung out. He wanted it, and all of Perceptor’s startled, self-conscious squirming did not stand in his way.
Perceptor arched up, howling, as the overload burst over him, charge crackling from his joints, his spike flooding Drift’s mouth with transfluid. Drift swallowed, hungrily, hands raking down the lean thighs, before he rose up, glossa tracing one long line up the spike’s underside, and climbing up Perceptor’s frame, one hand dodging between his thighs. He straddled the other mech, guiding the still-pressurized spike into his valve, dark thighs spreading over the black pelvic frame.
“Drift,” Perceptor whispered, hands coming up to cup Drift’s face, fingers tender along the buccal armor. Drift gave a lopsided smile, bending over, rolling his pelvic frame over Perceptor’s, riding the other mech’s spike, arousal hissing between his dentae.
“Yes,” Drift managed, all he trusted himself to say, all he needed to say. Words didn’t matter—this did: the hard, shivering pleasure seizing Perceptor, Drift pulling lust from the quiet, red mech, seeing the wonder and surprise, as well as a tremulous want, in the other’s optics. He cinched his valve snug around the spike, keeping his pace ruthlessly slow and even, vents harsh and intense, stirring the air between them. Yes. Yes to this, yes to everything.
His spark swelled, almost to the point of pain, as Perceptor jolted beneath him, another scalding rush of transfluid torn from his body, another hard burst of pleasure riding roughshod over Perceptor’s usual resolve. He covered the mouth in a kiss, before the red mech could formulate any questions, ask about the past, invoke a future. He’d made up his mind: he’d taken Kup’s advice.
But he didn’t trust that his answer would survive any great scrutiny, so he pressed into the kiss, hands stroking over the other mech’s body, gentle, soothing sweeps and strokes, until the overload’s languor pulled Perceptor into what Drift prayed was a delirious recharge.
[***]
Drift moved slowly, the way he’d learned in the gutters when sneaking up on prey, remembering the old way. Shift, hold, count, count , count. Shift. Hold.
Finally, he stood beside Perceptor, looking down at the blissful expression on the mech’s face, the silver stains on the other’s armor a tangible sign of their shared pleasure. Drift reached forward, brushing one hand over the cheek, resting his palm on the other’s chassis, on the reinforced chestplate over the spark. He tried to think of a word to whisper, a promise or pledge. But he didn’t trust himself even to unwitnessed promises, and after a moment he felt his hands as some…filthy weight, smudging Perceptor, staining what he could be.
Running out of time, he told himself.
He snatched his hand back, turning on his heel, and leaving, not trusting himself even to a last, backward glance.
[***EPILOGUE***]
“Looking for Drift?” Blurr drawled over his cube of energon, seated cross legged in the rec room as Perceptor walked in.
Perceptor stiffened, his tanks seeming to be frozen cold as space by Blurr’s grin. “I was.” Defeat in his voice, surrender. There was no point withholding it from Blurr. Let him see, let him know, let him crow over this victory, Perceptor thought. And I…and I will hold this pain against me, and never let myself fall like this again.
Blurr cocked his shoulder in a shrug. “Left this morning. Hopped the supply freighter.”
“Left.” The word seemed to be the most despairing, awful word in the language.
“Yep,” Blurr took a casual sip. “Easy come, easy go, right?” His optics glittered, giving the words sharp edges.
Perceptor couldn’t even summon a response to that: he was too busy trying to convince himself the ground wasn’t sliding away from under his feet, the decking wasn’t bucking and heaving around him. He clutched at the back of the couch with one hand.
“Shouldn’t have expected much manners from him,” Blurr said, philosophically. “Didn’t even say goodbye.”
The ground seemed to stabilize under Perceptor’s feet, his vision clearing from the whirling vertigo of heartbreak. “No,” he said, his systems still tingling from Drift’s body against his and he realized, suddenly, the whole night, his whole self snapping into focus, realizing that that word…was a lie. Drift had said goodbye.
He dared not allow himself to call it anything more. The lie was enough, warming his spark, that in the end, in all his petty envy, he had gotten more than Blurr.
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At least he did get a nice sexy good bye.
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...it's too early to break my heart, *sobs*, but öasdfjöalsdjaslö this was beautiful.
Thank you for sharing. <3
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Arg, better not think too much of this. It'll give me a headache. Slagging TF:IDW and its overlapping comics, somebody needs to make a simple timeline for dumb people like me... *mutters*Ahem, anyway, thank you for sharing this lovely yet sad story with us. I'm still extremely happy that I managed to find this commynity. Otherwise I would have missed this completely and kept squirming in agony at FF.net. <3
- Senna-chan
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Have you checked out this timeline? I find it really useful! http://tfwiki.net/wiki/IDW_timeline
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- Senna-chan
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What a fabulous but bittersweet ending. Thank you.
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I kind of want to duct tape them all together until they make up.
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Glad you liked! Thanks for reading. :)
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...but it's so sad. *hugs Perceptor*
.. ... ... ..and now I wonder to myself. Does Kup buy Drift's answer? Won't survive scrutiny, after all...
...I'm gonna eat this ice cream, now, and have a little day dream where Perceptor goes after Drift, with Kup not-so-subtly rooting for them.
Then go back and read the whole thing from the beginning in a continuous flow. (and likely, still cry at the ending. 'cuz I AM that chick in the movie theater with the pocket full of tissues)