shadow_vector | Sky and Ground 20 Over the Line

NC-17
Bayverse AU
Starscream, Barricade, Skywarp
sticky,

Barricade shifted uncomfortably in Starscream’s grasp. “I can walk, you know,” he grumbled. He was frisky, not crippled.

“I can walk faster,” Starscream retorted, tartly. “Besides, carrying you, I can do this.” He slicked one hand down the back of Barricade’s leg. The smaller mech moaned.

“Not fair.”

“If you choose to discuss what is fair or not, you may take it up with Skywarp, since your current predicament is entirely his doing.”

In Barricade’s audio, Skywarp chuckled. “If you’re waiting for me to apologize, little spike? Not gonna happen.” Skywarp didn’t need to apologize. It wasn’t his fault Barricade was so bad at keeping himself together.

“S’okay,” Barricade mumbled, his head lolling somewhere near Starscream’s left engine mount. “M fine.”

Starscream thought he was talking to him. Damn. Barricade still wasn’t used to this private freq stuff. “If you were so ‘fine’, perhaps you can explain that interesting performance? Had Onslaught not keyed me in, I would have thought you were having some sort of egregious malfunction.”

Onslaught? Barricade had vague snatches of memory of Onslaught tapping away messages on his datapad. In his audio, another laugh from Skywarp, his voice warm with fond memory. “Oh, yeah. Onslaught and I had some fun. Guess he would recognize it.”

Barricade’s capacitor stuttered. Skywarp had done this with Onslaught? Well, of course, he snapped at himself. You think you’re his first? No. You knew this. You knew you weren’t his first: you know you’re not as special as you think. Enjoy while you can, and don’t ruin it.

“Ju-just can’t hide that sort of thing very well,” Barricade muttered, “sorry.”

“I love that you can’t hide it at all,” Skywarp growled. Barricade’s capacitor fired on again. That was what mattered, when it came to it.

“Well,” Starscream was saying, “I do not think that it is worth your effort to learn to hide it. There is enough deception of that sort in the world as it is. But you might need to instruct Skywarp in some ground rules and boundaries for the sake of your dignity.”

Dignity? Boundaries? He had none. Not where Skywarp was concerned.

Starscream paused, and Barricade heard a door code open and then in a great, swooping arc, he found himself tossed onto the big berth. The force flattened his wing fairings, making him wince. Before he could protest, Starscream loomed over him, red eyes blazing. “I should also suggest,” Starscream said, “you be slightly more aware of how your little performances might affect others.” He lunged down, pressing his mouth on Barricade’s. Barricade squeaked.

“Ah, it’s about fraggin’ time,” Skywarp murmured. “Thought for a klik he wouldn’t open the link on his end.”

“Can—can you feel this?”

“Yes.”

Barricade opened his mouth under the probing, demanding kiss from the bronze jet. It felt a little…weird. Starscream wasn’t his favorite mech, and, well, technically he was in his chain of command (Oh, right like that’s stopped you—or him—before?), and Skywarp wasn’t here, but in a way he was here and kind of apparently participating so it was really sort of Skywarp he was kissing, just…through Starscream and…yeah. Weird. Starscream kissed differently than Skywarp—while the black jet kissed possessively, demandingly, Starscream was more hesitant. Perhaps he was feeling weird, too? Whatever the cause, his glossa brushed against Barricade’s own and the sensors lining his cheek plates in a series of feathery touches that fired up Barricade’s already overtaxed sensornet.

In his audio, Skywarp purred contentedly. “He is a good kisser, isn’t he?” Barricade mumbled something like an assent. “Should I take notes?” Skywarp teased.

“Like your way.”

Skywarp growled softly. “You say all the ridiculously right things, little spike.”

Starscream’s kiss became more demanding, abruptly, pressing harder against Barricade’s mouth, one hand reaching to stroke along his door wings. The way Skywarp did. Barricade twisted, turning his face away.

“You don’t like it?” Skywarp asked.

“Like your way when you do it.” That sounded…incoherent and a little petty. But it was..uncomfortable. Skywarp and Starscream should be different. Skywarp made another growling sound. Starscream broke the kiss, gently, ducking in one last time to brush his glossa against Barricade’s lips.

“I was doing as he instructed,” Starscream whispered, apologetically. “I did not mean to disturb you.”

“Not disturbed.”

“Good,” Starscream said, bending down to lick at his headlamp. “Because I am not finished with you. And I have not had much opportunity to explore this.” THIS, apparently, was Barricade’s back, as he discovered when the large jet flipped him over onto his belly. His frame went rigid for a klik—several times, very bad things had happened from this position. He forced himself to relax. Skywarp was right here. In a way. This had to be okay.

“You still there?” His voice sounded meek and small and a little afraid.

“Yes, little spike. If you want him to stop, just tell him. Or me.”

He relaxed. Starscream’s hands and mouth skittered along his back kibble, nibbling and pinching lightly at his door wings, their mountings, the join of his shoulder armor, down to the skirting plates over his hips. He found himself trembling at the jet’s light, teasing, almost hot touches. This wasn’t anything like his bad memories.

“Feel good, little spike?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Not you though!” he added, hastily. He didn’t want Skywarp to think he was enjoying this more than he should. That he would prefer anyone else’s touches to his.

Skywarp laughed. “Enjoy it, little spike. I told him to do what he wanted, and I can feel…everything.”

“Does it feel—is he enjoying it?”

“Starscream rarely does what he doesn’t enjoy.”

The kisses and touches continued, turning to light tweaks or pinches alternating with soft little brushing caresses. The alternation was maddening, especially in Barricade’s already aroused condition. He squirmed against the berth, his interface hatch bumping painfully against the cold metal. He whimpered.

“Impatient, are we? Shall I tell Starscream to hurry it up?”

“No. ‘m fine.”

“Sure you are. Fine always wriggles like that.” Oh, right. I guess he could see as well. Barricade felt his cheek plates heat. He wished he knew more about this Trinelink thing. But he really wasn’t up to expanding his knowledge right now. Not when he had a large jet slowly working his way down his back. Large taloned hands were already tracing down the swells and dips of Barricade’s thighs.

“Should I…be doing something?” he asked. Starscream’s talons brushed the underside of his interface hatch. He gasped, arching his back.

“No. I think that’s pretty much how he wants you.” Skywarp said. “I like seeing you like this, myself.” Barricade’s processor fuzzed at the thought. The thought that he, something he did, made Skywarp happy.

Barricade tried to push up, to turn over, especially as he felt Starscream’s hands on his interface hatch, but the jet pushed him down, almost carelessly, with one hand between his shoulders. The thumb talons began stroking at the mounts of his doorwings. Ohhhhhh. He didn’t have much choice but to melt back onto the berth, barely even noticing as his valve cover autoretracted under similar light talon-touches.

He shivered as the cool air of the room struck his overheated interface equipment, memory suddenly rushing back to him from those other times. He braced himself for a spike, telling himself, it was Starscream and the jet would be gentle and it would feel good, and even the helplessness wouldn’t bother him. And Skywarp was right here. A voice in his ear, a presence near his spark. It would be all right.

He bounced off the frame in shock as he felt instead the warm probe of the jet’s glossa. Skywarp laughed uproariously in his audio, a sound Barricade couldn’t help but connect with the sudden rush of sensor input from his valve nodes. Starscream’s one hand still squeezed his door-wings, tickling the mounts, his other pressed one o f Barricade’s legs out of the way. He could feel hot ex-vents across his aft, down the backs of his legs. He felt…very, very helpless.

“Feeling okay, little spike?”

“Awkward,” he managed. He didn’t want to burden Skywarp with his pathetic past. ”Can’t touch him back.”

“I hold you down—you don’t get to touch me either. Does that bother you?”

“No. Like it.” He did. He loved the feel of Skywarp’s weight pushing his wrist tires against the berth. He looked at his wrists right now, palms down and helplessly clutching against the smooth metal of the berth. Starscream probed deeper with his glossa, causing him to bolt rigid again. He fell back on his chassis, moaning. “Just that—doing this?”

Skywarp somehow understood what he was saying. “He enjoys it, really. Trust me. I can feel what he’s feeling. He’s learned to get off on other mechs more than himself.” Well, that sounded something kind of sad, but Barricade really wasn’t in a position to analyze. He wasn’t in a position to do anything, really, other than lie there, flat on his belly, while the bronze jet ran his glossa around the rim of his valve. He gasped as Starscream slipped one of his talons into the valve, twisting it as he pushed. He squirmed his hips against the berth, desperately, his spike releasing itself again from its housing and thumping against the berth as well. Alarm signals from his valve quickly subsided into pleasurable tingles.

Just like with kissing, the jet’s glossa worked in little teasing brushes against the node clusters at the entrance, while his long talon stroked the uppermost node. Barricade could feel the charge building across his systems. His spike gushed more lubricant, sliding against the berth. He was aware that he was making a spectacle of himself, moaning and writhing like this. But Starscream’s glossa had fixated on one node, rolling back and forth over it, building a charge that had his entire pelvic frame trembling, and his talon rolled against the side nodes of the valve in…just…such…a…way.

“I love seeing you like this,” Skywarp murmured. “Close, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he managed to gasp, aloud, losing track of his vocalizer channels. He could feel Starscream’s snicker as a vibration against his valve. The extra stimulus forced the charge in his valve nodes—he cried out, thrashing against the berth, knocking himself in the back of the head with one of his own upper arm tires in the frenzy of his overload. His sensornet blossomed white, waves of almost delirious intensity sweeping over him. His valve rippled against the talon inside it, squeezing blissfully against it. He shuddered. Oh this felt so good.

He heard his ventilation loud in his own audio—big gulps of air to cool his systems—as he cycled slowly out of his overload. He felt a sudden weight on his back, flattening his wing fairings again, and then a lurch as he was seized by the jet, his back crushed against Starscream’s cockpit, the jet nuzzling against his throat. Starscream stroked one arm down Barricade’s body, toward his spike, which stung in the sudden exposure to air. Starscream’s glossa tickled against his neck cables, his audio. He heard the slide of armor against armor over his own gulping ventilation, as the jet wrapped his hand around Barricade’s spike.

Starscream squeezed the spike, his talons tightening and loosening in some complicated rhythm that sent absolute squeaking shivers of delight across his sensor net. He felt his lubricant squish between the jet’s fingers, making a wet sliding sound that seemed to go straight from his audio back to his interface sensors.

“You like this?” Skywarp purred in his audio again. Barricade nodded, before realizing that that didn’t travel over the audiochannel. He heard Skywarp laugh. “Primus, you’re adorable.”

“Are you telling him to do this?”

“No. Just doing what he wants. I am, however, taking notes.” Barricade could hear the grin, and the promise behind it made him quiver against the bronze jet’s cockpit. “You are so hot right now….” His voice sounded raw with lust. Barricade wormed his hands free from Starscream’s pinning arms, wanting to try an experiment. He ran one hand up Starscream’s forearm, trailing his talons between the barrels of the chain gun.

“Oohhhhhhhhhh,” Skywarp gusted over audio. Barricade grinned. He bent over, nipping at the armor plate, licking into the elbow joint. He felt Starscream shudder underneath him, even while the jet’s hand kept up its insistent work against his spike. Better yet, he heard Skywarp moan. He twisted farther around, worming his talons under the heavy plates on the Seeker’s upper arm. He could feel Starscream’s chassis heave in response, could close his eyes and imagine it was Skywarp. Very easy to do considering Skywarp was moaning in his private audiochan.

Starscream shifted, pinning Barricade in place, firmly. Barricade squeaked, as Starscream’s hand moved a bit more aggressively on his spike, continuing the squeezing, but stroking up and down against the sensor nodes. He heard his own gasping breath and the slick slide of the jet’s talons over his spike.

“We,” Skywarp growled, “want to watch you overload.” Barricade dropped his head back against the jet’s chest-armor, his chassis struggling to in-vent under Starscream’s tight grip. He felt a nip on one of his shoulder tires, jarring his attention away from the rising charge in his spike.

Barricade’s wing fairings shifted across the jet’s chest armor, sending little judders of sensation through the sensitive mounts, as he raised his head, with an effort, straining to look down over the swell of his chassis and Starscream’s pinning arm. He saw the jet’s forearm first, twitching in short, quick movements, the wrist adding a twist of the talons against his spike. They couldn’t mean they wanted him to…?

His spinal cabling went rigid, arching him up off Starscream’s chassis, as his overload hit him, his spike nodes vibrating with their over-charge against the jet’s talons. He felt the hot rush of his transfluid race down his spike, then spatter in droplets across his chassis. He guessed he should feel embarrassed, or at least filthy, but he was too busy trying to cool his systems from overheat, his entire frame trembling from the overload itself, and from Starscream’s talons rubbing, slowly, almost languorously, along the spike. He twitched with every slow twist of the jet’s wrist.

“What you—what you wanted?” he gasped over the audiochan, his body still jerking to the bronze jet’s expert touch.

A long silence, long enough that he dropped to a subroutine and checked the connection. No, he was still there.

“Take him,” Skywarp’s snarl startled Barricade. “Take him for me. Please, little spike?”

“W-why?” He was already moving, obedient, twisting out of Starscream’s arms.

“I don’t have his tolerance for being held at the brink like this,” Skywarp said, his voice somehow urgent, almost as if he were in pain. Barricade didn’t stop to think about how he was supposed to get the jet, who was twice his height and how many times his mass? to do anything. He scrambled around, pushing Starscream down, slithering against the cockpit and the twinned plates protecting the jet’s interface hatch. He looked up at Starscream, considering for a klik. The thought of the urgency in Skywarp’s voice decided him on the quickest method. He snatched open the interface hatch, his hands almost frantic to release Starscream’s spike from its housing. The jet pushed himself up, half-seated, as Barricade took the spike into his mouth.

“Oh Primus,” Skywarp breathed. “Barricade, don’t have to do this.”

“Not as good as he is,” Barricade muttered. His mouth closed around the spike, his glossa exploring the convoluted, twisting shapes that made up the spike, questing for the slight tingle that indicated sensor nodes.

“Don’t compare yourself,” Skywarp managed.

Barricade looked up: Starscream was looking down at him, lips parted, sucking in vents of air with each pull Barricade made against the spike. He felt tension thrum through Starscream’s legs—they went rigid, and then to the point of quivering. He could feel the charge teetering on the brink, he could taste the ozonized lubricant on his glossa. He whimpered at the feel of the spike in his mouth, thinking as hard as he could of Skywarp: how the black jet would feel. How badly he wanted Skywarp to overload.

Skywarp was openly moaning in his audio, rattling off a list of delirious adjectives. Starscream’s hand brushed against Barricade’s head, one shoulder tire. Barricade shuttered his optics, concentrating on the slide of the spike against his glossa, the delicious trembling of Starscream’s thighs under his hands.

Starscream dropped his head back, crying out. His hips jumped off the berth, the tensed thighs jumping into action, and Barricade felt the rushing tingle of the nodes overcharging before the jet’s transfluid shot into his mouth. Skywarp filled his audiochan with a long sound like a howl. Barricade himself almost purred with contentment, swallowing the fluid, licking his glossa along the underside of the spike as he did, enjoying how Starscream’s body jerked with each lick.

“You,” Skywarp said, raggedly, “are better at that than you think.”

“Fastest way,” Barricade said, simply. He hadn’t liked the almost-pain in Skywarp’s voice. He didn’t want to think of Skywarp hurting, and on his account.

“Not complaining, little spike,” Skywarp said. “Just…know what that takes out of you.”

In front of him, Starscream struggled to sit up. “Am I allowed to speak, now?”

Skywarp chuckled in Barricade’s audio. “Tell him no.”

“Uh, Skywarp says no.”

“Skywarp,” Starscream said, pettishly, “Barricade has not yet developed the sense to know when you are merely being obnoxious.”

Skywarp laughed, “Okay, he can speak.”

“You told him he couldn’t?”

“I wanted to make it as much like…,” Skywarp faltered, for once at a loss for words, “so you could pretend it was me.”

Barricade’s spark seemed to pulse at the words. “I did,” he whispered, as a confession.

“Bad time to say this, little spike?” The pulse died in his spark, and Barricade felt the cold clutch of fear.

“What?” He braced himself against a hundred bad, terrible, awful things it could be.

Skywarp’s voice was urgent, hurried, as if he didn’t trust himself to get the words out. “I love you.” The comm cut off abruptly.

Barricade dropped back on his aft on the floor, stunned. He could taste the tang of transfluid in his intake, lubricant sticky on his lips, but his entire system felt overclocked, and unable to process anything. Starscream pulled himself to the edge of the berth, eyeing him, a bemused smile on his face. “I told you so,” Starscream said.

Next: Memory Games

Sky and Ground 20 Over the Line

no subject