Lost

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
Bayverse
Barricade/Starscream
sticky

written for 10_orders  prompt 3 "Shut up."

 

 

Barricade shivered as Starscream pushed him against the rough wall of the cave, the long bronze talons tickling down his frame.  His doorwings grated against the rough stone, sending signals of fierce life across his net.

“What brought this on?” he asked, huskily. Part of him desperately wanted to know. The other part just wanted the jet’s enticing touches not to stop.  His interface systems thrummed online with a delicate wash of sensation. 

“You.  Alone.” Starscream said. In the darkness of the cave his optics glinted merrily.  “Unable to resist me.” The jet leaned in closer, his mouth exploring its way down one of Barricade’s shoulder mounts. Barricade’s hands came up, talons curling under the broad armor plates of the jet’s chassis. 

“We’re lost,” Barricade murmured, shuddering at the light touches of the jet’s glossa in his throat cabling. “Should be trying to find an escape route.”

“We can find one, later,” Starscream purred. “Right now, I have something else I wish to find.”  His hands traced the edges of Barricade’s door wings, pressed flat as they were against the cavern wall.

“Looks,” he whimpered. “Unprofessional.”

“I assure you, grounder,” Starscream growled, playfully, “I am quite professional at this.”  His engines revved a little louder, the sound filling the small space between them, vibrating the air in a strange caress.  Uhhh, yeah.  He certainly did seem to know what he was doing. 

Barricade squirmed, but that only gave the long, elegant talons further opportunities to probe his armor.  Starscream tilted his head, coyly, pulling back from where he had been nipping at Barricade’s shoulder.  “Do you not want me?”  One hand traced a line over Barricade’s hip frame. 

Fraggin’ trick question, and Starscream knew it.  He could read it, even in the dim feed of lowlight filters, in every twitch and quiver of Barricade’s body as the hands explored it. 

“Shut up,” Barricade snapped, twisting away.  Not his fault the jet was hot.  Not his fault that part of him lived for these secret moments.  He knew why they had to be this way, just as he knew what would happen if it came out Starscream was interfacing with the fractious little grounder everyone hated.  Starscream’s authority would crumble. Seekers did not touch groundframes.  They were…beneath contempt.  A perversion. 

It was a secret Barricade was not inclined to complain about.  Nor did he dare complain about the various ruses Starscream had cooked up on the Nemesis—late shift data reviews.  Mandatory very public threats of private dressings-down.  One very long standing punishment for minor infractions of having to do Starscream’s pre-flight maintenance.  Barricade tried not to grin at the memories.  He should be offended, the careful, paranoid secrecy Starscream had made of their…tryst?  Was that the right word?  Instead, the stolen moments, the elaborate ruses, the play acting of anger and worry, enflamed him. 

It was their secret, and that made it even more special than just interfacing. Not just the connection, but the secret.  “Don’t know why you want me,” he complained.

“Because,” Starscream breathed. “You are you.” Typical Starscream answer .  He pushed one of Barricade’s hands down his frame in open suggestion.

Barricade let his talons, in the dark, explore the sleek dome of the cockpit, the different texture of the glass and metal fittings.  His ventilation shuddered, struggling to cool himself in the sudden wash of heat and desire.  The jet purred, dropping onto both of his knees, keeping the distance between them to let Barricade explore. He felt the smaller mech’s talons drift, as he knew they would, to his folded wings over his shoulders.  Fair enough—he had his own obsession with the grounder’s features.  He tilted one shoulder down, watching the eager glint in Barricade’s optics as the talons eagerly reached for the wing, gently tugging at it, exploring. 

His own optics half-shuttered with pleasure, Barricade’s caresses the touches of someone who is unfamiliar and does not wish to transgress, erring toward gentleness.  He sighed, happily. There was something to being with the grounder that was—almost—like being worshipped.  He would never mention it, of course, but he felt it keenly, the poignant reverence in Barricade’s touch, in his gaze.  Something stronger than, and yet not, love.  He just knew it aroused him the way very few things did any longer. As if he’d grown as numb to pleasure as he had to violence. And only Barricade’s earnest, raw lust stirred him.

“What do you want from me, Barricade,” he murmured, offering, his vocalizer near the smaller mech’s audio.  Inviting more. 

“Got you,” Barricade said, curling his talons possessively around one of the wing plates.  Starscream gave a soft pleasurable sound.  Starscream could practically hear Barricade wanting to kiss him.  The mech always resisted, as though that were an intimacy he was unworthy of.  Starscream turned his head, bumping his mouth against Barricade’s.  The grounder gasped, a shudder running through his whole frame, the talons tightening, piercing into the wingpanel.  Barricade gave a soft mew as he allowed his mouth to brush against Starscream’s, the electrical charge of their meeting plates sending simultaneous ripples of desire through them both.

Starscream let his glossa flick out along Barricade’s lip plates.  The grounder twitched away for a klik, before returning, offering his mouth.  Starscream let their mouths join, sighing contentedly at the hesitant intrusion of Barricade’s glossa.  He pulled away, chuckling as Barricade leaned in to follow the kiss.

“Tease,” Barricade muttered. 

“Am I?” Starscream said. He ducked his head in for another fleeting kiss.  “What can I do to make it up to you?” He trailed one hand suggestively up Barricade’s back, coming to rest with one digit curling around the mounting of one doorwing.  

“Engines,” Barricade croaked, twisting into Starscream’s touch. “Want your engines.” 

Starscream’s optics flared. Really?  Such delicious boldness. His systems thrummed. “That would leave me…terribly exposed.”

Barricade’s mouth pinched together. “Why? Don’t trust me?”His optics glittered.

Starscream winked one optic shutter. “Of course I do.”  He pulled away from Barricade, adjusting his limbs awkwardly in the confined space until he had stretched himself out on his belly on the cave’s floor, turbines, wingflaps, entire back exposed.  He turned his head, his optics bright fires of desire in Barricade’s lowlight scan.  “I trust you, Barricade,” he said, quietly, invitingly.

Barricade paused for a moment, running his optics over the jet’s frame, savoring the sight.  He reached out, slowly, with one hand, stroking down the length of one of the engines.  Starscream shivered at the touch. Emboldened, he brought his other hand up, approaching nearer, running his talons in long lines down the turbine.  He seemed entranced by the engine—the size, the power it contained.  The thing that defied gravity, broke the bonds of the ground. Such power, now quiescent, idle.

 It was, Starscream thought, more than the wingflaps were, the symbol of what was different between them.  Not unsimilar to Starscream’s own fascination with the pauldron tires.  Are we, the jet mused, most fascinated by our differences?  Does that get in the way of appreciating our similarities?

Thoughts like that he could not sustain as Barricade slipped behind him, leaning his weight on the jet’s backframe, his talons circling the jet intakes. Starscream allowed a soft, encouraging moan to escape his vocalizer, gratified by Barricade’s shivering response. 

Starscream surrendered himself to the sensations: Barricade’s weight pressing against his spinal struts, the hands, and then the mouth, touching, caressing, exploring the turbines.  He whimpered as he felt a gentle nip on the sensitive rim, Barricade pulling his own frame against it as if embracing it.  He felt the smaller mech writhe with desire, aroused by his exploration, pelvic span squirming over Starscream’s body. 

His own systems were a red flaming net of desire, aching to be touched.  Barricade groaned on top of him, shifting his weight down, one hand tearing itself reluctantly from the turbine to reach for Starscream’s interface panel.  Starscream gave a pleased wriggle at the grounder’s initiative.  He regretted not being able to touch Barricade—impossible from this position—but it rendered every contact point of their armor all the more keenly to his sensor net, as though he were mapping the grounder onto his body. 

He gasped as he felt talons circle his valve cover, releasing it without hesitation.  He could feel the higher rev of Barricade’s engines in exquisite vibrations against his back.  Barricade squeezed at one of the turbines, his mouth hot and eager across its manifold, burying a moan against the metal as he pushed his spike slowly into the jet’s valve.  Starscream rocked his hips back, letting the spike seat further in his valve. They hung there for a moment, lost in each other’s desire.  Barricade shivered, his talons clenching around the engine. 

“Good?” he asked, uncertainly.

Starscream craned his head over his shoulder, catching Barricade out of the corner of his tilted optic. “Not if that is all you intend to do,” he goaded.  He cycled his valve down against the spike adamantly. Barricade squeaked as the action forced more of the nodes into contact.  He shifted his position, one hand on each of the turbines, curling around the lip of the intakes for leverage, wriggling his knees further apart and began a slow, steady tempo of thrusts into the valve.

Starscream arched up, his palms flat on the ground, pressing his body upward, optics staring blindly at the darkness, focusing all of his attention on the feel of the smaller mech against him, inside him. The rising charge prickled across their nodes.

 Barricade whimpered, pausing suddenly, trying to let the charge dissipate, his entire body trembling with desire.  Starscream smiled, even in the throes of his own desire, and rippled his valve against the spike. “Not fair!” Barricade gasped.

“Did we ever specify this was to be ‘fair’?” Starscream teased.

“You always get the better end of it,” Barricade said, weakly. 

Starscream sent another ripple, down then up the spike. Barricade shuddered.  “Do I? Are you not enjoying this…at all?”

“Shut up,” Barricade whimpered.  “Show you ‘fair’.”  His talons curled around the engines as he began driving his spike into the valve, moaning in tempo, soft, lustful noises in a simple, steady cadence.

Starscream snaked, sinuously, on the ground, slithering with building desire, the pleasure from the valve’s signals mingling with the sharp tiny pricks of pain from Barricade’s talons in his sensitive turbines.  It was altogether, and deliciously, too much, and Barricade’s naked desire fueled Starscream’s own, and sooner than the jet would have wanted, being entirely greedy, they tumbled into  a roaring overload, Starscream’s frame going suddenly rigid, rearing up, talons gouging into the stone of the cavern’s flooring.   Barricade’s face, driven into the heavy support of the engine mount, pushed a cry into the metal, his body going through a series of wracking shudders, doorwings quivering, his spike gushing transfluid into the valve, hard and insistent and yet still yielding, fluid. 

Starscream inched down to the ground again, Barricade’s frame limp on top of his, talons gently stirring along the engines.  Starscream lay still for a long moment, his net glowing with bliss, kept alive by Barricade’s gentle touches.  He felt a soft kiss against one turbine, mouth plates and glossa working in an intricate caress.  He purred, happily. 

The mouth stilled on his turbine as the smaller mech rocked his hips back, pulling his spike from the valve almost apologetically. Friction-heated transfluid and lubricant trickled out to pool on the ground between Starscream’s parted thighs. 

“Gonna be hard to explain that,” Barricade said.  “When we get out of here.”

“The best explanation,” Starscream said, reluctantly rolling to one side, “is simply not to offer one.”

“Be rumors.”

“There will always be rumors.”   Starscream shrugged, taking advantage of the gesture to loop an arm around the smaller mech kneeling between his legs.  He pulled Barricade over his hip, down next to him, planting a kiss on Barricade’s helm. “We need our secret, yes, but not to be guarded to the extent that it…intrudes. Otherwise, why have the secret?”

It must have made sense to Starscream: it didn’t to Barricade at all. But he lay in the circle of Starscream’s arms, his net still pulsing pleasurably from the overload and the darkness, the lost, the secrets…nothing mattered as much as this moment. 

Comments

[spacehussy.livejournal.com]

*purrs happily*

That is absolutely what I needed to find on my flist before I pass out for the night. So lovely and hot. Their tentative affection for each other, and their pretty pretty lust <3

Gosh - okay my favorite was Starscream trusting Barricade enough to lay down on his belly, to expose his back. GUH. Also I am always a fan of sekrit trysts~~ :3

/incoherent, not-quite-sober comment

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

They are ridiculously hot. And I think the trust/danger of exposing himself to Barricade like that...kinda turns him on.

Glad you liked!

[arliabreaker.livejournal.com]

I love this, especially the trust Star shows Baricade.

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Thanks! Glad you liked it--it was a lot of fun to write.

[anontfwriter.livejournal.com]

Brilliantly writen. The relationship dynamic, the trust SS &'Cade have for each other. Awesome.

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Thanks! Yeah, this pairing eats my brain almost as much as Barricade/Blackout. Hrmmmm I wonder what the connection could be.... ^___^

[albydarned.livejournal.com]

Oh, this was fantastic. Even when talking about their own sordid affair, Starscream really just says it like it is, doesn't he? I think that's my favorite thing about SS in this story, how he very much goes after what he wants and is not ashamed to admit what he likes. It's a great contrast with your Barricade, who is more tentative (but for good reason).

Hawt story is hawt. There needs to be more of this pairing, most definitely. ;)

[yukiko-angel.livejournal.com]

I love that story, this pairing is stuck on me all because of you XD

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

mmmmmm all sorts of warm and fuzzy now. That was yummy.

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Ohaithar!!

(finally pouncing from the shadows)

I'm sorry for the confusion about the NEHIP fic on the kink meme. :C I'm glad you've found other stuff you like! :D Thanks for reading and commenting! You've been giving me a lot of happy squees in my inbox lately and I really appreciate it! *hug*

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

oh sweetie it is noooo problem. Finding this treasure trove of fabulous ficcage is way more than making up for a couple days frustration with LJ being strange.

I was about to pounce on Sky and Ground (holy long-fic Batman! It's the motherload! Score!!) last night but then our kitchen sink kind of... died. I need to go out and buy a new garbage disposal now. While thinking pervy thoughts about a certain hot evil police car... and sexy copters... and a crazy-cute jet... and holy smokes sexy-Bonecrusher-voice I don't even know but that thought has not left me alone since I read it.

...I think I need to watch the com. Because seriously? Your bright, cute and funny stuff just perks up my day so much, and your darker, more serious stuff is... crap I can't remember the word I want, but it's basically the same reason I watch some tear-jerkers over and over again and why I love Edgar Allen Poe (even though most of his stories creep me out something fierce!).