shadow_vector

NC-17
Bayverse
Barricade/Starscream
sticky

written for

10_orders prompt "Fall in love with me". And is more or less pure smut. I should be ashamed.

“Come now, Barricade,” Starscream said, stroking both hands down the sleek armor of Barricade’s thighs, his thumbs curling around the intricate shapes. He felt the shiver travel through the grounder's frame, preening. His effect on Barricade was…enthralling. The grounder’s desire was so raw, so refreshing. Irresistible.

Barricade squirmed. He raked his talons lightly over the jet’s broad chassis, his smaller mouth working as though chewing on words he didn’t dare speak. “Give you everything you want,” he muttered.

“You do,” Starscream agreed. He tilted forward, activating his actuators, curling up from the berth. Barricade lifted his face, their mouths meeting. Starscream’s optic shutters drifted closed, feeling the warm, velvety tingle of Barricade’s glossa, shyly exploring his mouth. Still hesitant, still afraid of overstepping. “Do you know what I want right now, Barricade?” he asked, coyly.

He felt the mouth smile against his. “Think I can guess.” One of Barricade’s hands drifted down Starscream’s belly, curving over the swell of the cockpit, skating off the amber surface toward his interface equipment, neatly tucked under one of his split panels.

Starscream purred, arching his hips up to meet the touch. He resolved to give Barricade no further hints, making the mech choose. Sometimes Barricade was too eager to please, too busy trying to mind-read Starscream’s desires. Sometimes, Starscream wanted Barricade to use him selfishly, attuned only to his own desires.

He could feel Barricade’s lust, like a kind of heat, warming against his armor. Yes, he thought. He brushed the sensitive thin armor between Barricade’s window-wings, tweaking the mountings gently, reveling in the shuddering squeak. Delicious. He felt his interface equipment surge in response.

“What do you want?” Barricade asked, his voice husky, his optics trailing over the large body of the jet with a hesitant possessiveness.

“I want what you want,” Starscream said, not bothering to hide the goading tease in his voice. He heard the frustrated grind of Barricade’s mouthplates.

“’Nd if I want to spike you?”

“Then do that.” Starscream captured one of Barricade’s hands by the wrist tire, rubbing it over his hatch. He swore the grounder’s response was even more aroused than his own.

“’Nd if I want to leave?”

Starscream laughed. “Do you want to leave, Barricade?”

Barricade froze, frowning, hating himself for saying anything. “No,” he breathed, finally. Starscream curled forward again, flicking his glossa against Barricade’s mouth.

“Good. Because I do not want you to leave, either.”

A soft whimper in the grounder’s vocalizer, the optics trembling, locked with Starscream’s own. Barricade shuddered, as if shaking something off, and dove down, burying his face in Starscream’s chest plating. He wriggled his hips back and down, trying to ignore the taunting little tickles of Starscream’s talons, throwing one glossy black thigh around Starscream’s hip. Oh, the jet thought. Yes. His spike surged in its housing.

A sleek scramble, punctuated by the soft click of unhousing equipment, and then Barricade gasped, suddenly, talons clenching around armor, as Starscream pushed his spike slowly but insistently into his valve. “Yes?” Starscream asked. He turned his face to one side, mouth bending to seek one of the wrist tires, pinching it lightly between his mouth plates.

“Yes,” Barricade squeaked. He wriggled, spreading his thighs further, vents short and ragged as his valve cycled down around the jet’s larger spike.

Starscream grinned, pulling Barricade against him with one arm, levering himself off the berth with the other, depositing Barricade, still shiveringly impaled on his spike, onto the metal surface. He planted his hands on either side of Barricade’s shoulders, looking down at the smaller mech, shadowed by his bulk. The pauldron tires and the flattened window wings seemed to form a frame for the long, earnest face. His mouth quirked into a lopsided smirk, Barricade’s lust laid before him like an exhibit. No, like a meal. He pushed his hips, feeling Barricade rock against the berth, his spike sliding deeper into the valve. Small talons pinched into his circuitry, the legs wrapping around his waist, armor slick against him, lubricant oozing between them.

Words had no purpose now, only the joining of bodies, spike sliding against the valve nodes, armor against armor, vents of air from overheating systems passing between them like warm caresses, surging rhythmically against—and with—each other, pelvic spans rising to meet, optics flaring, drinking in the spectacle of the other’s arousal until, at last, Barricade curled forward, heaving himself off the berth by talons hooked around the jet’s rib struts, pushing a cry into the top end of Starscream’s cockpit. His valve spasmed, clutching at the spike, the nodes clamping against the metal intrusion. Starscream hissed, arching up, his own overload crackling across his net, the space between their equipment suddenly hot and wet with transfluid.

He dropped to his elbows, hard, long forearms forming a cage around Barricade, who sagged back to the berth, optics dim and lidded. Oh, it was always so good with Barricade. Like no other—the way the grounder’s desires just took him over was unmatched.

Starscream dropped a kiss at the join of Barricade’s facial crest. “Fall in love with me,” he murmured, softly, almost imperceptibly. An order, a wish. He did not want to lose this.