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shadow_vector2010-09-03 07:04 am
Singing
Bayverse, Sky and Ground AU
Barricade/Skywarp, Thundercracker, Starscream
no warnings
mostly fluff.
Apparently takes place before the last ficlet I posted. Yeah. I'll work out a coherent chronology at some point. Allusions to, once again, my shiny new toy, harmonic interfacing. Also for
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tf_rare_pairing request Barricade/Skywarp 'seeker education through interfacing'.
Barricade froze. It was getting a bit, you know, cliché, walking in on two jets interfacing. Then again, he did live with three jets. It was statistically probable. He just wished he didn’t feel so awkward about it all the time.
Especially as he had NO idea what was going on. It looked like—and this was weird, right?—Thundercracker was singing to Starscream. And Starscream lay on the berth, twisting, squirming in the throes of pleasure.
Yeah. Thundercracker’s voice wasn’t that great. More than that, the tune he was singing was kind of boring. Repetitive, like the same few notes over and over again. As if Thundercracker were practicing.
Until the blue jet caught sight of Barricade, standing, frozen mid-stride in the doorway.
The tune cut off abruptly.
“You have a knack for being where you’re least wanted,” Thundercracker said.
Starscream lolled his head to one side, optics focusing blearily on Barricade. “He is always wanted here,” Starscream murmured. He lifted a hand, bronze talons trailing up Thundercracker’s forearm. “As are you.”
Thundercracker tore his optics away from Barricade, throwing over his shoulder as he leaned down, “Leave us alone…please.”
[***]
So…Barricade found himself squatting on the floor outside the recharge. Or rather, that’s where Skywarp found him.
“Ummm, little spike?”
“Yeah,” Barricade said, miserably, poking listlessly at his datapad.
“You…okay?” A shifting movement as the massive jet folded himself down to the floor.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Skywarp tilted his head. “You don’t…normally sit and read out here.”
“Yeah.” Barricade stared blankly at the datapad for several kliks. “They, uh, wanted some privacy.” It was, after all, the truth.
“Ah.” Skywarp moved again, and a long, heavy arm wrapped itself around Barricade’s shoulders, pulling him in. “We can get some privacy, too, if you want?”
Barricade looked up, and the grin on Skywarp’s face, and its open invitation, was infectious.
[***]
Skywarp pinned him against the wall, mouth eager and teasing on his shoulder tires, one hand stroking possessively down Barricade’s chassis. He murmured some soft endearments, blandishments, that Barricade could not quite hear, but what mattered was the message sent through the hands, the mouth, the EM field twisting and teasing against him. Barricade whimpered.
Skywarp drew back, optics angled, glinting with mischief. “Going to tell me what that was really about now, or do I have to get really mean?”
Barricade squirmed, his feet dangling above the floor, helpless. He muttered. “Mean enough already.”
“Am I? Am I really?” The mouth dove down onto his again, the metal warm against his, the glossa tingling with charge, tickling, thrilling his own sensornet.
“…no,” Barricade whispered, optics drooping closed.
“Then tell me,” Skywarp whispered back, his voice coaxing and tempting in Barricade’s audio, his mouth moving on to nuzzle the pauldron.
“I, uh, I don’t know. They were like…singing?”
“Ah.” A throaty laugh. “Well, that makes sense.”
Barricade summoned a glare. It did not make sense. It was weird.
Skywarp pushed in against him, the broad, splayed plates of his chest armor sliding on Barricade’s grille, his mouth offering another kiss. Barricade frowned, but in the end could not resist—his warmed systems and desires could not pass up any offered affection. He hooked his talons around Skywarp’s shoulder, his mouth pushing against the jet’s, his glossa, tingling with charge, prodding shyly against the mouthplates, seeking admission.
For a long moment, they arched together, mouths and bodies in delicious contact, texture against texture—Barricade’s glossed armor a contrast with the satin of Skywarp’s stealth finish. Barricade wrapped his legs around Skywarp, holding himself pinned between the beloved black frame and the wall.
Barricade tipped his head back, breaking the kiss, his vent cycle ragged and deep. Skywarp could always arouse him, more easily and deeply than anyone ever had. Across the bond he felt a warm wash of matching love and desire, and a bit of hesitancy. “What?” he asked.
Skywarp’s mouth pulled to one side, a sort of rueful smile. He knew what Barricade had felt. “Do you want to know what they were doing?” The smile faded, the look entirely serious. It was so unusual, so out of character for Skywarp that Barricade’s capacitor skipped.
“Y-yeah?” Not if it bothers you, he thought. “If you want?”
Skywarp gave a soft purr. “Always so sweet, little spike.” He leaned close, rubbing his cheekflare against Barricade’s face. “It’s an old, like, oooooooold Seeker tradition. The singing.”
Barricade waited.
Skywarp shrugged, laughed, partly at himself. Barricade could feel a lump of tension crest and then dissolve. “I’m not sure you have one.”
Barricade blinked. “Have one what?”
“A Song.” Skywarp looked almost sad, a little afraid. And he said the word as though it had some heavy meaning.
Ummmm, no. Probably not. Barricade shook his head. “Not really into music that much.”
“Not…that way.” Skywarp tilted his head, considering. His vocalizer gave a strange click and then a hum as though a cold system were coming online. “Can I try something?” His voice sounded strange, resonant. Barricade could feel it vibrating against him through the Seeker’s armor, buzzing through his thigh armor, against his chassis. Across the bond, he felt a tremulous excitement.
“Yes,” he said, optics curious. Unnecessary question. Skywarp could do what he wanted with Barricade; but the fact he felt he needed to ask filled him with a strange emotion. Skywarp lowered him gently to the ground—Barricade reluctantly unwound his legs from the jet’s hips.
“Okay,” Skywarp said, breathily, as though bracing himself for something. And the vocalizer poured out a pure high sound, a tone that seemed to fill the small room. The sound seemed to go right through Barricade, filling and skirling around him, teasing at his EM field, sending a strange gouached wash of color across his sensornet.
He squeaked. Skywarp lay one talon across his mouth, shaking his head. He changed the pitch, somehow, and another color, another sensation, this one warm and fuzzy and active, came through him. Barricade clamped down on the bond, testing. No. It wasn’t some backwash of Skywarp’s own enjoyment of making these notes. The sounds, the vibrations of them, somehow were vibrating through his systems, against his armor, resonating through and against his EM field in impossibly delicate ripples.
He curled his talons around Skywarp’s hands, optics full of surprise and wonder. He opened the bond again, slowly, carefully, like a flower unfolding, letting Skywarp in, feeling him push in curious, tentative, hesitant and then…full of a matching wonder.
The notes died off slowly, seeming reluctant to leave the air, and echoing in Barricade’s systems far longer than his audio registered them. “You felt that,” Skywarp whispered. The excitement was heavy in his voice, matched by an active, orange, scintillant squirm from the bond. Barricade nodded.
“Was that what…Thundercracker was doing?” Barricade asked, quietly, afraid to break the precious moment.
“In a way.” Skywarp settled on the ground with him, long legs framing Barricade. “I think he was trying to find Starscream’s Song.” He rumbled happily as Barricade leaned against one of his legs, resting his cheek on the patellar plate.
“What’s that do?”
Skywarp laughed. “Sort of a Seeker legend or myth or something. That every Seeker has a particular song or set of notes that is unique to them.” He shrugged. “In the legends it’s the song you sing at a great hero’s funeral. And if you know it, and sing it, it can summon a spark back into a frame, stuff like that. And if you find it and sing it to the other, it’s…well…supposed to be special. Beautiful. Epic.” A half-snort, as if trying to deny the appeal, trying to sound sensible in the face of romantic nonsense, but not being…entirely convincing. “Probably nonsense.”
“They looked pretty serious.” Barricade slid a hand gently down Skywarp’s inner thigh, where the plating was thinnest, his silver talons flashing against the dull black.
“Well, Thundercracker, I guess, has been convinced of a lot recently.” A flash of mirth. “Besides, as you noticed, even just playing around with it is…kind of enjoyable.” A warm shimmer of memory across the bond.
Barricade grinned back. “It was.” Skywarp leaned down for a kiss, his turbines rumbling, his own hands seeking the delicate window wings. Barricade surrendered to the touches, feeling lust spiral up out of both of them, coming and meeting together and mingling. He gave in to the sensations, but part of his processor formed a firm resolve: He would find Skywarp’s Song.
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Harmonic interfacing for the win >D
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Great job as always and eagerly awaiting the next tidbit (and fallout)!
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Intriguing premise!
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I love how Barricade is so determined at the end. It's like he finally put into a concise concept, everything that Skywarp means to him.
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and some hot.
and roooommaaaaannntic~ (I'll admit it, I'm a shameless sucker for romance)