First Contact

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
Bayverse, Planetfall
Blackout/Barricade
sticky

written for tf_rare_pairing request Blackout/Barricade after-battle interfacing.

“Huh,” Blackout griped. “That was entirely unsatisfying.” The indigenous airbase lay in ruins, the only signs of life those of flames licking fitfully at the concrete and plastic and metal piles that had once been, allegedly, structures.  These Earth species were pathetically fragile, and their buildings were pitiful.

“Yeah, because it’s all about your personal satisfaction,” Barricade muttered. 

“You trying to start something?” Blackout dug down, thick fingers scratching at the ground, kneeling down into the rubble.   He’d sent Scorponok scrambling in the wreckage across the base, to hunt down any remaining resistance. 

Barricade ambled over, kicking over a low wall of cinderblock, sending grey powder flying.  “Dunno. Are you?”

“Trying to find a lead.” Blackout’s optics dimmed, concentrating on his hands digging in under the rubble for the computer system he knew was in there. Had been in there—he’d sensed it before one of Brawl’s ‘lucky’ hits and blown the generator and the whole place had stuttered into a powerless darkness.

“The lead is, we follow the humans who retreated.”

Blackout snorted. “You said the same basic thing about the Allspark.”

“And…? We’re here, right?”  Barricade squatted down next to Blackout, smug.  His optics flicked up to the larger mech.

“What are you looking at?”  Blackout snapped.

Barricade shrugged. “New alt. Kinda hot.”

The rotors twitched.  “Supposed to be functional.”

Barricade grinned. “Don’t see why it can’t be both.”  He reached out to stroke one of the long, glossy rotors.

The copter jerked the rotor away.  “Got a mission.”

“Mission waited through Starscream’s waffling, through YOUR waffling back on Cybertron.  Can wait another few kliks.”  Barricade boldly reached, snatching one of the rotors. His engine revved happily. 

Blackout sat back, stifling a gasp.  “Little…sensitive!”

“Are they?”  Barricade’s optics winked, his talons moving to hold one rotor flat on one palm, while tracing a light, feathery touch down the top surface.  Blackout quivered.  “That better?”

Blackout muttered. He knew Barricade well enough that he knew there was no right answer to that. Say ‘no’ and the grounder would escalate.  Say yes, and…well….

“You need an alt,” he said, finally. Neutral.  Hint. 

Barricade shrugged again. “Get one when the time’s right. No rushing these things.”

Was that some sort of implied insult? Blackout bristled, the rotors stiffening in Barricade’s grip. 

Barricade laughed. “Gettin’ testy on me?”

“Busy.”  Blackout resumed digging through the rubble.

“Don’t think that’s all of it.”  Barricade purred.  “Know how you get after battle.” 

Blackout growled.  “None of your business.” 

“Megatron’s not here,” Barricade murmured. “How long have you been without…?”

“Shut up,” Blackout snapped.  The rotor jerked out of Barricade’s grasp with a ringing force.

Barricade’s grin widened. “Think that’s my answer, huh?”

“I have standards.”  A muffled thump from an explosion—some ammunition or fuel tank in the distance giving into the heat.  A geyser of fire lit up the horizon behind Blackout, making him an intricate silhouette, throwing gold-red gleams over Barricade’s armor.

“And…I don’t meet them?” 

Blackout glowered.  “Don’t push it.” Behind him, the glow died to a dim flicker.

Barricade stepped closer.  Blackout, crouched down to dig, was optic to optic with him.  “Come on.  New alt.  It’s hot.”  He reached a hand up for the huge engine looming over the mech’s head. It was hot.  Barricade had a thing for new alts.  Sort of like a virgin thing. New configurations, new transformation, new parts.  He shivered with desire, his hand stroking the round bulge of the engine. 

Blackout’s hand whipped out of the rubble, swiping Barricade’s hand away, driving it over and to the ground.  Barricade fell with the move, hard on his aft, wrist pinned.  “Happy now?” Blackout said, looming over Barricade.

“No.”  Barricade’s voice changed, teasing sliding into goading. He wanted this, needed this, almost as bad as Blackout did.  Only Blackout needed to take, and Barricade needed…to be forced to give. The message must have radiated through his optics—Blackout’s gaze met his, hard, like stone striking stone.  A low rumble, like a growl, but mingled with arousal. 

Blackout pushed more weight into the wrist, balancing on that hand, his other flicking open his interface hatch.  He snorted as he caught Barricade craning his neck over his chassis.  “Trying to get a good look at it?” he asked.

Barricade winked his lower optics. “Trying to see if you’re going to be able to hold my interest.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”  He tapped his hand on Barricade’s pelvic span. “Open.” 

“Make me.”

The optics rolled in the silver mask of a face. “Going to play this hard to get?”

Barricade stilled his face, optics goading, saying nothing. Blackout grunted again, ripping the panel open.  Barricade gasped, arching up at the sudden sharp pain.  Oh frag, that felt good.  Blackout gave a snort, the air cool little licks against the warmth of the sun-seeping desert, surrounded by the burning base, the heat of his systems.  Barricade’s optics flickered with pleasure.  He brought his free hand up to reach behind the larger mech’s neck, talons teasing under the heavy collar armor. Blackout’s engine growled again, the rotors shifting restlessly.

Carelessly, Blackout hooked the hand with a thumb, pinning that down as well. “No touching,” he muttered. 

Barricade’s mouth worked, frustrated.  “Want to touch.”

The optics hardened. “Not now.”

Not now implied…maybe later.  Barricade’s immediate frustration was fanned, transmuted, by a delicious thrill of anticipation, optics transfixed on the kisses of golden firelight over the silver metal. He squirmed.  His valve cycled eagerly as Blackout pushed his legs apart with one knee.

Blackout shifted down and Barricade felt the fuzz of the copter’s systems against his, warm and soft against his armor.  Blackout stopped. 

Barricade squirmed, his talons flexing uselessly. “Come on!” he whined.   

“Why should I?” Blackout said.

“Augh! I want it!” He thrashed, his knees bumping futilely against the copter’s lower chassis. 

“Want it.” Challenging, goading.  Resentful for Barricade’s aggression; determined to make him pay for it. In kind. 

“Need it. Come on!” he repeated.  His heel plates gouged parallel trenches in the soft ground. 

“Need…what?” 

Barricade arched his spinal struts, his grille bumping against the larger chassis. “Frag! You know what! Spike me!”  He twisted his wrists under the hands. “What’s wrong with you?”

A snort, one side of the tight wedge of Blackout’s mouth quirking.  “Nothing. Just wanted to make you say it.” 

Any retort Barricade might have mustered exploded into incoherence as Blackout dropped his hips, his spike slamming home into Barricade’s valve, lubricant thick and warm and wet. 

Barricade dropped his head back against the stone and sandy ground, the last warmth of the day’s sun giving way to the heat of the burning base. He forced his optics focused, intent on studying this new frame, this new face, as well as enjoy the large body surging over him, inside him.

Blackout shifted, releasing one of Barricade’s hands, bracing himself better, his hips taking up a more urgent pace, driving against the frame, and then rocking into it, pushing the spike in and then shifting it with each push.  Barricade felt like he was floating in an ocean of sensation, waves of pleasure buoying him up, lapping against him. He was helpless, floating, unable even to take advantage of his freed hand to do more than clutch into the open cables of the copter’s arm. 

Blackout’s optics were intent on his face, studying his reactions with a hungry keenness.  Needing, wanting Barricade’s open lust as a mirror to his own restraint.  Taking Barricade’s responses as cues, feeding his own desire. 

Barricade didn’t know how it had been for the copter before now: whether he pined for Megatron in pure celibacy, or broke it in small moments like this, as unlike his relations with the Decepticon leader as possible.  All he knew, all that mattered, was that Blackout’s desire was a heat hotter than the flames around them, powerful and raw, and as likely to burn the copter as well as Barricade.

Blackout’s face shifted, the firelight playing over his plates as they moved, intense, earnest, barely holding onto control.  His vents came in gusts, kicking up little dances of sand that glittered in the flickering light as they blew on Barricade’s armor like pinprick caresses.  Barricade groaned, feeling the overload build within him, the inexorable steady push of the spike against his valve, the slide of the copter’s hip against his thighs, the heavy hand pushing down on his wrist, and above all the fixed concentrated gaze drinking in Barricade’s responses, all building up together, all pushing him along, like some flimsy thing carried in a crashing wave of desire.

His optics flickered, locked with Blackout’s, as a cry shocked from his vocalizer, his pelvic frame bucking upward, slamming into Blackout’s body as the overload exploded across his sensornet. Blackout shuddered, abruptly, as Barricade’s clutching valve tumbled him into his own overload, his long-disused spike crackling with electricity.

He dropped heavily onto Barricade, metal crunch-squealing against metal. His cooling system hummed, sending an extra shiver of vibration against Barricade’s armor. 

They lay for a long moment, systems struggling to cool, the overload’s last vestiges washing over both of them.  With a grunt, Blackout pushed off him, his spike jerking from Barricade’s slick valve.

 

“More satisfying?” Barricade murmured.

Blackout glared, but the face softened after a moment, the angled mouth flicking for an instant into something like a begrudging smile.   “Happy now?”

 Barricade grinned drowsily, reaching for one of the rotors dangling over Blackout’s shoulder. “Getting there.” 

 

Comments

[anontfwriter.livejournal.com]

Hotly awesome.

[crimsonseastorm.livejournal.com]

Oh excellent 8D totally hot >D

[ex-naggingf.livejournal.com]

I love the banter between the two ;)

And dom!Blackout is one of the best things in the whole world ^_^