Recovery

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
Bayverse, Sky and Ground AU
Soundwave, Barricade, Thundercracker, Starscream, Skywarp
sticky

Soundwave raged, thankful for the icy isolation of space.  Megatron’s impatience had complicated things needlessly, and possibly, irreparably. Had he no patience? 

No. Foolish question. Megatron simply did not know patience, had never needed it.  He’d merely taken what he wanted, immediately, grasping after his desires with sure, hard fingers. 

Soundwave had needed patience, and skill, and wiles besides. With his frangible frame, he’d needed other weapons to survive.

It did not stop him from grasping, likewise, though, after his desires. 

The Trine—he refused utterly to call it a Quaterne—would be defeated, and with them, his last obstacle to Megatron’s trust.  He felt Megatron’s obsession as a personal affront, something that eluded his ability to manifest, to control.  He could feed, could sustain Megatron’s other hungers; he could, in fact, use them as ties binding the leader more closely to him.  But the jets…their living defiance, he could not supplant, and it maddened him.  And Megatron’s plan? Did Megatron not see that killing Barricade would merely have angered, unified the actually dangerous members of the Quaterne?  Did he not see?

It infuriated him, then, watching the jets cut clean swaths over the Autobot base, to see the green light of targeting lasers burst through the vegetation cover, planted by Barricade, marking hidden targets, the team functioning flawlessly.

He realized, and this turned his anger to the bitter grit of gall, that he was envious.  Envious of their easy communication, of the teamwork.  He wanted to shatter it, take their cooperation and poison it, poison them.

He hated that he felt anything.

This would not do. At all.  Their victory here solidified their confidence. It was…appalling.  His own plan had been steamrollered in Megatron’s petty impatience. 

He would get it back; get control, quash the Trine, and remind, in his way, Megatron of his worthiness.

And suddenly…a plan.

[***]

That recharge cycle was the happiest Barricade remembered being in a long time.  Thundercracker and Starscream had piled so much praise on Skywarp for his self-control during the battle that the black jet had squirmed visibly, something the silky gold of pride beginning to peek, hesitantly, over the bond.  Barricade had never seen anything so beautiful as Skywarp’s abashed pride.

Even Thundercracker had relaxed enough to lounge carelessly on the broad berth, playing a game of poking Barricade’s window wings with his long, elegant toes.  They felt drunk, giddy on pride and success. 

Starscream had snatched Barricade bodily, from where the grounder had been rubbing a protective wax on Skywarp’s newly replaced plating, burying his face between Barricade’s window wings, his glossa probing teasingly between the mountings, leaving no mystery what was on his mind, even without the hazy pulse of lust over the bond.

Barricade wriggled in the long arms, trying to turn.  He felt the jet’s laugh, a vibration against his backframe, as he was swung through the air, and splatted, face down, on the berth. It reminded him of that other time. It seemed so long ago, now, ages past, when the idea that he was at all special to Skywarp was a hope to fragile to express.  His body responded to the memory with a hot rush of desire. 

“Skywarp and Thundercracker,” Starscream murmured, the sleek swell of his cockpit rubbing back and forth down Barricade’s back, “need to bond.” 

Barricade froze. Here? Now?  He felt a chill of panic that was entirely, he realized, based in worried envy. If Skywarp was bonded to the others…he wouldn’t need or want Barricade, would he?

“Nonsense,” Starscream whispered, distracting him with a teasing glide of his talons down Barricade’s exposed side.  “We, in fact, must encourage them, do you not think?”

Barricade looked up.  Skywarp’s were on them, his hand idly rubbing the wax Barricade had been applying, while Thundercracker sat, knees akimbo, awkwardly, looking strangely lost.  They did need help.

He nodded, turning his head to try to make optic contact with Starscream. Only to find his audio licked, teasingly, a line dotting itself down his back.  One large hand flattened him to the berth. “Not sure how this is supposed to help!” he gasped, limbs worming helplessly.

“Trust,” Starscream murmured, “me.” 

Barricade felt the bond rush with desire, tingling and alive, enhanced, magnified by the exhilaration from the battle.  His control protocols slipped, and the whole mass of desire flooded toward Thundercracker and Skywarp.  Barricade whimpered sheepishly.

Skywarp shuddered as the bond bloomed open.  Starscream snickered, moving up to nibble on one of Barricade’s window wings. 

Thundercracker glared over at them. “Subtle,” he said, dripping with sarcasm.

“Not at all,” Starscream said, gleefully. He slipped his hand between Barricade’s thighs. 

Skywarp made a high, tight, half-wild sound.  “M-maybe we should…?” he offered. His hands closed on the air, helpless, kneading.

“Listen to them?”  Thundercracker frowned. 

“You…don’t want to?”  Skywarp slithered forward, one talon prodding in a gesture that was less playful than he probably hoped. 

Thundercracker’s optics flicked from one to the other: Starscream teasing, Barricade earnest, Skywarp just…wanting.  Wanting him.  He was outnumbered.  “Yes,” he croaked.  His hand curled around Skywarp’s elbow. 

His own desire joined in the spiraling sensations over the bond.  Skywarp clambered up his half-reclined frame, mouth eagerly seeking his.  He fought his own arousal, pushing Skywarp back, following, mouths hooked together, their limbs tangling.

Barricade squeaked as Starscream’s talons grew rougher, rubbing against his valve cover until it snapped back. He couldn’t take his optics off the blue and black limbs, twining together.  Even if he’d managed to do that, he’d still feel ghostlike touches over imaginary wings, hot mouths on a cockpit he didn’t have. 

“Beautiful, are they not?” Starscream asked. He circled Barricade’s exposed valve with one talon, openly enjoying the way Barricade’s hips shuddered. 

Barricade mumbled something even he couldn’t translate, his entire concentration fixed on Skywarp and Thundercracker.  He shuddered, feeling as Thundercracker pushed his spike into Skywarp’s valve, his systems spinning with worry.  Was he being replaced?  His talons clawed into the berth before Starscream distracted him in earnest, thrusting two long talons into the grounder’s valve, to the rhythm they could both easily read from Thundercracker. 

Barricade’s optics snapped down as the spark chambers open, flooding the room with living light. His own spark seemed to spread in his spark chamber, as though the metal casing were too small, too confined to hold it all.

“It will change nothing between you,” Starscream said, his weight pressing down upon Barricade, flattening the wings against his chest armor. Barricade moaned, feeling a phantom spike in his valve, then doubled by the real, warm, slick presence of Starscream’s.  He quivered, overwhelmed.  He could feel the rising of the spark energy, the rising of desire, the sparkflares curling and flirting and probing each other.  He cried out, talons screeching against the berth, heedless of anything around him but the ocean of sensation tossing him wildly. Colors, wild and vivid, flashed over the room,  glinting on his armor, picking up highlights from the moving limbs, and the sound in his vocalizer was echoed by…someone, all of them, united through his bond, and stabilized, made stronger for it.

 

Comments

[thepheonixqueen.livejournal.com]

Yeah, the Quarterne is healing! But your kinda worrying me with Soundwave, I'm a little afraid to see what he plans; especially since he hates Barricade so much I see him being a target again. What next, incapacitate the poor little grounder and have him gang banged? and the jets find him like that? Posion him? Lethal virus that works slowly so he suffers more? My hat off to you oh awesome writer, great job as I have come to see reflects all your work.

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Oh, his plan starts next chapter, and things I hope take a surprising turn.

[albinocthulhu.livejournal.com]

If I was a mech that knew of soundwave's plan I'd tie him up in his own tentacles and lock him in an abandoned closet to let off some steam. XD

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

And that might be the reason Soundwave likes to float in space all alone--no closets! :D

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Apparently, PLOT! Yeah, things have been waffling around for a bit, but next time, Things Start Happening. :D

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

murrrrrr~ yummy bonding and Starscream being his so-not-sneaky self to get things rolling. :3 The last paragraph made me so warm and happy I ALMOST forgot about Soundwave opening the chapter up.

but only almost. 'Cause he's scaring me with his plotting. And I'm also kinda nervous over what Megatron's going to do since his plan failed.

Gah! Emotions! Goin' all over the place! *flops over*