Silver Shore

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

NC-17
Bayverse
Blackout/Barricade
sticky, and some iffy science. Graphite is a semi-metal conductor that has industrial uses as a dry lubricant that loses conductivity as it heats, IN atmosphere.  So...this moon has an atmosphere. ORRRRR, pretend it's some rare graphite alloy. 

for my 28s meme 'on the beach' 

“Bored.” Barricade scuffed one toe plate, sending a glittering puff of pewter dust into the sorry excuse for an atmosphere this moon had.

“Yeah,” Blackout mumbled behind him. “Whole war needs to grind to a halt because you’re bored.” He was kneeling around the communications transponder they’d been sent to set up.  Stupid job.  Complete waste of skills.  Barricade wasn’t a fraggin’ comm tech, and neither was Blackout. 

Well. It would help.  “Cram it, copter. You’re as bored as I am.” 

“Maybe I’m not bored, ever think of that?” Blackout tilted his head, red optics glowing from his shadowed face. The local sun was the size of Barricade’s talon tip in the sky, a bright, white, but distant and cold spotlight.

Right.  Blackout was just being contrary.  Because there was no fraggin’ way he enjoyed being sent on these stupid missions. In the dark. In the cold. “Oh, really.”

“Really.”  Blackout crab-crawled over to the other side of the transponder, rotors flaring to keep balance. “Besides. A lot worse things than being bored.”

“Yeah, yeah. No one’s shooting at us.” Whatever. Barricade grudgingly bent over the transponder’s power cell.  He activated the base mountings, sinking flat spikes into the soft powdered carbon of the ground. Lifeless place.  Sort of a poster-child for ‘desolation’—white, distant sun, dark-grey empty shore lapped fitfully by a turgid white nitrogen sea.  Frag. Even the elements were too bored to combine here.

“Mneh. I was thinking more…time away from Starscream.” Blackout shrugged.  “Almost ready for power.” 

And Barricade was almost ready to poke himself in the optic, just for something to do.  “Whenever.”  The only benefit for competence here was it meant they got home sooner. Where there really wasn’t that much more stuff to do, but there were things to get mad at, which was close enough. 

And there was high grade.

On the other hand, there was Starscream, as Blackout pointed out. Frag. Tough choices.

“So,” Barricade said. “What’s your secret, huh? How you stay so…not bored?”

Blackout frowned at the transponder, as if intimidating it into working, before he looked up. “What? Oh.  Yeah, well, you just learn to see what you’ve got with you. Appreciate it and stuff.”

Apprecia--? How many headshots had Blackout taken?  “You’re…uh…going to have to demonstrate this ‘appreciate’ thing for me.”  So I can have evidence you’ve lost your central gears.

Blackout sighed, looking out over the shore. “Well, you see, I mean." He considered. "Okay, take this place. Not a lot of mechs get to see nitrogen seas.”

“Huzzah.”

“See? That’s totally the wrong spirit, Barricade.” Blackout frowned, cheek flanges pinching closed.”You gotta give it a chance.” Blackout reached one hand for the power coupling.  Barricade plopped it into his broad palm, stomping toward the riffling waves.

Right. Nitrogen sea.  Ooooooooh, special.  Look at how interesting this is.  The gravity causing tidal pull on a liquid. Yeah, Barricade had never seen this before…except like the thousand other times he had. 

He scooped up a handful of the graphite sand, throwing it as an expression of his futile frustration, and, well, for something to fraggin’ do!  The particles pinged, popping as they hit the cold, roiling surface and were tumbled about. 

Nope. Still not interesting.  Behind him, Blackout was still puttering with the transponder. Right now, Barricade would have seriously considered trading places with him.  He looked busy, at least. 

Barricade dug through the carbon sheeny soil, unearthing a chunk the size of his palm. Right.  Nitrogen Ocean of Superlative Boring?  Take THIS!

Barricade flung the chunk, aiming to skim it over the roiling surface. 

Cold white liquid splashed up around it, a crystalline halo.  One or two of the droplets spattered on Barricade’s wrist tire. The cold bit in like acid.  He yelped in pain. Okay, not bored any more.  Totally not bored.  And boredom suddenly seemed a whole lot better than in pain. From his own stupidity.  Frag.

“What?” Blackout straightened to his feet behind him. “Hey, you didn’t…,” he didn’t even need to finish the sentence. Barricade turned, his optics wide with pain and worry as the liquid chemical whited and cracked the rubber of his wrist tire.

“Okay,” Blackout said. “Just…uh…stay calm.” He took Barricade’s arm by the elbow.  “We can warm it up. Just, you know, relax.”

“Warm it up?”  Was Blackout delusional? 

“Yeah. Stop secondary damage.”

“Secon…dary…,” Barricade’s optics flared in alarm.  Right. Boring. He should have stayed with boring! Boring was awesome! A lot better than secondary damage.

“Yeah. Here.” Blackout knelt down, holding Barricade’s wrist near the central venting line in his chassis.  Blackout pushed code through, increasing his thermal venting.  Barricade felt the warmth radiate out, wrapping around the cold-hardened rubber of his tire. 

Blackout’s thumb trailed over the tire’s rim, checking for cracks. Barricade stiffened, as the cold burn of the nitrogen melted into…something else.

Blackout looked at him.  “What?”

“Nothing.” Barricade tugged at his hand. “Uhhh, all better now. Thanks.”

“Thanks?” Blackout’s hand tightened over his wrist, optics narrowing, suspicious.  Yeah, well, maybe ‘thanks’ was a bit out of character.  “What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Barricade repeated. Yeah. It, uh, didn’t sound any more convincing the second time.  He tugged harder.

Blackout’s head tilted, light glossing over the battered armor.  “You’re not used to getting touched, are you?”

Well, no.  Not so much.  “’M fine.” 

“Sure you are.”  One cheek flange twitched, but before Barricade could figure out what the slag that meant, Blackout’s other arm swung around him, heaving him up and tossing him flat on his back against the powdery graphite shore. A cloud of grey-silver dust floated up, and felt sleek and silky on Barricade’s splayed window-wings.   Blackout loomed over him, rocking forward on one flat hand, splayed on the ground next to Barricade, his other hand still clamping Barricade’s injured wrist. 

“I…uh…what are you doing?”  Barricade squirmed as Blackout’s optics raked down his frame, cheek flanges clicking contentedly.

“Looking,” Blackout said. His optics flicked up to Barricade’s face. “Why? You bored?”

Ummm, no. Not bored.  Confused, a little apprehensive, kind of vaguely turned on, but…not bored.  “Transponder?” he squeaked.

Blackout shrugged, one sonic pulsewave generator hitching. “Needs to power up before we run a proper functional diagnostic.”  He bent lower, until his EM field bumped against Barricade’s, his optics seeming, almost, to wink. “In short?  We got time.” 

“Time?”

Blackout laughed, the sound bouncing through the thin atmosphere.  “Time,” he repeated, bending lower, letting his cheek armor slide over Barricade’s chassis, over his pelvic armor, where it hovered, nuzzling  suggestively. He released Barricade’s wrist, sliding his hand over Barricade’s thigh, flipping open Barricade’s interface panel. He purred, rotors flicking.

Barricade tried to scramble back, but his elbows couldn’t get traction in the fine graphite sand.  “Wha—what are you doing?”

“Sad you don’t even know this,” Blackout teased.  He dipped lower, and Barricade felt the hot electric shock of a glossa against his spike cover.  Oh frag.  Oh….whoa.  “Let’s see what you got, Barricade,” Blackout murmured.

Barricade didn’t really have much choice—his spike cover retracted under the tingling stimulation, his spike jutting into the cold air. 

“Cute,” Blackout judged, nodding, but before Barricade could get outraged, he dropped his head, taking the spike into his mouth. 

Barricade gusted a vent of air as the copter’s glossa squeezed and teased, exploring the contours of his spike, his spinal struts arching up, hands digging into the soft ground.  Blackout worked along the spike, flicking the live current of his glossa against nodes, pushing the spike against the top of his intake, sucking and squeezing the spike.  Barricade whimpered, feeling charge crackle over his spike’s nodes. Oh frag that felt good.  His hand reached down, talons skimming over Blackout’s shoulders, over the hard high weight of the engine mount.

Blackout pulled away, letting his glossa slide up the spike’s underside.  His optics were lidded, dim with some secondhand pleasure.  “Want to watch you do it,” he said, his voice husky.

“Do…?”

Blackout grabbed for one of Barricade’s hands, wrapping the talons around the spike.  “It.”  His hand over Barricade’s he slid the silver hand up and down the spike.

Barricade whimpered, his talons curling harder over the spike.  Oh this was so wrong and so weird…and so fraggin’ hot. Blackout gave a low sound, almost a growl, his optics fixating on Barricade’s spike as he released his grip.  Barricade shuttered his own optics, letting his hand begin to ride up and down the spike, squeezing, twisting over the nodes, aware, almost painfully aware, of Blackout’s presence, Blackout watching him and getting off on the spectacle of Barricade pumping at his own spike.  His sensornet pushed away the cold of the moon’s thin atmosphere, feeling only blazing, rushing heat, moving restless, surging up, building against him, tingling over his net, building up like pressure in his capacitors.

Barricade made a choking sound, his hips bucking as his systems tripped into overload, the caught current sparking and running over his frame, his cabling.  Transfluid, scalding hot, burst from his spike, chilling to frozen almost instantly, and tinkling as it fractured, falling against his armor like silver ice. 

Blackout growled, lunging down over Barricade’s frame, his cheek flanges spread, mouth hot and hard and pushing, forcing at Barricade’s electrum mouth plates.   Current rippled between them, glossas chasing each other, tangling together. Blackout dropped his weight on Barricade, pinning his arm between them, his larger frame vibrating with lust. 

Blackout broke the fierce kiss to dive forward, hand hard on his own interface hatch before scooping up one of Barricade’s knees, opening an approach to Barricade’s valve.  He hung for a moment, making them both suffer in anticipation, Barricade’s valve spiraling with a kind of hunger, Blackout’s spike glistening with flash-frozen lubricant.  Barricade looked down, over his frame, at the spike hovering over his valve—huge and dark and glossed with lubricant.  His head lolled back at the thought of that, in him. 

Blackout pushed in, drawing the moment out, slowly, slowly, letting Barricade feel the spike push into him, spread his valve’s tightly pleated lining, giving the calipers time to adjust, to spread, to take it in.  Barricade’s talons clutched at the copter’s rib struts, hips jerking, erratic, forcing himself to relax, to take it all in. 

Blackout dropped to one elbow, leaning further, until his entire spike was sheathed in Barricade’s valve, pressing against the lining’s maximum expansion, bumping against the ceiling node. Barricade quivered.  Blackout curled his head down. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Just…big.”  Like whoa.

Blackout snickered. “Maybe you’re small.  Not that I’m complaining.”  His voice dropped to a whisper. “I like ‘em small.” 

Barricade’s frame shuddered.  His talons scraped against Blackout’s sides as Blackout began moving gently in the valve, rocking the spike, as if making room. 

Blackout gave a hrm sound, slowing to a halt just as Barricade’s valve gave an involuntary clutch at the spike.  “Hey.  This is graphite, isn’t it?”  He shifted his weight—moving his spike in the valve in a way that made Barricade gasp—to let some of the grey silver sand trickle through his thick fingers.

“Yeah.” So? 

Blackout grinned. “Oh, you’re gonna like this.” 

Barricade whimpered in distress as Blackout edged out of his valve. Hey, he wasn’t done yet!  And he was liking that just fine, thank you very much. 

Blackout winked an optic. “Trust me.”

Yeah, not like Barricade had much choice.  He watched as Blackout knelt, erect spike stabbing into the air, and showering it with the graphite sand.  What the…?

Blackout bent forward over Barricade again, his cooled spike sliding into Barricade’s aching valve.  “Graphite,” he muttered.  “Dry lubricant, semi-metal conductor.”  Yeah, as if that explained anything.  Barricade shot the copter a blank look. Blackout merely shoved him back down with one splayed hand, the other holding his coated spike, aiming it back toward the valve.

 The spike glossed into the valve as if coated in glass, frictionless.  How the frag was he supposed to build overload charge?  He turned perplexed, frustrated optics up at Blackout, who gave a knowing grin.

Blackout began pushing into the valve, still gently, but a bit more aggressively than before. The graphite tumbled against itself, snapping charge back against him, pushing him, keeping him on the brink of overload.  He could feel it heating from Blackout’s ever more aggressive thrusts, the charge dying off, leading him to an agonized frustration, valve calipers quivering, twitching.  Fraggin’ semi-metal!  He whined, his whole system shivering, wanting to the point of pain. 

Blackout stopped moving, the spike stilling in his valve.  Barricade clutched wildly at the huge frame, trying to get it to move. Maybe, just a little more, just…one more thrust? Something? 

Blackout was an immovable object atop him, vents heaving from exertion and his own arousal, but holding himself rigidly still.  The heat of their interfacing dissipated in the thin atmosphere, the spike cooling in Barricade’s frustrated valve.

Blackout moved, abruptly, pulling his spike away roughly, nearly popping it from the valve’s rim, just the head of it stretching the valve’s lining, reaching up his open thigh system, pulling out a live wire, which sparked and crackled ominously in the air.  He winked at Barricade, plunging his spike in one last time, brutal, hard, jamming it against the ceiling node an instant before he applied the live current to Barricade’s valve rim.

Barricade shrieked as his body jolted up against Blackout’s, metal slamming against metal, as the current sparked between their equipment, carried by the cooled graphite.  Blackout growled, hips jerking, as the overload tore the transfluid from his spike, flooding the valve that was clamping desperately against him.

Barricade hung for a moment, armor locked into Blackout’s, arched over the graphite sand beneath him, before he collapsed, dead weight pushing one last poof of graphite powder into the air, vents juddering from his overtaxed systems.  Blackout’s weight dropped down on top of him, heavy, sated. 

For a moment they just lay there, aftershocks from the live current jolting through their systems.  Blackout rolled his weight off of Barricade, to one side. “Still bored?” he asked, amused. 

“Shut up, copter,” Barricade said, his voice shaky, hands still cramped from having locked onto the larger mech’s armor.  His split tire throbbed, but he couldn’t separate that right now from the pleasurable hot throb from his interface subroutines. 

Blackout chuckled,  moving to sift a handful of the silver sand onto Barricade’s chassis. “See? Just gotta learn to appreciate it and stuff.” 

 

Comments

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

They are! :D

[ultharkitty.livejournal.com]

Very novel, and very nicely done :D

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Yeah, late-night rummaging through science journals pays off...kind of? :P Glad you liked!

[ultharkitty.livejournal.com]

It does indeed! I love this kind of thing. Hot and educational :D

[ex-naggingf.livejournal.com]

Bucky Balls, the lube of the future ^_^

That was marvelous...I laughed when Blackout called Barricade's spike "cute" XD

You always amaze me how you can write funny, smokin'-hot, and angsty so easily and interchangeably.

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Space Age Sex Aid!!! :P

Thanks! *blush*

[wicked3659.livejournal.com]

*shivers and purrs* that was damn hot! And I love the whole silver graphite aspect too *geeks out* Their snark is perfect and now I must go pour cold water over myself o__o

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Oh you know me and my tendency to sift through the internet for weird things...and then start trying to turn them into fic prompts. :D

Glad you liked, and happy new year!

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

your icon is WIN.

[albinocthulhu.livejournal.com]

ROFLROWR!

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

mmmm that was hot. And there was a lot of cute and giggle at the beginning there. And the ending was rrrrreally hot. prrrr~ I think Barricade now has all sorts of appreciation now.