Regret

[niyazi-a.livejournal.com]

Regret
NC-17
G1
Starscream/Skyfire
sticky, consent issues higher than dubcon (dosed with aphrodisiac)

For springkink : 2 Feb Transformers G1, Starscream/Skyfire: young and nerdy - "This is all for the advancement of science, of course."

 

 

“Well,” Starscream argued, tapping the glass vial he was holding, “we have to make the move out of the lab at some point, Skyfire.”

“Yes, I know, but…,”  Skyfire shifted uncertainly.  One thing that had brought them together, bonded them through their classes was that both of them wanted to explore. Lab work was fine, but both of them, for different reasons, perhaps, found the notion of perpetual laboratory work hopelessly constricting. 

“Come on,” Starscream said. “Surely you’re as bored as I am with doing our textbook experiments?  They’re not even experiments—we know how they’ll turn out!” 

There was that.  “But we are learning important techniques!”

Starscream flicked his wings, irritated. “And how many perfect scores do you need to rack up before you’re convinced you know the technique?”

Skyfire’s optics drifted to the vial, uneasy, but more than half won over.  “You…do know what it is?” 

“Of course I do.”  It was a potent aphrodisiac he’d spent half his latest lab-tech stipend on to buy from some Towers mech.   Which was the other part of the fun.  “Think of it this way, Skyfire.  You’re on an alien planet somewhere.  It’s a plausible scenario. Do you trust yourself now to evaluate a substance?” 

“N-no.”  Skyfire’s brow furrowed, red optics tight, considering.  “They’ll teach us that, eventually.”

“Eventually! Eventually!” Starscream flailed his free hand. “Are you always so willing to go at their pace? Does science plod like that?”

Well, it didn’t to Starscream—he caught onto everything in giant leaps and bounds, his cortex snatching at theories and concepts and principles.  His intelligence seemed, sometimes, too big to be contained in his small jet frame.

“It can,” Skyfire mumbled.  Much research, he knew, was trial and error upon countless error in a lab.

Starscream’s optics narrowed. “And are you content to be that kind of scientist?” He put a push of contempt into his voice. 

“No,” Skyfire said, more surely. “But…this could be dangerous.”

Starscream was at the end of his already notoriously short patience. “If you think this is dangerous, perhaps you should not sign up to be an explorer,” he snapped, not caring at the hurt that cut across Skyfire’s face like a whip. 

Skyfire’s mouth worked, his wings high and rigid with emotion. That had been his dream for as far back as he could remember.  Was he really…not ready for it?

He jerked his head into a nod. “Yes. Fine. You’re right.” He reached out a hand. “I’ll try it.” 

And the ecstatic smile that blossomed instantly across Starscream’s face erased Skyfire’s last, lingering misgivings.

[***]

Half a joor later Skyfire lay on his back, wings spread, unseeing optics pointed blankly at the ceiling.  His face was intent, his sensors open and alive.

“And what do you feel now?” Starscream asked, holding the datapad, determined to at least play the part of researcher. 

Skyfire tilted his head, considering. “Tingling?  Yes. A  sort of tingling.”

“What kind? Where?” 

“I..uh, all over. My armor’s surface and, uhhh, along the seams.”

Starscream grinned.  Perfect.  Just a little more pushing, perhaps. Encouragement.  “And, clinically speaking, of course, what happens if you use tactile contact?”

Skyfire’s brow furrowed as he lifted one hand, looking at it for a moment as though expecting to see some significant change.  Then, cautiously, he reached over and stroked over his opposite forearm. “Oh!” 

“Yes?” Starscream hid his expression behind his datapad.

“It feels…rather nice.”  Skyfire craned his neck, to watch his fingers trail over his armor. He shivered, sucking in a cautious, uneven vent. 

“So…nothing dangerous thus far,” Starscream managed, biting his own mouthplates. 

“No,” Skyfire said, dreamily.  He shifted, rolling his spine, sliding the spans of his wings against the floor, optics drifting closed, mouth slightly parted.  His other hand moved, both of them now sliding down his chassis, palms flat, then back up, fingertips in light feathering strokes.  He shivered.  “No,” he said, distracted, “not dangerous at all.”

Starscream would have snickered, but he found himself entranced by the spectacle.  Skyfire, normally so reserved, so self-contained, was twisting on the floor, moaning softly, his hands sliding up and down his body.  Starscream felt his systems heat, his spike signaling pressure, his valve giving an anticipatory clench on itself.  Skyfire’s arousal was hotter than he’d expected. He hadn’t imagined the sensual wantonness underneath the shy, large frame.

Skyfire found a line in his hip seam, where his torso joined his pelvic frame, apparently especially sensitive—his fingertips rode back and forth over the seam, his body surging and heaving under his own touch.  His optics were closed, head lolling back, entirely given over to the touch. 

Starscream discarded the datapad and its pretense, clambering off the chair and over to Skyfire, where he clamped his mouth greedily over Skyfire’s parted lip plates.  The mouth was hot, almost burning against his.  

Skyfire bolted upright, as though the touch were too intense, almost painful. The optics he turned to Starscream were wild, large and red and almost fearful, his breath a series of shallow, ragged bursts that Starscream could feel puffing against him.

“I, oh!” Skyfire managed, somehow pushing himself to his feet, sending Starscream back on his surprised aft, palms stinging against the floor, racing unsteadily toward the washrack. “I have to…oh…ghnh…!”

By the time Starscream had caught up to him, Skyfire was moaning in the washrack’s cold spray, steam hissing from his overheated frame.  One hand clutched at his interface hatch, tugging almost frantically at his spike. Starscream found himself captivated at the flashes of silver from between Skyfire’s fingers, the spike he wanted inside him more than anything right now. And to be pumped as furiously as Skyfire was doing. None of the shuttle’s usual gentleness, consideration. He wanted to be taken and used roughly.  That had been the whole point of the exercise, to get Skyfire over that edge.

But this was unexpected and erotic in ways he’d never dreamed—Skyfire physical, wanton, a creature shuddering with primal need. “Skyfire,” he said, pitching his voice to carry over the falling water. 

Skyfire’s face turned to his, optics wide and wild, shimmering with lust.  “Starscream,” he said, his voice husky and raw.  He lunged from the shower’s fall, tumbling with Starscream to the ground, blind with need.  “Please, I…don’t know…,” he said, panting, helpless. 

Starscream curled his hips up, grinding his red pelvic span over Skyfire’s thigh, one hand going for that seam that had so enthralled Skyfire earlier.  “Take me,” Starscream murmured. 

Skyfire moved, swiftly, his hot spike lunging forward to seat home into Starscream’s valve.  Starscream jolted rigid, filled roughly with the large spike.  Skyfire propped himself on one hand over Starscream, holding his weight off, his other hand hard and needy against Starscream’s wing.  Water, warmed from Skyfire’s overheated systems, beaded on the silver armor and rained down on Starscream’s chassis as Skyfire began plunging wildly against him.

And Starscream lost the ability for coherent thought, ridden ragged by sensation as Skyfire thrust into him, sharp hard stabbing thrusts, driven purely by need, by a feral desire, the hand raking down his frame, thoughtless for his pleasure, Skyfire entirely wrapped up in his own need.

Skyfire paused, hooking his hands under Starscream’s knees, pulling them between their bodies so that the blue thruster heels framed his face and he plunged in at a sharper angle, nothing to block access to the depths of Starscream’s valve.

And Starscream loved every moment of it, his body going limp, giving over to Skyfire’s control, riding the thrusts. There was none of Skyfire’s usual caution, or meekness, solicitous concern, asking if it was too fast, or too deep.  Skyfire’s spike stabbed against the top of Starscream’s valve, slamming home against the ceiling node with jarring abandon.  Skyfire’s vents grew deeper, wilder, somehow like a panting animal, his optics half-focused on Starscream’s face, mouth open, face rippling with desire until suddenly his mouth split into a soundless scream, no air at all, his body seeming to surge over Starscream’s an instant before the overload slammed into Starscream, hard and hot rushing through his valve, spinning hot red and white spirals of desire through him, eddying against the hard pinch of Skyfire’s fingers on his wing.

Skyfire dropped his weight on top of Starscream, still dripping, his heated frame almost breathing humidity. His optics had cleared from the haze of lust, replaced with the too familiar crease of concern as he seemed to slowly come around to where he was.  “Oh,” he said, his voice quiet, mortified, “I-I’m sorry.  I don’t know what happened.”

“I do,” Starscream wriggled, wrapping his arms around the shoulders, pulling Skyfire down.  “And it was perfect and you were…,” he purred, reaching up to nuzzle into Skyfire’s throat, “magnificent.” 

“Maybe—maybe I’m not cut out to be an explorer after all.  I…I lost control.” Skyfire allowed the embrace, distracted. 

And for the first time, Starscream felt a strange, sour pang.  This wasn’t what he’d wanted—he didn’t want Skyfire to doubt himself even more.  But suddenly Starscream could see what he’d done, as though the lust had cleared from his own optics.  “No,” he said, realizing the hollowness of the word. “You did nothing wrong.”  His arms tightened, desperate to hold on, hoping Skyfire wouldn’t pull any further away, physically or mentally.

But Skyfire pulled back, anyway, his greater strength breaking Starscream’s hold, easily. “I did,” he said, sadly. “I did everything wrong.”  He rose to his feet, shaking as he stood and staggered blindly away.

“Well,” Starscream said to himself, sitting up, trying to don that tone of careless cynicism he did so well. “That was…not a successful experiment.” The cocky smile flared and faded like a shooting star.

 

Comments

[ithilgwath.livejournal.com]

guh.. that was so fragging hot... and then slam! The angst hits and I whimper with the sad. *pokes Starscream* He's gotta think things through! Poor Skyfire...