Fic: A Universal Concept - Chapter 14
Title: A Universal Concept - Chapter 14
Verse: Post 2007 Movie, AU
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Jazz/Maggie Madsen, Ironhide/Sarah Lennox/Will Lennox, Prime/Ratchet, Bumblebee/Sam, Barricade/Mikaela
Summary: What is love? Is it an instinct? An emotion? Or an ability that can transcend species? After eons of conflict, the war-weary Autobots have a new home, a new life, and a chance for something more. And for a single Decepticon, a chance for salvation.
Warnings: NSFW Mech/human sexual situations.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Hasbro has it all.
( Prologue )( Chapter One )( Chapter Two )( Chapter Three )( Chapter Four )( Chapter Five )( Chapter Six )( Chapter Seven )( Chapter Eight )( Chapter Nine )( Chapter Ten )( Chapter Eleven )( Chapter Twelve )( Chapter Thirteen )
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Notes:
*~*~*~*~*~ denotes break within a scene.
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~ Chapter 14 ~
Tech Sergeant Robert Epps was lounging back in one of the visitor’s chairs when Lennox entered the small office, slammed the door shut and threw a folder on the desk. It skidded across the top, the contents spilling out and onto the seat of the chair to land in a flurry of white sheets on the floor.
Epps sat up. “Will? What the fuck, man…” He trailed off, watching his CO. Lennox stared at the mess of papers, lips thin and eyes hard, a muscle working in his jaw.
Uh oh. He knew that face. Something had just gone straight to hell. “Will -?“ he began again, and stopped once more when Lennox turned on his heel, carefully locked the door of the office, and then slammed his fist into the wall next to the door.
“FUCK!”
“Shit,” Epps breathed softly. “What’s the bad news, Captain?”
Will was gritting teeth and barely hanging onto what was left of his temper. “That, ” he snarled, pointing to the mess of papers strewn across the desk. “I don’t know who’s running this show anymore, but our newest orders are not to kill that thing. We’re supposed to fucking capture it now!”
“Man, are they outta their minds? That’s bull shit. They saw the tape of that thing attacking us, what the hell we got that’s gonna work against some big metal sand monster stalking us from underground?”
Will snarled, a flash of teeth and mouth contorting with rage. “Those fucktards have their heads so far up their asses they're seeing daylight.”
Epps moved around to the scattered papers and began scooping them back up and onto the desk. Will reached for a map and winced, cradling his hand and snorting at his own idiocy because sweet fuck was it ever starting to hurt.
Epps handed him the map. “You need to ice that.”
“Later. Let’s go over this first.” Will scanned the latest set of coordinates and highlighted them on the map, then studied it, brows drawn, slowly flexing his bruised hand. Five red circles. Their target area was expanding.
Epps placed the last of the papers in a neat pile and watched the Captain bring out his dog tags. “Tell your robot watchdog we could use some help with that big bug out there.”
“Guardian,” Will replied absently, and tapped the dog tags. “Alright, Ironhide, coordinates coming your way.”
“Copy that, Captain.”
Bobby grinned. “Sounds just like one of us, don’t he? Big guy sure learns fast.”
Will smiled and shook his head, frown easing as he read off the numbers. Even sore and thoroughly pissed off at the higher ups, Ironhide’s gruff voice brought a sense of relief. They had an ace in the hole, they just might make it out of this alive.
“Latest intel puts sightings in these areas, Ironhide, but hell if there’s a pattern we can decipher. It went after fuel, any kind of oil and gas reserves, ripped up some vehicles, and once just came up for air and scared the shit out of some poor camel drivers.”
Epps looked over the map and slowly shook his head. “We’re getting spread thin. Maybe that ain’t a pattern, but I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
“You are covering a much wider area, Sergeant Epps, because Skorponok is following his base programming. Absent a Master, a drone has no instructions, no direction or purpose.” Ironhide’s voice rumbled distinctly through Will’s tags. “Analysis complete, Captain. Based on these coordinates, it is simply wandering aimlessly until the need for fuel brings it close to human habitation. It then scavenges whatever it can find. It will continue to avoid direct confrontations unless cornered. Focus your search on fuel depots. Once it comes above ground, an assault with suitable weapons should be able to take it out without too much trouble.”
“Oh man,” Epps muttered.
Will grimaced. “Yeah, ‘Hide. About that.” He cleared his throat. “Our orders have changed, we’re to capture it now, not kill.”
Both men startled at the distant BOOM, followed by a growl that rolled like thunder.
“Mother fucker.” Bobby stared at Will’s dog tags.
Will took a slow, deep breath. “Please tell me that wasn’t the barn you just blew up, Ironhide.”
“No,” Ironhide grumbled tersely.
Without thinking, Lennox reached up to rub his temple. He grunted and cradled his hand back against his chest with a sigh. “Then what was-”
“I will have the fragging tree replaced, you have my word,” Ironhide rumbled impatiently. “Now why do you want it alive, for what purpose?”
“Hey, do you think I have the slightest bit of say in any of this shit?” Will snorted back, because even if Ironhide never saw the inside of Hoover Dam, any of the Autobots could guess why the government might want another live specimen of a Cybertronian. Welcome to Lennox’s new home, between a rock, a hard place, and IRONHIDE - Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Seriously. Ironhide... I... I don't have time for this,” Will muttered, evasive and he knew it. “We go out early tomorrow."
His Guardian voiced his irritation with a rough growl, but then quieted. "Will, you know I need to inform Prime about this."
Epps chopped his hand through the air. “No way, if the Brass finds out you slipped intel...”
Will shook his head with a heavy sigh and decided to just throw his lot in with the only one who seemed to care that he made it home in something other than a body bag. “Go ahead, Ironhide, but keep it quiet as long as you can, things could get ugly, for both sides.”
Of all things, Ironhide decided to hum softly, and Will stared down at his tags.
Bobby flopped back and let his head clock the back of his chair. “As long as they can? Will, once this gets out you’re taking it right up the ass, you know that, right?”
“Yeah.... bite the bed sheets is about all I can do,” Will snorted and frowned back down at the map.
“I will do my best to ensure no one rapes you, Will,” Ironhide said.
The fact that Ironhide understood the joke, that he played along, and that he sounded so fucking earnest with his damn deep voice and accent - it was too much. Lennox just cackled and Epps nearly lost it, too. “Well, thanks, ‘Hide, I think...” Will chuckled as he quieted down, grateful that Ironhide had managed to break the tension, intentionally or not. “But really, we gotta get some rack.”
Ironhide hummed again, “Agreed, rest well and report in when you return tomorrow.”
Both men nodded, then glanced at each other for essentially gesturing while on the telephone. Bobby stood and stretched his shoulders while Will considered for a moment then finally asked, “Ironhide? How’s Sarah holding up?”
“She misses you, Will. Very much,” Ironhide answered, never one to mince words.
Growling frustration, Lennox ground his jaw. “Fuck, I wish I was there,” he said, even as he shrugged apologetically at Epps for getting into this with him still there. But Bobby was patient enough and they shared a commiserating look. “Just, I... tell the ladies I love them, alright?”
“I will,” Ironhide replied, and then with a little chirp, the tags went silent.
Will grunted and flexed his hand before looking seriously at his subordinate. “Alright, we got business. Assemble the teams for a briefing just before we head out tomorrow.”
“On it,” Bobby replied, then glared at Will and poked at his hand just hard enough to make his point. “Meantime, ice, and you need a fucking drink already.”
“You’re not telling me this,” Will ground out through the wince, then gave Epps a half-hearted glare. “One. One drink. Do not tell me whose, and don’t tell me where. I need at least the pretense of plausible deniability.”
The grin Bobby gave was his best ‘make the ladies melt’ smile. “Silent as the grave, man. Go grab some ice and by the time you get back, the brewski fairy will have worked magic.”
-------------------------------------------------
He was too tense. His plates locked down tight, refusing to grant access to the small roving hands that stroked metal and teased at seams. He stared down at the small form on his chest. Mikaela was more than willing, pushing into his touches as he stroked soft skin, trying to return the favor with warm hands and soft kisses over hard metal armor.
Mikaela was looking at him, large eyes and a troubled expression. “Is- is something wrong, ‘Bee?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he lied, and released a cable to distract her. Mikaela moaned at the delicate probe between her thighs, reaching a hand down to guide it in.
Bumblebee strained, fighting a stubborn field that bucked and twisted. Bright tendrils of energy flared and recoiled from contact with the soft glowing bio-organic field as though burned. He wanted this, but it seemed a losing battle.
On his chest, Mikaela was panting and shivering, writhing with each thrust. His cable was soaked with her fluids, fingers clawed at his chestplating, and in desperation Bumblebee opened them. They weren’t synched, but it would be enough to gain release.
He arched up from the berth when she touched his spark, a sharp bark of sound from his vocalizer. His spark overloaded, the pulses rough and uneven, Mikaela’s touch more pain than pleasure. He heard her cries through the roaring in his audials. It was done, he had made it work, for him and her.
Bumblebee shuttered his optics, weary and relieved, and let the pleasure-pain finish grinding through his systems.
Next time, next time would be better.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Most nights Sam prayed to anyone who would listen that his sleep would be deep, dreamless and peaceful. Tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight, no one was listening.
He moved from one nightmare to the next, running, stumbling, falling, getting back up to run again, chased by a monster who reached to the skies. He writhed and screamed on a huge metal hand, pricked and scored by razor sharp claws, bright red blood dripping over old scars that crisscrossed his body. A deep cruel voice laughed above him and called him ‘pet.’
He begged and cried and choked on his screams, pleading for Bumblebee to come save him, and Bumblebee did. Bright yellow Guardian faced down gleaming silver monster, and Sam was in his hands and where he belonged, with his Autobot, and he was safe, safe.
“‘Bee, you’re too hot,” Sam mumbled. He tossed and turned against heated plates, and sighed relief when they cooled down. A moment later, he shivered and curled up in a ball. “C-cold, why are you s-so cold?” he complained through numb lips and chattering teeth.
The nightmare turned dream took another turn. Sam moved through the corridors and large hallways of the Base and entered the Medbay. The ruined hulk of Barricade sat in the corner, sullen and silent. A reddish glow from shattered headlights sparked at Sam’s presence. Sam shrank back. Another of the monsters come to hunt him down.
“Ratchet, kill him, kill him!”
“I told you, Sam. You could have avoided all this if you just said ‘yes.’” Ratchet arched a metal browridge and waved a hand that turned into a giant saw, slicing into the monster. A shriek rose from the wrecked Saleen. Sam gasped and covered his ears and fled from the Medbay, straight into Bumblebee’s quarters.
Sam’s hands clenched. He shouldn’t be here. They were… they were about to….
Bumblebee lifted Mikaela, bright yellow plating separating to reveal the brilliant blue star in the center of his chest.
One of Bumblebee’s cables was coiling between her legs. It moved with a rolling, thrusting motion, shiny and slick with lubricant. Mikaela squirmed, moaning and rocking to Bumblebee’s thrusts. Sam panted, hand fumbling at his zipper, watching her fuck herself on that thick cable.
God, god. He couldn’t look away. Bumblebee, his Autobot…
Bumblebee held Mikaela to his chest. She reached for the bright blue glow and the glow reached back. Sam gasped when it surrounded her, covered her, penetrated deep, and Mikaela was nothing more than a swirling white haze of light pressed to Bumblebee’s spark.
“It should have been you,” Prime intoned.
“I couldn’t,” Sam whispered, staring up at his Autobot, “I can’t.”
Bumblebee’s helm fell back; he uttered a high pitched metallic moan, metal frame jerking, the spark in his chest now a halo of expanding blue light, a small sun, a nova. The light spilled from his chest, washing over yellow metal, then rolling on to engulf Sam in a glowing haze. He groaned and dropped to his knees. Blue fire filled his vision, energy pulsed through his veins, nerve endings sang with the touch of his Guardian, recognizing, welcoming him. He was in large metal hands, writhing again, this time with pleasure. Sam opened his mouth to scream it all out and beg for more, don’t stop, don’t ever stop, ‘Bee!
Sam jolted awake, stunned and blinking, the glyphs on his hands itched unbearably. He was in his quarters, in his bed, alone, and Bumblebee, Bumblebee was with….
A miserable whimper caught in his throat. He rolled up in his blankets and shivered, scratching and scratching at the marks on his hands.
On the other side of the Base, Bumblebee lifted his helm sharply, tilting into a listening pose. “Sam?” he called out to the darkened room. Mikaela stirred sleepily across his chestplates.
“’Bee? What is it, what’s wrong?”
Within his tightly locked plates, his spark surged, his field flickered, casting about for a presence that wasn’t there.
Sam.
Large fingers petted gently over the girl. “Nothing, it’s nothing, Mikaela.” Not nothing.
Spark and field continued to respond to shadowy images, sensations, feelings, a small form in his hand that wasn’t Mikaela. Bumblebee moaned silently as the form reached for him. Pleasure smoothed like silk over his hard-used circuits.
The contact, communication, whatever it was, began to fade. Only the sounds of his ventilations and Mikaela’s quiet breathing remained in the silence of his quarters.
Bumblebee remained motionless, audials boosted, every sensor alert, but it did not repeat.
-------------------------------------------------
Bumblebee watched Mikaela circle Ratchet like a tiny satellite, hovering, ready to assist. The large circular saw sliced neatly through a ruined armor plate. The medic reformed his hand and peeled the chunk of metal away to reveal an access port, and Mikaela slid another feeder line in.
“Slow, very slow, only a few drops per minute,” he heard Ratchet instruct. “His systems cannot handle too much at one time.”
“Is he… is he still alive?” A human voice whispered into the quiet, Sarah, just now seeing Barricade for the first time. It was a testament to how badly injured Barricade was that Ironhide would allow her anywhere near him.
“He is.” Ironhide’s tone made it clear he considered that unfortunate, though his battle AI barely twinged at the Decepticon’s presence, its threat assessment down to zero.
The Guardian stood with feet planted wide, arms folded across his chest, glowering at the battered Saleen. Sarah was next to him and Annabelle was in her preferred spot, perched right on top of one of Ironhide’s huge feet.
Bumblebee watched them, too, caught between jealousy, envy and admiration. Annabelle was already securely snugged into the Guardian’s field. Ironhide’s field drifted, tendrils outstretched, then folded lazily around Sarah’s small form to branch and spread into her biofield. Pale blue shimmered as it blended into white, resonances almost synched, nearly perfect.
Sarah seemed not to notice, but she stepped closer to her Guardian and rested a hand on leg armor.
How did Ironhide manage it so easily? Why did his own field fight him?
Bumblebee huffed and looked away, grumbling and uneasy. Something else to ask the medic; that and Sam and what happened last night, and the failures were chafing at him.
A vocalizer cleared itself. A large foot shifted, a clink of metal against concrete.
“Any progress?” Prime finally asked.
“He resists.” Ratchet straightened from his scans, weary optics glancing over the small group. “His self-repair alone cannot deal with this amount of damage. If I cannot gain access to his systems, he’ll offline.”
“Your medical overrides?”
“Negative. Purged as soon as they are introduced. He has a failsafe against hacking too, Jazz tried.”
Jazz tipped his helm in a nod to the Decepticon. “Like he saw me comin’. Score one for him.”
Prime seemed to slump, a hand lifting to rub at the chestplating just over his spark. “I had hoped for better news. Is there nothing more to be done for him?” Can I not save one of them, just one?
Ratchet turned away from the pain in optics raised to his, ignoring the sharp flare of distress from Prime’s field.
“I have one last thing I can attempt. Force a shutdown of his systems and bypass the safeties to gain access. While his systems are offlining, he won’t be able to stop me. Once I’m in, I can bring him back online and get to work.”
“Risks?”
“He’s so badly damaged, I may not be able to bring him back.” Ratchet glanced over the assembled group again, optics narrowed. “I didn’t ask for a slagging audience.”
Those baleful optics settled on Bumblebee. The scout almost jumped when a finger stabbed at him and the medic barked out a demand.
“Why are you here?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Barricade felt slow and sluggish, only half-aware. Why was he here? Where was here?
An accident, that much he remembered, and now every system he possessed was throwing up warnings of some kind. Severe damage, imminent shut-down, off-lined, or destroyed completely, Primus be damned, how was he still alive?
He reached for more memories while processors sifted gingerly through damaged systems, trying to activate, online, repair, anything, but he was awkward and clumsy. He fumbled for control and something gave with a sharp stab of pain. A nightmare of memories flooded his consciousness.
The snap of sharp claws signaled for the whips and he was strung up to hang suspended between the posts. He read it all in the tyrant’s cold optics, the glint of fangs as mouthplates curled back in a snarl of disgust. This time the punishment would be severe, and a lesson for the others. Failure was not an option with Megatron, ever.
Legs spread wide, shoulder joints wrenched back, metal groaned and creaked under the strain. The members of his team were already trussed up and babbling frantic pleas for mercy. The whips sang as they worked, deadly electronic hums that ended with a sharp crackle-snap as they impacted with the helpless, writhing mechs. Glowing ends buried into metal armor and discharged their current, sparks fountaining in streams of fiery red light. The babbling ended in screams, the screams were silenced one by one, each mech succumbing to the torture, overstrained systems giving up and dropping into stasis.
Barricade’s faceplates twisted, his frame wracked with pain, shaking with the blows, but he remained silent, refusing to beg. The whips cut through armor and deep into his protoform, and still he refused.
Megatron ordered a halt. A large hand gripped his jawplates, his helm was tilted up. The Warlord studied the young Hunter, a slow grin spreading when Barricade bared his fangs and glared his defiance.
“Bring me my whip,” came the order. Megatron shook out his whip and purred in his audial, sensual, seductive, the voice of a lover. “I’m going to break you, young Barricade, and I will enjoy your screams as I do it. And when I am through, you will crawl to me on your belly and beg my forgiveness, knowing that I hold your life in my hands, and you will be mine.”
One claw stroked Barricade’s faceplate in a slow caress. A shudder went through the Hunter.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Why are you here?”
Bumblebee’s vocalizer threatened to short circuit as he garbled out something about Sam and fields and feeling something strange and--
“Is he dying? Are you?” Ratchet cut in, snarling as a feeder line began dripping energon onto the floor instead of into the Saleen.
Bumblebee’s plates rattled. “N- no... I don’t--?”
“Then you’re fine, he’s fine, clear out and don’t come back until I tell you to.”
The scout hung his head. He didn’t have to be told twice, but Sam was not fine. He was so far from fine it was painful, Bumblebee could feel it. Mikaela gave him a sympathetic and slightly harried look as he passed her.
“I’ll see you later, ‘Bee?”
Bumblebee inclined his helm, warbling a miserable chirrup of agreement.
Pale optics shifted to Jazz. "And you are...?”
"Just leavin'." Jazz held hands up in surrender and turned to follow Bumblebee.
The medic’s glare landed next on Ironhide. Ironhide stared right back.
“Weekly checkup. Sarah, Annabelle, me.”
A cursory scan and Ratchet waved him off. “They’re fine, you’ll live.”
“Fine,” Ironhide grumbled. “Could’ve told you that and saved myself the trip here.”
“Out, now.”
Tension was all but vibrating the medic’s armor. Optimus approached to rest a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “Why not take a break before you continue? Come and have some energon first--”
“There is no break from this Primus-forsaken war, you’ve said that often enough,” Ratchet snapped, shaking him off and putting safe distance between them.
That hand on his armor, the mere presence of Prime, was a burn and a torment and an infinite relief to his spark, but Ratchet would offline himself before he would open that door and walk through it again. So went the firmest of his resolves when he was alone. When Prime was near, his field betrayed him, his spark twisted with backlash and all his resolve crumpled to rust.
Something smoldered in Prime’s gaze, whether anger or frustrated passion Ratchet neither knew nor cared, wrestling with a treacherous field that bucked and seethed and reached for the one thing he would not allow himself.
“I’m simply suggesting,” Optimus said evenly, “that you should get out of this Medbay from time to time. You are stressed and overworked, why don’t you--”
“Why don’t you go see to the rest of the planet while I tend to my patient?” Pale optics locked with Prime’s. Ratchet’s field seethed, snapping with anger.
Bumblebee stopped short in the doorway, shocked at the open hostility. Jazz looked to Ironhide, lifting a shoulder in a helpless shrug. Ironhide watched the pair with narrowed optics, waiting to see what the fallout might be. The rift between the Prime and his promised was growing wider by the day.
Only Sarah and Mikaela startled when metal groaned and the Saleen shuddered. The engine coughed and sputtered, black oily smoke rose from beneath the crumpled hood.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Processors hung suspended, Barricade drifted in a place beyond pain.
Pain, the old one whispered to him, let it guide you, let it teach.
Barricade’s mouthplates curled in a sneer, optics cold with contempt. “What can I learn from being torn to pieces?”
A soft laugh answered him, then the faint touch of his Guardian, a clawed hand resting lightly over his spark. Patience. Control. They were ever your weaknesses, young ‘Cade. I failed to teach them to you. Perhaps your new Lord will succeed where I did not.
Barricade hiss-snarled angry defiance. “More likely I will end up tossed onto the scrap heap thanks to my illustrious Lord. He wants me to beg. I refuse.”
There is no shame in retreating before a stronger force. Learn to bend, before you are broken, young one.
“I would rather offline first!”
His Guardian sighed, a mournful rush of air sloughing through vents.
The beating continued. Barricade choked on pain and energon and pride with Megatron’s deep chuckle in his audials.
Finally, the stern voice of his Guardian commanded, a ghost out of time but still a force to be reckoned with.
I died protecting you, Barricade. Repay me now by living.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
His AI surged to life, battle ready and clamoring warning alerts. Ironhide growled, optics shifting from the bristling medic and Prime to pin on the injured Decepticon.
“Sarah, take the child and get behind me. Now!”
Sarah was already scrambling to snatch Annabelle from Ironhide’s foot, retreating back behind their Guardian as the Saleen roared to life.
Barricade reentered consciousness, crashing into a nightmare of howling pain, every system throwing warnings of imminent shut down. He could neither see nor hear, blind, deaf and dumb to everything around him, but the urge to get out, run, escape was overwhelming.
Feeding lines ruptured, spewing energon everywhere. The Saleen lurched forward, engine screeching, heading straight for Sarah and Annabelle.
Jazz shouted a warning over the roar of Ironhide’s cannons powering up. Ratchet snarled out a threat.
“Blast him and I will take you apart, plate by plate!”
Prime’s deep baritone cut through the din.
“Ironhide, no! Ratchet! Shut him down, shut him down!”
Ratchet pivoted away from Prime and in front of Barricade in one smooth motion, his arm transforming into a huge circular saw. The saw slammed down, cutting into the pavement in front of the Saleen, blocking the charge. The vehicle crunched into the barrier and halted, tires still spinning. Ratchet shoved the fingers of his other hand into the seams of the front end, cables threading out through fingerpads and into processors and core systems, sending out counter orders and virus programs to override defenses.
The Saleen shuddered and convulsed under the onslaught. Systems began the last of their fail safes.
The engine whined, metal grinding on metal, one system after another shutting down in the face of the intruding programming. The purge would be complete, nothing useful would remain.
A snatch of sound, an urgent garble of words, “Frag it all, he’s… stasis lock… don’t know… I’m losing him, I can’t….”
Barricade felt the coming darkness and reached for it, snarling defiance and hate at the enemy.
-------------------------------------------------
It was midafternoon, Maggie was stiff from sitting, and stifling ever more frequent yawns, while Jazz had spent the last hour fairly humming with pent up energy after the near prison break by their Decepticon captive in the Medbay.
Jazz looked over at her with a sly smile and an amused glimmer of his visor when she failed to hold back another yawn.
“The usual?”
Maggie flopped across her station. “I shouldn’t, really.”
“Just a quickie? Ta wake ya up, give ya a boost of energy.”
Maggie gave him a half-hearted glare. Jazz chuckled.
“Come on, ya know ya want it.”
“Jazz, you are evil.” Maggie groaned and stood up, stretching stiff muscles. “For a moment there, I actually had some self-control.”
Coffee and chocolate, together they were her downfall, her secret weakness, and Jazz was the devil himself when it came to tempting her with them.
The lure of getting out of the monitoring room for a break, the promise of a mocha latte, and she was sinking into the luxurious leather seat and succumbing to temptation once again.
The seatbelt pressed against her, vibrations moved up through the seat. The engine of the Solstice revved and Maggie’s lips curved. Jazz was also an opportunist.
The radio pulsed out a Latin rhythm, and Maggie relaxed back in the seat as they made their way out of the grounds of the Base.
Oh yeah, Jazz was a devil, and she loved him for it.
Man, it's a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun.
I hear you whisper and the words melt everyone
But you stay so cool…
You’re my reason for reason
The step in my groove…
His pleasure was obvious, from the smooth purr of his engine to the way his seat softened around her. The rhythm of him moved into her. She pressed a little harder against him and stroked her hands over smooth warm leather, listening to his engine thrum in response.
I'll tell you one thing, if you would leave it'd be a crying shame
In every breath and every word I hear your name calling me out…
You hear my rhythm on your radio, you feel the turning of the world so soft and slow, turning you round and round…
The engine tone was deep and seductive, the vibration sent shivers through her body, drawing a soft moan and an answering growl from Jazz. “Let me see ya, let me feel ya against me, Maggs.”
Watch. Feel. Jazz had explained how his field meshed better with hers when her emotions were strong. Or when she was aroused. Maggie had explained how his 15 feet of towering metal frame still gave her pause, and he had promised to find a compromise. Now, here it was.
For science, Maggie thought, blushing. She licked her lips, glancing at darkened windows, then pulled her top off. Her skirt followed. She unhooked her bra, the nipples pebbled with chill in the air conditioned cockpit.
She was down to her thong, thigh highs and heels. Jazz’s engine gave a sultry purr. “Lose the thong. Keep the rest.”
That was enough to make the heat curl in her stomach. This was delightfully wicked. Sinful. Give him a show he won’t forget, girl. She slipped the thong off with both hands and a slow seductive wiggle of hips against leather. Jazz growled. Maggie smiled, a satisfied cat with a bowlful of cream.
And it's just like the ocean under the moon
Well it's the same as the emotion that I get from you
You got the kinda loving that can be so smooth, yeah
Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it...
She closed her eyes, shivering. The air felt thicker and Jazz was all around her. The words of the song faded away; only the low bass of the radio remained, the heavy throb of his engine rumbling through her. His seat molded possessively, hugging every line and curve of her body. “Show me, Maggs. Wanna feel ya.”
Her hand cupped her breast and squeezed, thumb stroking her nipple. Her other hand slipped between her legs.
At the first touch of his field, Maggie purred. Light sparkled behind her eyelids, his field covered her, hard and soft, hot and cold, it tingled over her lightly, washing her in sensations. Jazz was right next to her, a shadowy presence, his deep voice whispering against her ear, warm breath shifting her hair. “That’s it, more…”
Touching, stroking, his hands moved over her with a lover’s touch. No, it’s his field, his field… but Maggie kept her eyes closed, relishing the fantasy. Her shadow lover cupped her breasts with his big warm hands, pinching and teasing, gently tweaking her nipples. God, harder… harder. Pleasant chills chased up and down her body, heat settled between her legs. Maggie moaned, her hand working, hips twitching up when she hit just the right spot.
Those big hands were smoothing up her legs now, the tip of one large finger playfully circling her thighs at the top of each stocking. “More… show me more…”
Maggie arched seductively and spread her thighs, lifting one slim leg to rest a stilettoed heel on the dash of the Solstice. The engine purred out a deep growl. The cockpit grew warmer. Jazz moved over her, pressing close. Field, it was his field….
She had watched him demonstrate, had seen the holo display as the shimmering blue glow surrounded her with light, electric field singing harmony with the charge in her nerve endings, coaxing her brain to interpret energy as touch, as pressure, as feather kisses and lingering strokes, the warm touches of a lover.
It was all explained to her, all the science that was more like magic, but those sensations-- they felt like Jazz.
Oh yes, and sex. She purred happily, running pink-tipped fingernails over butter-soft leather.
A touch of fingers to her cheek, light pressure against her mouth. Maggie sighed and smiled, parting her lips for his kiss, and then that oh so delicate pressure teased her mouth and lips and tongue with tingling erotic little flickers until she was moaning with it. Jazz echoed her moans with a powerful rev of his engine.
“Jazz,” she breathed, eyelids fluttering. Her hand moved, fingers swirling, thumb stroking, tension pulling her tight. Her breath came in soft pants, a tiny bead of sweat trickled down her throat. Vents hissed to life, swirling deliciously cool air around her.
She could feel Jazz watching, engine rumbling softly, all his focus on her. Show me…
Maggie whimpered, shifting restlessly. Close, she was so close. Her cheeks flushed, body straining, nails digging into his plush leather seats.
Her thighs were stroked, nipples pinched, that delicate pressure settled between her legs. His field, his field… no, the shining silver plating of Jazz’s mouth, hard and warm, kissing her there, right there. Maggie moaned, tossing her head back, thighs spread wide and hips rolling up to the touch of liquid heat that shimmered and swirled, lapping and tingling.
She was writhing, almost begging for release, with mewling breath and the fast slick slide of her fingers over flesh. The air crackled with static, blue sparks snapped off the dash and steering wheel. The Solstice skidded, tires squealing, metal creaking and groaning under the stress. The engine was a muted roar, rumbling and shuddering through the cockpit.
“Come for me, Maggie, now.” Jazz’s deep voice growled against her ear, his large metal hand, warm and hard, was cupping her ass and squeezing her tight. Maggie cried out and climaxed, back arched, hips bucking into her hand. The cockpit lit up with a glow of blue light. A wash of electric pleasure swamped her, small shocks moved through her, in her breasts, her belly, down her thighs, pulses of pure pleasure spreading from the center out.
Maggie moaned and panted, clutching at the seat, trembling. The stars danced behind her eyes. “God, Jazz… god. ”
“Aww yeah,” Jazz murmured, “that was amazin’. And I gotta tell ya, you’re gorgeous.” Jazz’s voice deepened, a warm admiring rumble through the cab. “Every inch of ya, Maggie, dead sexy and gorgeous.”
Maggie was caught between a blush and a preen as she pulled on clothes and tried to get herself in order. Jazz watched as she tilted the rearview down to check makeup, humming satisfaction. Maggie glowed in his sensor net, all flushed cheeks and plumped up rosy pink lips, heavy lidded eyes, sex-sated and sleepy.
Her biofield was still tangled with his. Jazz sent a pulse, languid and lazy, just to watch those eyes darken and hear her breath catch, see the flutter of her pulse beneath delicate skin.
Lips parted, a soft moan drifted through the cab, music to his audials and a balm to his spark. Life moved in him and reached for him, warm and inviting. One last pulse, a tender caress that swept through her field, and Jazz reluctantly shifted resonance and dropped out of synch.
Harmony lost, the biofield drifted back to its normal state. The Solstice rumbled contentment, continuing down the road at a leisurely pace.
“Now, how ‘bout that double-shot cappuccino I promised?”
Maggie tossed the dashboard a pert grin and stretched on his seat like a contented cat. “Mocha latte, Jazz, and if you don’t want me falling asleep on my keyboard, better make it a triple.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
An unseen presence lurked, watching the pair and their activities in the cockpit of the Solstice. The human was studied with mild interest as the Cybertronian field mantled and covered her. It drove in deep and rode her hard, and the human gave a very satisfactory response if the spill off of energy and the deep groans of the Solstice were anything to go by.
The AI paid sounds and activities very little heed, focused almost entirely on sorting through the steady stream of new data. The Cybertronian was the focus, the Cybertronian was key. Its systems were studied, energy was mapped, every adjustment, surge and peak tracked and charted.
More?
As far as this can go…
Given the rather broad new parameters the AI was working under, it found its way clear to move behind firewalls and barriers and protected codes, right down to the level of spark and core programming. A barrier was shifted here, code protections rewritten there, a firewall was removed completely, all hidden, all under securities erected by the AI at its Master’s command: Double blind until complete.
Phase III - Complete. Begin Phase IV?
System after system, programs chimed and pinged and beeped their readiness or lack thereof, and the AI tended to each one, waiting for completion, ready to begin.
Phase IV - Initiating…. Initiating…
Commencing Phase IV.
-------------------------------------------------
Sarah watched in awed fascination as Ironhide turned his cannons on solid rock and melted it, sometimes leaving a few glowing pools of metal behind to be dutifully salvaged by the waiting drones. It was the outermost chamber her Guardian was working on, a large entryway that would lead to the rest of the underground base, and Sarah had gasped at the size of it. Mechs came in all sizes, Ironhide explained, and even he was dwarfed by the massive supports and high ceiling. The drones had made steady progress on their own. Now Ironhide was there to check programming and speed things along.
Annabelle fussed, wanting to go to him, until Ironhide aimed a stern look at the tiny girl and click-buzzed a correction. Annabelle quieted immediately, thumb in her mouth and eyes wide, watching their Guardian. Cannons whined with building power, the muzzles glowed briefly, more rock vanished.
The reward for her patience came later in the form of a tide pool warmed by the sun. Annabelle paddled around, chasing tiny fish and splashing her indulgent Guardian, laughing when he snorted at the droplets glistening on black armor. Sarah watched them both, a smile curving her lips. It was peaceful here, beautiful, the sound of the ocean soothed her.
The sun was heading for the horizon and Annabelle was trying to gnaw a shell when Sarah finally called a halt, plucking her from the pool, rinsing her off with water from Ironhide’s reserve tank. The tiny girl was fed, bundled and put to bed in the small pup tent, her eyelids already drooping. She was sound asleep before Sarah was halfway through ‘Good Night Moon.’
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ironhide was lying on his back, optics dark, when Sarah approached him. She hesitated, indecisive, but she had watched Annabelle fondly patting her Guardian’s face plating, running tiny hands over the glyphs carved into metal. Ironhide had tilted his helm into her touches, letting her explore at will.
Curiosity won out. She reached out and touched the large circular medallion on the side of his helm, letting her fingertips trace the glyphs that covered it, then moved up to the sweeping, hornlike audial.
A soft susurration, like wind sighing through trees, and she backed up a few steps as the great head turned slowly towards her. Did she wake him? Was this bothering him? But he turned towards her, not away. No longer in profile, she could see most of his face, but Ironhide’s optics remained dark, and Sarah was feeling brave enough to venture her own explorations.
She touched the large arching curve of his optic brow, palmed curiously along the angled metal of his cheek, reached a tentative hand to the large scar around Ironhide’s right optic, the metal there rough and discolored.
Another whispering sound, but Ironhide never moved, and Sarah’s fingers slid down, tracing lightly along his mouthplates and everywhere she touched, Ironhide was warm, so warm.
Caught up in her explorations, she failed to notice the large optics of her Guardian glowing dimly above her, until her hand lifted to his scarred optic once more. Sarah froze when she realized he was awake, but Ironhide’s optics remained dim.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She heard that soft sound once again, resolving into an audible murmur.
“Femme, you are no bother. Please, stay.”
A small little sound of he didn’t know what, but she wasn’t backing off. Ironhide sighed when Sarah’s fingers smoothed gently over his scar, as though she could soothe the hurt that was long gone.
“Why hasn’t Ratchet fixed this?”
“I was injured before he joined our ranks. I keep it as a warning, a reminder of my younger, more reckless days.”
--Brave, but foolish, the old Prime whispered, his digit tracing around the blackened ruin of Ironhide’s optic. Soldiers must think as well as fight. You won’t live long if you can’t learn that lesson. Stay alive, Ironhide, that’s an order. I need you. --
Sarah’s hand left his scar and moved to his cheek again, stroking the metal of a guard, her touch soft and curious and unconsciously erotic.
“It’s hard to believe you were ever the reckless type,” she said.
“I’ve learned patience over the vorns.”
She startled when he brought his hand up, her own hand slipping down a little more to just above his mouth, the plating there thinner, more sensitive to her touches. One large finger touched her back, and Sarah shivered.
“Ironhide....”
Ironhide’s mouthplates parted slightly. Warm air puffed over her.
“Easy, Sarah.”
His huge body thrummed with power, vents whooshed softly as he breathed in air and expelled it again, she could hear the throbbing of his spark, beating just like her own heart. Sarah shivered beneath his finger again and the throbbing was joined by Ironhide’s deep hum. The comfort she felt so often in her Guardian’s presence washed over her. She was being held, surrounded and safe in strong arms. His finger stroked, feather light, and Sarah rested her forehead against warm armor.
“Thank you,” she murmured, “for bringing me here. I needed this.” To get away from four walls, arid heat, the sameness of everything. It wore on her, along with her worry for Will, stretching her nerves, invading her sleep.
Now, she listened to the ocean waves swirl and lap the shoreline with soft whispers. The smell of salt hung heavy in the air, the stars were a brilliant swath against the night sky. Below them, Ironhide’s massive bulk cut a dark silhouette.
“You are welcome, femme. My task is somewhat tedious; I appreciate the company.”
“Tedious? Ironhide, you were melting a mountain!”
She heard him rumble amusement, the sound like a slow roll of distant thunder. Sarah smiled and breathed out a sigh that fogged black metal, more relaxed than in months.
Ironhide spoke again, deep gravelly voice vibrating pleasantly through her chest. “I spoke with Will earlier.”
Sarah lifted her head. “Is he alright?”
“He is fine. He sends his love to you both.”
“And what else?”
“Nothing else.”
“Oh please.” Sarah arched a brow. “Then why did you blow up the tree in my backyard at 5 a.m. this morning?”
“Accidental discharge,” Sarah heard him mutter. His huff blew warm air around her. “I have already promised Will to replace it.”
“Ironhide, I know there’s something else.” Sarah reached a hand up to touch warped and dulled metal. “I want to know if something’s gone wrong. Please don’t leave me in the dark?” Like Will did. It hung in the air between them, what Sarah needed and what Will couldn’t give, and Ironhide’s optics flickered and dimmed. He pulled back from her and slowly sat up, holding a hand out in invitation.
Sarah sat in his palm and was lifted up until she was eye to optic with Ironhide.
“Will has told me about his mission, he shares knowledge and intel with me. Understand, Sarah, these are things I cannot tell you. I swore an oath to Will not to reveal anything he deemed classified.”
“I understand that, but Ironhide, Will changed after his last mission, when you brought him home. Something happened and he won’t tell me what and the silence--” Sarah broke off when tears threatened, swallowing hard. She gripped the metal of Ironhide’s thumb. “I need to know, Ironhide. What’s changed? What is he facing that’s different from every other mission?”
Sarah stared up at him, eyes shadowed with pain but determined to know the worst, and Ironhide heard the questions as clearly as if she had spoken them. Will he make it home? Will he come back to me?
Ironhide raised a finger, stroking delicately over her small frame. His field tangled gently with hers, pulsing comfort and calm. “I cannot tell you, but he is a warrior, Sarah. I am confident he will return to you.”
Pleasant tingles were chasing down her spine. She sighed deeply and leaned into Ironhide’s touch. “If anything happens, can you get to him? Can you help?”
“Femme, I swear on my spark, if Will is in danger, I will go and find him and bring him back.”
Sarah nodded and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. Large fingers curved around her. Another tingle shivered through her, stronger than the others. Something snugged around her and held her close, cocooning her in a blanket of warmth. Sarah closed her eyes as sensations washed through her. Ironhide above her, Will next to her, holding her in his arms. She was protected, cared for, safe, loved.
Ironhide made a noise above her, then his deep hum began. Sarah smiled and curled up in the cup of his hand.
“Ironhide, tell me about Cybertron?”
“When I last saw Cybertron...,” he grumbled and rattled plating like trying to cast off water, “not even sure what it would look like now. But if you could have seen it in the Golden Age, or as Optimus took the mantle of Prime... that was beauty. We were a vast empire, the wealth of thousands of worlds flowed through our trade centers. The cities of Cybertron were jewels of architecture; arching columns, and braided skywalks, glittering spires and spiraled landings for the airframes. Lights and shining crystal all the way to the horizon...”
The moon was setting by the time Sarah said good night and joined Annabelle in the small pup tent. Ironhide sat silent and still, watching over them. Optics dimmed and flared to brilliant blue; an occasional tremor shook his frame. Deep in his core, a connection closed, and another of the long links in Guardian protocols was completed. The black mech slowly scrubbed a hand over jawplating and looked up to the stars.
“Prime swears you have a plan for everything. This had better be one of them.”
tbc
-------------------
Song Lyrics: Smooth by Santana (Featuring Rob Thomas)
A/N: My deepest thanks to my lovely beta, quidamling for batting ideas, suggestions, plot and scene development. So much love, hun~ This chapter would not have come into being without your enthusiasm, encouragement and support. ♥♥♥
A/N: Artwork by the lovely and extremely talented lb82. This picture was done ages ago as a gift. We had talked about posting the picture when I made it to this point in the story, and now, finally, here it is. Despite losing contact, I wanted to share this beautiful amazing piece of art. So much love for this; I can never thank her enough.
( Table of Contents )
Verse: Post 2007 Movie, AU
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Jazz/Maggie Madsen, Ironhide/Sarah Lennox/Will Lennox, Prime/Ratchet, Bumblebee/Sam, Barricade/Mikaela
Summary: What is love? Is it an instinct? An emotion? Or an ability that can transcend species? After eons of conflict, the war-weary Autobots have a new home, a new life, and a chance for something more. And for a single Decepticon, a chance for salvation.
Warnings: NSFW Mech/human sexual situations.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Hasbro has it all.
( Prologue )( Chapter One )( Chapter Two )( Chapter Three )( Chapter Four )( Chapter Five )( Chapter Six )( Chapter Seven )( Chapter Eight )( Chapter Nine )( Chapter Ten )( Chapter Eleven )( Chapter Twelve )( Chapter Thirteen )
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Notes:
*~*~*~*~*~ denotes break within a scene.
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~ Chapter 14 ~
Tech Sergeant Robert Epps was lounging back in one of the visitor’s chairs when Lennox entered the small office, slammed the door shut and threw a folder on the desk. It skidded across the top, the contents spilling out and onto the seat of the chair to land in a flurry of white sheets on the floor.
Epps sat up. “Will? What the fuck, man…” He trailed off, watching his CO. Lennox stared at the mess of papers, lips thin and eyes hard, a muscle working in his jaw.
Uh oh. He knew that face. Something had just gone straight to hell. “Will -?“ he began again, and stopped once more when Lennox turned on his heel, carefully locked the door of the office, and then slammed his fist into the wall next to the door.
“FUCK!”
“Shit,” Epps breathed softly. “What’s the bad news, Captain?”
Will was gritting teeth and barely hanging onto what was left of his temper. “That, ” he snarled, pointing to the mess of papers strewn across the desk. “I don’t know who’s running this show anymore, but our newest orders are not to kill that thing. We’re supposed to fucking capture it now!”
“Man, are they outta their minds? That’s bull shit. They saw the tape of that thing attacking us, what the hell we got that’s gonna work against some big metal sand monster stalking us from underground?”
Will snarled, a flash of teeth and mouth contorting with rage. “Those fucktards have their heads so far up their asses they're seeing daylight.”
Epps moved around to the scattered papers and began scooping them back up and onto the desk. Will reached for a map and winced, cradling his hand and snorting at his own idiocy because sweet fuck was it ever starting to hurt.
Epps handed him the map. “You need to ice that.”
“Later. Let’s go over this first.” Will scanned the latest set of coordinates and highlighted them on the map, then studied it, brows drawn, slowly flexing his bruised hand. Five red circles. Their target area was expanding.
Epps placed the last of the papers in a neat pile and watched the Captain bring out his dog tags. “Tell your robot watchdog we could use some help with that big bug out there.”
“Guardian,” Will replied absently, and tapped the dog tags. “Alright, Ironhide, coordinates coming your way.”
“Copy that, Captain.”
Bobby grinned. “Sounds just like one of us, don’t he? Big guy sure learns fast.”
Will smiled and shook his head, frown easing as he read off the numbers. Even sore and thoroughly pissed off at the higher ups, Ironhide’s gruff voice brought a sense of relief. They had an ace in the hole, they just might make it out of this alive.
“Latest intel puts sightings in these areas, Ironhide, but hell if there’s a pattern we can decipher. It went after fuel, any kind of oil and gas reserves, ripped up some vehicles, and once just came up for air and scared the shit out of some poor camel drivers.”
Epps looked over the map and slowly shook his head. “We’re getting spread thin. Maybe that ain’t a pattern, but I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
“You are covering a much wider area, Sergeant Epps, because Skorponok is following his base programming. Absent a Master, a drone has no instructions, no direction or purpose.” Ironhide’s voice rumbled distinctly through Will’s tags. “Analysis complete, Captain. Based on these coordinates, it is simply wandering aimlessly until the need for fuel brings it close to human habitation. It then scavenges whatever it can find. It will continue to avoid direct confrontations unless cornered. Focus your search on fuel depots. Once it comes above ground, an assault with suitable weapons should be able to take it out without too much trouble.”
“Oh man,” Epps muttered.
Will grimaced. “Yeah, ‘Hide. About that.” He cleared his throat. “Our orders have changed, we’re to capture it now, not kill.”
Both men startled at the distant BOOM, followed by a growl that rolled like thunder.
“Mother fucker.” Bobby stared at Will’s dog tags.
Will took a slow, deep breath. “Please tell me that wasn’t the barn you just blew up, Ironhide.”
“No,” Ironhide grumbled tersely.
Without thinking, Lennox reached up to rub his temple. He grunted and cradled his hand back against his chest with a sigh. “Then what was-”
“I will have the fragging tree replaced, you have my word,” Ironhide rumbled impatiently. “Now why do you want it alive, for what purpose?”
“Hey, do you think I have the slightest bit of say in any of this shit?” Will snorted back, because even if Ironhide never saw the inside of Hoover Dam, any of the Autobots could guess why the government might want another live specimen of a Cybertronian. Welcome to Lennox’s new home, between a rock, a hard place, and IRONHIDE - Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Seriously. Ironhide... I... I don't have time for this,” Will muttered, evasive and he knew it. “We go out early tomorrow."
His Guardian voiced his irritation with a rough growl, but then quieted. "Will, you know I need to inform Prime about this."
Epps chopped his hand through the air. “No way, if the Brass finds out you slipped intel...”
Will shook his head with a heavy sigh and decided to just throw his lot in with the only one who seemed to care that he made it home in something other than a body bag. “Go ahead, Ironhide, but keep it quiet as long as you can, things could get ugly, for both sides.”
Of all things, Ironhide decided to hum softly, and Will stared down at his tags.
Bobby flopped back and let his head clock the back of his chair. “As long as they can? Will, once this gets out you’re taking it right up the ass, you know that, right?”
“Yeah.... bite the bed sheets is about all I can do,” Will snorted and frowned back down at the map.
“I will do my best to ensure no one rapes you, Will,” Ironhide said.
The fact that Ironhide understood the joke, that he played along, and that he sounded so fucking earnest with his damn deep voice and accent - it was too much. Lennox just cackled and Epps nearly lost it, too. “Well, thanks, ‘Hide, I think...” Will chuckled as he quieted down, grateful that Ironhide had managed to break the tension, intentionally or not. “But really, we gotta get some rack.”
Ironhide hummed again, “Agreed, rest well and report in when you return tomorrow.”
Both men nodded, then glanced at each other for essentially gesturing while on the telephone. Bobby stood and stretched his shoulders while Will considered for a moment then finally asked, “Ironhide? How’s Sarah holding up?”
“She misses you, Will. Very much,” Ironhide answered, never one to mince words.
Growling frustration, Lennox ground his jaw. “Fuck, I wish I was there,” he said, even as he shrugged apologetically at Epps for getting into this with him still there. But Bobby was patient enough and they shared a commiserating look. “Just, I... tell the ladies I love them, alright?”
“I will,” Ironhide replied, and then with a little chirp, the tags went silent.
Will grunted and flexed his hand before looking seriously at his subordinate. “Alright, we got business. Assemble the teams for a briefing just before we head out tomorrow.”
“On it,” Bobby replied, then glared at Will and poked at his hand just hard enough to make his point. “Meantime, ice, and you need a fucking drink already.”
“You’re not telling me this,” Will ground out through the wince, then gave Epps a half-hearted glare. “One. One drink. Do not tell me whose, and don’t tell me where. I need at least the pretense of plausible deniability.”
The grin Bobby gave was his best ‘make the ladies melt’ smile. “Silent as the grave, man. Go grab some ice and by the time you get back, the brewski fairy will have worked magic.”
-------------------------------------------------
He was too tense. His plates locked down tight, refusing to grant access to the small roving hands that stroked metal and teased at seams. He stared down at the small form on his chest. Mikaela was more than willing, pushing into his touches as he stroked soft skin, trying to return the favor with warm hands and soft kisses over hard metal armor.
Mikaela was looking at him, large eyes and a troubled expression. “Is- is something wrong, ‘Bee?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he lied, and released a cable to distract her. Mikaela moaned at the delicate probe between her thighs, reaching a hand down to guide it in.
Bumblebee strained, fighting a stubborn field that bucked and twisted. Bright tendrils of energy flared and recoiled from contact with the soft glowing bio-organic field as though burned. He wanted this, but it seemed a losing battle.
On his chest, Mikaela was panting and shivering, writhing with each thrust. His cable was soaked with her fluids, fingers clawed at his chestplating, and in desperation Bumblebee opened them. They weren’t synched, but it would be enough to gain release.
He arched up from the berth when she touched his spark, a sharp bark of sound from his vocalizer. His spark overloaded, the pulses rough and uneven, Mikaela’s touch more pain than pleasure. He heard her cries through the roaring in his audials. It was done, he had made it work, for him and her.
Bumblebee shuttered his optics, weary and relieved, and let the pleasure-pain finish grinding through his systems.
Next time, next time would be better.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Most nights Sam prayed to anyone who would listen that his sleep would be deep, dreamless and peaceful. Tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight, no one was listening.
He moved from one nightmare to the next, running, stumbling, falling, getting back up to run again, chased by a monster who reached to the skies. He writhed and screamed on a huge metal hand, pricked and scored by razor sharp claws, bright red blood dripping over old scars that crisscrossed his body. A deep cruel voice laughed above him and called him ‘pet.’
He begged and cried and choked on his screams, pleading for Bumblebee to come save him, and Bumblebee did. Bright yellow Guardian faced down gleaming silver monster, and Sam was in his hands and where he belonged, with his Autobot, and he was safe, safe.
“‘Bee, you’re too hot,” Sam mumbled. He tossed and turned against heated plates, and sighed relief when they cooled down. A moment later, he shivered and curled up in a ball. “C-cold, why are you s-so cold?” he complained through numb lips and chattering teeth.
The nightmare turned dream took another turn. Sam moved through the corridors and large hallways of the Base and entered the Medbay. The ruined hulk of Barricade sat in the corner, sullen and silent. A reddish glow from shattered headlights sparked at Sam’s presence. Sam shrank back. Another of the monsters come to hunt him down.
“Ratchet, kill him, kill him!”
“I told you, Sam. You could have avoided all this if you just said ‘yes.’” Ratchet arched a metal browridge and waved a hand that turned into a giant saw, slicing into the monster. A shriek rose from the wrecked Saleen. Sam gasped and covered his ears and fled from the Medbay, straight into Bumblebee’s quarters.
Sam’s hands clenched. He shouldn’t be here. They were… they were about to….
Bumblebee lifted Mikaela, bright yellow plating separating to reveal the brilliant blue star in the center of his chest.
One of Bumblebee’s cables was coiling between her legs. It moved with a rolling, thrusting motion, shiny and slick with lubricant. Mikaela squirmed, moaning and rocking to Bumblebee’s thrusts. Sam panted, hand fumbling at his zipper, watching her fuck herself on that thick cable.
God, god. He couldn’t look away. Bumblebee, his Autobot…
Bumblebee held Mikaela to his chest. She reached for the bright blue glow and the glow reached back. Sam gasped when it surrounded her, covered her, penetrated deep, and Mikaela was nothing more than a swirling white haze of light pressed to Bumblebee’s spark.
“It should have been you,” Prime intoned.
“I couldn’t,” Sam whispered, staring up at his Autobot, “I can’t.”
Bumblebee’s helm fell back; he uttered a high pitched metallic moan, metal frame jerking, the spark in his chest now a halo of expanding blue light, a small sun, a nova. The light spilled from his chest, washing over yellow metal, then rolling on to engulf Sam in a glowing haze. He groaned and dropped to his knees. Blue fire filled his vision, energy pulsed through his veins, nerve endings sang with the touch of his Guardian, recognizing, welcoming him. He was in large metal hands, writhing again, this time with pleasure. Sam opened his mouth to scream it all out and beg for more, don’t stop, don’t ever stop, ‘Bee!
Sam jolted awake, stunned and blinking, the glyphs on his hands itched unbearably. He was in his quarters, in his bed, alone, and Bumblebee, Bumblebee was with….
A miserable whimper caught in his throat. He rolled up in his blankets and shivered, scratching and scratching at the marks on his hands.
On the other side of the Base, Bumblebee lifted his helm sharply, tilting into a listening pose. “Sam?” he called out to the darkened room. Mikaela stirred sleepily across his chestplates.
“’Bee? What is it, what’s wrong?”
Within his tightly locked plates, his spark surged, his field flickered, casting about for a presence that wasn’t there.
Sam.
Large fingers petted gently over the girl. “Nothing, it’s nothing, Mikaela.” Not nothing.
Spark and field continued to respond to shadowy images, sensations, feelings, a small form in his hand that wasn’t Mikaela. Bumblebee moaned silently as the form reached for him. Pleasure smoothed like silk over his hard-used circuits.
The contact, communication, whatever it was, began to fade. Only the sounds of his ventilations and Mikaela’s quiet breathing remained in the silence of his quarters.
Bumblebee remained motionless, audials boosted, every sensor alert, but it did not repeat.
-------------------------------------------------
Bumblebee watched Mikaela circle Ratchet like a tiny satellite, hovering, ready to assist. The large circular saw sliced neatly through a ruined armor plate. The medic reformed his hand and peeled the chunk of metal away to reveal an access port, and Mikaela slid another feeder line in.
“Slow, very slow, only a few drops per minute,” he heard Ratchet instruct. “His systems cannot handle too much at one time.”
“Is he… is he still alive?” A human voice whispered into the quiet, Sarah, just now seeing Barricade for the first time. It was a testament to how badly injured Barricade was that Ironhide would allow her anywhere near him.
“He is.” Ironhide’s tone made it clear he considered that unfortunate, though his battle AI barely twinged at the Decepticon’s presence, its threat assessment down to zero.
The Guardian stood with feet planted wide, arms folded across his chest, glowering at the battered Saleen. Sarah was next to him and Annabelle was in her preferred spot, perched right on top of one of Ironhide’s huge feet.
Bumblebee watched them, too, caught between jealousy, envy and admiration. Annabelle was already securely snugged into the Guardian’s field. Ironhide’s field drifted, tendrils outstretched, then folded lazily around Sarah’s small form to branch and spread into her biofield. Pale blue shimmered as it blended into white, resonances almost synched, nearly perfect.
Sarah seemed not to notice, but she stepped closer to her Guardian and rested a hand on leg armor.
How did Ironhide manage it so easily? Why did his own field fight him?
Bumblebee huffed and looked away, grumbling and uneasy. Something else to ask the medic; that and Sam and what happened last night, and the failures were chafing at him.
A vocalizer cleared itself. A large foot shifted, a clink of metal against concrete.
“Any progress?” Prime finally asked.
“He resists.” Ratchet straightened from his scans, weary optics glancing over the small group. “His self-repair alone cannot deal with this amount of damage. If I cannot gain access to his systems, he’ll offline.”
“Your medical overrides?”
“Negative. Purged as soon as they are introduced. He has a failsafe against hacking too, Jazz tried.”
Jazz tipped his helm in a nod to the Decepticon. “Like he saw me comin’. Score one for him.”
Prime seemed to slump, a hand lifting to rub at the chestplating just over his spark. “I had hoped for better news. Is there nothing more to be done for him?” Can I not save one of them, just one?
Ratchet turned away from the pain in optics raised to his, ignoring the sharp flare of distress from Prime’s field.
“I have one last thing I can attempt. Force a shutdown of his systems and bypass the safeties to gain access. While his systems are offlining, he won’t be able to stop me. Once I’m in, I can bring him back online and get to work.”
“Risks?”
“He’s so badly damaged, I may not be able to bring him back.” Ratchet glanced over the assembled group again, optics narrowed. “I didn’t ask for a slagging audience.”
Those baleful optics settled on Bumblebee. The scout almost jumped when a finger stabbed at him and the medic barked out a demand.
“Why are you here?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Barricade felt slow and sluggish, only half-aware. Why was he here? Where was here?
An accident, that much he remembered, and now every system he possessed was throwing up warnings of some kind. Severe damage, imminent shut-down, off-lined, or destroyed completely, Primus be damned, how was he still alive?
He reached for more memories while processors sifted gingerly through damaged systems, trying to activate, online, repair, anything, but he was awkward and clumsy. He fumbled for control and something gave with a sharp stab of pain. A nightmare of memories flooded his consciousness.
The snap of sharp claws signaled for the whips and he was strung up to hang suspended between the posts. He read it all in the tyrant’s cold optics, the glint of fangs as mouthplates curled back in a snarl of disgust. This time the punishment would be severe, and a lesson for the others. Failure was not an option with Megatron, ever.
Legs spread wide, shoulder joints wrenched back, metal groaned and creaked under the strain. The members of his team were already trussed up and babbling frantic pleas for mercy. The whips sang as they worked, deadly electronic hums that ended with a sharp crackle-snap as they impacted with the helpless, writhing mechs. Glowing ends buried into metal armor and discharged their current, sparks fountaining in streams of fiery red light. The babbling ended in screams, the screams were silenced one by one, each mech succumbing to the torture, overstrained systems giving up and dropping into stasis.
Barricade’s faceplates twisted, his frame wracked with pain, shaking with the blows, but he remained silent, refusing to beg. The whips cut through armor and deep into his protoform, and still he refused.
Megatron ordered a halt. A large hand gripped his jawplates, his helm was tilted up. The Warlord studied the young Hunter, a slow grin spreading when Barricade bared his fangs and glared his defiance.
“Bring me my whip,” came the order. Megatron shook out his whip and purred in his audial, sensual, seductive, the voice of a lover. “I’m going to break you, young Barricade, and I will enjoy your screams as I do it. And when I am through, you will crawl to me on your belly and beg my forgiveness, knowing that I hold your life in my hands, and you will be mine.”
One claw stroked Barricade’s faceplate in a slow caress. A shudder went through the Hunter.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Why are you here?”
Bumblebee’s vocalizer threatened to short circuit as he garbled out something about Sam and fields and feeling something strange and--
“Is he dying? Are you?” Ratchet cut in, snarling as a feeder line began dripping energon onto the floor instead of into the Saleen.
Bumblebee’s plates rattled. “N- no... I don’t--?”
“Then you’re fine, he’s fine, clear out and don’t come back until I tell you to.”
The scout hung his head. He didn’t have to be told twice, but Sam was not fine. He was so far from fine it was painful, Bumblebee could feel it. Mikaela gave him a sympathetic and slightly harried look as he passed her.
“I’ll see you later, ‘Bee?”
Bumblebee inclined his helm, warbling a miserable chirrup of agreement.
Pale optics shifted to Jazz. "And you are...?”
"Just leavin'." Jazz held hands up in surrender and turned to follow Bumblebee.
The medic’s glare landed next on Ironhide. Ironhide stared right back.
“Weekly checkup. Sarah, Annabelle, me.”
A cursory scan and Ratchet waved him off. “They’re fine, you’ll live.”
“Fine,” Ironhide grumbled. “Could’ve told you that and saved myself the trip here.”
“Out, now.”
Tension was all but vibrating the medic’s armor. Optimus approached to rest a hand on Ratchet’s shoulder. “Why not take a break before you continue? Come and have some energon first--”
“There is no break from this Primus-forsaken war, you’ve said that often enough,” Ratchet snapped, shaking him off and putting safe distance between them.
That hand on his armor, the mere presence of Prime, was a burn and a torment and an infinite relief to his spark, but Ratchet would offline himself before he would open that door and walk through it again. So went the firmest of his resolves when he was alone. When Prime was near, his field betrayed him, his spark twisted with backlash and all his resolve crumpled to rust.
Something smoldered in Prime’s gaze, whether anger or frustrated passion Ratchet neither knew nor cared, wrestling with a treacherous field that bucked and seethed and reached for the one thing he would not allow himself.
“I’m simply suggesting,” Optimus said evenly, “that you should get out of this Medbay from time to time. You are stressed and overworked, why don’t you--”
“Why don’t you go see to the rest of the planet while I tend to my patient?” Pale optics locked with Prime’s. Ratchet’s field seethed, snapping with anger.
Bumblebee stopped short in the doorway, shocked at the open hostility. Jazz looked to Ironhide, lifting a shoulder in a helpless shrug. Ironhide watched the pair with narrowed optics, waiting to see what the fallout might be. The rift between the Prime and his promised was growing wider by the day.
Only Sarah and Mikaela startled when metal groaned and the Saleen shuddered. The engine coughed and sputtered, black oily smoke rose from beneath the crumpled hood.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Processors hung suspended, Barricade drifted in a place beyond pain.
Pain, the old one whispered to him, let it guide you, let it teach.
Barricade’s mouthplates curled in a sneer, optics cold with contempt. “What can I learn from being torn to pieces?”
A soft laugh answered him, then the faint touch of his Guardian, a clawed hand resting lightly over his spark. Patience. Control. They were ever your weaknesses, young ‘Cade. I failed to teach them to you. Perhaps your new Lord will succeed where I did not.
Barricade hiss-snarled angry defiance. “More likely I will end up tossed onto the scrap heap thanks to my illustrious Lord. He wants me to beg. I refuse.”
There is no shame in retreating before a stronger force. Learn to bend, before you are broken, young one.
“I would rather offline first!”
His Guardian sighed, a mournful rush of air sloughing through vents.
The beating continued. Barricade choked on pain and energon and pride with Megatron’s deep chuckle in his audials.
Finally, the stern voice of his Guardian commanded, a ghost out of time but still a force to be reckoned with.
I died protecting you, Barricade. Repay me now by living.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
His AI surged to life, battle ready and clamoring warning alerts. Ironhide growled, optics shifting from the bristling medic and Prime to pin on the injured Decepticon.
“Sarah, take the child and get behind me. Now!”
Sarah was already scrambling to snatch Annabelle from Ironhide’s foot, retreating back behind their Guardian as the Saleen roared to life.
Barricade reentered consciousness, crashing into a nightmare of howling pain, every system throwing warnings of imminent shut down. He could neither see nor hear, blind, deaf and dumb to everything around him, but the urge to get out, run, escape was overwhelming.
Feeding lines ruptured, spewing energon everywhere. The Saleen lurched forward, engine screeching, heading straight for Sarah and Annabelle.
Jazz shouted a warning over the roar of Ironhide’s cannons powering up. Ratchet snarled out a threat.
“Blast him and I will take you apart, plate by plate!”
Prime’s deep baritone cut through the din.
“Ironhide, no! Ratchet! Shut him down, shut him down!”
Ratchet pivoted away from Prime and in front of Barricade in one smooth motion, his arm transforming into a huge circular saw. The saw slammed down, cutting into the pavement in front of the Saleen, blocking the charge. The vehicle crunched into the barrier and halted, tires still spinning. Ratchet shoved the fingers of his other hand into the seams of the front end, cables threading out through fingerpads and into processors and core systems, sending out counter orders and virus programs to override defenses.
The Saleen shuddered and convulsed under the onslaught. Systems began the last of their fail safes.
The engine whined, metal grinding on metal, one system after another shutting down in the face of the intruding programming. The purge would be complete, nothing useful would remain.
A snatch of sound, an urgent garble of words, “Frag it all, he’s… stasis lock… don’t know… I’m losing him, I can’t….”
Barricade felt the coming darkness and reached for it, snarling defiance and hate at the enemy.
-------------------------------------------------
It was midafternoon, Maggie was stiff from sitting, and stifling ever more frequent yawns, while Jazz had spent the last hour fairly humming with pent up energy after the near prison break by their Decepticon captive in the Medbay.
Jazz looked over at her with a sly smile and an amused glimmer of his visor when she failed to hold back another yawn.
“The usual?”
Maggie flopped across her station. “I shouldn’t, really.”
“Just a quickie? Ta wake ya up, give ya a boost of energy.”
Maggie gave him a half-hearted glare. Jazz chuckled.
“Come on, ya know ya want it.”
“Jazz, you are evil.” Maggie groaned and stood up, stretching stiff muscles. “For a moment there, I actually had some self-control.”
Coffee and chocolate, together they were her downfall, her secret weakness, and Jazz was the devil himself when it came to tempting her with them.
The lure of getting out of the monitoring room for a break, the promise of a mocha latte, and she was sinking into the luxurious leather seat and succumbing to temptation once again.
The seatbelt pressed against her, vibrations moved up through the seat. The engine of the Solstice revved and Maggie’s lips curved. Jazz was also an opportunist.
The radio pulsed out a Latin rhythm, and Maggie relaxed back in the seat as they made their way out of the grounds of the Base.
Oh yeah, Jazz was a devil, and she loved him for it.
Man, it's a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun.
I hear you whisper and the words melt everyone
But you stay so cool…
You’re my reason for reason
The step in my groove…
His pleasure was obvious, from the smooth purr of his engine to the way his seat softened around her. The rhythm of him moved into her. She pressed a little harder against him and stroked her hands over smooth warm leather, listening to his engine thrum in response.
I'll tell you one thing, if you would leave it'd be a crying shame
In every breath and every word I hear your name calling me out…
You hear my rhythm on your radio, you feel the turning of the world so soft and slow, turning you round and round…
The engine tone was deep and seductive, the vibration sent shivers through her body, drawing a soft moan and an answering growl from Jazz. “Let me see ya, let me feel ya against me, Maggs.”
Watch. Feel. Jazz had explained how his field meshed better with hers when her emotions were strong. Or when she was aroused. Maggie had explained how his 15 feet of towering metal frame still gave her pause, and he had promised to find a compromise. Now, here it was.
For science, Maggie thought, blushing. She licked her lips, glancing at darkened windows, then pulled her top off. Her skirt followed. She unhooked her bra, the nipples pebbled with chill in the air conditioned cockpit.
She was down to her thong, thigh highs and heels. Jazz’s engine gave a sultry purr. “Lose the thong. Keep the rest.”
That was enough to make the heat curl in her stomach. This was delightfully wicked. Sinful. Give him a show he won’t forget, girl. She slipped the thong off with both hands and a slow seductive wiggle of hips against leather. Jazz growled. Maggie smiled, a satisfied cat with a bowlful of cream.
And it's just like the ocean under the moon
Well it's the same as the emotion that I get from you
You got the kinda loving that can be so smooth, yeah
Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it...
She closed her eyes, shivering. The air felt thicker and Jazz was all around her. The words of the song faded away; only the low bass of the radio remained, the heavy throb of his engine rumbling through her. His seat molded possessively, hugging every line and curve of her body. “Show me, Maggs. Wanna feel ya.”
Her hand cupped her breast and squeezed, thumb stroking her nipple. Her other hand slipped between her legs.
At the first touch of his field, Maggie purred. Light sparkled behind her eyelids, his field covered her, hard and soft, hot and cold, it tingled over her lightly, washing her in sensations. Jazz was right next to her, a shadowy presence, his deep voice whispering against her ear, warm breath shifting her hair. “That’s it, more…”
Touching, stroking, his hands moved over her with a lover’s touch. No, it’s his field, his field… but Maggie kept her eyes closed, relishing the fantasy. Her shadow lover cupped her breasts with his big warm hands, pinching and teasing, gently tweaking her nipples. God, harder… harder. Pleasant chills chased up and down her body, heat settled between her legs. Maggie moaned, her hand working, hips twitching up when she hit just the right spot.
Those big hands were smoothing up her legs now, the tip of one large finger playfully circling her thighs at the top of each stocking. “More… show me more…”
Maggie arched seductively and spread her thighs, lifting one slim leg to rest a stilettoed heel on the dash of the Solstice. The engine purred out a deep growl. The cockpit grew warmer. Jazz moved over her, pressing close. Field, it was his field….
She had watched him demonstrate, had seen the holo display as the shimmering blue glow surrounded her with light, electric field singing harmony with the charge in her nerve endings, coaxing her brain to interpret energy as touch, as pressure, as feather kisses and lingering strokes, the warm touches of a lover.
It was all explained to her, all the science that was more like magic, but those sensations-- they felt like Jazz.
Oh yes, and sex. She purred happily, running pink-tipped fingernails over butter-soft leather.
A touch of fingers to her cheek, light pressure against her mouth. Maggie sighed and smiled, parting her lips for his kiss, and then that oh so delicate pressure teased her mouth and lips and tongue with tingling erotic little flickers until she was moaning with it. Jazz echoed her moans with a powerful rev of his engine.
“Jazz,” she breathed, eyelids fluttering. Her hand moved, fingers swirling, thumb stroking, tension pulling her tight. Her breath came in soft pants, a tiny bead of sweat trickled down her throat. Vents hissed to life, swirling deliciously cool air around her.
She could feel Jazz watching, engine rumbling softly, all his focus on her. Show me…
Maggie whimpered, shifting restlessly. Close, she was so close. Her cheeks flushed, body straining, nails digging into his plush leather seats.
Her thighs were stroked, nipples pinched, that delicate pressure settled between her legs. His field, his field… no, the shining silver plating of Jazz’s mouth, hard and warm, kissing her there, right there. Maggie moaned, tossing her head back, thighs spread wide and hips rolling up to the touch of liquid heat that shimmered and swirled, lapping and tingling.
She was writhing, almost begging for release, with mewling breath and the fast slick slide of her fingers over flesh. The air crackled with static, blue sparks snapped off the dash and steering wheel. The Solstice skidded, tires squealing, metal creaking and groaning under the stress. The engine was a muted roar, rumbling and shuddering through the cockpit.
“Come for me, Maggie, now.” Jazz’s deep voice growled against her ear, his large metal hand, warm and hard, was cupping her ass and squeezing her tight. Maggie cried out and climaxed, back arched, hips bucking into her hand. The cockpit lit up with a glow of blue light. A wash of electric pleasure swamped her, small shocks moved through her, in her breasts, her belly, down her thighs, pulses of pure pleasure spreading from the center out.
Maggie moaned and panted, clutching at the seat, trembling. The stars danced behind her eyes. “God, Jazz… god. ”
“Aww yeah,” Jazz murmured, “that was amazin’. And I gotta tell ya, you’re gorgeous.” Jazz’s voice deepened, a warm admiring rumble through the cab. “Every inch of ya, Maggie, dead sexy and gorgeous.”
Maggie was caught between a blush and a preen as she pulled on clothes and tried to get herself in order. Jazz watched as she tilted the rearview down to check makeup, humming satisfaction. Maggie glowed in his sensor net, all flushed cheeks and plumped up rosy pink lips, heavy lidded eyes, sex-sated and sleepy.
Her biofield was still tangled with his. Jazz sent a pulse, languid and lazy, just to watch those eyes darken and hear her breath catch, see the flutter of her pulse beneath delicate skin.
Lips parted, a soft moan drifted through the cab, music to his audials and a balm to his spark. Life moved in him and reached for him, warm and inviting. One last pulse, a tender caress that swept through her field, and Jazz reluctantly shifted resonance and dropped out of synch.
Harmony lost, the biofield drifted back to its normal state. The Solstice rumbled contentment, continuing down the road at a leisurely pace.
“Now, how ‘bout that double-shot cappuccino I promised?”
Maggie tossed the dashboard a pert grin and stretched on his seat like a contented cat. “Mocha latte, Jazz, and if you don’t want me falling asleep on my keyboard, better make it a triple.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
An unseen presence lurked, watching the pair and their activities in the cockpit of the Solstice. The human was studied with mild interest as the Cybertronian field mantled and covered her. It drove in deep and rode her hard, and the human gave a very satisfactory response if the spill off of energy and the deep groans of the Solstice were anything to go by.
The AI paid sounds and activities very little heed, focused almost entirely on sorting through the steady stream of new data. The Cybertronian was the focus, the Cybertronian was key. Its systems were studied, energy was mapped, every adjustment, surge and peak tracked and charted.
More?
As far as this can go…
Given the rather broad new parameters the AI was working under, it found its way clear to move behind firewalls and barriers and protected codes, right down to the level of spark and core programming. A barrier was shifted here, code protections rewritten there, a firewall was removed completely, all hidden, all under securities erected by the AI at its Master’s command: Double blind until complete.
Phase III - Complete. Begin Phase IV?
System after system, programs chimed and pinged and beeped their readiness or lack thereof, and the AI tended to each one, waiting for completion, ready to begin.
Phase IV - Initiating…. Initiating…
Commencing Phase IV.
-------------------------------------------------
Sarah watched in awed fascination as Ironhide turned his cannons on solid rock and melted it, sometimes leaving a few glowing pools of metal behind to be dutifully salvaged by the waiting drones. It was the outermost chamber her Guardian was working on, a large entryway that would lead to the rest of the underground base, and Sarah had gasped at the size of it. Mechs came in all sizes, Ironhide explained, and even he was dwarfed by the massive supports and high ceiling. The drones had made steady progress on their own. Now Ironhide was there to check programming and speed things along.
Annabelle fussed, wanting to go to him, until Ironhide aimed a stern look at the tiny girl and click-buzzed a correction. Annabelle quieted immediately, thumb in her mouth and eyes wide, watching their Guardian. Cannons whined with building power, the muzzles glowed briefly, more rock vanished.
The reward for her patience came later in the form of a tide pool warmed by the sun. Annabelle paddled around, chasing tiny fish and splashing her indulgent Guardian, laughing when he snorted at the droplets glistening on black armor. Sarah watched them both, a smile curving her lips. It was peaceful here, beautiful, the sound of the ocean soothed her.
The sun was heading for the horizon and Annabelle was trying to gnaw a shell when Sarah finally called a halt, plucking her from the pool, rinsing her off with water from Ironhide’s reserve tank. The tiny girl was fed, bundled and put to bed in the small pup tent, her eyelids already drooping. She was sound asleep before Sarah was halfway through ‘Good Night Moon.’
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Ironhide was lying on his back, optics dark, when Sarah approached him. She hesitated, indecisive, but she had watched Annabelle fondly patting her Guardian’s face plating, running tiny hands over the glyphs carved into metal. Ironhide had tilted his helm into her touches, letting her explore at will.
Curiosity won out. She reached out and touched the large circular medallion on the side of his helm, letting her fingertips trace the glyphs that covered it, then moved up to the sweeping, hornlike audial.
A soft susurration, like wind sighing through trees, and she backed up a few steps as the great head turned slowly towards her. Did she wake him? Was this bothering him? But he turned towards her, not away. No longer in profile, she could see most of his face, but Ironhide’s optics remained dark, and Sarah was feeling brave enough to venture her own explorations.
She touched the large arching curve of his optic brow, palmed curiously along the angled metal of his cheek, reached a tentative hand to the large scar around Ironhide’s right optic, the metal there rough and discolored.
Another whispering sound, but Ironhide never moved, and Sarah’s fingers slid down, tracing lightly along his mouthplates and everywhere she touched, Ironhide was warm, so warm.
Caught up in her explorations, she failed to notice the large optics of her Guardian glowing dimly above her, until her hand lifted to his scarred optic once more. Sarah froze when she realized he was awake, but Ironhide’s optics remained dim.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She heard that soft sound once again, resolving into an audible murmur.
“Femme, you are no bother. Please, stay.”
A small little sound of he didn’t know what, but she wasn’t backing off. Ironhide sighed when Sarah’s fingers smoothed gently over his scar, as though she could soothe the hurt that was long gone.
“Why hasn’t Ratchet fixed this?”
“I was injured before he joined our ranks. I keep it as a warning, a reminder of my younger, more reckless days.”
--Brave, but foolish, the old Prime whispered, his digit tracing around the blackened ruin of Ironhide’s optic. Soldiers must think as well as fight. You won’t live long if you can’t learn that lesson. Stay alive, Ironhide, that’s an order. I need you. --
Sarah’s hand left his scar and moved to his cheek again, stroking the metal of a guard, her touch soft and curious and unconsciously erotic.
“It’s hard to believe you were ever the reckless type,” she said.
“I’ve learned patience over the vorns.”
She startled when he brought his hand up, her own hand slipping down a little more to just above his mouth, the plating there thinner, more sensitive to her touches. One large finger touched her back, and Sarah shivered.
“Ironhide....”
Ironhide’s mouthplates parted slightly. Warm air puffed over her.
“Easy, Sarah.”
His huge body thrummed with power, vents whooshed softly as he breathed in air and expelled it again, she could hear the throbbing of his spark, beating just like her own heart. Sarah shivered beneath his finger again and the throbbing was joined by Ironhide’s deep hum. The comfort she felt so often in her Guardian’s presence washed over her. She was being held, surrounded and safe in strong arms. His finger stroked, feather light, and Sarah rested her forehead against warm armor.
“Thank you,” she murmured, “for bringing me here. I needed this.” To get away from four walls, arid heat, the sameness of everything. It wore on her, along with her worry for Will, stretching her nerves, invading her sleep.
Now, she listened to the ocean waves swirl and lap the shoreline with soft whispers. The smell of salt hung heavy in the air, the stars were a brilliant swath against the night sky. Below them, Ironhide’s massive bulk cut a dark silhouette.
“You are welcome, femme. My task is somewhat tedious; I appreciate the company.”
“Tedious? Ironhide, you were melting a mountain!”
She heard him rumble amusement, the sound like a slow roll of distant thunder. Sarah smiled and breathed out a sigh that fogged black metal, more relaxed than in months.
Ironhide spoke again, deep gravelly voice vibrating pleasantly through her chest. “I spoke with Will earlier.”
Sarah lifted her head. “Is he alright?”
“He is fine. He sends his love to you both.”
“And what else?”
“Nothing else.”
“Oh please.” Sarah arched a brow. “Then why did you blow up the tree in my backyard at 5 a.m. this morning?”
“Accidental discharge,” Sarah heard him mutter. His huff blew warm air around her. “I have already promised Will to replace it.”
“Ironhide, I know there’s something else.” Sarah reached a hand up to touch warped and dulled metal. “I want to know if something’s gone wrong. Please don’t leave me in the dark?” Like Will did. It hung in the air between them, what Sarah needed and what Will couldn’t give, and Ironhide’s optics flickered and dimmed. He pulled back from her and slowly sat up, holding a hand out in invitation.
Sarah sat in his palm and was lifted up until she was eye to optic with Ironhide.
“Will has told me about his mission, he shares knowledge and intel with me. Understand, Sarah, these are things I cannot tell you. I swore an oath to Will not to reveal anything he deemed classified.”
“I understand that, but Ironhide, Will changed after his last mission, when you brought him home. Something happened and he won’t tell me what and the silence--” Sarah broke off when tears threatened, swallowing hard. She gripped the metal of Ironhide’s thumb. “I need to know, Ironhide. What’s changed? What is he facing that’s different from every other mission?”
Sarah stared up at him, eyes shadowed with pain but determined to know the worst, and Ironhide heard the questions as clearly as if she had spoken them. Will he make it home? Will he come back to me?
Ironhide raised a finger, stroking delicately over her small frame. His field tangled gently with hers, pulsing comfort and calm. “I cannot tell you, but he is a warrior, Sarah. I am confident he will return to you.”
Pleasant tingles were chasing down her spine. She sighed deeply and leaned into Ironhide’s touch. “If anything happens, can you get to him? Can you help?”
“Femme, I swear on my spark, if Will is in danger, I will go and find him and bring him back.”
Sarah nodded and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. Large fingers curved around her. Another tingle shivered through her, stronger than the others. Something snugged around her and held her close, cocooning her in a blanket of warmth. Sarah closed her eyes as sensations washed through her. Ironhide above her, Will next to her, holding her in his arms. She was protected, cared for, safe, loved.
Ironhide made a noise above her, then his deep hum began. Sarah smiled and curled up in the cup of his hand.
“Ironhide, tell me about Cybertron?”
“When I last saw Cybertron...,” he grumbled and rattled plating like trying to cast off water, “not even sure what it would look like now. But if you could have seen it in the Golden Age, or as Optimus took the mantle of Prime... that was beauty. We were a vast empire, the wealth of thousands of worlds flowed through our trade centers. The cities of Cybertron were jewels of architecture; arching columns, and braided skywalks, glittering spires and spiraled landings for the airframes. Lights and shining crystal all the way to the horizon...”
The moon was setting by the time Sarah said good night and joined Annabelle in the small pup tent. Ironhide sat silent and still, watching over them. Optics dimmed and flared to brilliant blue; an occasional tremor shook his frame. Deep in his core, a connection closed, and another of the long links in Guardian protocols was completed. The black mech slowly scrubbed a hand over jawplating and looked up to the stars.
“Prime swears you have a plan for everything. This had better be one of them.”
tbc
-------------------
Song Lyrics: Smooth by Santana (Featuring Rob Thomas)
A/N: My deepest thanks to my lovely beta, quidamling for batting ideas, suggestions, plot and scene development. So much love, hun~ This chapter would not have come into being without your enthusiasm, encouragement and support. ♥♥♥
A/N: Artwork by the lovely and extremely talented lb82. This picture was done ages ago as a gift. We had talked about posting the picture when I made it to this point in the story, and now, finally, here it is. Despite losing contact, I wanted to share this beautiful amazing piece of art. So much love for this; I can never thank her enough.
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