FIC: Tabletop Affair, Rodimus Prime/Galvatron, Transformers G1, R
Title: Tabletop Affair
Rating: R
Content Notes: Tactile interfacing, semi-dubious consent, and a character getting off on the thought of his own death (erotic suicidal ideation?).
Pairing: Rodimus Prime/Galvatron
Universe: G1 Season 3
Summary: Repost from the TF Kinkmeme. The request was for Rodimus/Galvatron, suggested scene was "Roddy bent over something, aft exposed, unable to get away." So, that's where we start our PWP!
Rodimus Prime was the worst Prime who ever lived. Clearly.
It had been a routine trip from Cybertron to earth, with Arcee and Springer and Daniel, and yet somehow it had come to this. The others had fled who knew where, and were only alive because Arcee had pulled the other two into the escape pod at the last minute.
As for Rodimus himself, he had tripped. And been caught. And lost their cargo to the space pirates, and--he pulled at his chains, fruitlessly--they hadn't even killed him. Or held him for ransom, like a proper Prime.
They'd just tied him face-down to a table, laughed at him, and left.
Without even giving him a whipping! Or a SPANKING even!
His aft was RIGHT THERE! Shiny and obvious and just in the right position, how could they resist?
Rodimus moaned, and then banged his head on the table. This was not the time to indulge in perverted fantasies! Or to be resentful for not having been beaten!
No matter how perfect his position was. And the pirate captain had been kind of hot, really, and big enough to take advantage of him properly...
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Rodimus tugged at his chains some more, then tried tugging at the table. And trying to release the tools in his wrists. And running through all his distress signals, one more time. And trying Arcee's private comm, and Springer's, and even Daniel's...!
Nothing. Nothing at all.
No. Not nothing. Rodimus could hear something--someone coming--someone that sounded familiar....
"What have we here, Prime?" The voice, the footsteps, and the laugh that followed were very familiar.
And, come to think of it, the sound of the wall being broken down had been too.
"Galvatron!"
"You won't escape me now, Prime!"
"I'll never give in!" Rodimus' aft unconsciously arched up.
He banged his head on the table again.
Worst. Prime. Ever.
Galvatron laughed and Rodimus cringed. To his shame, not even the laughter caused his arousal to abate, and he had to override his heating fans, his engine, and his interface systems as Galvatron walked closer, his cannon charging up above Rodimus' back, his hips really close to Rodimus' own....
This was going to be the worst and most embarrassing death ever, and Rodimus still couldn't stop himself from getting off on it.
He whimpered.
And then, instead of the cannon-blast Rodimus was expecting, a hand slapped down, hard, on Rodimus' aft. "I think I'll enjoy my victory for awhile, Prime!" It was probably just Rodimus' malfunctioning interface drive, but Galvatron's voice sounded more aroused than mocking, and startlingly close to Rodimus' audio sensors.
Galvatron spanked him again.
Rodimus arched. "Are you...going to kill me or 'face me, Galvatron?" he said, trying to sound defiant rather than turned on.
"And why should I have to choose?" Galvatron laughed, the vibrations tingling over Rodimus' spoiler the only warning before Galvatron bit.
"I'm a better 'face when I'm alive!" He was a captive, Rodimus reminded himself, helpless. It was no shame to do what he had to do to live.
Even if it was seducing a Decepticon. Worse: a Decepticon he found he desperately wanted to seduce.
"I suppose I could always kill you after." Galvatron slapped Rodimus' inner thigh, claws digging into the edges of the plating as he licked and nibbled down the edge of the spoiler, working towards the center. "If you make it worth my while, Prime."
"I'll--be the best you've ever had!" Rodimus boasted, trying frantically for some sort of dignity, and, he feared, completely missing it. And then Galvatron's hand dug in just the right spot and he found he didn't care anymore.
He was already the worst Prime ever. He might just as well enjoy dying in the most humiliating way possible.
He moaned and pressed into Galvatron's touch. "That all you can do?"
Galvatron tore a semi-circular bite off the edge of Rodimus' spoiler, and Rodimus yelled in pain and pleasure. This time, Galvatron's laughter only turned Rodimus on more. "If I'd known I'd find a frag-toy instead of a Prime, I'd have brought more whips!"
Oh Primus. Rodimus could almost hear the disapproving words of the ancient Primes in his chest, but it didn't stop his arousal, or his moans. "Too bad, Galvatron," he gasped out, "If you're not bot enough to handle me--!"
CLANG!
Galvatron's fist slammed brutally into Rodimus' aft. It felt like it made a dent, and Rodimus--almost beyond humiliation, now--just found that hotter. "More than a 'bot, frag-toy. I am Galvatron, Leader of the Decepticons!"
Rodimus bit back an urge to agree, emphatically. "Then frag me like one, leader!"
Galvatron's fist slammed into Rodimus' spoiler this time, just to the left of where it joined his back, bending the entire structure slightly and sending the sensors into a delightful cascade of pain and disorientation. "I decide if you get that, Rodimus." Galvatron struck him again, on the right side this time, a harder blow that carried the heat and energy signature of Galvatron's cannon.
Galvatron could kill him, Rodimus knew. He probably would.
Rodimus moaned, twisting as hard as he could to get closer. Galvatron laughed, his cruel delight spurring on Rodimus' lust for danger. "More!" Rodimus demanded.
Galvatron kicked him in the shin, a sudden shock of pain that, for once, didn't turn Rodimus on. "You don't give the orders here, Prime!"
The sharp whine of the cannon increased, the energy field flared, burning over Rodimus' own field even though Galvatron wasn't touching him. Rodimus felt the heat of the cannon descending towards his neck and awakening every sensor node, alert for danger or pleasure.
And then it touched him. The cannon pressed, very precisely, at the nape of Rodimus' neck, upper rim just brushing the bottom of his helm.
Rodimus' own field flared violently, energy building harder and faster than he could remember it having happened before. Oh, Primus, he was going to die and he was going to overload from it. "Galvatron!" He strained at the chains, bending the table perceptibly as he pressed closer, wanting to meet death and orgasm with his whole body.
Galvatron seemed to be thinking along similar lines. His hips and legs came down hard against Rodimus', left hand twisting at the tip of the spoiler as the right hand grabbed whatever was in reach--which happened to be the bottom of the spoiler's centerpiece. "Prime...!" his voice resonated through both bodies, closer than Rodimus even realized--until Galvatron's teeth dug deep into his shoulder.
The cannon heated up just a little more.
And that was all it took.
The scorched sensor cluster in Rodimus' neck exploded into overload, the chain reaction burning through every system in every part of Rodimus' body, jumping the gap to Galvatron in a thousand places, neck and shoulder and spoiler and aft and legs and even his feet. Galvatron roared, covering--mercifully--the sounds Rodimus was making. "Prime!" He shouted, directly into Rodimus' audio sensor (overloading with the rest of him) and Rodimus could feel Galvatron's overload all over the back of his body, sparking first where they touched most--hips and chest and teeth.
"Galvatron--" Rodimus moaned, feeling his death--and a second overload--come nearer and nearer as Galvatron's overload swept through his body, inevitably approaching his cannon.
Rodimus apologized to everyone, offlined his optics, and met his death with burning desire.
*****
The heat was incredible, burning the side of Rodimus' helm as the sound of the cannon overwhelmed his audio sensors and the rest of him burned bright and hot and painful with the redoubled overload, as Galvatron's overload retriggered Rodimus', and then Rodimus' overload Galvatron's and--
--hold on, why wasn't he dead?
Rodimus turned his optics back on, looking around his limited visual field and--aha. A distinct impression of cannon fire scorching through the table to his right.
That explained, Rodimus went back to moaning and pressing back against Galvatron.
For a minute or two, until--to Rodimus' utter annoyance--the table broke, freeing him.
Well, free except for the part where he was lying in a pile of broken table, with Galvatron on his back, and the slowly dawning realization that (a) he wasn't dead and (b) he'd lost his excuse for letting Galvatron do this to him.
Worst. Prime. Ever.
Rodimus groaned. At least Galvatron wasn't letting go of him. And he felt quite nice against Rodimus' back, too--no! Escape. Rodimus needed to escape and find the others, they might need him! Just because he was the worst Prime ever didn't mean he could just leave his friends to die, no matter how hot it would be to goad Galvatron into another round. (Really hot.)
Rodimus banged his helm against a piece of table, then flipped, tipping Galvatron--who wasn't holding on very well, under the circumstances--off of him. He reached into subspace--no rife. Of course not. And the guns in his arms were out of ammo--time to retreat. "Been great, but I gotta run, Galvy! Don't call me, I'll call you!"
"Don't call me Galvy!" Galvatron growled, obviously dealing with first things first, before aiming his cannon at Rodimus. "But you were pleasing enough that I will let you go--for now!"
"Just keep telling yourself that--" Rodimus said, but didn't let it delay him from getting the hell out of dodge (and being just as glad Galvatron was taking that approach, rather than, say, deciding to take him as a sex slave, which he would probably be better at than his current job, but no, he had to rescue his friends) and he was sure there was an escape pod around here--aha!
After finally getting the thing going, and settling on a course somewhat more likely than the others to intersect with his friends', Rodimus looked back.
Galvatron waved. "UNTIL NEXT TIME, PRIME!" It was a broad-spectrum radio wave hail, rather than a verbal shout, but it was still very much yelling.
"Right..." Rodimus said, not broadcasting. But he couldn't help but look forward to next time.
Maybe Galvatron would even kill him.
Rating: R
Content Notes: Tactile interfacing, semi-dubious consent, and a character getting off on the thought of his own death (erotic suicidal ideation?).
Pairing: Rodimus Prime/Galvatron
Universe: G1 Season 3
Summary: Repost from the TF Kinkmeme. The request was for Rodimus/Galvatron, suggested scene was "Roddy bent over something, aft exposed, unable to get away." So, that's where we start our PWP!
Rodimus Prime was the worst Prime who ever lived. Clearly.
It had been a routine trip from Cybertron to earth, with Arcee and Springer and Daniel, and yet somehow it had come to this. The others had fled who knew where, and were only alive because Arcee had pulled the other two into the escape pod at the last minute.
As for Rodimus himself, he had tripped. And been caught. And lost their cargo to the space pirates, and--he pulled at his chains, fruitlessly--they hadn't even killed him. Or held him for ransom, like a proper Prime.
They'd just tied him face-down to a table, laughed at him, and left.
Without even giving him a whipping! Or a SPANKING even!
His aft was RIGHT THERE! Shiny and obvious and just in the right position, how could they resist?
Rodimus moaned, and then banged his head on the table. This was not the time to indulge in perverted fantasies! Or to be resentful for not having been beaten!
No matter how perfect his position was. And the pirate captain had been kind of hot, really, and big enough to take advantage of him properly...
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Rodimus tugged at his chains some more, then tried tugging at the table. And trying to release the tools in his wrists. And running through all his distress signals, one more time. And trying Arcee's private comm, and Springer's, and even Daniel's...!
Nothing. Nothing at all.
No. Not nothing. Rodimus could hear something--someone coming--someone that sounded familiar....
"What have we here, Prime?" The voice, the footsteps, and the laugh that followed were very familiar.
And, come to think of it, the sound of the wall being broken down had been too.
"Galvatron!"
"You won't escape me now, Prime!"
"I'll never give in!" Rodimus' aft unconsciously arched up.
He banged his head on the table again.
Worst. Prime. Ever.
Galvatron laughed and Rodimus cringed. To his shame, not even the laughter caused his arousal to abate, and he had to override his heating fans, his engine, and his interface systems as Galvatron walked closer, his cannon charging up above Rodimus' back, his hips really close to Rodimus' own....
This was going to be the worst and most embarrassing death ever, and Rodimus still couldn't stop himself from getting off on it.
He whimpered.
And then, instead of the cannon-blast Rodimus was expecting, a hand slapped down, hard, on Rodimus' aft. "I think I'll enjoy my victory for awhile, Prime!" It was probably just Rodimus' malfunctioning interface drive, but Galvatron's voice sounded more aroused than mocking, and startlingly close to Rodimus' audio sensors.
Galvatron spanked him again.
Rodimus arched. "Are you...going to kill me or 'face me, Galvatron?" he said, trying to sound defiant rather than turned on.
"And why should I have to choose?" Galvatron laughed, the vibrations tingling over Rodimus' spoiler the only warning before Galvatron bit.
"I'm a better 'face when I'm alive!" He was a captive, Rodimus reminded himself, helpless. It was no shame to do what he had to do to live.
Even if it was seducing a Decepticon. Worse: a Decepticon he found he desperately wanted to seduce.
"I suppose I could always kill you after." Galvatron slapped Rodimus' inner thigh, claws digging into the edges of the plating as he licked and nibbled down the edge of the spoiler, working towards the center. "If you make it worth my while, Prime."
"I'll--be the best you've ever had!" Rodimus boasted, trying frantically for some sort of dignity, and, he feared, completely missing it. And then Galvatron's hand dug in just the right spot and he found he didn't care anymore.
He was already the worst Prime ever. He might just as well enjoy dying in the most humiliating way possible.
He moaned and pressed into Galvatron's touch. "That all you can do?"
Galvatron tore a semi-circular bite off the edge of Rodimus' spoiler, and Rodimus yelled in pain and pleasure. This time, Galvatron's laughter only turned Rodimus on more. "If I'd known I'd find a frag-toy instead of a Prime, I'd have brought more whips!"
Oh Primus. Rodimus could almost hear the disapproving words of the ancient Primes in his chest, but it didn't stop his arousal, or his moans. "Too bad, Galvatron," he gasped out, "If you're not bot enough to handle me--!"
CLANG!
Galvatron's fist slammed brutally into Rodimus' aft. It felt like it made a dent, and Rodimus--almost beyond humiliation, now--just found that hotter. "More than a 'bot, frag-toy. I am Galvatron, Leader of the Decepticons!"
Rodimus bit back an urge to agree, emphatically. "Then frag me like one, leader!"
Galvatron's fist slammed into Rodimus' spoiler this time, just to the left of where it joined his back, bending the entire structure slightly and sending the sensors into a delightful cascade of pain and disorientation. "I decide if you get that, Rodimus." Galvatron struck him again, on the right side this time, a harder blow that carried the heat and energy signature of Galvatron's cannon.
Galvatron could kill him, Rodimus knew. He probably would.
Rodimus moaned, twisting as hard as he could to get closer. Galvatron laughed, his cruel delight spurring on Rodimus' lust for danger. "More!" Rodimus demanded.
Galvatron kicked him in the shin, a sudden shock of pain that, for once, didn't turn Rodimus on. "You don't give the orders here, Prime!"
The sharp whine of the cannon increased, the energy field flared, burning over Rodimus' own field even though Galvatron wasn't touching him. Rodimus felt the heat of the cannon descending towards his neck and awakening every sensor node, alert for danger or pleasure.
And then it touched him. The cannon pressed, very precisely, at the nape of Rodimus' neck, upper rim just brushing the bottom of his helm.
Rodimus' own field flared violently, energy building harder and faster than he could remember it having happened before. Oh, Primus, he was going to die and he was going to overload from it. "Galvatron!" He strained at the chains, bending the table perceptibly as he pressed closer, wanting to meet death and orgasm with his whole body.
Galvatron seemed to be thinking along similar lines. His hips and legs came down hard against Rodimus', left hand twisting at the tip of the spoiler as the right hand grabbed whatever was in reach--which happened to be the bottom of the spoiler's centerpiece. "Prime...!" his voice resonated through both bodies, closer than Rodimus even realized--until Galvatron's teeth dug deep into his shoulder.
The cannon heated up just a little more.
And that was all it took.
The scorched sensor cluster in Rodimus' neck exploded into overload, the chain reaction burning through every system in every part of Rodimus' body, jumping the gap to Galvatron in a thousand places, neck and shoulder and spoiler and aft and legs and even his feet. Galvatron roared, covering--mercifully--the sounds Rodimus was making. "Prime!" He shouted, directly into Rodimus' audio sensor (overloading with the rest of him) and Rodimus could feel Galvatron's overload all over the back of his body, sparking first where they touched most--hips and chest and teeth.
"Galvatron--" Rodimus moaned, feeling his death--and a second overload--come nearer and nearer as Galvatron's overload swept through his body, inevitably approaching his cannon.
Rodimus apologized to everyone, offlined his optics, and met his death with burning desire.
*****
The heat was incredible, burning the side of Rodimus' helm as the sound of the cannon overwhelmed his audio sensors and the rest of him burned bright and hot and painful with the redoubled overload, as Galvatron's overload retriggered Rodimus', and then Rodimus' overload Galvatron's and--
--hold on, why wasn't he dead?
Rodimus turned his optics back on, looking around his limited visual field and--aha. A distinct impression of cannon fire scorching through the table to his right.
That explained, Rodimus went back to moaning and pressing back against Galvatron.
For a minute or two, until--to Rodimus' utter annoyance--the table broke, freeing him.
Well, free except for the part where he was lying in a pile of broken table, with Galvatron on his back, and the slowly dawning realization that (a) he wasn't dead and (b) he'd lost his excuse for letting Galvatron do this to him.
Worst. Prime. Ever.
Rodimus groaned. At least Galvatron wasn't letting go of him. And he felt quite nice against Rodimus' back, too--no! Escape. Rodimus needed to escape and find the others, they might need him! Just because he was the worst Prime ever didn't mean he could just leave his friends to die, no matter how hot it would be to goad Galvatron into another round. (Really hot.)
Rodimus banged his helm against a piece of table, then flipped, tipping Galvatron--who wasn't holding on very well, under the circumstances--off of him. He reached into subspace--no rife. Of course not. And the guns in his arms were out of ammo--time to retreat. "Been great, but I gotta run, Galvy! Don't call me, I'll call you!"
"Don't call me Galvy!" Galvatron growled, obviously dealing with first things first, before aiming his cannon at Rodimus. "But you were pleasing enough that I will let you go--for now!"
"Just keep telling yourself that--" Rodimus said, but didn't let it delay him from getting the hell out of dodge (and being just as glad Galvatron was taking that approach, rather than, say, deciding to take him as a sex slave, which he would probably be better at than his current job, but no, he had to rescue his friends) and he was sure there was an escape pod around here--aha!
After finally getting the thing going, and settling on a course somewhat more likely than the others to intersect with his friends', Rodimus looked back.
Galvatron waved. "UNTIL NEXT TIME, PRIME!" It was a broad-spectrum radio wave hail, rather than a verbal shout, but it was still very much yelling.
"Right..." Rodimus said, not broadcasting. But he couldn't help but look forward to next time.
Maybe Galvatron would even kill him.