FIC: Frustration, Transformers G1, Astrotrain/Blitzwing
Title: Frustration
Fandom: Transformers G1 Cartoon
Pairing: Astrotrain/Blitzwing
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 819
Summary: Astrotrain and Blitzwing want to interface. They succeed, mostly.
Content notes: Sticky robot porn. Exaggerated size differences. Gratuitous and possibly inaccurate American football jargon.
Credit: Inspired by this kink meme fic (which contains torture and non-consensual interfacing), which is written by a completely different anon author, and went in a different direction from this. But primarily written for macboris who needed some Astrotrain/Blitzwing.
Up against the wall again, and somewhere deep down in Blitzwing's processor he knew it wouldn't work, knew it couldn't work, he'd heard the numbers, but what did Blitzwing care about numbers, what did he care about anything when Astrotrain's powerful engine rumbled against him, wheels rolled delightfully against his sides as a huge hand thrust between his legs and Blitzwing spread his legs wide. "Go deep!" he called, and Astrotrain just grunted and shoved a finger inside of him.
Fifty yards, forty, he thought--the measurements of a football field replacing the actual mechanometers of their 'facing bits. He couldn't reach down far enough to grab the spike so he clung to Astrotrain's wings instead, balanced on a huge finger, bigger than Brawl's spike--all the way in now and so, so good--!
Another finger pressed between his legs and Blitzwing grunted. "Do it--!" he demanded and Astrotrain growled, not pleased at being ordered about but not displeased enough to stop. The metal valve-rim squeaked and Blitzwing's back scraped against the wall, trying to brace himself against Astrotrain and push himself down, down onto both fingers...and then in.
Thirty yards, Blitzwing thought, and pleasure exploded in his systems as its valve screamed that it was full, that it was good--"Just a little more, come on--" His hands dented Astrotrain's wings as the fingers worked inside of him, as good as a spike, better, because they were two of them and they were Astrotrain's, and Astrotrain's engine revved and he was almost, there, so very, very close...
And then the fingers were gone, the circuit broken and Blitzwing's valve buzzed painfully with lost current as Astrotrain's huge spike bumped against his rim.
"'Train!" he yelled, frustrated. "A few more seconds and maybe I coulda taken you!"
"A few more seconds and it'd've been all over," Astrotrain said, bitterly.
"I'd have gotten you off!" Blitzwing said, grinding against the spike as best he could.
"Like slag," Astrotrain said, shoving his spike at the open, slick, and entirely inadequate opening. "You'd've fallen asleep."
"That was only the once, ya stupid lug nut," Blitzwing said, trying to reach down to grope his own 'facing hardware.
"No you don't." Astrotrain swatted Blitzwing's hands away.
Blitzwing kicked him--not very hard, his leverage was shot to slag from this position. "I was just trying to help!"
"Trying to help yourself, you mean." Astrotrain's spike was starting to move rhythmically between Blitzwing's legs--it felt good, but it was always ten yards short of what he needed. Back and forth, and back and forth, and Astrotrain wouldn't even let him grope himself...
"Fuck you," Blitzwing said, and then, kicking a little harder, "Put me down."
Astrotrain sighed in a low train-whistle. "It's all right for you, you can put yours anywhere." He rubbed his spike slowly against Blitzwing's valve again.
"If you'd just get it resized...!" Blitzwing said, the old argument.
Astrotrain just glared and shoved it against the opening of his valve again. "You get yours resized."
"Like slag." Blitzwing wiggled, the position uncomfortable now that he was no longer getting off. "Let me down, and I'll use my hands and mouth on you, as long as you put your fingers back in me."
Astrotrain dropped him almost too quickly, and shoved his spike at Blitzwing's face. "Deal."
Once Blitzwing had himself oriented, it took two hands to wrap around the spike, and never mind trying to get it in his mouth--much safer to lick the sides, didn't want Astrotrain breaking something important by thrusting at his face, the stupid oaf.
It didn't really take that long, now that they weren't trying for something that wasn't going to happen, and the powerful jolt of electricity against Blitzwing's fingers and lips made his valve light up in want.
"Blitzwing!" Astrotrain said, and no one else said Blitzwing's name like that, no one. The spike retracted, and Astrotrain made as if to turn away.
"Hey! We had a deal!" Blitzwing said, leaning forward to level his cannon at his friend...he didn't mean it, of course. Well, as long as Astrotrain didn't mean it!
"Oh, right," Astrotrain said, turning back slowly. "I suppose." He sat down and wiggled his fingers and Blitzwing was on his lap in a second, finally full again, optics offline, remembering the feel of that spike in his hands while he enjoyed Astrotrain's fingers in his valve.
"Astrotrain," Blitzwing said, finally, flopping onto the huge chest as his valve overloaded around his partner's fingers.
Not a touchdown. But at least they could have a field goal.
Fandom: Transformers G1 Cartoon
Pairing: Astrotrain/Blitzwing
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 819
Summary: Astrotrain and Blitzwing want to interface. They succeed, mostly.
Content notes: Sticky robot porn. Exaggerated size differences. Gratuitous and possibly inaccurate American football jargon.
Credit: Inspired by this kink meme fic (which contains torture and non-consensual interfacing), which is written by a completely different anon author, and went in a different direction from this. But primarily written for macboris who needed some Astrotrain/Blitzwing.
Up against the wall again, and somewhere deep down in Blitzwing's processor he knew it wouldn't work, knew it couldn't work, he'd heard the numbers, but what did Blitzwing care about numbers, what did he care about anything when Astrotrain's powerful engine rumbled against him, wheels rolled delightfully against his sides as a huge hand thrust between his legs and Blitzwing spread his legs wide. "Go deep!" he called, and Astrotrain just grunted and shoved a finger inside of him.
Fifty yards, forty, he thought--the measurements of a football field replacing the actual mechanometers of their 'facing bits. He couldn't reach down far enough to grab the spike so he clung to Astrotrain's wings instead, balanced on a huge finger, bigger than Brawl's spike--all the way in now and so, so good--!
Another finger pressed between his legs and Blitzwing grunted. "Do it--!" he demanded and Astrotrain growled, not pleased at being ordered about but not displeased enough to stop. The metal valve-rim squeaked and Blitzwing's back scraped against the wall, trying to brace himself against Astrotrain and push himself down, down onto both fingers...and then in.
Thirty yards, Blitzwing thought, and pleasure exploded in his systems as its valve screamed that it was full, that it was good--"Just a little more, come on--" His hands dented Astrotrain's wings as the fingers worked inside of him, as good as a spike, better, because they were two of them and they were Astrotrain's, and Astrotrain's engine revved and he was almost, there, so very, very close...
And then the fingers were gone, the circuit broken and Blitzwing's valve buzzed painfully with lost current as Astrotrain's huge spike bumped against his rim.
"'Train!" he yelled, frustrated. "A few more seconds and maybe I coulda taken you!"
"A few more seconds and it'd've been all over," Astrotrain said, bitterly.
"I'd have gotten you off!" Blitzwing said, grinding against the spike as best he could.
"Like slag," Astrotrain said, shoving his spike at the open, slick, and entirely inadequate opening. "You'd've fallen asleep."
"That was only the once, ya stupid lug nut," Blitzwing said, trying to reach down to grope his own 'facing hardware.
"No you don't." Astrotrain swatted Blitzwing's hands away.
Blitzwing kicked him--not very hard, his leverage was shot to slag from this position. "I was just trying to help!"
"Trying to help yourself, you mean." Astrotrain's spike was starting to move rhythmically between Blitzwing's legs--it felt good, but it was always ten yards short of what he needed. Back and forth, and back and forth, and Astrotrain wouldn't even let him grope himself...
"Fuck you," Blitzwing said, and then, kicking a little harder, "Put me down."
Astrotrain sighed in a low train-whistle. "It's all right for you, you can put yours anywhere." He rubbed his spike slowly against Blitzwing's valve again.
"If you'd just get it resized...!" Blitzwing said, the old argument.
Astrotrain just glared and shoved it against the opening of his valve again. "You get yours resized."
"Like slag." Blitzwing wiggled, the position uncomfortable now that he was no longer getting off. "Let me down, and I'll use my hands and mouth on you, as long as you put your fingers back in me."
Astrotrain dropped him almost too quickly, and shoved his spike at Blitzwing's face. "Deal."
Once Blitzwing had himself oriented, it took two hands to wrap around the spike, and never mind trying to get it in his mouth--much safer to lick the sides, didn't want Astrotrain breaking something important by thrusting at his face, the stupid oaf.
It didn't really take that long, now that they weren't trying for something that wasn't going to happen, and the powerful jolt of electricity against Blitzwing's fingers and lips made his valve light up in want.
"Blitzwing!" Astrotrain said, and no one else said Blitzwing's name like that, no one. The spike retracted, and Astrotrain made as if to turn away.
"Hey! We had a deal!" Blitzwing said, leaning forward to level his cannon at his friend...he didn't mean it, of course. Well, as long as Astrotrain didn't mean it!
"Oh, right," Astrotrain said, turning back slowly. "I suppose." He sat down and wiggled his fingers and Blitzwing was on his lap in a second, finally full again, optics offline, remembering the feel of that spike in his hands while he enjoyed Astrotrain's fingers in his valve.
"Astrotrain," Blitzwing said, finally, flopping onto the huge chest as his valve overloaded around his partner's fingers.
Not a touchdown. But at least they could have a field goal.