30 Days of Porn - Day 29: Wrong
Title: The Adventures of Mirrorverse Vortex: Interlude I
Continuity: G1, Shattered Glass
Warnings: sticky masturbation, sexual fantasies regarding a threesome, angst
Characters/Pairings: First Aid, implied Blades/SG!Vortex, implied Blades/SG!Vortex/First Aid
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Summary: After walking in on the two copters, First Aid needs some time alone.
Prompt: Wrong (prompted by casusfere)
Beta: ultharkitty :D
Note: Written for Day 29 of the 30 Days of Porn Meme.
Though, first and foremost written as Interlude from First Aid’s POV for ultharkitty’s fanfic. Set right after The Adventures of Mirrorverse Vortex chapter 15. :)
Interlude I
First Aid slammed the door shut behind him and leant against it, sighing. His engine still ran a little louder than usual and, a few parts of his metal frame where considerably warmer than intended. Not that he wanted it, but it wasn’t surprising considering what he’d just seen. It was a little surprise, however, that he’d thought of taking an energon cube with him after he’d left the two ‘copters in a hurry.
He vented air twice then he cracked the cube open and took off his battle mask, taking a sip. He stayed there a few kliks, drinking quietly and trying to focus again on his task.
Streetwise would be here soon for a system check and minor repairs, and First Aid wanted to be prepared. He didn't like to search and gather tools in front of patients. They would only have to wait unnecessarily, and he was sure Ratchet would have been disappointed in him if something like that happened.
So, he had no time to think further about Blades. Or Vortex. Or them both. Together.
Right?
It also wasn't any of First Aid's business what the nice Vortex did in his time off. He was just glad that he wasn't in pain anymore... And as for Blades, well, First Aid tried to be angry. He knew he really should be. They’d talked about this before, and First Aid had tried to talk him out of it, but obviously to no avail.
He completely ignored the fact that he, too, had thought about the other 'copter in... different ways.
With a sigh, the medic pushed himself off the wall. He put the half empty energon cube down on a berth, and went to the closet to get his tools. A system check required concentration; he needed to focus if he didn't want to have Streetwise suffer from his mistake of running into an intimate moment of another team mate.
Biting his lip, First Aid suppressed a huff as he rummaged on the shelf. He was not just disappointed in Blades for taking advantage of Vortex, he was also disappointed that Blades hadn't mentioned anything. Or hadn't asked if First Aid maybe...
With a sound that imitated a human cough, First Aid stopped his musings there. Thoughts like this made him angry at himself. What was he even doing daring to think that?
He just should have looked closer into the bond to avoid this whole situation, it was his own fault.
His own fault that now, in the dim light of the closet, in front of the shelf with the tools, his valve tingled. It clenched when he thought of the image the two mechs which had burnt into his mind. He shuddered, leaning his forehead against the rack, optics staring unfocused at the medical devices beneath.
First Aid knew he needed to prepare the repairs. He shouldn’t distract himself, especially not by thoughts like this…
Venting a sigh, First Aid tried to relax, and to concentrate on the task ahead of him - and failed.
His lips pressed together to a thin line, processor running, always in the wrong direction to pictures, imaginations and fantasies he hadn’t admitted he had until now.
What might Blades and Vortex have done last night after First Aid went into recharge?
His intakes heaved air in a faint whimper.
This question and the possible answers didn’t help First Aid at all. Neither did the query of what they might have done after he'd left them together in the room. With Blades all over Vortex, a hand on the rotor and the air thick with the smell of interfacing.
A pleasant shiver ran down his back, his body temperature increasing slightly.
First Aid's processor betrayed him when he imagined Blades’ enthusiastic cries, energy field flaring with arousal and knowing hands all over the other 'copter’s white frame. A muffled gasp left the medic's vocaliser, and his own field extended a little.
This really was not fair.
Venting deeply and rebooting his optics, First Aid nodded to himself. He had to work here.
...but maybe Streetwise, if he would be there anyway, could help First Aid later with the charge which unmistakably built up. The heat pooled between his legs, and even though he pressed them tighter together, it didn't help. His idle hands began fumbling again as though he was searching for tools he actually knew the location of, and his optics dimmed a little more as he tried not to look into the gestalt bond for any evidence of Blades and Vortex might be intimate again.
In the end, he took a random tool, and turned, realising that his wandering mind caused his legs to feel weak.
This was truly unfair. First Aid hadn't been close to Blades for a while. Not that close, and why did he go into recharge so early last night anyway?
Taking an uncertain glance into the medbay, First Aid closed the door of the tiny room and leant against it, sliding down. The tool still in one of his hands, his other traced slowly over his thigh.
Streetwise’s appointment was scheduled for almost two joors, in case something unexpected happened - First Aid always wanted to be on the safe side. This would be enough time for them to take care of his charge. Maybe they could do that before the check?
First Aid was sure Streetwise would help. They all had been stressed lately. Too much Decepticon activity, a stranger from a foreign dimension searching for help and asylum which they just couldn’t deny, and not enough time for the team.
Streetwise would understand. Having two rotary builds at base, he’d say something like ‘it was only a matter of time’, smiling gently. It wasn’t as though no one knew about First Aid’s… weakness.
He whimpered when the picture of said mechs returned. Blades’ caressing Vortex’ rotor while his own heated up - his rotor blades heated up quickly when he was aroused. The energon flow pulsating under the thin metal, noticeable on the sensitive nodes of First Aid’s fingers.
His head dropped back at the door, and he sighed. Fingers tightened around the tool while his other hand stroked up and down the inside of his thigh, approaching his valve bit by bit.
He would just…
He would just increase his charge a little. Just so that Streetwise saw he seriously needed some time with a team mate, First Aid thought, but secretly knew that it was only a justification to go further.
In the meantime not only fingers caressed the white metal, but also his palm was pressed onto it. His energy field flared stronger from his hand, and even though it was his own energy signature, it tickled the nodes beneath the plating.
Optical sensors offlined without his conscious intention, and the image what actually had been became a fantasy in his inner optic.
Blades leaning over Vortex, two white frames, rotors shuddering in overload. Blades moaning loudly, biting the other’s neck cables while Vortex arched his rotor hub against Blades’ rumbling chest, fingers digging hard into the berth. The movement of interfacing slowing down, leaving the scent of ozone and the sound of whirling fans.
“Hmng,” First Aid moaned when his fingers brushed over his valve cover. The touch was unexpectedly intense, the sensations rippling deep into him and over his sensor net, it made him shudder in arousal and need.
Behind his visor, optics booted up as he looked next to himself at the ground, avoiding seeing what he was about to do. He was ashamed of the noise, and the cooling system which had just come to life. The heat caused by this little fantasy was embarrassing, but he didn’t stop.
Legs bent, First Aid spread them a little wider, giving his hand more room, his fingers more space to tease his covering. He bit his lower lip so as not to moan again, and his back arched as fingertips cycled around the hidden valve. He felt lubricant being produced, and even though it was slightly colder than his insides, it didn’t do anything against his plating becoming warmer.
Optics offline again, the image changed. The cover slid aside, and First Aid gasped as he traced over the warm, wet rim.
Blades sat on Vortex’ lap now, they were kissing deeply, hungrily. Their hands were busy, mapping out each others’ frames, grabbing blades tightly.
First Aid slid a finger inside, pressing his lips together to muffle a moan as sensor nodes lit up, and he couldn’t help but buck his hips. His vocaliser produced soft whimpers every time he caressed the inside of his valve.
Vortex’ tail rotor was spinning slowly, but Blades wasn’t touching it. He took one of Vortex’ blades and bend it down to lick over its tip, stroking with two fingers down to the rotor hub and causing Vortex to groan against his neck, shuddering and tugging Blades closer.
A second finger entered him, and First Aid writhed, the temperature in the small room growing with every pant of his vents. Sensitive nodes inside his valve and on his fingers sent current surging through him. Waves of pleasure clouded his processor and dampened his shame as he increased the pace, arching up and moaning.
First Aid let go of the tool, pressing his palm against his chest plating, letting his sensitive hand take in the vibrations of his own engine rumbling.
The fantasy became more uninhibited, including himself sitting on Vortex’ lap, riding the ‘copter’s spike, clenching his valve and making him moan. He stroked over the other’s white plating which he already knew briefly from repairs. Behind him was Blades, grinning against First Aid’s throat, teasing the conventional interface panel open, and plugging in.
The charge increased, the arousal grew and ventilation became more frantic with every thrust and pulse. Energy field crackling over the other mechs, but only pulsing against the door behind him.
First Aid scissored his fingers, pushing deeper inside, faster, and he whimpered. His hips met his hand. Fingertips brushed his ceiling node, triggering an exciting wave of bliss surging through him and he unwittingly moaned loudly. His feet scratched a little over the floor, searching for leverage.
Vortex was moaning, Blades was whispering into his audial, wanting the other ‘copter to take First Aid, and First Aid wanted to be taken by them. He urged to move even faster, closer to overload which he knew would come soon.
Sensor nodes inside his valve fired sensations through him caused by friction and his energy field flaring. It made him shiver, and Blades and Vortex looked so good, felt so good, and, and…
“Ah! Sigma, ah, hmmng...”
And…
Overload hit. First Aid tensed, valve contracting around his fingers so tight it almost hurt. He pressed his back against the door, arching, vocaliser producing a whimper that dissolved in static. Warm tingles spread from his valve over his whole frame, at first as an intense rush of hot pleasure which then ebbed to waves of a satiated bliss. He pushed into himself a few more times, then stopped with a final staticky moan.
His cooling fans worked fast, drowning out the sound of his quiet sighs, and with the pleasant tickling slowly subsiding, the clouds lifted from his processor. His thoughts cleared, and the shame came back.
First Aid refused to online his optics just yet, he wanted to enjoy the post-overload satiation for a little longer, but the guilt made him press his lips together.
What had he done?
Embarrassed of his thoughts, and the charge - that the charge had even built up like that - he eventually booted his optics up, only to see the mess between his legs.
First Aid didn’t feel well, the pleasant feeling from before completely gone.
Taking a cloth from his subspace, he cleaned himself and closed his cover, tucking up his legs and crossing his arms on his knees.
The guilt and shame made him feel sick, and he stared at the opposite wall for almost a klick, before he leant his forehead on his lower arms.
He shouldn’t have done this. He’d burst in on the two ‘copters, and probably destroyed the first moment in which the nice Vortex felt well after a long time. And then First Aid did exactly that what he’d told Blades not to do… Taking advantage of him. At that, it was so clear that Vortex didn’t like to be around First Aid, which made this all even worse for him.
The medic didn’t blame him, though. He came from a world where a mech looking, maybe sounding like him was evil, probably did even really awful things to him or his friends…
He hoped Streetwise would just hold him a bit when he arrived. He wasn’t in the mood for interfacing anymore, but he’d like to cuddle someone who didn’t flinch when he touched him.
First Aid really didn’t feel good.
Also posted here
Continuity: G1, Shattered Glass
Warnings: sticky masturbation, sexual fantasies regarding a threesome, angst
Characters/Pairings: First Aid, implied Blades/SG!Vortex, implied Blades/SG!Vortex/First Aid
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Summary: After walking in on the two copters, First Aid needs some time alone.
Prompt: Wrong (prompted by casusfere)
Beta: ultharkitty :D
Note: Written for Day 29 of the 30 Days of Porn Meme.
Though, first and foremost written as Interlude from First Aid’s POV for ultharkitty’s fanfic. Set right after The Adventures of Mirrorverse Vortex chapter 15. :)
Interlude I
First Aid slammed the door shut behind him and leant against it, sighing. His engine still ran a little louder than usual and, a few parts of his metal frame where considerably warmer than intended. Not that he wanted it, but it wasn’t surprising considering what he’d just seen. It was a little surprise, however, that he’d thought of taking an energon cube with him after he’d left the two ‘copters in a hurry.
He vented air twice then he cracked the cube open and took off his battle mask, taking a sip. He stayed there a few kliks, drinking quietly and trying to focus again on his task.
Streetwise would be here soon for a system check and minor repairs, and First Aid wanted to be prepared. He didn't like to search and gather tools in front of patients. They would only have to wait unnecessarily, and he was sure Ratchet would have been disappointed in him if something like that happened.
So, he had no time to think further about Blades. Or Vortex. Or them both. Together.
Right?
It also wasn't any of First Aid's business what the nice Vortex did in his time off. He was just glad that he wasn't in pain anymore... And as for Blades, well, First Aid tried to be angry. He knew he really should be. They’d talked about this before, and First Aid had tried to talk him out of it, but obviously to no avail.
He completely ignored the fact that he, too, had thought about the other 'copter in... different ways.
With a sigh, the medic pushed himself off the wall. He put the half empty energon cube down on a berth, and went to the closet to get his tools. A system check required concentration; he needed to focus if he didn't want to have Streetwise suffer from his mistake of running into an intimate moment of another team mate.
Biting his lip, First Aid suppressed a huff as he rummaged on the shelf. He was not just disappointed in Blades for taking advantage of Vortex, he was also disappointed that Blades hadn't mentioned anything. Or hadn't asked if First Aid maybe...
With a sound that imitated a human cough, First Aid stopped his musings there. Thoughts like this made him angry at himself. What was he even doing daring to think that?
He just should have looked closer into the bond to avoid this whole situation, it was his own fault.
His own fault that now, in the dim light of the closet, in front of the shelf with the tools, his valve tingled. It clenched when he thought of the image the two mechs which had burnt into his mind. He shuddered, leaning his forehead against the rack, optics staring unfocused at the medical devices beneath.
First Aid knew he needed to prepare the repairs. He shouldn’t distract himself, especially not by thoughts like this…
Venting a sigh, First Aid tried to relax, and to concentrate on the task ahead of him - and failed.
His lips pressed together to a thin line, processor running, always in the wrong direction to pictures, imaginations and fantasies he hadn’t admitted he had until now.
What might Blades and Vortex have done last night after First Aid went into recharge?
His intakes heaved air in a faint whimper.
This question and the possible answers didn’t help First Aid at all. Neither did the query of what they might have done after he'd left them together in the room. With Blades all over Vortex, a hand on the rotor and the air thick with the smell of interfacing.
A pleasant shiver ran down his back, his body temperature increasing slightly.
First Aid's processor betrayed him when he imagined Blades’ enthusiastic cries, energy field flaring with arousal and knowing hands all over the other 'copter’s white frame. A muffled gasp left the medic's vocaliser, and his own field extended a little.
This really was not fair.
Venting deeply and rebooting his optics, First Aid nodded to himself. He had to work here.
...but maybe Streetwise, if he would be there anyway, could help First Aid later with the charge which unmistakably built up. The heat pooled between his legs, and even though he pressed them tighter together, it didn't help. His idle hands began fumbling again as though he was searching for tools he actually knew the location of, and his optics dimmed a little more as he tried not to look into the gestalt bond for any evidence of Blades and Vortex might be intimate again.
In the end, he took a random tool, and turned, realising that his wandering mind caused his legs to feel weak.
This was truly unfair. First Aid hadn't been close to Blades for a while. Not that close, and why did he go into recharge so early last night anyway?
Taking an uncertain glance into the medbay, First Aid closed the door of the tiny room and leant against it, sliding down. The tool still in one of his hands, his other traced slowly over his thigh.
Streetwise’s appointment was scheduled for almost two joors, in case something unexpected happened - First Aid always wanted to be on the safe side. This would be enough time for them to take care of his charge. Maybe they could do that before the check?
First Aid was sure Streetwise would help. They all had been stressed lately. Too much Decepticon activity, a stranger from a foreign dimension searching for help and asylum which they just couldn’t deny, and not enough time for the team.
Streetwise would understand. Having two rotary builds at base, he’d say something like ‘it was only a matter of time’, smiling gently. It wasn’t as though no one knew about First Aid’s… weakness.
He whimpered when the picture of said mechs returned. Blades’ caressing Vortex’ rotor while his own heated up - his rotor blades heated up quickly when he was aroused. The energon flow pulsating under the thin metal, noticeable on the sensitive nodes of First Aid’s fingers.
His head dropped back at the door, and he sighed. Fingers tightened around the tool while his other hand stroked up and down the inside of his thigh, approaching his valve bit by bit.
He would just…
He would just increase his charge a little. Just so that Streetwise saw he seriously needed some time with a team mate, First Aid thought, but secretly knew that it was only a justification to go further.
In the meantime not only fingers caressed the white metal, but also his palm was pressed onto it. His energy field flared stronger from his hand, and even though it was his own energy signature, it tickled the nodes beneath the plating.
Optical sensors offlined without his conscious intention, and the image what actually had been became a fantasy in his inner optic.
Blades leaning over Vortex, two white frames, rotors shuddering in overload. Blades moaning loudly, biting the other’s neck cables while Vortex arched his rotor hub against Blades’ rumbling chest, fingers digging hard into the berth. The movement of interfacing slowing down, leaving the scent of ozone and the sound of whirling fans.
“Hmng,” First Aid moaned when his fingers brushed over his valve cover. The touch was unexpectedly intense, the sensations rippling deep into him and over his sensor net, it made him shudder in arousal and need.
Behind his visor, optics booted up as he looked next to himself at the ground, avoiding seeing what he was about to do. He was ashamed of the noise, and the cooling system which had just come to life. The heat caused by this little fantasy was embarrassing, but he didn’t stop.
Legs bent, First Aid spread them a little wider, giving his hand more room, his fingers more space to tease his covering. He bit his lower lip so as not to moan again, and his back arched as fingertips cycled around the hidden valve. He felt lubricant being produced, and even though it was slightly colder than his insides, it didn’t do anything against his plating becoming warmer.
Optics offline again, the image changed. The cover slid aside, and First Aid gasped as he traced over the warm, wet rim.
Blades sat on Vortex’ lap now, they were kissing deeply, hungrily. Their hands were busy, mapping out each others’ frames, grabbing blades tightly.
First Aid slid a finger inside, pressing his lips together to muffle a moan as sensor nodes lit up, and he couldn’t help but buck his hips. His vocaliser produced soft whimpers every time he caressed the inside of his valve.
Vortex’ tail rotor was spinning slowly, but Blades wasn’t touching it. He took one of Vortex’ blades and bend it down to lick over its tip, stroking with two fingers down to the rotor hub and causing Vortex to groan against his neck, shuddering and tugging Blades closer.
A second finger entered him, and First Aid writhed, the temperature in the small room growing with every pant of his vents. Sensitive nodes inside his valve and on his fingers sent current surging through him. Waves of pleasure clouded his processor and dampened his shame as he increased the pace, arching up and moaning.
First Aid let go of the tool, pressing his palm against his chest plating, letting his sensitive hand take in the vibrations of his own engine rumbling.
The fantasy became more uninhibited, including himself sitting on Vortex’ lap, riding the ‘copter’s spike, clenching his valve and making him moan. He stroked over the other’s white plating which he already knew briefly from repairs. Behind him was Blades, grinning against First Aid’s throat, teasing the conventional interface panel open, and plugging in.
The charge increased, the arousal grew and ventilation became more frantic with every thrust and pulse. Energy field crackling over the other mechs, but only pulsing against the door behind him.
First Aid scissored his fingers, pushing deeper inside, faster, and he whimpered. His hips met his hand. Fingertips brushed his ceiling node, triggering an exciting wave of bliss surging through him and he unwittingly moaned loudly. His feet scratched a little over the floor, searching for leverage.
Vortex was moaning, Blades was whispering into his audial, wanting the other ‘copter to take First Aid, and First Aid wanted to be taken by them. He urged to move even faster, closer to overload which he knew would come soon.
Sensor nodes inside his valve fired sensations through him caused by friction and his energy field flaring. It made him shiver, and Blades and Vortex looked so good, felt so good, and, and…
“Ah! Sigma, ah, hmmng...”
And…
Overload hit. First Aid tensed, valve contracting around his fingers so tight it almost hurt. He pressed his back against the door, arching, vocaliser producing a whimper that dissolved in static. Warm tingles spread from his valve over his whole frame, at first as an intense rush of hot pleasure which then ebbed to waves of a satiated bliss. He pushed into himself a few more times, then stopped with a final staticky moan.
His cooling fans worked fast, drowning out the sound of his quiet sighs, and with the pleasant tickling slowly subsiding, the clouds lifted from his processor. His thoughts cleared, and the shame came back.
First Aid refused to online his optics just yet, he wanted to enjoy the post-overload satiation for a little longer, but the guilt made him press his lips together.
What had he done?
Embarrassed of his thoughts, and the charge - that the charge had even built up like that - he eventually booted his optics up, only to see the mess between his legs.
First Aid didn’t feel well, the pleasant feeling from before completely gone.
Taking a cloth from his subspace, he cleaned himself and closed his cover, tucking up his legs and crossing his arms on his knees.
The guilt and shame made him feel sick, and he stared at the opposite wall for almost a klick, before he leant his forehead on his lower arms.
He shouldn’t have done this. He’d burst in on the two ‘copters, and probably destroyed the first moment in which the nice Vortex felt well after a long time. And then First Aid did exactly that what he’d told Blades not to do… Taking advantage of him. At that, it was so clear that Vortex didn’t like to be around First Aid, which made this all even worse for him.
The medic didn’t blame him, though. He came from a world where a mech looking, maybe sounding like him was evil, probably did even really awful things to him or his friends…
He hoped Streetwise would just hold him a bit when he arrived. He wasn’t in the mood for interfacing anymore, but he’d like to cuddle someone who didn’t flinch when he touched him.
First Aid really didn’t feel good.
Also posted here