Fic - Crack in the Mirror 14/15+
Title: Crack in the Mirror
Chapter: 14/15+
Continuity: G1 (part of ultharkitty’s Dysfunction AU)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Beta: ultharkitty
This Chapter
Warnings: smut of the p’n’p variety, dark, masochism/pain play,
Characters: Vortex, Blast Off, Onslaught, Swindle, Brawl, Skywarp, Astrotrain
Summary: Vortex devotes all his time and effort to the mission. Blast Off is apathetic. Onslaught has a plan.
Crack in the Mirror - Chapter 14
Vortex resisted the temptation to use the override code on Swindle’s room, and went straight to Blast Off’s quarters.
There was no need to try to ping the former shuttle, or to knock. Vortex typed the code into the small console, feeling smug while doing so, and waited till the tiny light turned green.
It only took an astrosecond or two, but even that seemed too long for the impatient ‘copter. It wasn’t often that he was allowed to upset one of his team mates.
He pushed the other button harder than necessary, and the door slid open.
Vortex was greeted by space.
A half transparent black cloud floated in the room like mist, blocking the view of most of what was inside. It wasn’t completely dark, though, and had a few bright spots and whirls in different colours.
Vortex had seen it before. The day when Swindle had repaired that old projector he’d got from who knew where. He didn’t know the businessmech had given it to Blast Off. And he hadn’t expected the former shuttle to really use it.
Vortex resisted an annoyed vent of air. It didn’t matter now. He was the one with the override code and the mission.
“Get out,” Vortex heard Blast Off say before he’d even stepped in.
With a shrug, 'Vortex ignored his team mate's demand, and closed the door behind him. “Sorry, can’t do.” His tone was much too amused, and he knew the former shuttle wouldn’t like it.
Blast Off only huffed at that.
With the light of the corridor gone, the room was almost completely dark. The hologram of space was confusing, and even more so because it parted when Vortex walked through it.
He reached the desk that stood next to Blast Off’s berth, and sat down on the chair.
In his peripheral vision, Vortex saw the cloud closing where he’d split it, but he paid more attention to the two energon rations on the table.
"Did you refuel?" he asked, and drew one leg to his body, placing the foot on the edge of the chair.
Through the black mist, he saw Blast Off's frame shrug. The other heliformer lay on the berth, on his back, and just stared at the ceiling. It was a disconcerting view.
"Did Onslaught give you my code?" the former shuttle wanted to know, and Vortex listened closely. There was something wrong with Blast Off's voice. Something he couldn't quite place yet.
"Nope," Vortex said proudly, pretending everything was right. "He gave me the base's override key."
"Why would he do something stupid like that," Blast Off huffed, and caused Vortex to grin.
"I had to get in here, right? And I don't think Ons has your code, so..."
"You had to get in here?" Blast Off's frown was audible. "That means you’re my guard now, or what? Is Onslaught afraid I'll leave again?"
"Kinda," the 'copter lied, and sounded cheerfully. "He's also kinda pissed, so maybe you having to deal with me is also sorta punishment? I dunno. I'm just following orders."
"'course you do." There was a muttering, and it was clear that Blast Off knew Vortex enjoyed this.
"Yeah, anyway. Did you refuel? I didn't catch your answer."
"Hmpf." Blast Off shook his head, but didn't say more.
Shifting on his chair, fanning his rotors, Vortex tapped against one of the cubes. There was a ping-sound that made him giggle. He poked it a few more times, repeatedly, and eventually Blast Off's engine revved.
"Stop that!"
"Did you refuel?"
"No. I drank a whole cube yesterday. I don't need to."
It was a lie, and Vortex knew it. "Well, you couldn't have drunk the full cube that is here. And I think I remember something about you flying to the North Pole and someone else having to bring you back?"
Vortex left Blast Off time for an annoyed grunt before he continued. "If you don't refuel, I will do it. And by that I mean I'll feed you - with my mouth." Oh, that idea was so tempting, it made Vortex' rotor blades quiver. His glossa flicked against his lip at the thought of Blast Off lip plates against his, and he could hardly suppress the disappointed sigh when the former shuttle sat up.
"Idiot." He growled almost inaudibly, and a black hand took one of the cubes.
"Spoilsport," Vortex said, much too happy to truly mean it.
Blast Off merely shrugged at that while he drank quickly. More than half of the cube was empty when he put it down again, and for a short moment, the purple visor flickered, and Vortex briefly saw black rotor blades shuffle. To refuel that fast when the energy level was really low did that sometimes to a mech. Vortex liked it, the feeling of warmth spreading, a faint wave of restlessness coming and going very quickly, tingling all along the rotor blades to their tips.
Vortex shifted on his chair again; his fingers flexed as rotors kept quivering. He wanted to touch the other, not just to test and annoy him, but for purely selfish reasons. Vortex had been ordered to irritate Blast Off to make him act normally again, and there was hardly anything that irritated the other more than being coaxed into a frag.
Vortex stood up with a grin on his face. He'd know soon if Blast Off was acting normal. And regardless of whether he said yes or no, Vortex was sure he'd have some fun.
---
Vortex hadn't been very successful with annoying Blast Off, but was very much so with his own pursuit of pleasure.
He woke up lying on his side on Blast Off's berth. The other lay a bit away, their plating didn't touch, but they were still connected.
A grin built on Vortex' lips when his processor booted up fully, and memory banks onlined.
Yes, he'd had fun last recharge cycle. And Blast Off hadn't even wanted him to leave. Well, at least the former shuttle hadn't spat anything or threatened him with his rifle or sword, so Vortex had just assumed it was okay for him to stay. Not that he'd have left. He still had orders.
Vortex resisted a snicker, but couldn't hinder his rotors from shuddering.
Blast Off's rotor blades were close to him. With the former shuttle lying on his front, they hovered almost over Vortex. And they were so tempting.
Oh, sleeping Blast Off in general was so very tempting.
Slowly, Vortex raised his hand, and pulled the closest rotor blade down a little. His fingers kneaded the tip, and he let his field flare from his hand so it brushed over the metal. The blades twitched, and he sensed a slight movement.
Vortex looked at Blast Off, searching for any sign that he was awake. But from what he knew through the connection and the unmoving frame, it seemed the other heliformer was still in recharge.
Usually, Vortex would have thought twice about what he was about to do, because he'd have to be careful of risking Blast Off not talking to him for orns. But he had orders this time, right? It wouldn't be his fault, Onslaught was to blame.
With that in mind, Vortex shuffled on the berth, and sat up. He still had the tip between his fingers, and only let go after another pinch and field flare. Moving slowly, Vortex rearranged himself, straddling Blast Off's thighs without touching them.
The 'copter shuffled his own rotors; they quivered, and he couldn't stop himself from sending a burst of energy and data through the connection. His interface cable twitched, and a tingling need made itself present.
Blast Off's response was a wavering EM field flare, the energy signature transmitting drowsiness. It didn't put Vortex off, though. It was just an evidence that the other's processor hadn't booted up yet.
A shudder run down Vortex' back struts, partly from building arousal, partly from anticipation as to how Blast Off would react. He placed two fingers on the middle of the rotor hub, stroking it lightly, drawing lazy cycles on the metal as he sent another surge through the interface.
This time, the reaction was stronger. An answering rush spread slowly, not as intense as when Blast Off had been awake, but still noticeable. Hot sensation gathered in Vortex' interface array, and his field flared strongly without his conscious intent causing Blast Off's field to flare back.
It was so encouraging, so tempting to just increase the stream and fire Vortex' own arousal into the former shuttle; it was so hard to resist. It took Vortex a few astroseconds to convince himself that it'd be so much better if this was slow, to enjoy the built up and teasing pleasure.
His denta clenched as he bent down. He continued to slowly send charge and data, and trace circles on the flat metal of the hub while he stroked a rotor blade with his other hand. It was the one rebuilt to a sword, but the sharp edge wasn't there like Vortex had expected. It didn't cut his finger while he felt the narrowest edge, but he sensed the sensor node clusters within the metal. Applying more pressure there, letting his field seep into the plating, Vortex bit back a groan. It wasn't just the fact that he was touching another rotary - that he was touching Blast Off - it was also the sensations that came across the interface. With their systems synched, due to the gestalt program and having such similar frames, it was almost as though Vortex was touching his own blades. Sensor nodes on his rotors lit in pleasure and heated up, just like the metal between his fingers.
"Huh?" A questioning sound made Vortex glance back at Blast Off's face. The purple optics flickered dimly, but there wasn't much else to see. Most of the former shuttle's face was buried in the crook of his elbow, the hand lying next to the helm tensed.
"Good morning," Vortex said happily, with static in his voice and a grin on his face.
"Hmm?" The response was only another incoherent mumble, and obviously a signal not to stop.
That's how Vortex interpreted it, at least, and he had no intention to think twice about this conclusion. He increased the energy stream a little, and when Blast Off sent stronger bursts back it just confirmed that he was right.
The other's data was filled with drowsiness and also some confusion. It caused Vortex to be slightly dizzy, but it also increased the rising charge.
The grin was still on the 'copter's face when he retracted his battle mask, and leant even further down. His lip plates brushed over Blast Off’s neck cables where he could reach them, up to the jaw joint and to the cheek. There was a small dent. Vortex knew the place. He himself had a dent there sometimes after Onslaught had hit him.
The idea of Onslaught and Blast Off not getting along was odd, and Vortex hated it that it made him uncomfortable.
He revved his engine hard, sent the vibrations into the rotor blades beneath, making them twitch and Blast Off shiver. Then Vortex’ lips pressed gently onto the dented metal. He parted his mouth only slightly, letting his glossa flick out, he traced along the new form of the plates. The hot metal tasted smooth and, being so close to Blast Off’s face, Vortex heard a suppressed moan.
Slag, this was hot.
Finally, Vortex gave in to the urge that he'd had since that day on Tlalak.
He brushed his lip plates over the cheek a last time, almost sensually, before he sat up, sliding down Blast Off’s tights, his face over the rotor blades.
His glossa touched the bracket that held the rotor in place, dug into a seam there, and then he licked over the full length of the blade.
Beneath him, Blast Off shuddered. Vortex heard a faint whimper, and the energy surges increased.
He moaned against the rotor when the feedback reached him and his own blades. They quivered more intensely, and both their fields ground against - almost invaded - each other. It was when Vortex bit the blade's tip that their fields mingled to one, and Blast Off arched into Vortex.
Blast Off groaned, vents working louder, and intakes hitched as the engine revved. The rotors pressed against Vortex' chest and he felt the vibrations of the engine beneath.
"Frag yes," Vortex hissed. He clutched at Blast Off's interface panel, brushed his own connector by accident and caused another strong rush of arousal flooding him. Blast Off's rotor blades twitch beneath him, touched the chest plating where hot air was vented over them by Vortex' cooling fans. He felt the hot gusts himself due to the utter synchronisation and a wonderfully intense feedback loop.
And Blast Off urged even closer. The former shuttle had turned his head, the optics not visible any more with his face now buried in the berth, fingers clutching at the soft covering. The sound of suppressed whimpers and moans was almost inaudible under Vortex' own noises, but he still heard them, felt their vibrations reverberating through the other's frame.
It was maddening. Even with the energy stream being not that quick, it was still so much, so arousing to have things Vortex had always wanted.
He stroked over the hot plating of Blast Off's interface hardware once more, then fingers travelled further down. They found their way between the other's abdominal plating and the berth when Blast Off arched up, lifting himself off the berth.
Oh frag yes, this was it. This was just so good.
Pleasure increased along with the physical contact when Vortex pressed Blast Off closer. His fingers curling against Blast Off's plating, their energy fields buzzing with charge, and Vortex' other hand squeezing a rotor.
Vortex wanted to enjoy this, but even more so, he wanted Blast Off to enjoy it. To make him comfortable with what he was now, and make him to want more of what Vortex could give him. And with what he sensed through the connection, and the energy signature, he was headed in the right direction.
Another gasp, then a vocal moan from Blast Off. Vortex bit the tip of a blade once more, and his hand began wandering. From the abdomen back to the seemingly glowing interface panel, up the side to the shoulder. Vortex' fingers dug under the plating there, stroked cables beneath, and he increased the intensity of his part of the mingled field. More noises followed, his own and Blast Off's.
His hand stroked down the other's arm to the wrist, where once the head shield stood out. It wasn't his intention to tease the plating there, it wasn't as sensitive as it was before, but Vortex' processor was clouded by pleasure and contagious drowsiness, and Blast Off reacted just like he wanted him to.
A needy whine emerged from the other's vocaliser, and black fingers clutched harder into the berth, scraped over it when charge rose, and waves of sensations rolled over them more quickly.
Vortex pressed his forehead against Blast Off's back, right under the neck; his optics flickered in arousal, and static ringed in his audials, combined with the hoarse noises.
It was an intoxicating ride.
When overload came, it was like the peak of a trip on stimulant drugs - a wave of pleasure, lighting up sensors nodes randomly and with various intensity. The rotor blades against Vortex’ chest plating went rigid, seemed to heat even more just like Vortex’ did. It was like hot liquid flowing through them, and channelling back from the hub into the rest of his body. Two vocalisers shrieked with static; one gave in, and the drowsiness morphed into a temporary ecstasy as charge surged back and forth.
It all ebbed much too quickly, and thoughts became clearer again. The post-overload was amplified by the still-synchronised systems, and Blast Off’s drowsiness came back. At least for a while, until the former shuttle’s systems booted up fully, and their frames calmed down.
Vortex hadn’t moved. He didn’t see the point when his current position was very comfortable and included having Blast Off lying very vulnerable beneath him where he could touch him all he wanted.
And while this was very appealing, it was also not right.
Blast Off was meant to say something at least. About the continued rotor stroking, and Vortex’ hand that still rested on his arm. Or about lying on him, on his rotor hub, and blowing air over the blades, and the glossa that flicked against the plaiting under Blast Off’s neck.
But Blast Off kept quiet, and he didn’t even react. He could have pushed Vortex off, or disconnected them…
It wasn’t right.
“You know you could throw me off and pin me down?” Vortex murmured, his lip plates brushing over the dark plating.
He felt Blast Off shrug, and a hoarse voice answered. “I’m weak.”
Vortex frowned, it was neither like Blast Off to admit something like this, nor to let Vortex have his way.
“Well, you can cuff me down? I have some, just say a word and I’ll let you use them.” Actually, the idea of being tied to the berth and Blast Off being over him was very nice. Charge rippled through him once more, and he didn’t bother to hide it.
But again, the former shuttle didn’t react to it, at least not like he used to, and only shrugged once more.
“Just be quiet. And stop touching me,” was the verbal protest, but it didn’t sound as resolute and demanding as usual - just hollow.
“Make me.”
Blast Off didn’t move.
This was becoming frustrating. Vortex sat up, and heaved his chest off the rotor hub as he glanced down at Blast Off. The face was still half hidden by the arm, and only a part of the visor could be seen; it was dimmed.
“You didn’t throw me out yesterday.” Vortex went for a direct approach, and earned himself just another weak twitch of shoulders. It was annoying. “And you didn’t shoot me when I-” Vortex searched for emphasising words, “-woke you up. Why?”
At that, Blast Off turned his head a little, and Vortex could see the frown behind the parted visor. The optics behind it were unfocused and empty.
“Hm.” Once more, the former shuttle shrugged. “I don’t know.” Blast Off hid his face again, and his optics switched offline. “I guess because that way, at least I felt something.”
---
Vortex walked along the empty corridor, an energon cube in his hand. He knew he’d abandoned his post, but Blast Off had fallen back into recharge. It hadn’t seemed he was going to wake up soon, let alone go anywhere.
The other heliformer had been only apathetic.
It was annoying.
And more so, it wasn’t Blast Off.
Vortex didn’t bother to knock or to ping Onslaught for access to his office, and used the override code on the door.
“Hi,” he greeted his superior casually, and sat in the chair in front of the desk.
Onslaught just looked. The datapad in his had glowed, and the energon cube on the table was empty. There was also a part of Onslaught’s gun under a cloth, and it made Vortex wonder if he was simply cleaning it, or if he'd modified his weapon.
“Hello Vortex, yes, come in and take a seat,” Onslaught said, and leant back. He didn’t cross his arms like Vortex had expected, so he probably had expected Vortex to come.
Onslaught didn’t give Vortex time to answer with equal sarcasm, and demanded. “Report.”
The ‘copter sipped from his cube and tried to find the right words. Not the right words to describe what Blast Off’s situation was, but how he could press the topic in the right direction…
“Blast Off won’t go anywhere. I’m very sure all his will to go AWOL again is gone,” he said, phrasing it like this so as not having to say the other heliformer was broken. “I’m also sure this has nothing to do with you having hit him.”
Onslaught tensed at this, but Vortex thought the commander should have known he’d find out about that.
“Actually,” Vortex continued, “I think any will to do anything is gone. He just lies on his berth. He didn’t even refuel after he came back yesterday.” Vortex drank slowly from his energon cube, then shrugged.
“What did you do to him?”
“I fragged him. Twice,” Vortex grinned, and let Onslaught huff in annoyance, before he continued. “I could touch him, and I did, a lot, without him protesting.” It wasn’t the complete truth since Blast Off had protested once, verbally, and weakly, so the ‘copter though this didn’t really count. “I think there’s something wrong with him.”
“You don’t say.”
This time, Vortex puffed a huff from his vents, sounding irritated. “I mean seriously wrong. He’s not right.”
Onslaught just stared, so Vortex spoke again.
“I don’t know what, but something happened to him. It’s some big slag.” It was slag, and Vortex wanted the old Blast Off back. The grumpy one, who pushed him away if he got too close, or - which was much more fun - who pinned him down, loomed over him and fragged him hard. The one that made his rotor blades glow, not the other way around.
Having another rotary around was great. Vortex missed that sometimes, someone who he understood completely, to have a system to synch with. But if he had to choose between a boring, apathetic heliformer, and a grumpy, intriguing, hot shuttle, he’d choose the latter.
“Seems there’s no easy way to make him act normal again,” Vortex concluded, his optics fixed on Onslaught, expression expectant.
For a moment, they were quiet.
“What did Megatron say exactly?” Vortex wanted to know, causing his commander to frown.
The bigger mech vented air deeply. “Due to the energon shortage, it’s questionable when, and if the Decepticons have the resources to turn Blast Off back into a shuttleformer. Megatron ordered the Constructicons to focus on any glitches that may occur, and to stop their researches regarding rebuilding a new frame.”
Vortex tilted his head. “So… he didn’t say anything about us not being allowed to get enough energon to turn him back?”
The visor hid it, but the ‘copter knew Onslaught was frowning. “You know he’s glad we’re weaker now. Even if we get enough energon of our own, the Constructicons won’t help us. They-“ Onslaught stopped mid-sentence, and his visor lit up. Fingers tensed, and the cannon barrels on his back shifted.
Vortex’ optics flickered. The image of the Constructicons betraying them wasn’t very nice, and they weren’t really in a position to threaten them. Drinking from his cube, Vortex waited impatiently while Onslaught thought up his plan.
The gestalt leader was certainly making up something. He had to, the ‘copter thought, and hindered himself from tapping his foot on the floor.
Vortex didn’t pay attention how much time passed. He’d just begun spinning his tail rotor and finished his energon cube when suddenly Onslaught stood up.
Able to suppress wincing, Vortex couldn’t stop his rotors from flexing as he glanced at his commander, waiting for an explanation.
He didn’t get one, though.
“Follow me,” were Onslaught’s only words as he left the office quickly.
Not having to be told twice, Vortex jumped off the chair.
“Where’re we going?” he asked, trying to catch up with Onslaught. They headed to the hallway with the private quarters - or at least where Swindle’s room was.
“Huh?” Vortex raised an optical ridge when Onslaught pressed some buttons on the control console, and the door slid open. The commander entered, but the ‘copter refused. He did peek inside, though, seeing a surprised Swindle chewing on energon treats - where did he get them? - and Brawl watching TV, appearing bored.
“Swindle,” Onslaught’s voice was imperative, “approach your human contacts in the Middle East-“
“I don’t have any-“ Swindle interrupted as he tried to protest, but couldn’t finish.
“I know you do. Tell me when you've heard from them. It’s urgent. Brawl!”
The tank sat up, glancing from Swindle to Onslaught to Vortex, and then to their commander again. His battle mask moved, but no sound emerged, and Onslaught continued. “Take care Blast Off stays in his room, and be on stand-by. I’ll soon need your expertise with explosives.”
Brawl beamed at that, but before anyone could say more, Onslaught stomped out.
Vortex’ optics flickered. Brawl shrugged. Swindle seemed to try to ignore the ‘copter.
“What’s this about?” the tank asked, causing Vortex to grin.
“I think Ons is about to make Blast Off a shuttle again.”
“Oh…” Brawl uttered, then the gestalt leader’s voice echoed loudly through the hallway.
“Vortex!”
“Hehe, gotta go.” The ‘copter left the door open when he turned, and ran after Onslaught. He couldn’t not aggravate Swindle at least a little.
The commander really was in a hurry, Vortex thought as he tried to keep up.
They reached the control room where Onslaught pointed at a corner. “Go there and be quiet!”
Vortex would have liked to protest. But he knew when Onslaught was in that mood, it’d be unwise. Plus, this all was about rebuilding Blast Off to a shuttle again, so he did as being told without commenting.
Onslaught typed on the console, and the screen flickered to life. It displayed the control room on the Nemesis with Skywarp staring back at them, bored.
“Onslaught, what a surprise,” the seeker said, not hiding how much, or little, he thought of the commander. Standing in his corner, Vortex couldn’t be seen, but - from a weird angle - he had the chance to watch what happened.
“Skywarp,” Onslaught’s voice was as excited as Skywarp’s, just even more condescending so that Vortex had to bite back a snort.
“We need Astrotrain,” the gestalt leader continued, and caused the seeker to sit up, frowning.
“What now? Got you ex-shuttle lost again? Maybe you should put him on a leash.” Skywarp laughed about his own joke. Vortex didn’t think it was funny.
“No. I need him to bring Vortex to medbay.”
Skywarp’s laugh stopped, and Vortex beamed.
“He can fly himself,” Skywarp insisted.
“No, he can’t. His rotors are damaged.” The ‘copter’s blades twitched at that. “And we don’t have the resources any more to carry him to the Nemesis ourselves.”
“You know Megs won’t like that, right? What happened this time?”
“Training accident,” Onslaught answered promptly, causing Skywarp to huff.
“Yeah, right, as if…”
Onslaught’s engine growled at that, but he didn’t need to say anything more when the seeker added quickly. “I’ll send Astrotrain over, and contact the Constructicons. They’ll be so happy to repair one of your psycho ‘copters again. I mean, seriously. One was bad enough, and now you have two.” Skywarp shook his head, and vented a dry laugh. “I honestly don’t envy you.”
“They have their qualities,” Onslaught commented. “And Vortex is still conscious, so you probably don’t want him to hear your opinion.”
The seeker’s wings tensed, Vortex could see it. It made him grin, and maybe - just maybe - he’d have some time to show the mech he’d heard what he said about him. Not that he minded so much being called psycho ‘copter, but if people thought that about him, how well he could live up to that reputation…
“Whatever. Astrotrain will ping you when he’s there.”
Onslaught nodded at that, and shut down the communication line.
With Skywarp gone, Vortex stepped out of the corner, rotor blades trembling slightly. “But my rotors aren’t damaged?” he pointed out, having a certain scenario in mind.
“No, they’re not. Yet.”
Onslaught was fast. Not as fast as Vortex couldn’t have fought back, but just because he could, didn’t mean he wanted to.
A hand closed around his throat, and he was pressed against the wall. The commander’s big frame close to him, he felt the warm vents of air.
A grin built on Vortex’ faceplates, and his hand clutched at the arm that pinned him. “Yet?” he choked out, the pressure on his neck cables slowing the energon flow to his processor and straining his vocaliser.
“Yet.” It was a simple answer, but the ‘copter could tell from Onslaught’s tone as well as his body language that he was smirking.
Vortex giggled, and then howled in static. A hot pain spread from beneath his rotor hub into every limb, and made his vision fuzzy. The sensation morphed to a pulsating ache, causing him to moan and arch into Onslaught. His free hand clutched at the commander’s side, not searching for the interface panel, but he could only barely resist doing so.
Onslaught leaned closer. Their energy fields touched, and whatever it was that was stuck in his back, Onslaught moved it, loosening the rotor hub and straining his sensor net.
“We’ll need Octane in on that,” the commander mumbled close to Vortex’ audial, static in the voice that made the quivering of rotors increase.
“Why?” Vortex ground out, writhing in the tight grip, and urging the object deeper.
“Energon transport,” Onslaught replied shortly, withdrawing the hand and the pointy item, only to stab out again, burying it hard in a sensor cluster.
A keen left Vortex’ vocal circuits, and his visor lit up, flickered, and eventually dimmed.
“Yours and Blast Off’s cargo holds won’t be enough.”
Vortex could hardly concentrate on the words, the sensation slowing his processing power. The hand on Onslaught’s lower arm tightened around the metal, and his fingers on the commander’s side dug into the seam of the interface panel.
He managed to nod. “You know he’ll want to get paid for his help…”
Onslaught pressed their chest plating flush together, and his energy field flared hotly. Vortex answered with his own field extending, making sure to transmit the arousal and want, and his need for a bit more pain - just a little bit more…
“Well,” Onslaught rasped, “then convince him to accept a payment you can give…” The anti-aircraft vehicle's engine revved hard. Vibrations rattled through Vortex and the object stuck in his back. A rotor was bent, and then a hand grabbed his rotor hub, pulling it in the direction it was not meant to move. Gears and shafts broke, the pain intensified wonderfully, and Vortex couldn’t hinder himself from moaning.
He nodded again as much as he was able while still being pinned by the throat. “Whatever you want.” The words were strained, staticky, and he would do whatever Onslaught wanted as long as he didn’t stop.
Onslaught’s engine growled again, the gusts of air hotter by now, and Vortex’ cooling systems were about to switch on. Liquid flowed down his back, dropped on the floor, but the ‘copter didn’t care.
He did care about Onslaught stepping back, however. Without the support of the bigger frame, Vortex almost slid down the wall. His optics flickered, and his vocaliser whined in disappointment.
Onslaught answered his unasked question, an edge of discontent in his tone. “Astrotrain will be here in 0.5 kliks. Follow me!”
“Can’t he wait for like… three kliks?” Sometimes Onslaught did like begging, Vortex could try, right? There was nothing wrong with trying.
Unfortunately, at this moment the commander wasn’t very amenable to begging, and wordlessly left the room.
Vortex uttered a last disappointed whine, and then hurried after him. While walking, the damaged rotor hub and mechanisms in his back hurt, but it didn’t make up for the loss of what could have been.
When they went outside, Astrotrain was already there, hovering over the HQ in alt mode.
Onslaught huffed once, then shook his head, and the triple changer transformed. Vortex glanced from his gestalt leader to Astrotrain and back.
“I don’t wanna hold hands with him. He could’ve got in without me transforming! What is it?” the triple changer sounded annoyed, but Vortex didn’t see a reason to keep quiet.
“Blast Off,” he said, excitedly, and drew Astrotrain’s attention to him. “We’re gonna turn him back!”
Also posted here
Chapter: 14/15+
Continuity: G1 (part of ultharkitty’s Dysfunction AU)
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Beta: ultharkitty
This Chapter
Warnings: smut of the p’n’p variety, dark, masochism/pain play,
Characters: Vortex, Blast Off, Onslaught, Swindle, Brawl, Skywarp, Astrotrain
Summary: Vortex devotes all his time and effort to the mission. Blast Off is apathetic. Onslaught has a plan.
Crack in the Mirror - Chapter 14
Vortex resisted the temptation to use the override code on Swindle’s room, and went straight to Blast Off’s quarters.
There was no need to try to ping the former shuttle, or to knock. Vortex typed the code into the small console, feeling smug while doing so, and waited till the tiny light turned green.
It only took an astrosecond or two, but even that seemed too long for the impatient ‘copter. It wasn’t often that he was allowed to upset one of his team mates.
He pushed the other button harder than necessary, and the door slid open.
Vortex was greeted by space.
A half transparent black cloud floated in the room like mist, blocking the view of most of what was inside. It wasn’t completely dark, though, and had a few bright spots and whirls in different colours.
Vortex had seen it before. The day when Swindle had repaired that old projector he’d got from who knew where. He didn’t know the businessmech had given it to Blast Off. And he hadn’t expected the former shuttle to really use it.
Vortex resisted an annoyed vent of air. It didn’t matter now. He was the one with the override code and the mission.
“Get out,” Vortex heard Blast Off say before he’d even stepped in.
With a shrug, 'Vortex ignored his team mate's demand, and closed the door behind him. “Sorry, can’t do.” His tone was much too amused, and he knew the former shuttle wouldn’t like it.
Blast Off only huffed at that.
With the light of the corridor gone, the room was almost completely dark. The hologram of space was confusing, and even more so because it parted when Vortex walked through it.
He reached the desk that stood next to Blast Off’s berth, and sat down on the chair.
In his peripheral vision, Vortex saw the cloud closing where he’d split it, but he paid more attention to the two energon rations on the table.
"Did you refuel?" he asked, and drew one leg to his body, placing the foot on the edge of the chair.
Through the black mist, he saw Blast Off's frame shrug. The other heliformer lay on the berth, on his back, and just stared at the ceiling. It was a disconcerting view.
"Did Onslaught give you my code?" the former shuttle wanted to know, and Vortex listened closely. There was something wrong with Blast Off's voice. Something he couldn't quite place yet.
"Nope," Vortex said proudly, pretending everything was right. "He gave me the base's override key."
"Why would he do something stupid like that," Blast Off huffed, and caused Vortex to grin.
"I had to get in here, right? And I don't think Ons has your code, so..."
"You had to get in here?" Blast Off's frown was audible. "That means you’re my guard now, or what? Is Onslaught afraid I'll leave again?"
"Kinda," the 'copter lied, and sounded cheerfully. "He's also kinda pissed, so maybe you having to deal with me is also sorta punishment? I dunno. I'm just following orders."
"'course you do." There was a muttering, and it was clear that Blast Off knew Vortex enjoyed this.
"Yeah, anyway. Did you refuel? I didn't catch your answer."
"Hmpf." Blast Off shook his head, but didn't say more.
Shifting on his chair, fanning his rotors, Vortex tapped against one of the cubes. There was a ping-sound that made him giggle. He poked it a few more times, repeatedly, and eventually Blast Off's engine revved.
"Stop that!"
"Did you refuel?"
"No. I drank a whole cube yesterday. I don't need to."
It was a lie, and Vortex knew it. "Well, you couldn't have drunk the full cube that is here. And I think I remember something about you flying to the North Pole and someone else having to bring you back?"
Vortex left Blast Off time for an annoyed grunt before he continued. "If you don't refuel, I will do it. And by that I mean I'll feed you - with my mouth." Oh, that idea was so tempting, it made Vortex' rotor blades quiver. His glossa flicked against his lip at the thought of Blast Off lip plates against his, and he could hardly suppress the disappointed sigh when the former shuttle sat up.
"Idiot." He growled almost inaudibly, and a black hand took one of the cubes.
"Spoilsport," Vortex said, much too happy to truly mean it.
Blast Off merely shrugged at that while he drank quickly. More than half of the cube was empty when he put it down again, and for a short moment, the purple visor flickered, and Vortex briefly saw black rotor blades shuffle. To refuel that fast when the energy level was really low did that sometimes to a mech. Vortex liked it, the feeling of warmth spreading, a faint wave of restlessness coming and going very quickly, tingling all along the rotor blades to their tips.
Vortex shifted on his chair again; his fingers flexed as rotors kept quivering. He wanted to touch the other, not just to test and annoy him, but for purely selfish reasons. Vortex had been ordered to irritate Blast Off to make him act normally again, and there was hardly anything that irritated the other more than being coaxed into a frag.
Vortex stood up with a grin on his face. He'd know soon if Blast Off was acting normal. And regardless of whether he said yes or no, Vortex was sure he'd have some fun.
---
Vortex hadn't been very successful with annoying Blast Off, but was very much so with his own pursuit of pleasure.
He woke up lying on his side on Blast Off's berth. The other lay a bit away, their plating didn't touch, but they were still connected.
A grin built on Vortex' lips when his processor booted up fully, and memory banks onlined.
Yes, he'd had fun last recharge cycle. And Blast Off hadn't even wanted him to leave. Well, at least the former shuttle hadn't spat anything or threatened him with his rifle or sword, so Vortex had just assumed it was okay for him to stay. Not that he'd have left. He still had orders.
Vortex resisted a snicker, but couldn't hinder his rotors from shuddering.
Blast Off's rotor blades were close to him. With the former shuttle lying on his front, they hovered almost over Vortex. And they were so tempting.
Oh, sleeping Blast Off in general was so very tempting.
Slowly, Vortex raised his hand, and pulled the closest rotor blade down a little. His fingers kneaded the tip, and he let his field flare from his hand so it brushed over the metal. The blades twitched, and he sensed a slight movement.
Vortex looked at Blast Off, searching for any sign that he was awake. But from what he knew through the connection and the unmoving frame, it seemed the other heliformer was still in recharge.
Usually, Vortex would have thought twice about what he was about to do, because he'd have to be careful of risking Blast Off not talking to him for orns. But he had orders this time, right? It wouldn't be his fault, Onslaught was to blame.
With that in mind, Vortex shuffled on the berth, and sat up. He still had the tip between his fingers, and only let go after another pinch and field flare. Moving slowly, Vortex rearranged himself, straddling Blast Off's thighs without touching them.
The 'copter shuffled his own rotors; they quivered, and he couldn't stop himself from sending a burst of energy and data through the connection. His interface cable twitched, and a tingling need made itself present.
Blast Off's response was a wavering EM field flare, the energy signature transmitting drowsiness. It didn't put Vortex off, though. It was just an evidence that the other's processor hadn't booted up yet.
A shudder run down Vortex' back struts, partly from building arousal, partly from anticipation as to how Blast Off would react. He placed two fingers on the middle of the rotor hub, stroking it lightly, drawing lazy cycles on the metal as he sent another surge through the interface.
This time, the reaction was stronger. An answering rush spread slowly, not as intense as when Blast Off had been awake, but still noticeable. Hot sensation gathered in Vortex' interface array, and his field flared strongly without his conscious intent causing Blast Off's field to flare back.
It was so encouraging, so tempting to just increase the stream and fire Vortex' own arousal into the former shuttle; it was so hard to resist. It took Vortex a few astroseconds to convince himself that it'd be so much better if this was slow, to enjoy the built up and teasing pleasure.
His denta clenched as he bent down. He continued to slowly send charge and data, and trace circles on the flat metal of the hub while he stroked a rotor blade with his other hand. It was the one rebuilt to a sword, but the sharp edge wasn't there like Vortex had expected. It didn't cut his finger while he felt the narrowest edge, but he sensed the sensor node clusters within the metal. Applying more pressure there, letting his field seep into the plating, Vortex bit back a groan. It wasn't just the fact that he was touching another rotary - that he was touching Blast Off - it was also the sensations that came across the interface. With their systems synched, due to the gestalt program and having such similar frames, it was almost as though Vortex was touching his own blades. Sensor nodes on his rotors lit in pleasure and heated up, just like the metal between his fingers.
"Huh?" A questioning sound made Vortex glance back at Blast Off's face. The purple optics flickered dimly, but there wasn't much else to see. Most of the former shuttle's face was buried in the crook of his elbow, the hand lying next to the helm tensed.
"Good morning," Vortex said happily, with static in his voice and a grin on his face.
"Hmm?" The response was only another incoherent mumble, and obviously a signal not to stop.
That's how Vortex interpreted it, at least, and he had no intention to think twice about this conclusion. He increased the energy stream a little, and when Blast Off sent stronger bursts back it just confirmed that he was right.
The other's data was filled with drowsiness and also some confusion. It caused Vortex to be slightly dizzy, but it also increased the rising charge.
The grin was still on the 'copter's face when he retracted his battle mask, and leant even further down. His lip plates brushed over Blast Off’s neck cables where he could reach them, up to the jaw joint and to the cheek. There was a small dent. Vortex knew the place. He himself had a dent there sometimes after Onslaught had hit him.
The idea of Onslaught and Blast Off not getting along was odd, and Vortex hated it that it made him uncomfortable.
He revved his engine hard, sent the vibrations into the rotor blades beneath, making them twitch and Blast Off shiver. Then Vortex’ lips pressed gently onto the dented metal. He parted his mouth only slightly, letting his glossa flick out, he traced along the new form of the plates. The hot metal tasted smooth and, being so close to Blast Off’s face, Vortex heard a suppressed moan.
Slag, this was hot.
Finally, Vortex gave in to the urge that he'd had since that day on Tlalak.
He brushed his lip plates over the cheek a last time, almost sensually, before he sat up, sliding down Blast Off’s tights, his face over the rotor blades.
His glossa touched the bracket that held the rotor in place, dug into a seam there, and then he licked over the full length of the blade.
Beneath him, Blast Off shuddered. Vortex heard a faint whimper, and the energy surges increased.
He moaned against the rotor when the feedback reached him and his own blades. They quivered more intensely, and both their fields ground against - almost invaded - each other. It was when Vortex bit the blade's tip that their fields mingled to one, and Blast Off arched into Vortex.
Blast Off groaned, vents working louder, and intakes hitched as the engine revved. The rotors pressed against Vortex' chest and he felt the vibrations of the engine beneath.
"Frag yes," Vortex hissed. He clutched at Blast Off's interface panel, brushed his own connector by accident and caused another strong rush of arousal flooding him. Blast Off's rotor blades twitch beneath him, touched the chest plating where hot air was vented over them by Vortex' cooling fans. He felt the hot gusts himself due to the utter synchronisation and a wonderfully intense feedback loop.
And Blast Off urged even closer. The former shuttle had turned his head, the optics not visible any more with his face now buried in the berth, fingers clutching at the soft covering. The sound of suppressed whimpers and moans was almost inaudible under Vortex' own noises, but he still heard them, felt their vibrations reverberating through the other's frame.
It was maddening. Even with the energy stream being not that quick, it was still so much, so arousing to have things Vortex had always wanted.
He stroked over the hot plating of Blast Off's interface hardware once more, then fingers travelled further down. They found their way between the other's abdominal plating and the berth when Blast Off arched up, lifting himself off the berth.
Oh frag yes, this was it. This was just so good.
Pleasure increased along with the physical contact when Vortex pressed Blast Off closer. His fingers curling against Blast Off's plating, their energy fields buzzing with charge, and Vortex' other hand squeezing a rotor.
Vortex wanted to enjoy this, but even more so, he wanted Blast Off to enjoy it. To make him comfortable with what he was now, and make him to want more of what Vortex could give him. And with what he sensed through the connection, and the energy signature, he was headed in the right direction.
Another gasp, then a vocal moan from Blast Off. Vortex bit the tip of a blade once more, and his hand began wandering. From the abdomen back to the seemingly glowing interface panel, up the side to the shoulder. Vortex' fingers dug under the plating there, stroked cables beneath, and he increased the intensity of his part of the mingled field. More noises followed, his own and Blast Off's.
His hand stroked down the other's arm to the wrist, where once the head shield stood out. It wasn't his intention to tease the plating there, it wasn't as sensitive as it was before, but Vortex' processor was clouded by pleasure and contagious drowsiness, and Blast Off reacted just like he wanted him to.
A needy whine emerged from the other's vocaliser, and black fingers clutched harder into the berth, scraped over it when charge rose, and waves of sensations rolled over them more quickly.
Vortex pressed his forehead against Blast Off's back, right under the neck; his optics flickered in arousal, and static ringed in his audials, combined with the hoarse noises.
It was an intoxicating ride.
When overload came, it was like the peak of a trip on stimulant drugs - a wave of pleasure, lighting up sensors nodes randomly and with various intensity. The rotor blades against Vortex’ chest plating went rigid, seemed to heat even more just like Vortex’ did. It was like hot liquid flowing through them, and channelling back from the hub into the rest of his body. Two vocalisers shrieked with static; one gave in, and the drowsiness morphed into a temporary ecstasy as charge surged back and forth.
It all ebbed much too quickly, and thoughts became clearer again. The post-overload was amplified by the still-synchronised systems, and Blast Off’s drowsiness came back. At least for a while, until the former shuttle’s systems booted up fully, and their frames calmed down.
Vortex hadn’t moved. He didn’t see the point when his current position was very comfortable and included having Blast Off lying very vulnerable beneath him where he could touch him all he wanted.
And while this was very appealing, it was also not right.
Blast Off was meant to say something at least. About the continued rotor stroking, and Vortex’ hand that still rested on his arm. Or about lying on him, on his rotor hub, and blowing air over the blades, and the glossa that flicked against the plaiting under Blast Off’s neck.
But Blast Off kept quiet, and he didn’t even react. He could have pushed Vortex off, or disconnected them…
It wasn’t right.
“You know you could throw me off and pin me down?” Vortex murmured, his lip plates brushing over the dark plating.
He felt Blast Off shrug, and a hoarse voice answered. “I’m weak.”
Vortex frowned, it was neither like Blast Off to admit something like this, nor to let Vortex have his way.
“Well, you can cuff me down? I have some, just say a word and I’ll let you use them.” Actually, the idea of being tied to the berth and Blast Off being over him was very nice. Charge rippled through him once more, and he didn’t bother to hide it.
But again, the former shuttle didn’t react to it, at least not like he used to, and only shrugged once more.
“Just be quiet. And stop touching me,” was the verbal protest, but it didn’t sound as resolute and demanding as usual - just hollow.
“Make me.”
Blast Off didn’t move.
This was becoming frustrating. Vortex sat up, and heaved his chest off the rotor hub as he glanced down at Blast Off. The face was still half hidden by the arm, and only a part of the visor could be seen; it was dimmed.
“You didn’t throw me out yesterday.” Vortex went for a direct approach, and earned himself just another weak twitch of shoulders. It was annoying. “And you didn’t shoot me when I-” Vortex searched for emphasising words, “-woke you up. Why?”
At that, Blast Off turned his head a little, and Vortex could see the frown behind the parted visor. The optics behind it were unfocused and empty.
“Hm.” Once more, the former shuttle shrugged. “I don’t know.” Blast Off hid his face again, and his optics switched offline. “I guess because that way, at least I felt something.”
---
Vortex walked along the empty corridor, an energon cube in his hand. He knew he’d abandoned his post, but Blast Off had fallen back into recharge. It hadn’t seemed he was going to wake up soon, let alone go anywhere.
The other heliformer had been only apathetic.
It was annoying.
And more so, it wasn’t Blast Off.
Vortex didn’t bother to knock or to ping Onslaught for access to his office, and used the override code on the door.
“Hi,” he greeted his superior casually, and sat in the chair in front of the desk.
Onslaught just looked. The datapad in his had glowed, and the energon cube on the table was empty. There was also a part of Onslaught’s gun under a cloth, and it made Vortex wonder if he was simply cleaning it, or if he'd modified his weapon.
“Hello Vortex, yes, come in and take a seat,” Onslaught said, and leant back. He didn’t cross his arms like Vortex had expected, so he probably had expected Vortex to come.
Onslaught didn’t give Vortex time to answer with equal sarcasm, and demanded. “Report.”
The ‘copter sipped from his cube and tried to find the right words. Not the right words to describe what Blast Off’s situation was, but how he could press the topic in the right direction…
“Blast Off won’t go anywhere. I’m very sure all his will to go AWOL again is gone,” he said, phrasing it like this so as not having to say the other heliformer was broken. “I’m also sure this has nothing to do with you having hit him.”
Onslaught tensed at this, but Vortex thought the commander should have known he’d find out about that.
“Actually,” Vortex continued, “I think any will to do anything is gone. He just lies on his berth. He didn’t even refuel after he came back yesterday.” Vortex drank slowly from his energon cube, then shrugged.
“What did you do to him?”
“I fragged him. Twice,” Vortex grinned, and let Onslaught huff in annoyance, before he continued. “I could touch him, and I did, a lot, without him protesting.” It wasn’t the complete truth since Blast Off had protested once, verbally, and weakly, so the ‘copter though this didn’t really count. “I think there’s something wrong with him.”
“You don’t say.”
This time, Vortex puffed a huff from his vents, sounding irritated. “I mean seriously wrong. He’s not right.”
Onslaught just stared, so Vortex spoke again.
“I don’t know what, but something happened to him. It’s some big slag.” It was slag, and Vortex wanted the old Blast Off back. The grumpy one, who pushed him away if he got too close, or - which was much more fun - who pinned him down, loomed over him and fragged him hard. The one that made his rotor blades glow, not the other way around.
Having another rotary around was great. Vortex missed that sometimes, someone who he understood completely, to have a system to synch with. But if he had to choose between a boring, apathetic heliformer, and a grumpy, intriguing, hot shuttle, he’d choose the latter.
“Seems there’s no easy way to make him act normal again,” Vortex concluded, his optics fixed on Onslaught, expression expectant.
For a moment, they were quiet.
“What did Megatron say exactly?” Vortex wanted to know, causing his commander to frown.
The bigger mech vented air deeply. “Due to the energon shortage, it’s questionable when, and if the Decepticons have the resources to turn Blast Off back into a shuttleformer. Megatron ordered the Constructicons to focus on any glitches that may occur, and to stop their researches regarding rebuilding a new frame.”
Vortex tilted his head. “So… he didn’t say anything about us not being allowed to get enough energon to turn him back?”
The visor hid it, but the ‘copter knew Onslaught was frowning. “You know he’s glad we’re weaker now. Even if we get enough energon of our own, the Constructicons won’t help us. They-“ Onslaught stopped mid-sentence, and his visor lit up. Fingers tensed, and the cannon barrels on his back shifted.
Vortex’ optics flickered. The image of the Constructicons betraying them wasn’t very nice, and they weren’t really in a position to threaten them. Drinking from his cube, Vortex waited impatiently while Onslaught thought up his plan.
The gestalt leader was certainly making up something. He had to, the ‘copter thought, and hindered himself from tapping his foot on the floor.
Vortex didn’t pay attention how much time passed. He’d just begun spinning his tail rotor and finished his energon cube when suddenly Onslaught stood up.
Able to suppress wincing, Vortex couldn’t stop his rotors from flexing as he glanced at his commander, waiting for an explanation.
He didn’t get one, though.
“Follow me,” were Onslaught’s only words as he left the office quickly.
Not having to be told twice, Vortex jumped off the chair.
“Where’re we going?” he asked, trying to catch up with Onslaught. They headed to the hallway with the private quarters - or at least where Swindle’s room was.
“Huh?” Vortex raised an optical ridge when Onslaught pressed some buttons on the control console, and the door slid open. The commander entered, but the ‘copter refused. He did peek inside, though, seeing a surprised Swindle chewing on energon treats - where did he get them? - and Brawl watching TV, appearing bored.
“Swindle,” Onslaught’s voice was imperative, “approach your human contacts in the Middle East-“
“I don’t have any-“ Swindle interrupted as he tried to protest, but couldn’t finish.
“I know you do. Tell me when you've heard from them. It’s urgent. Brawl!”
The tank sat up, glancing from Swindle to Onslaught to Vortex, and then to their commander again. His battle mask moved, but no sound emerged, and Onslaught continued. “Take care Blast Off stays in his room, and be on stand-by. I’ll soon need your expertise with explosives.”
Brawl beamed at that, but before anyone could say more, Onslaught stomped out.
Vortex’ optics flickered. Brawl shrugged. Swindle seemed to try to ignore the ‘copter.
“What’s this about?” the tank asked, causing Vortex to grin.
“I think Ons is about to make Blast Off a shuttle again.”
“Oh…” Brawl uttered, then the gestalt leader’s voice echoed loudly through the hallway.
“Vortex!”
“Hehe, gotta go.” The ‘copter left the door open when he turned, and ran after Onslaught. He couldn’t not aggravate Swindle at least a little.
The commander really was in a hurry, Vortex thought as he tried to keep up.
They reached the control room where Onslaught pointed at a corner. “Go there and be quiet!”
Vortex would have liked to protest. But he knew when Onslaught was in that mood, it’d be unwise. Plus, this all was about rebuilding Blast Off to a shuttle again, so he did as being told without commenting.
Onslaught typed on the console, and the screen flickered to life. It displayed the control room on the Nemesis with Skywarp staring back at them, bored.
“Onslaught, what a surprise,” the seeker said, not hiding how much, or little, he thought of the commander. Standing in his corner, Vortex couldn’t be seen, but - from a weird angle - he had the chance to watch what happened.
“Skywarp,” Onslaught’s voice was as excited as Skywarp’s, just even more condescending so that Vortex had to bite back a snort.
“We need Astrotrain,” the gestalt leader continued, and caused the seeker to sit up, frowning.
“What now? Got you ex-shuttle lost again? Maybe you should put him on a leash.” Skywarp laughed about his own joke. Vortex didn’t think it was funny.
“No. I need him to bring Vortex to medbay.”
Skywarp’s laugh stopped, and Vortex beamed.
“He can fly himself,” Skywarp insisted.
“No, he can’t. His rotors are damaged.” The ‘copter’s blades twitched at that. “And we don’t have the resources any more to carry him to the Nemesis ourselves.”
“You know Megs won’t like that, right? What happened this time?”
“Training accident,” Onslaught answered promptly, causing Skywarp to huff.
“Yeah, right, as if…”
Onslaught’s engine growled at that, but he didn’t need to say anything more when the seeker added quickly. “I’ll send Astrotrain over, and contact the Constructicons. They’ll be so happy to repair one of your psycho ‘copters again. I mean, seriously. One was bad enough, and now you have two.” Skywarp shook his head, and vented a dry laugh. “I honestly don’t envy you.”
“They have their qualities,” Onslaught commented. “And Vortex is still conscious, so you probably don’t want him to hear your opinion.”
The seeker’s wings tensed, Vortex could see it. It made him grin, and maybe - just maybe - he’d have some time to show the mech he’d heard what he said about him. Not that he minded so much being called psycho ‘copter, but if people thought that about him, how well he could live up to that reputation…
“Whatever. Astrotrain will ping you when he’s there.”
Onslaught nodded at that, and shut down the communication line.
With Skywarp gone, Vortex stepped out of the corner, rotor blades trembling slightly. “But my rotors aren’t damaged?” he pointed out, having a certain scenario in mind.
“No, they’re not. Yet.”
Onslaught was fast. Not as fast as Vortex couldn’t have fought back, but just because he could, didn’t mean he wanted to.
A hand closed around his throat, and he was pressed against the wall. The commander’s big frame close to him, he felt the warm vents of air.
A grin built on Vortex’ faceplates, and his hand clutched at the arm that pinned him. “Yet?” he choked out, the pressure on his neck cables slowing the energon flow to his processor and straining his vocaliser.
“Yet.” It was a simple answer, but the ‘copter could tell from Onslaught’s tone as well as his body language that he was smirking.
Vortex giggled, and then howled in static. A hot pain spread from beneath his rotor hub into every limb, and made his vision fuzzy. The sensation morphed to a pulsating ache, causing him to moan and arch into Onslaught. His free hand clutched at the commander’s side, not searching for the interface panel, but he could only barely resist doing so.
Onslaught leaned closer. Their energy fields touched, and whatever it was that was stuck in his back, Onslaught moved it, loosening the rotor hub and straining his sensor net.
“We’ll need Octane in on that,” the commander mumbled close to Vortex’ audial, static in the voice that made the quivering of rotors increase.
“Why?” Vortex ground out, writhing in the tight grip, and urging the object deeper.
“Energon transport,” Onslaught replied shortly, withdrawing the hand and the pointy item, only to stab out again, burying it hard in a sensor cluster.
A keen left Vortex’ vocal circuits, and his visor lit up, flickered, and eventually dimmed.
“Yours and Blast Off’s cargo holds won’t be enough.”
Vortex could hardly concentrate on the words, the sensation slowing his processing power. The hand on Onslaught’s lower arm tightened around the metal, and his fingers on the commander’s side dug into the seam of the interface panel.
He managed to nod. “You know he’ll want to get paid for his help…”
Onslaught pressed their chest plating flush together, and his energy field flared hotly. Vortex answered with his own field extending, making sure to transmit the arousal and want, and his need for a bit more pain - just a little bit more…
“Well,” Onslaught rasped, “then convince him to accept a payment you can give…” The anti-aircraft vehicle's engine revved hard. Vibrations rattled through Vortex and the object stuck in his back. A rotor was bent, and then a hand grabbed his rotor hub, pulling it in the direction it was not meant to move. Gears and shafts broke, the pain intensified wonderfully, and Vortex couldn’t hinder himself from moaning.
He nodded again as much as he was able while still being pinned by the throat. “Whatever you want.” The words were strained, staticky, and he would do whatever Onslaught wanted as long as he didn’t stop.
Onslaught’s engine growled again, the gusts of air hotter by now, and Vortex’ cooling systems were about to switch on. Liquid flowed down his back, dropped on the floor, but the ‘copter didn’t care.
He did care about Onslaught stepping back, however. Without the support of the bigger frame, Vortex almost slid down the wall. His optics flickered, and his vocaliser whined in disappointment.
Onslaught answered his unasked question, an edge of discontent in his tone. “Astrotrain will be here in 0.5 kliks. Follow me!”
“Can’t he wait for like… three kliks?” Sometimes Onslaught did like begging, Vortex could try, right? There was nothing wrong with trying.
Unfortunately, at this moment the commander wasn’t very amenable to begging, and wordlessly left the room.
Vortex uttered a last disappointed whine, and then hurried after him. While walking, the damaged rotor hub and mechanisms in his back hurt, but it didn’t make up for the loss of what could have been.
When they went outside, Astrotrain was already there, hovering over the HQ in alt mode.
Onslaught huffed once, then shook his head, and the triple changer transformed. Vortex glanced from his gestalt leader to Astrotrain and back.
“I don’t wanna hold hands with him. He could’ve got in without me transforming! What is it?” the triple changer sounded annoyed, but Vortex didn’t see a reason to keep quiet.
“Blast Off,” he said, excitedly, and drew Astrotrain’s attention to him. “We’re gonna turn him back!”
Also posted here