Besotted - Pt. 1
KinkMeme Fill #3
FIC: G1 - Skywarp/Prowl - Wings, Non-violent NonCon
Summary: Skywarp's had his optic on a certain pair of pretty wings for a while now. His trinemates would probably laugh at him if they knew they didn't belong to a flier. Good thing he doesn't intend to share.
Warnings for Sticky Sex, a little bondage, and NonCon of the Forcibly Pleasurable variety. And Skywarp - he needs his own warning.
Done for this REQ here.
One day... One day I will learn to finish things before starting new ones. That day is not today.
Also, this is definitely not my best work. If you are looking for Plot, search elsewhere. And Prowl is probably quite OOC, but fuck it, I wrote and edited this chapter on the fly in the span of a few hours, and did so for the sake of stress-relief. Bah.
-----
Chapter 1:
The sound of gunfire, the smell of energon and burnt ozone, the sight of pure and utter chaos which is a battlefield…
Skywarp didn’t usually think of himself as much of one for art, but this was beautiful; a thrill for the senses. The rush of flying over it - through it - at super-sonic speeds was phenomenal. The danger of being shot down, the confidence that he would not (even though sometimes he did), the knowledge that his enemies would suffer; he could do this every day and never grow bored.
There was one more thing he wanted to do, however. One thing, besides the thrill of battle, that would excite him, but he had not yet been able to get hold of. Contrary to his usual tactic of act first and think about it later, he’d gone long enough fantasizing about this that he’d actually put thought into how he would accomplish it.
An explosion. A familiar call for retreat. Decepticons pulling back in lackluster obedience.
Skywarp remained, high above, and scanned the field. He’d been keeping tabs on his prey throughout the battle, only occasionally taking part, teleporting when necessary to avoid more serious conflict.
There!
Instant relocation, a startled cry from one of the Autobots, an attempt to struggle as purple arms tightened around the shorter mech, and then they were both gone.
-----
The world went dark for a split second before colors rushed around him in hypnotic, nonsensical patterns. There was a roar in his audios, and he wasn’t sure if he could call it wind, because he couldn’t feel anything - not up, not down, not the touch of atmosphere against his plating. Everything spun, and his internal gyros went haywire, unable to determine direction.
It might have only lasted a second, or perhaps an hour, but suddenly the world returned and the shock of reality crashing back made him gasp.
“I know the first one’s always rough, but you’ll get over it, Prowl.”
He couldn’t quite… The voice was familiar, but he’d offlined his optics to try and regain himself. He had fallen slack in the other mech’s grip, arms supporting him around his middle. Smooth, curved glass pressed against the center of his back, bumping on his light-bar. That meant…
“No, no - you’re not getting away from me.” Skywarp grinned and pulled the mech against himself harder. The Autobot’s weapon had been left behind when they teleported, thankfully, so no need to worry about that. “I’ve waited for this for too long to let you get away from me.”
“Let go!” Prowl thrashed against the arms grasping him, but his body still wasn’t quite cooperating. He felt weak and off-balance, and his processors were still catching up.
“Not a chance.”
No, no, no, no, no! The spinning colors were back, and reality turned on its head. Without having had time to finish recovering from the first teleport, this one was far worse. When they dropped back into the universe, Prowl’s knees gave and his helm fell forward. He barely managed to keep from purging all over the ground, one hand shakily covering his mouth.
Skywarp chuckled and plucked the limp Datsun up against his chest, holding him in a bridal carry. “Poor thing. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it all better.”
He couldn’t quite… His Battle Computer was screaming at him to open his optics and figure out where they were, what could be used as a weapon, who else was nearby; his Logic Matrix countered that he was in no position to fight, that he should concentrate on recovering enough to do so, that - so far - Skywarp didn’t seem to be trying to kill him and he should take advantage of that. The rest of him just wanted them both to shut up and leave him alone until his fuel tanks stopped trying to expel their contents.
Prowl registered that he’d been placed face down on a flat surface. Finally onlining his optics, he glared up at the black seeker and started to get up. A firm hand in the center of his back shoved him back down onto the berth - and he was suddenly horrified to realize that it was a berth. Primus help him, was he in the Decepticon’s quarters!?
“Easy there, Prowly.” Skywarp was smirking, and pressed a bit harder. “You’re not going anywhere until I say you can.” Suddenly he was sitting astride the tactician’s hips, the one hand still pressed to his back. “So just relax, hm?”
“You expect me to relax? Just how glitched are you?” Prowl thrashed again, but in his current predicament, his vision still swimming, it was an effort doomed to fail from the start.
“Hm, not as glitched as I hear you are.”
Prowl tensed at the cruel tone, fingers curling against the berth.
“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” Skywarp practically purred and leaned down to nuzzle the side of his captive’s helm. “You don’t like me calling you out like that, do you?”
The white mech’s expression twitched a bit, edging towards a snarl. “I am not-”
“Aren’t you? I hear you fritz out; do all kinds of funny things as soon as something just too illogical happens.”
“What does it matter to you? For that matter, why have you abducted me? Get off!”
“You first!”
Prowl had a split second to wonder what in the galaxy that was supposed to mean before hands were roaming over the backs of his door-wings, fingers sliding across the edges and tickling into seams. A sharp gasp escaped him and his vision went black.
“Oh, I like that.”
The Autobot wasn’t given a single moment to recuperate as his doors were attacked. All the little nooks and crannies were explored, the corners pinched and the undersides petted. Before he even realized it, he was moaning and panting, clawing at the berth with his engine revving on high gear.
“I like that a lot. Every bit as much fun as I imagined it would be.”
Prowl’s whole body gave little spasms from the excess of physical stimulus, miniature convulsions making him twitch and wriggle beneath the larger mech’s hips. A keening whine left his mouth before he could even think to stifle it, and then there were thumbs digging into his door-hinges, worming into the gaps that attached them to his back, and he screamed.
“More vocal than I thought you’d be. Definitely a plus.”
The thumbs didn’t move on. They each found a sensitive bundle of circuits - direct relays that sent all the sensory input from his doors into his neural system - and rubbed gentle circles into them. Despite his optics being off, Prowl saw explosions of multi-colored light. He knew he was still screaming, but couldn’t think clearly enough to try and stop. The pressure increased, the circles became random patterns, the rough edges of the thumbs scraped across the wiring, and Prowl’s vocalizer gave out, hissing static as overload claimed him.
“Oh, my.” There was laughter in the seeker’s voice as he looked at the now-limp Datsun. “That was certainly quite the show.” He carefully extricated his hands from the faintly-quivering mech and edged himself backwards to sit between Prowl’s thighs. “Hm, what’s this?” Grinning, he swept his fingers along the seams of Prowl’s pelvic-plating, causing him to buck. “My, my - you’ve made a mess of the inside of your codpiece. You’ve got lubricant leaking out all over the place.”
Prowl groaned and tried to lift himself up, to pull away from the other mech.
Skywarp was having none of that, and snagged him by both thighs, dragging him back so that his pelvis was flush to the seeker’s cockpit. “Didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t leave until I said so?”
The panel covering the Autobot’s interface-equipment was carefully unlatched and opened, and Prowl gave a groan of exhausted mortification. First a battle, then double exposure to processor-breaking vertigo, then a mind-blowing - if entirely unwanted - overload, and now he was going to be forced into continuing? Smelt it, he didn’t have the energy for this! “S-stop… I can’t…” He twisted as much as he could and weakly tried to shove the other mech away from him, to get his legs free and kick him.
Merely offering him an amused smile, Skywarp easily subdued him again, but left his leaking spike and valve alone. He’d returned to sitting astride the mech’s back, facing his legs this time. “Well, I suppose I could give you a short break…”
“I’d… rather you… let me go…” Primus, he was tired.
Skywarp clucked his glossa in an admonishing fashion. “No, I don’t think so.”
The seeker had pulled something out of subspace and was fastening it around Prowl’s lower legs. Growling, he tired to sit up again, to try and shift the mech off of him. He had to get free.
“Hold still or I’ll knock you unconscious.”
“You can’t… can’t possibly intend to keep me.” Primus, he hoped not.
“Only for a little while.”
Prowl groaned and let his helm fall back to the berth. He should be fighting harder; should be kicking and screaming and trying to get away; should try to get hold of something to use as a weapon. Shut up, Battle Computer. He should relax; if he doesn’t fight, Skywarp is less likely to want to damage him; it’s entirely possible that he’s telling the truth and will let him go, afterwards. This isn’t as bad as being killed, and at least he’s not being hurt. Shut up, Logic Matrix.
His ankles had been firmly tied together, and from the feel of it, attached to that end of the berth. Skywarp had turned back around and was grabbing his wrists, now. Prowl growled and tucked his arms underneath his chest. He might not be able to fight - and how did one expect to fight and win when one was all alone aboard the Nemesis? - but he didn’t have to make things easy, either.
Rolling his optics, Skywarp wrestled them out from underneath the smaller mech and bound them together with the tough cord he’d produced, promptly securing them to something on the underside of the head of the berth. “There. Now, be a good little Autobot and get some rest. I’ll be right back.” He gave a condescending little pat to the white helm, and then - quite literally - disappeared.
This entry was originally posted at http://syntheticeuphoria.dreamwidth.org/5572.html.
FIC: G1 - Skywarp/Prowl - Wings, Non-violent NonCon
Summary: Skywarp's had his optic on a certain pair of pretty wings for a while now. His trinemates would probably laugh at him if they knew they didn't belong to a flier. Good thing he doesn't intend to share.
Warnings for Sticky Sex, a little bondage, and NonCon of the Forcibly Pleasurable variety. And Skywarp - he needs his own warning.
Done for this REQ here.
One day... One day I will learn to finish things before starting new ones. That day is not today.
Also, this is definitely not my best work. If you are looking for Plot, search elsewhere. And Prowl is probably quite OOC, but fuck it, I wrote and edited this chapter on the fly in the span of a few hours, and did so for the sake of stress-relief. Bah.
-----
Chapter 1:
The sound of gunfire, the smell of energon and burnt ozone, the sight of pure and utter chaos which is a battlefield…
Skywarp didn’t usually think of himself as much of one for art, but this was beautiful; a thrill for the senses. The rush of flying over it - through it - at super-sonic speeds was phenomenal. The danger of being shot down, the confidence that he would not (even though sometimes he did), the knowledge that his enemies would suffer; he could do this every day and never grow bored.
There was one more thing he wanted to do, however. One thing, besides the thrill of battle, that would excite him, but he had not yet been able to get hold of. Contrary to his usual tactic of act first and think about it later, he’d gone long enough fantasizing about this that he’d actually put thought into how he would accomplish it.
An explosion. A familiar call for retreat. Decepticons pulling back in lackluster obedience.
Skywarp remained, high above, and scanned the field. He’d been keeping tabs on his prey throughout the battle, only occasionally taking part, teleporting when necessary to avoid more serious conflict.
There!
Instant relocation, a startled cry from one of the Autobots, an attempt to struggle as purple arms tightened around the shorter mech, and then they were both gone.
-----
The world went dark for a split second before colors rushed around him in hypnotic, nonsensical patterns. There was a roar in his audios, and he wasn’t sure if he could call it wind, because he couldn’t feel anything - not up, not down, not the touch of atmosphere against his plating. Everything spun, and his internal gyros went haywire, unable to determine direction.
It might have only lasted a second, or perhaps an hour, but suddenly the world returned and the shock of reality crashing back made him gasp.
“I know the first one’s always rough, but you’ll get over it, Prowl.”
He couldn’t quite… The voice was familiar, but he’d offlined his optics to try and regain himself. He had fallen slack in the other mech’s grip, arms supporting him around his middle. Smooth, curved glass pressed against the center of his back, bumping on his light-bar. That meant…
“No, no - you’re not getting away from me.” Skywarp grinned and pulled the mech against himself harder. The Autobot’s weapon had been left behind when they teleported, thankfully, so no need to worry about that. “I’ve waited for this for too long to let you get away from me.”
“Let go!” Prowl thrashed against the arms grasping him, but his body still wasn’t quite cooperating. He felt weak and off-balance, and his processors were still catching up.
“Not a chance.”
No, no, no, no, no! The spinning colors were back, and reality turned on its head. Without having had time to finish recovering from the first teleport, this one was far worse. When they dropped back into the universe, Prowl’s knees gave and his helm fell forward. He barely managed to keep from purging all over the ground, one hand shakily covering his mouth.
Skywarp chuckled and plucked the limp Datsun up against his chest, holding him in a bridal carry. “Poor thing. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it all better.”
He couldn’t quite… His Battle Computer was screaming at him to open his optics and figure out where they were, what could be used as a weapon, who else was nearby; his Logic Matrix countered that he was in no position to fight, that he should concentrate on recovering enough to do so, that - so far - Skywarp didn’t seem to be trying to kill him and he should take advantage of that. The rest of him just wanted them both to shut up and leave him alone until his fuel tanks stopped trying to expel their contents.
Prowl registered that he’d been placed face down on a flat surface. Finally onlining his optics, he glared up at the black seeker and started to get up. A firm hand in the center of his back shoved him back down onto the berth - and he was suddenly horrified to realize that it was a berth. Primus help him, was he in the Decepticon’s quarters!?
“Easy there, Prowly.” Skywarp was smirking, and pressed a bit harder. “You’re not going anywhere until I say you can.” Suddenly he was sitting astride the tactician’s hips, the one hand still pressed to his back. “So just relax, hm?”
“You expect me to relax? Just how glitched are you?” Prowl thrashed again, but in his current predicament, his vision still swimming, it was an effort doomed to fail from the start.
“Hm, not as glitched as I hear you are.”
Prowl tensed at the cruel tone, fingers curling against the berth.
“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” Skywarp practically purred and leaned down to nuzzle the side of his captive’s helm. “You don’t like me calling you out like that, do you?”
The white mech’s expression twitched a bit, edging towards a snarl. “I am not-”
“Aren’t you? I hear you fritz out; do all kinds of funny things as soon as something just too illogical happens.”
“What does it matter to you? For that matter, why have you abducted me? Get off!”
“You first!”
Prowl had a split second to wonder what in the galaxy that was supposed to mean before hands were roaming over the backs of his door-wings, fingers sliding across the edges and tickling into seams. A sharp gasp escaped him and his vision went black.
“Oh, I like that.”
The Autobot wasn’t given a single moment to recuperate as his doors were attacked. All the little nooks and crannies were explored, the corners pinched and the undersides petted. Before he even realized it, he was moaning and panting, clawing at the berth with his engine revving on high gear.
“I like that a lot. Every bit as much fun as I imagined it would be.”
Prowl’s whole body gave little spasms from the excess of physical stimulus, miniature convulsions making him twitch and wriggle beneath the larger mech’s hips. A keening whine left his mouth before he could even think to stifle it, and then there were thumbs digging into his door-hinges, worming into the gaps that attached them to his back, and he screamed.
“More vocal than I thought you’d be. Definitely a plus.”
The thumbs didn’t move on. They each found a sensitive bundle of circuits - direct relays that sent all the sensory input from his doors into his neural system - and rubbed gentle circles into them. Despite his optics being off, Prowl saw explosions of multi-colored light. He knew he was still screaming, but couldn’t think clearly enough to try and stop. The pressure increased, the circles became random patterns, the rough edges of the thumbs scraped across the wiring, and Prowl’s vocalizer gave out, hissing static as overload claimed him.
“Oh, my.” There was laughter in the seeker’s voice as he looked at the now-limp Datsun. “That was certainly quite the show.” He carefully extricated his hands from the faintly-quivering mech and edged himself backwards to sit between Prowl’s thighs. “Hm, what’s this?” Grinning, he swept his fingers along the seams of Prowl’s pelvic-plating, causing him to buck. “My, my - you’ve made a mess of the inside of your codpiece. You’ve got lubricant leaking out all over the place.”
Prowl groaned and tried to lift himself up, to pull away from the other mech.
Skywarp was having none of that, and snagged him by both thighs, dragging him back so that his pelvis was flush to the seeker’s cockpit. “Didn’t I tell you that you couldn’t leave until I said so?”
The panel covering the Autobot’s interface-equipment was carefully unlatched and opened, and Prowl gave a groan of exhausted mortification. First a battle, then double exposure to processor-breaking vertigo, then a mind-blowing - if entirely unwanted - overload, and now he was going to be forced into continuing? Smelt it, he didn’t have the energy for this! “S-stop… I can’t…” He twisted as much as he could and weakly tried to shove the other mech away from him, to get his legs free and kick him.
Merely offering him an amused smile, Skywarp easily subdued him again, but left his leaking spike and valve alone. He’d returned to sitting astride the mech’s back, facing his legs this time. “Well, I suppose I could give you a short break…”
“I’d… rather you… let me go…” Primus, he was tired.
Skywarp clucked his glossa in an admonishing fashion. “No, I don’t think so.”
The seeker had pulled something out of subspace and was fastening it around Prowl’s lower legs. Growling, he tired to sit up again, to try and shift the mech off of him. He had to get free.
“Hold still or I’ll knock you unconscious.”
“You can’t… can’t possibly intend to keep me.” Primus, he hoped not.
“Only for a little while.”
Prowl groaned and let his helm fall back to the berth. He should be fighting harder; should be kicking and screaming and trying to get away; should try to get hold of something to use as a weapon. Shut up, Battle Computer. He should relax; if he doesn’t fight, Skywarp is less likely to want to damage him; it’s entirely possible that he’s telling the truth and will let him go, afterwards. This isn’t as bad as being killed, and at least he’s not being hurt. Shut up, Logic Matrix.
His ankles had been firmly tied together, and from the feel of it, attached to that end of the berth. Skywarp had turned back around and was grabbing his wrists, now. Prowl growled and tucked his arms underneath his chest. He might not be able to fight - and how did one expect to fight and win when one was all alone aboard the Nemesis? - but he didn’t have to make things easy, either.
Rolling his optics, Skywarp wrestled them out from underneath the smaller mech and bound them together with the tough cord he’d produced, promptly securing them to something on the underside of the head of the berth. “There. Now, be a good little Autobot and get some rest. I’ll be right back.” He gave a condescending little pat to the white helm, and then - quite literally - disappeared.
This entry was originally posted at http://syntheticeuphoria.dreamwidth.org/5572.html.