Just a little bit of slavefic...
Title: A Prime in Chains
Fandom: Transformers G1 (AU)
Characters: Rodimus Prime, Cyclonus
Rating: T
Word Count: 450
Summary: Slavery didn't suit him.
Content advisory: Autobots-enslaved-by-Decepticons AU. No actual porn.
Note: Just a bit of slavefic I'm posting for raisedbymoogles.
Slavery didn't suit him.
Cyclonus had taken care of the former Prime's paint and polish himself; his plating gleamed, his collar shined with Paradronian gold, his arms were chained together below his spoiler at an extremely attractive angle...but the sullen expression ruined it all.
This wasn't the Prime he had known on the battlefield, not the Rodimus that Galvatron had fought to claim as his own. Cyclonus almost might as well have painted up a Sweep for his Lord's pleasure.
Rodimus Prime sat on the small berth, obedient, motionless, optics dim and downcast, even though Cyclonus had taken the trouble to get him new bright blue ones. "Look at me," Cyclonus commanded.
The helm tilted up, dim optics angled vaguely towards Cyclonus' face; it was hardly an improvement.
But it was something. "Good." Cyclonus pet the helm in acknowledge of the obedience. Rodimus twitched, just a little, and was there a little more light in his optics? Perhaps. Cyclonus left his hand there, considering. "Soon, you will be called to attend Lord Galvatron. It is a great honor."
Cyclonus' hand drifted down the side of Rodimus' helm and onto his faceplates; they seemed softer than they had before, but so much less expressive.
Rodimus twitched again as Cyclonus' thumb approached his mouth. "I don't want your honor."
Better. Much better defiance than indifference. Cyclonus slapped him across the face, not hard enough to leave a mark. "It's not your choice."
Rodimus let his helm fall back slightly at the hit, but pushed it forward again, stubbornly, instinctively. "It's not an honor either. I'm a slave."
"You're Lord Galvatron's personal slave." Cyclonus tugged at the chain attached to the collar, trying to keep Rodimus reacting. "There is no higher honor."
Rodimus made a noise of frustration. "Then you serve him."
Cyclonus smiled. "I do. We all do." His fingers traced the engraving on Rodimus' collar, Property of Galvatron, Emperor of Destruction, Leader of the Decepticons. He could almost envy Rodimus that--but of course he required no collar to remind him who he belonged to. "Some day you will enjoy it as much as I do."
Fandom: Transformers G1 (AU)
Characters: Rodimus Prime, Cyclonus
Rating: T
Word Count: 450
Summary: Slavery didn't suit him.
Content advisory: Autobots-enslaved-by-Decepticons AU. No actual porn.
Note: Just a bit of slavefic I'm posting for raisedbymoogles.
Slavery didn't suit him.
Cyclonus had taken care of the former Prime's paint and polish himself; his plating gleamed, his collar shined with Paradronian gold, his arms were chained together below his spoiler at an extremely attractive angle...but the sullen expression ruined it all.
This wasn't the Prime he had known on the battlefield, not the Rodimus that Galvatron had fought to claim as his own. Cyclonus almost might as well have painted up a Sweep for his Lord's pleasure.
Rodimus Prime sat on the small berth, obedient, motionless, optics dim and downcast, even though Cyclonus had taken the trouble to get him new bright blue ones. "Look at me," Cyclonus commanded.
The helm tilted up, dim optics angled vaguely towards Cyclonus' face; it was hardly an improvement.
But it was something. "Good." Cyclonus pet the helm in acknowledge of the obedience. Rodimus twitched, just a little, and was there a little more light in his optics? Perhaps. Cyclonus left his hand there, considering. "Soon, you will be called to attend Lord Galvatron. It is a great honor."
Cyclonus' hand drifted down the side of Rodimus' helm and onto his faceplates; they seemed softer than they had before, but so much less expressive.
Rodimus twitched again as Cyclonus' thumb approached his mouth. "I don't want your honor."
Better. Much better defiance than indifference. Cyclonus slapped him across the face, not hard enough to leave a mark. "It's not your choice."
Rodimus let his helm fall back slightly at the hit, but pushed it forward again, stubbornly, instinctively. "It's not an honor either. I'm a slave."
"You're Lord Galvatron's personal slave." Cyclonus tugged at the chain attached to the collar, trying to keep Rodimus reacting. "There is no higher honor."
Rodimus made a noise of frustration. "Then you serve him."
Cyclonus smiled. "I do. We all do." His fingers traced the engraving on Rodimus' collar, Property of Galvatron, Emperor of Destruction, Leader of the Decepticons. He could almost envy Rodimus that--but of course he required no collar to remind him who he belonged to. "Some day you will enjoy it as much as I do."