Fic - Lie Down
Title: Lie Down
Warnings: slash, smut (of the plug’n’play variety), PWP, BDSM (I don’t know if it is, but I better mention it, I think? óo)
Continuity: G1 [part of ultharkitty’s Dysfunction AU, pre-war, before their combiner program]
Characters/Pairing: Blast Off/Vortex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
Summary: To put it bluntly: Blast Off frags Vortex… nothing more happens, really.
Beta: ultharkitty :D
Note: Written for tf_speedwriting and the prompt: Task: Write your OTP from your current favourite continuity in your favourite genre. [12 June]
Lie Down
“Lie down.”
Vortex looked up, trying to keep his rotors from quivering as his gaze met Blast Off’s. He couldn’t lie down on the berth, the shuttle was sitting on it, and saying so now would only lead to being thrown out. The table was another option, but if things got rough and it broke, Blast Off would be angry at him.
Vortex tilted his head and suppressed a grin as he stood up from his chair, putting the half-empty energon cube on the table. He positioned himself in the middle of the room.
It had been a promising sign when Blast Off had let Vortex in his room; it had been even more promising when had accepted the high grade Vortex had offered. And being told to lie down was the most promising sign of all.
He lay down on the cold metal floor, a few feet away from and parallel to the berth, so that he presented a good view to Blast Off. His head turned to glance at the shuttle, his arms rested close to his sides. Vortex bent one leg and slightly arched up, the rotor blades scratching over the ground; sensor nodes sent the first tingling signals of pleasure through his systems.
For a while, Blast Off didn’t do anything but sip his energon.
“You know where I want your hands,” the shuttle finally said, his voice blank.
Vortex bit his lower lip.
Venting deeply, he put his arms above his head.
A moment passed in which Blast Off only stared at him, and Vortex couldn’t hinder his rotors from shivering. The shuttle didn’t need to do much at all; and him sitting there, optics fixed on Vortex, his expression bored, shouldn’t have been as much of a turn on as it actually was.
Vortex tried to lie still, and indeed he only writhed a little when Blast Off put his cube aside. He leant back, fumbling around on the shelf at the head of the berth, but Vortex couldn’t see what he was searching for.
Then, Blast Off stood up, in his hand something similar to a jemmy, and Vortex’ optical sensors lit in anticipation, fingers curling against the cold ground.
The optics under the red visor carefully followed every movement of the other; the pushing down of his knee, the slowly sitting down, straddling him without actually letting their plating touch.
Vortex heaved air slowly, deeply. He squirmed when Blast Off again didn’t do anything for moments, the jemmy still in his hand, the shuttle looming over him and causing the room’s ceiling light to vanish behind the bulk of strong plating. Warm gusts of air from Blast Off’s vents were blown over his armour, and he felt the slight fluctuations of the other’s energy field.
Rotor blades clattered against the metal floor, the rotor hub pressing painfully at his back. But Vortex didn’t want it to snap onto his back plating, because he liked the sensations too much.
His intakes hitched as Blast Off began to move again. Skilled and almost leisurely, the shuttle grabbed his hands and turned them, the palms’ side up as he put one above the other.
There wasn’t a hint or warning when Blast Off rammed the jemmy through both hands and into the ground.
Vortex didn’t hear the loud clang. For seconds, the searing hot pain spreading over his sensor net was all that mattered. It ran down his arms into his back and spine and he arched up, gasping. His rotors scraped over the rough ground, and the prickle mingled with the other sensations, his lips twitching to a grin as he felt hot energon flowing out of broken lines and dripping down.
The bite on his lower lip became harder, and he tried again to focus on Blast Off leaning over him.
Vortex let out a fait whimper when the pain slowly subsided.
Blast Off let go of his hands.
The expression unimpressed, the shuttle surveyed his own fingers. Two were covered with energon; Vortex stared at them.
“Clean them.”
The fingers being held out to him, Vortex stretched his neck, and his glossa traced lightly over the black plating.
His optics fixed on Blast Off’s, which looked, still bored, at the hand, and he tasted the bitterness of his half processed energon and the seams on the others fingers. He took his time, stretching his neck further so that his lips brushed over the metal, and it took all his willpower not to suck at the fingers, to bite down and…
Blast Off withdrew them wordlessly.
Vortex sighed.
His vents now worked faster, still deeply, and with Blast Off leaning closer, his intakes imbibed the warm air of the other’s vents. The gusts were imbued with the heavy smell of shuttle fuel, and oil, and the sharp stench of coolant. It clouded his processor and sent pleasure down his back struts.
Blast Off didn’t touch him, but he didn’t need to. Optics roving over Vortex’ plating, the ‘copter observed them cautiously, with interest and need, and it was as though more than just optic sensors explored his plating.
Vortex shuddered when the other looked at his intakes, at his side and the interfacing panel which was there.
The tact of his engine increased and the additional cooling system kicked in.
Writhing, Vortex sighed, and the motions caused the pain in his hands to swell again. He tried to clench his fists, but all he could manage was a twitching from his fingers. The pain triggered an odd tingling in his wrists and elbows, and he squirmed even more.
The other’s gaze shifted to his still quivering rotor blades, and Vortex bit his lip once more, optics flickering as he imagined the shuttle touching him there, stroking the thin metal or even bending it roughly and easily with those strong hands.
Blast Off didn’t, but the fantasy was enough and he moaned.
Blast Off didn’t paid attention to it, still staring at the rotors, and Vortex hardly could prevent his energy field from flaring. But he wanted to, his field throbbed inside, along with the pleasure, and he wanted to let it out, wanted the other’s energy field touching his, the fields grinding together, and he wanted the shuttle to feel his need in his energy signature.
Blast Off didn’t do anything, and he squirmed under him.
Vortex bent his leg slightly, his heel scuffing over the floor.
And then there was an actual touch.
“Hmmnn!” Vortex' denta almost penetrated his lower lip as he intensified his bite. He was forbidden to speak, he knew the rules, but he was so close to begging when two fingers stroked over the rim of his interfacing panel.
He wanted more, everything, and he wanted it right now.
But he kept quiet.
The other traced the seams of the panel, and watching this made Vortex’ core temperature spike.
His head dropped back, and he offlined his optics, enduring the sweet torture with soft whimpers. His fingers twitched again, and he arched up. The rotor hub lost contact with the ground and he fanned his blades briefly, before he sacked down again and the vibrations reverberated through him.
He sighed and moaned softly as he drank in every sensation: the pulsating ache in his hands, the other’s warmth and proximity, and the touch which now wandered up his side and down again.
“Open up.” Two words spoken so close to his audio sensor, Vortex couldn’t stop his field from flaring any longer.
He gasped, intakes working fast when his field extended suddenly, and he sensed it rushing over the other’s body as their energy signatures touched.
Blast Off’s engine revved, and so did his. He could nearly feel the other’s vibrations with the shuttle being this close. If he raised just a little more, and their chests would touch and it would amplify the rattling running down his frame.
And he did raise himself as much as possible with his hands pinned to the floor, but a stronger hand pushed him down.
Vortex’ vocaliser emitted a half whimper, half moan, and his interfacing panel clicked open without his conscious intent.
He didn’t dare online his optics. One warm hand at his chest, pressing him down, another hand at his panel, exploring his port, and the clicking sound of the other’s interfacing panel were almost enough to send Vortex over the edge.
Even though the connection wasn’t established yet, the promise alone was pure bliss, and Vortex wanted it so much, now, his field flared intensely, and Blast Off’s field flared back. Then, the connector entered his port, and the first wave of amazing energy flooded his systems.
Vortex moaned, a noise almost drowned by static, and he hardly noticed the completion of the interface when his own connector plugged in, and he could share all his sensations and pleasure and need.
Panting fast, he writhed, but the hand was still there holding him in place, and his optic sensors snapped online, looking at Blast Off whose expression had only slightly changed. The other’s cooling system had activated, and he shivered, but hardly made a sound. The desire and delight, though, were clear through the interface and in the energy signature of the field.
Vortex arched his back, heaving up from the ground, and only his shoulder blades supported his weight as a particularly intense burst of pleasure inflamed his sensor net. A second equally powerful wave followed, then a third one, and Vortex’ view blurred.
He was already so close, but he didn’t want to.
Mumbling incoherent whimpered words between static-laden moans, he yanked at his arms, wanting to free his hands, wanting to touch the other; to cling to him and pull him down. Wanting to feel and not just to hear this engine rumbling. It only caused the pain to increase, though, and the pleasure along with it.
Vortex’ optics shut down again. Panting frantically, moaning loudly, he let himself go completely, and it was a sign of how much he needed this after being neglected for so long.
He stopped caring about Blast Off’s rules as he begged for more, encouraging the other to give him more as the delightful sensations were the most important in this exact moment.
And apparently, Blast Off didn’t care about his rules either, because he didn’t leave, and continued sending burst after brutal burst through the interface.
And then it became too much.
Vortex’ HUD activated of its own, a blue screen filled with warnings he didn’t read or care about when he felt the current wave of pleasure still lingering in his systems and a new one flooded through him. It was a moment of total bliss and oblivion and every thought stopped. Then, there was a new burst and an energy field flare, and the moment passed.
His climax crashed over him, powerfully, painfully. Sensor nodes on their highest sensitivity setting burnt under pleasure, and hydraulic mechanisms tensed and relaxed before he shook with convulsion; so hard, one of his hands was split in two when the blunt edge of the jemmy tore through it.
The pain amplified the moment of absolute sensations released at a single instant and left him whimpering and sighing when the most intense waves subsided.
Still dizzy with the tingling remainders of overload, his visual input slowly returned.
Blast Off braced himself, the hand still at Vortex’ chest, the other next to the ‘copter’s helm. Fans whirling fast, optics offline, and the prickling delight through the connection a proof that he had overloaded as well.
Vortex laughed softly, but only static left his vocaliser, and so he didn’t bother to say anything more. His joints relaxed, and he slumped down, the ache pulsating in his hands, prolonging the satisfying shivers.
He offlined his optics a last time. For once, it was good to remain silent.
Warnings: slash, smut (of the plug’n’play variety), PWP, BDSM (I don’t know if it is, but I better mention it, I think? óo)
Continuity: G1 [part of ultharkitty’s Dysfunction AU, pre-war, before their combiner program]
Characters/Pairing: Blast Off/Vortex
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing is mine.
Summary: To put it bluntly: Blast Off frags Vortex… nothing more happens, really.
Beta: ultharkitty :D
Note: Written for tf_speedwriting and the prompt: Task: Write your OTP from your current favourite continuity in your favourite genre. [12 June]
Lie Down
“Lie down.”
Vortex looked up, trying to keep his rotors from quivering as his gaze met Blast Off’s. He couldn’t lie down on the berth, the shuttle was sitting on it, and saying so now would only lead to being thrown out. The table was another option, but if things got rough and it broke, Blast Off would be angry at him.
Vortex tilted his head and suppressed a grin as he stood up from his chair, putting the half-empty energon cube on the table. He positioned himself in the middle of the room.
It had been a promising sign when Blast Off had let Vortex in his room; it had been even more promising when had accepted the high grade Vortex had offered. And being told to lie down was the most promising sign of all.
He lay down on the cold metal floor, a few feet away from and parallel to the berth, so that he presented a good view to Blast Off. His head turned to glance at the shuttle, his arms rested close to his sides. Vortex bent one leg and slightly arched up, the rotor blades scratching over the ground; sensor nodes sent the first tingling signals of pleasure through his systems.
For a while, Blast Off didn’t do anything but sip his energon.
“You know where I want your hands,” the shuttle finally said, his voice blank.
Vortex bit his lower lip.
Venting deeply, he put his arms above his head.
A moment passed in which Blast Off only stared at him, and Vortex couldn’t hinder his rotors from shivering. The shuttle didn’t need to do much at all; and him sitting there, optics fixed on Vortex, his expression bored, shouldn’t have been as much of a turn on as it actually was.
Vortex tried to lie still, and indeed he only writhed a little when Blast Off put his cube aside. He leant back, fumbling around on the shelf at the head of the berth, but Vortex couldn’t see what he was searching for.
Then, Blast Off stood up, in his hand something similar to a jemmy, and Vortex’ optical sensors lit in anticipation, fingers curling against the cold ground.
The optics under the red visor carefully followed every movement of the other; the pushing down of his knee, the slowly sitting down, straddling him without actually letting their plating touch.
Vortex heaved air slowly, deeply. He squirmed when Blast Off again didn’t do anything for moments, the jemmy still in his hand, the shuttle looming over him and causing the room’s ceiling light to vanish behind the bulk of strong plating. Warm gusts of air from Blast Off’s vents were blown over his armour, and he felt the slight fluctuations of the other’s energy field.
Rotor blades clattered against the metal floor, the rotor hub pressing painfully at his back. But Vortex didn’t want it to snap onto his back plating, because he liked the sensations too much.
His intakes hitched as Blast Off began to move again. Skilled and almost leisurely, the shuttle grabbed his hands and turned them, the palms’ side up as he put one above the other.
There wasn’t a hint or warning when Blast Off rammed the jemmy through both hands and into the ground.
Vortex didn’t hear the loud clang. For seconds, the searing hot pain spreading over his sensor net was all that mattered. It ran down his arms into his back and spine and he arched up, gasping. His rotors scraped over the rough ground, and the prickle mingled with the other sensations, his lips twitching to a grin as he felt hot energon flowing out of broken lines and dripping down.
The bite on his lower lip became harder, and he tried again to focus on Blast Off leaning over him.
Vortex let out a fait whimper when the pain slowly subsided.
Blast Off let go of his hands.
The expression unimpressed, the shuttle surveyed his own fingers. Two were covered with energon; Vortex stared at them.
“Clean them.”
The fingers being held out to him, Vortex stretched his neck, and his glossa traced lightly over the black plating.
His optics fixed on Blast Off’s, which looked, still bored, at the hand, and he tasted the bitterness of his half processed energon and the seams on the others fingers. He took his time, stretching his neck further so that his lips brushed over the metal, and it took all his willpower not to suck at the fingers, to bite down and…
Blast Off withdrew them wordlessly.
Vortex sighed.
His vents now worked faster, still deeply, and with Blast Off leaning closer, his intakes imbibed the warm air of the other’s vents. The gusts were imbued with the heavy smell of shuttle fuel, and oil, and the sharp stench of coolant. It clouded his processor and sent pleasure down his back struts.
Blast Off didn’t touch him, but he didn’t need to. Optics roving over Vortex’ plating, the ‘copter observed them cautiously, with interest and need, and it was as though more than just optic sensors explored his plating.
Vortex shuddered when the other looked at his intakes, at his side and the interfacing panel which was there.
The tact of his engine increased and the additional cooling system kicked in.
Writhing, Vortex sighed, and the motions caused the pain in his hands to swell again. He tried to clench his fists, but all he could manage was a twitching from his fingers. The pain triggered an odd tingling in his wrists and elbows, and he squirmed even more.
The other’s gaze shifted to his still quivering rotor blades, and Vortex bit his lip once more, optics flickering as he imagined the shuttle touching him there, stroking the thin metal or even bending it roughly and easily with those strong hands.
Blast Off didn’t, but the fantasy was enough and he moaned.
Blast Off didn’t paid attention to it, still staring at the rotors, and Vortex hardly could prevent his energy field from flaring. But he wanted to, his field throbbed inside, along with the pleasure, and he wanted to let it out, wanted the other’s energy field touching his, the fields grinding together, and he wanted the shuttle to feel his need in his energy signature.
Blast Off didn’t do anything, and he squirmed under him.
Vortex bent his leg slightly, his heel scuffing over the floor.
And then there was an actual touch.
“Hmmnn!” Vortex' denta almost penetrated his lower lip as he intensified his bite. He was forbidden to speak, he knew the rules, but he was so close to begging when two fingers stroked over the rim of his interfacing panel.
He wanted more, everything, and he wanted it right now.
But he kept quiet.
The other traced the seams of the panel, and watching this made Vortex’ core temperature spike.
His head dropped back, and he offlined his optics, enduring the sweet torture with soft whimpers. His fingers twitched again, and he arched up. The rotor hub lost contact with the ground and he fanned his blades briefly, before he sacked down again and the vibrations reverberated through him.
He sighed and moaned softly as he drank in every sensation: the pulsating ache in his hands, the other’s warmth and proximity, and the touch which now wandered up his side and down again.
“Open up.” Two words spoken so close to his audio sensor, Vortex couldn’t stop his field from flaring any longer.
He gasped, intakes working fast when his field extended suddenly, and he sensed it rushing over the other’s body as their energy signatures touched.
Blast Off’s engine revved, and so did his. He could nearly feel the other’s vibrations with the shuttle being this close. If he raised just a little more, and their chests would touch and it would amplify the rattling running down his frame.
And he did raise himself as much as possible with his hands pinned to the floor, but a stronger hand pushed him down.
Vortex’ vocaliser emitted a half whimper, half moan, and his interfacing panel clicked open without his conscious intent.
He didn’t dare online his optics. One warm hand at his chest, pressing him down, another hand at his panel, exploring his port, and the clicking sound of the other’s interfacing panel were almost enough to send Vortex over the edge.
Even though the connection wasn’t established yet, the promise alone was pure bliss, and Vortex wanted it so much, now, his field flared intensely, and Blast Off’s field flared back. Then, the connector entered his port, and the first wave of amazing energy flooded his systems.
Vortex moaned, a noise almost drowned by static, and he hardly noticed the completion of the interface when his own connector plugged in, and he could share all his sensations and pleasure and need.
Panting fast, he writhed, but the hand was still there holding him in place, and his optic sensors snapped online, looking at Blast Off whose expression had only slightly changed. The other’s cooling system had activated, and he shivered, but hardly made a sound. The desire and delight, though, were clear through the interface and in the energy signature of the field.
Vortex arched his back, heaving up from the ground, and only his shoulder blades supported his weight as a particularly intense burst of pleasure inflamed his sensor net. A second equally powerful wave followed, then a third one, and Vortex’ view blurred.
He was already so close, but he didn’t want to.
Mumbling incoherent whimpered words between static-laden moans, he yanked at his arms, wanting to free his hands, wanting to touch the other; to cling to him and pull him down. Wanting to feel and not just to hear this engine rumbling. It only caused the pain to increase, though, and the pleasure along with it.
Vortex’ optics shut down again. Panting frantically, moaning loudly, he let himself go completely, and it was a sign of how much he needed this after being neglected for so long.
He stopped caring about Blast Off’s rules as he begged for more, encouraging the other to give him more as the delightful sensations were the most important in this exact moment.
And apparently, Blast Off didn’t care about his rules either, because he didn’t leave, and continued sending burst after brutal burst through the interface.
And then it became too much.
Vortex’ HUD activated of its own, a blue screen filled with warnings he didn’t read or care about when he felt the current wave of pleasure still lingering in his systems and a new one flooded through him. It was a moment of total bliss and oblivion and every thought stopped. Then, there was a new burst and an energy field flare, and the moment passed.
His climax crashed over him, powerfully, painfully. Sensor nodes on their highest sensitivity setting burnt under pleasure, and hydraulic mechanisms tensed and relaxed before he shook with convulsion; so hard, one of his hands was split in two when the blunt edge of the jemmy tore through it.
The pain amplified the moment of absolute sensations released at a single instant and left him whimpering and sighing when the most intense waves subsided.
Still dizzy with the tingling remainders of overload, his visual input slowly returned.
Blast Off braced himself, the hand still at Vortex’ chest, the other next to the ‘copter’s helm. Fans whirling fast, optics offline, and the prickling delight through the connection a proof that he had overloaded as well.
Vortex laughed softly, but only static left his vocaliser, and so he didn’t bother to say anything more. His joints relaxed, and he slumped down, the ache pulsating in his hands, prolonging the satisfying shivers.
He offlined his optics a last time. For once, it was good to remain silent.