Fic dump, take 2
It was his hands, Blackout decided. The beautifully clawed hands that made Barricade so attractive.
Sharp claws that dug deep gouges in his armor as he pinned the smaller Decepticon beneath him. Claws that could - and given any sort of leverage, would - punch through armor to mangle the delicate circuitry underneath. Claws that he himself had watched rip out the fuel pump of mechs much bigger than the interceptor.
Yes, the claws added a whole new level of excitement to it.
Forcing the other Decepticon down wouldn’t be nearly as fun if he didn’t have to worry about Barricade feeding him his own spark casing. So it really was all Barricade’s fault, when one thought about it. If he didn’t those hands, Blackout wouldn’t feel this need to touch him...
Barricade snarled curses as he struggled to free himself, letting Blackout know in no uncertain terms exactly what Barricade was going to do to him soon as he had a chance. Blackout smirked, catching the wickedly clawed hands and pinning them above Barricade’s head. They both knew that Blackout would get what he wanted. After all, they’d played this little game before.
Blackout worked a finger under Barricade’s armor plating to stroke just the right spot… right there… His smirk turned triumphant as Barricade tried and failed to suppress a shiver.
Looking into his captive’s hateful red optics, Blackout realized that one day, Barricade was going to win this little game, and he wouldn’t hesitate to rip out Blackout’s spark with those wonderfully nasty claws.
The thought - combined with the sensation of Barricade arching beneath him as his fingers dug deeper - was almost enough to send him into overload on the spot.
That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Blackout thought to himself, dragging his fingers across the sensitive wiring. It’s all about his hands…
Sharp claws that dug deep gouges in his armor as he pinned the smaller Decepticon beneath him. Claws that could - and given any sort of leverage, would - punch through armor to mangle the delicate circuitry underneath. Claws that he himself had watched rip out the fuel pump of mechs much bigger than the interceptor.
Yes, the claws added a whole new level of excitement to it.
Forcing the other Decepticon down wouldn’t be nearly as fun if he didn’t have to worry about Barricade feeding him his own spark casing. So it really was all Barricade’s fault, when one thought about it. If he didn’t those hands, Blackout wouldn’t feel this need to touch him...
Barricade snarled curses as he struggled to free himself, letting Blackout know in no uncertain terms exactly what Barricade was going to do to him soon as he had a chance. Blackout smirked, catching the wickedly clawed hands and pinning them above Barricade’s head. They both knew that Blackout would get what he wanted. After all, they’d played this little game before.
Blackout worked a finger under Barricade’s armor plating to stroke just the right spot… right there… His smirk turned triumphant as Barricade tried and failed to suppress a shiver.
Looking into his captive’s hateful red optics, Blackout realized that one day, Barricade was going to win this little game, and he wouldn’t hesitate to rip out Blackout’s spark with those wonderfully nasty claws.
The thought - combined with the sensation of Barricade arching beneath him as his fingers dug deeper - was almost enough to send him into overload on the spot.
That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Blackout thought to himself, dragging his fingers across the sensitive wiring. It’s all about his hands…