Transformers (Blitzwing/Astrotrain)
Jul. 11th, 2007 01:40 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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kinkfestTitle: I Built a Little Empire
Author: Apathy
Rating: Eh, I'll put it at NC-17.
Warnings: Giant evil robots having violent giant evil gay robosex while referring to themselves in the third person.
Word count: 1564.
Prompt: Blitzwing/Astrotrain: Reunion sex - "I love the way that you move me/it's never enough"
Summary: Taking over the world with an army of trains was a totally awesome plan. Really.
A/N: Apologies, in three parts:
1. To the recipient. I'm pretty damned sure this isn't the reunion you were after, but it's the only one my brain wanted to write.
2. To the comm in general, for being late with the story. (The other story I had due on the 9th will be posted in a few hours' time. I suck. D: )
3. To TMBG. I was stuck for titles, and that was the only thing that sprang to mind.
He waits in the shadows.
Three weeks of avoiding each other. Of taking their energon breaks at different times. Of sneering and looking away whenever brought into each other's proximity through sheer necessity. Of bribing their fellow Decepticons into swapping shifts (and Astrotrain will be paying for that for a good long while, he's certain). And that one time when Blitzwing, all sickening innocence and sweetness, stuck out his foot in front of Astrotrain while the latter was hurrying towards Megatron with important news.
That was the girder that broke the petrodonkey's spinal struts. As soon as his shift was over, he'd paid off Dirge to tell him Blitzwing's movements for the morning.
Which is why he finds himself here, waiting at a corridor intersection, flattened against the wall and listening for the distinctive sound of Blitzwing's footsteps. Stupid slagger can't do stealth to save his worthless rust-ridden hide.
And, there, right on schedule: that blissfully-oblivious, not-a-care-in-the-cosmos CLONG CLANK CLUMP that can only announce the impending arrival of an imbecilic tankbot.
Astrotrain springs, fist slamming the other triple-changer's face into the corridor wall. The feel of Blitzwing's jaw crumpling beneath his knuckles is so very satisfying, the wail of rending metal sweet music to his audials.
He lands a few more punches before Blitzwing manages to gather his meagre wits enough for some retaliatory strikes of his own, belting Astrotrain back towards the opposite wall with sheer brute strength.
Perfect.
He slams his left hand -- the only one still fully functioning -- against the door controls, and the two of them stumble into the storeroom, locked together in a tangle of limbs. Rather expensive equipment comes crashing to the ground in substantially less expensive pieces, and Starscream will probably have their heads for this.
However, Starscream surely has his own problems right now, given that Megatron still hasn't forgiven him for the latest incident. At least, Astrotrain assumes that this is the case. Nobody has actually seen Starscream since then.
Astrotrain snickers, and pays for the momentary distraction by getting hurled against the wall. He staggers for a moment, dazed, and that's all it takes for Blitzwing to flip over into tank mode and blast him in the side.
He slides down the wall, lower half crumpling as his systems momentarily overload from the shock. They'll sort themselves out within a few seconds, but that's a few seconds too many.
His optics refocus, and he looks upwards to see the blur in front of him resolve itself into a leering Blitzwing. One enormous hand lashes out, lightning-fast, and crushes his neck. In short order he finds himself flat on his back, heavy weight on his throat and wing and midsection. He squirms, and the pressure is too much and not enough, and he can't stop trying to move even as his battered body tells him to stay still. Blitzwing knows him far too well, knows all the best ways to keep him desperate and whimpering.
Not that the mighty Astrotrain would ever whimper.
The grip on his right wing tightens, and tightens, and the shriek of tearing metal hits his audials before the pain does.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Blitzwing goes about the task of removing his wing from his body. And although he likes his wing where it is -- he's quite attached to it, actually -- he thinks he likes this even more, Blitzwing's knee in his midsection and his hand on his throat and the rending of metal like a sweet symphony, and he gasps air into his intakes as the final connection is severed and Blitzwing carelessly tosses his wing over his shoulder.
Blitzwing's grin shines against the shadows. 'So, the all-conquering Astrotrain Empire is reduced to this, eh?'
Astrotrain's processor snaps back from the blissful haze it had drifted into, and his optics narrow. He'll be slagged if he's going to let this sorry excuse for a triple-changer get the better of Astrotrain!
He sneers. 'At least I didn't rely on filthy squishies for my military advice. That's low, even for you.'
He fills the words with all the contempt he can dredge up, which is quite an impressive amount, even by his standards. Sure, it's tempered a little by the occasional hitch in his voice (not a whimper, never a whimper), but it's enough to do the job. Blitzwing's jaw drops open, and his grip on Astrotrain's throat loosens just enough for Astrotrain to slip free, scrambling out from under the knee that keeps him pinned to the floor and introducing Blitzwing's face to his own knee.
Blitzwing starts to collapse in a most appealing fashion. As much as Astrotrain would love to see him fall flat on his stupid face, he catches him by his gun barrel, and squeezes. Although he doesn't have strength enough to rip the barrel off completely -- to his everlasting disappointment -- he does have strength enough to do it some serious damage.
On a technical front, he's removing his opponent's most dangerous weapon.
On a personal front... well, it's fun.
He lets Blitzwing cry out and dangle and flail ineffectually for a moment, before delivering an extremely satisfying kick to his head. Now he can fall flat on his face.
A few more kicks to the side for good measure, and Blitzwing is down for the count, moaning quietly. Astrotrain nudges him with his foot, flipping him onto his back. He kneels down, knees on Blitzwing's thighs, mangled right hand gripping Blitzwing's throat. With his left, he slugs Blitzwing in the face a few more times, relishing the gurgling grunts that come with each strike.
He leans back slightly, making an obvious show of examining his energon-slicked knuckles. Slowly, ever so slowly, he licks the energon from each digit, great deliberation in each movement, watching with satisfaction as Blitzwing's optics go wide as flying saucers.
He doesn't even need to hold him down, anymore; Blitzwing is his to command. He doesn't take his weight off, though, still pinning Blitzwing with his knees even as he reaches his right hand around to his own injured side. Without breaking their locked gaze, he gently probes the wound; when his hand emerges, it's covered in his own energon and mech fluid.
He slides the mutilated digits into Blitzwing's mouth, and Blitzwing offers no resistance. Granted, this is probably at least in part due to the fact that his jaw has been shattered, its movement slow and uncertain at best. But Blitzwing sucks, hard, and Astrotrain hisses as a surge sizzles through exposed wires and ego both.
Words come with difficulty. 'Who... will rule the Decepticons... when Megatron is deposed?'
Blitzwing gazes up at him with an amused defiance. His reply is slightly garbled around digits and broken jaw, but still intelligible.
'Blitzwing will.'
He backs this up by nipping a loose wire with what little strength his jaw retains; Astrotrain jerks and gasps for a moment, before steeling his gaze and clamping down on Blitzwing's throat with his free hand.
'Who... will rule?'
Blitzwing snickers, energon gurgling at the back of his throat. 'Blitzwing will rule.'
Astrotrain tightens his grip. He is the tiniest amount of pressure away from shorting Blitzwing out completely, and Blitzwing knows it.
'Who. Will. Rule?'
Blitzwing sighs mock-irritably. 'Astrotrain will rule.'
Astrotrain smiles, optics dimming as the pleasure crescendos. 'And who will serve under him?'
An amused snort. 'Don't push your luck.'
He tightens his grip ever so slightly, and there's a quick, if grudging, 'Blitzwing will serve under Astrotrain'.
'Mmm.' He collapses in a less than dignified manner, half-rolling off Blitzwing, head against his shoulder, digits still in his mouth. 'Better.'
They lay there for awhile, gathering their senses. Blitzwing seems a little unsatisfied, although Astrotrain can hardly blame him. He sucks idly on Astrotrain's digits; if he keeps that up, Astrotrain may just reward him, oh-so-benevolent ruler-to-be that he is.
As soon as he can move again.
He turns his gaze towards the rest of the room, taking in their surroundings. Broken equipment decorates the floor. A trail of battle debris leads back to the still-open door, severed body parts glimmering dimly in the half-light.
'We're going to need to pay a visit to the Constructicons.'
'Are you kidding?' Blitzwing mumbles, reaching up lazily to move Astrotrain's hand so that he can speak more freely. 'They're still slagged off about our little takeover bid. They'd turn me into a turbowaffle iron.'
Astrotrain snorts and slides a digit back into Blitzwing's mouth, ignoring his irritated huff.
'Well, that's what you get for betraying them.' He butts in before Blitzwing's indignant squawk can turn into an actual reply. 'We could really use a turbowaffle iron around here, anyway. I haven't had a turbowaffle since before we left Cybertron. Do you know how long it's been since Astrotrain last had a turbowaffle?'
'You are not having Blitzwing turned into a turbowaffle iron. Recharge now. Repairs later.'
Blitzwing shuffles in a little closer, optics shutting down, and Astrotrain has to admit that his future second-in-command makes a pretty compelling argument.
He yawns. 'First thing when I'm ruler: re-introduction of turbowaffles. Official breakfast of the Astrotrain Empire. Death by beheading for anyone who disobeys.'
Blitzwing just snorts, already half in recharge.
Draping his arm across Blitzwing's chest, Astrotrain shuts down his own optics, and powers down.
Conquest can wait until tomorrow.
Author: Apathy
Rating: Eh, I'll put it at NC-17.
Warnings: Giant evil robots having violent giant evil gay robosex while referring to themselves in the third person.
Word count: 1564.
Prompt: Blitzwing/Astrotrain: Reunion sex - "I love the way that you move me/it's never enough"
Summary: Taking over the world with an army of trains was a totally awesome plan. Really.
A/N: Apologies, in three parts:
1. To the recipient. I'm pretty damned sure this isn't the reunion you were after, but it's the only one my brain wanted to write.
2. To the comm in general, for being late with the story. (The other story I had due on the 9th will be posted in a few hours' time. I suck. D: )
3. To TMBG. I was stuck for titles, and that was the only thing that sprang to mind.
He waits in the shadows.
Three weeks of avoiding each other. Of taking their energon breaks at different times. Of sneering and looking away whenever brought into each other's proximity through sheer necessity. Of bribing their fellow Decepticons into swapping shifts (and Astrotrain will be paying for that for a good long while, he's certain). And that one time when Blitzwing, all sickening innocence and sweetness, stuck out his foot in front of Astrotrain while the latter was hurrying towards Megatron with important news.
That was the girder that broke the petrodonkey's spinal struts. As soon as his shift was over, he'd paid off Dirge to tell him Blitzwing's movements for the morning.
Which is why he finds himself here, waiting at a corridor intersection, flattened against the wall and listening for the distinctive sound of Blitzwing's footsteps. Stupid slagger can't do stealth to save his worthless rust-ridden hide.
And, there, right on schedule: that blissfully-oblivious, not-a-care-in-the-cosmos CLONG CLANK CLUMP that can only announce the impending arrival of an imbecilic tankbot.
Astrotrain springs, fist slamming the other triple-changer's face into the corridor wall. The feel of Blitzwing's jaw crumpling beneath his knuckles is so very satisfying, the wail of rending metal sweet music to his audials.
He lands a few more punches before Blitzwing manages to gather his meagre wits enough for some retaliatory strikes of his own, belting Astrotrain back towards the opposite wall with sheer brute strength.
Perfect.
He slams his left hand -- the only one still fully functioning -- against the door controls, and the two of them stumble into the storeroom, locked together in a tangle of limbs. Rather expensive equipment comes crashing to the ground in substantially less expensive pieces, and Starscream will probably have their heads for this.
However, Starscream surely has his own problems right now, given that Megatron still hasn't forgiven him for the latest incident. At least, Astrotrain assumes that this is the case. Nobody has actually seen Starscream since then.
Astrotrain snickers, and pays for the momentary distraction by getting hurled against the wall. He staggers for a moment, dazed, and that's all it takes for Blitzwing to flip over into tank mode and blast him in the side.
He slides down the wall, lower half crumpling as his systems momentarily overload from the shock. They'll sort themselves out within a few seconds, but that's a few seconds too many.
His optics refocus, and he looks upwards to see the blur in front of him resolve itself into a leering Blitzwing. One enormous hand lashes out, lightning-fast, and crushes his neck. In short order he finds himself flat on his back, heavy weight on his throat and wing and midsection. He squirms, and the pressure is too much and not enough, and he can't stop trying to move even as his battered body tells him to stay still. Blitzwing knows him far too well, knows all the best ways to keep him desperate and whimpering.
Not that the mighty Astrotrain would ever whimper.
The grip on his right wing tightens, and tightens, and the shriek of tearing metal hits his audials before the pain does.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Blitzwing goes about the task of removing his wing from his body. And although he likes his wing where it is -- he's quite attached to it, actually -- he thinks he likes this even more, Blitzwing's knee in his midsection and his hand on his throat and the rending of metal like a sweet symphony, and he gasps air into his intakes as the final connection is severed and Blitzwing carelessly tosses his wing over his shoulder.
Blitzwing's grin shines against the shadows. 'So, the all-conquering Astrotrain Empire is reduced to this, eh?'
Astrotrain's processor snaps back from the blissful haze it had drifted into, and his optics narrow. He'll be slagged if he's going to let this sorry excuse for a triple-changer get the better of Astrotrain!
He sneers. 'At least I didn't rely on filthy squishies for my military advice. That's low, even for you.'
He fills the words with all the contempt he can dredge up, which is quite an impressive amount, even by his standards. Sure, it's tempered a little by the occasional hitch in his voice (not a whimper, never a whimper), but it's enough to do the job. Blitzwing's jaw drops open, and his grip on Astrotrain's throat loosens just enough for Astrotrain to slip free, scrambling out from under the knee that keeps him pinned to the floor and introducing Blitzwing's face to his own knee.
Blitzwing starts to collapse in a most appealing fashion. As much as Astrotrain would love to see him fall flat on his stupid face, he catches him by his gun barrel, and squeezes. Although he doesn't have strength enough to rip the barrel off completely -- to his everlasting disappointment -- he does have strength enough to do it some serious damage.
On a technical front, he's removing his opponent's most dangerous weapon.
On a personal front... well, it's fun.
He lets Blitzwing cry out and dangle and flail ineffectually for a moment, before delivering an extremely satisfying kick to his head. Now he can fall flat on his face.
A few more kicks to the side for good measure, and Blitzwing is down for the count, moaning quietly. Astrotrain nudges him with his foot, flipping him onto his back. He kneels down, knees on Blitzwing's thighs, mangled right hand gripping Blitzwing's throat. With his left, he slugs Blitzwing in the face a few more times, relishing the gurgling grunts that come with each strike.
He leans back slightly, making an obvious show of examining his energon-slicked knuckles. Slowly, ever so slowly, he licks the energon from each digit, great deliberation in each movement, watching with satisfaction as Blitzwing's optics go wide as flying saucers.
He doesn't even need to hold him down, anymore; Blitzwing is his to command. He doesn't take his weight off, though, still pinning Blitzwing with his knees even as he reaches his right hand around to his own injured side. Without breaking their locked gaze, he gently probes the wound; when his hand emerges, it's covered in his own energon and mech fluid.
He slides the mutilated digits into Blitzwing's mouth, and Blitzwing offers no resistance. Granted, this is probably at least in part due to the fact that his jaw has been shattered, its movement slow and uncertain at best. But Blitzwing sucks, hard, and Astrotrain hisses as a surge sizzles through exposed wires and ego both.
Words come with difficulty. 'Who... will rule the Decepticons... when Megatron is deposed?'
Blitzwing gazes up at him with an amused defiance. His reply is slightly garbled around digits and broken jaw, but still intelligible.
'Blitzwing will.'
He backs this up by nipping a loose wire with what little strength his jaw retains; Astrotrain jerks and gasps for a moment, before steeling his gaze and clamping down on Blitzwing's throat with his free hand.
'Who... will rule?'
Blitzwing snickers, energon gurgling at the back of his throat. 'Blitzwing will rule.'
Astrotrain tightens his grip. He is the tiniest amount of pressure away from shorting Blitzwing out completely, and Blitzwing knows it.
'Who. Will. Rule?'
Blitzwing sighs mock-irritably. 'Astrotrain will rule.'
Astrotrain smiles, optics dimming as the pleasure crescendos. 'And who will serve under him?'
An amused snort. 'Don't push your luck.'
He tightens his grip ever so slightly, and there's a quick, if grudging, 'Blitzwing will serve under Astrotrain'.
'Mmm.' He collapses in a less than dignified manner, half-rolling off Blitzwing, head against his shoulder, digits still in his mouth. 'Better.'
They lay there for awhile, gathering their senses. Blitzwing seems a little unsatisfied, although Astrotrain can hardly blame him. He sucks idly on Astrotrain's digits; if he keeps that up, Astrotrain may just reward him, oh-so-benevolent ruler-to-be that he is.
As soon as he can move again.
He turns his gaze towards the rest of the room, taking in their surroundings. Broken equipment decorates the floor. A trail of battle debris leads back to the still-open door, severed body parts glimmering dimly in the half-light.
'We're going to need to pay a visit to the Constructicons.'
'Are you kidding?' Blitzwing mumbles, reaching up lazily to move Astrotrain's hand so that he can speak more freely. 'They're still slagged off about our little takeover bid. They'd turn me into a turbowaffle iron.'
Astrotrain snorts and slides a digit back into Blitzwing's mouth, ignoring his irritated huff.
'Well, that's what you get for betraying them.' He butts in before Blitzwing's indignant squawk can turn into an actual reply. 'We could really use a turbowaffle iron around here, anyway. I haven't had a turbowaffle since before we left Cybertron. Do you know how long it's been since Astrotrain last had a turbowaffle?'
'You are not having Blitzwing turned into a turbowaffle iron. Recharge now. Repairs later.'
Blitzwing shuffles in a little closer, optics shutting down, and Astrotrain has to admit that his future second-in-command makes a pretty compelling argument.
He yawns. 'First thing when I'm ruler: re-introduction of turbowaffles. Official breakfast of the Astrotrain Empire. Death by beheading for anyone who disobeys.'
Blitzwing just snorts, already half in recharge.
Draping his arm across Blitzwing's chest, Astrotrain shuts down his own optics, and powers down.
Conquest can wait until tomorrow.
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