kinkfest | Sex, Lies, and Cassette Tape (Transformers, Rumble/Frenzy, NC-17) (Reply)

Title: Sex, Lies, and Cassette Tape
Author: Apathy
Rating: NC-17.
Warnings: It'd be quicker to list the warnings it doesn't have. Um. Dubcon. Violence. Bondage. Cassette tapes having sex. Incest, if you view them as brothers. Wikipedia abuse. Somewhat unlikely Cybertronian physiology.
Word count: 768.
Prompt: Rumble/Frenzy: bondage with one or the other's tape - Can't you hear my screams?
Summary: Rumble has developed a pretty effective noise reduction system.

A/N: Laaaaaate story for the 20th. I wrote this a week and a half ago, but put off posting it, because I couldn't think of a title. Luckily,

saltedpin came to my rescue, so now you all get to read this travesty.

Also, there's a bit of dialogue at the end there that I blame entirely on a piece of fanart that I think is by

tinpan.

'What the frag were you thinking?!'

The words themselves are not so harsh, by Decepticon standards. The piledrivers, however, are happily adding emphasis to the question.

'I have no -- ' clang! ' -- idea what you're -- ' crunch! ' -- talking about, ya putz!' Frenzy gags and sputters, semi-processed energon spraying from his mouth.

'You told Skywarp that I was you! I had to cover your rostered clean-up shift!'

'Like you've never done the same to me, slagger!'

'Yeah, but I never made you clean up after one of Mixmaster's energon parties!'

Frenzy's face twitches in a painful-looking smirk, and Rumble can read him, clear as day: It was worth it.

Of course, whether or not he'll still feel the same way after Rumble's done with him has yet to be decided.

With one last volley from his piledrivers, Rumble knocks the other cassette to the floor, pinning him with one foot and retracting his weapons. Oh, sure, enough pounding would eventually see him arrive at his desired destination -- elbow-deep in Frenzy's innards -- but right now, he's in the mood to take a more hands-on route.

Frenzy twitches on the ground, occasionally clawing ineffectually at his captor, but his motor systems are shot to the Pit. It's not going to be a challenge at all, but then again, Rumble's in the mood for easy. He examines Frenzy thoughtfully for a moment as he straddles him, trying to decide which way he's going to go about this.

Were he feeling a little more generous, he'd take his sweet time with the whole process, stroking Frenzy's Capstan hole, undoing his screws with a slowness that would reduce the red cassette to oh-so-sweet begging.

Since he's not feeling particularly altruistic at the moment, however, he simply snaps a write-protection tab -- it's something they never had in their Cybertronian forms, so he's curious -- and Frenzy yowls. Nice. He files the information away for later use, and forces the hole open further, using both hands to tear open the metal wide enough to reach inside.

Rumble gropes around inside Frenzy's shell, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a nasty grin as he locates his prize. He grabs a handful of tape from the supply reel and yanks, again and again and again, glittering strips streamering out of the wound into a tangled pile at his knees.

It's delicate stuff, one of the most vulnerable and fiercely-protected parts of any cassette... but, if Rumble winds it to sufficient thickness, it'll prove sturdy enough for what he has planned.

Frenzy's protests become increasingly garbled, speed and pitch veering all over the place; a little forced reversing sees him speaking backwards for a few moments, which never fails to make Rumble snicker.

Rumble can feel Buzzsaw and Laserbeak's approval from the darkened corners of the room, the barest touch of their minds against his the only indicator of their presence. He tries not to think about it too much.

With an ease borne of millennia's practice, he winds the tape tight around Frenzy's limp body, criss-crossing limbs and torso before moving up to gag the mouth, tying the whole lot off with a perfect bow. He eyes his work critically. What to do, what to do?

In the end, there's no contest, really -- classics are classics for a reason.

The piledrivers slide back out, the sensation sending a frisson of anticipatory pleasure through his systems, and he sets to work at what he does best. Not to the point of deactivation -- they have lines they won't cross, invisible as they may be to most outsiders -- but he pounds into Frenzy's midsection with a vicious joy, the rapidly-increasing incoherency of the muffled screams just feeding his appetite --

Until, inevitably, it happens: Frenzy bites clean through the tape, cutting himself off mid-scream.

Rumble taps mock-playfully at his chin with the edge of a piledriver. 'No more messing with dumb 'Cons' heads without my permission, capisci?'

The answering spasm could charitably be interpreted as a gesture of agreement, and so Rumble decides to have mercy. One last smash to the face, and Frenzy's out completely, mangled body still juddering with the occasional tremor.

Rolling off Frenzy with a sigh, Rumble searches his subspace pockets for his best bribe-worthy high-grade, and then carefully picks up the other cassette and heads off towards the repair bay.

He's not going to hang around once he gets there, though. No point being present when Frenzy wakes up and finds out that he's been mysteriously reassigned to waste system cleaning duty tomorrow.