Skywarp Goes Solo

[anon_decepticon]

Title: Skywarp Goes Solo
Author: anon_decepticon
Rating: M
Pairing or Character(s): Skywarp, Megatron, Thundercracker, various cameos.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers. You knew that, right?
Warning(s): Slash, sticky, oral, hints of dub- and non-con, Skywarp’s potty mouth.
Summary: Skywarp needs some alone time, and just can’t seem to get it.
Author's Note: My third fic for the kink meme. Original prompt is here. Each break signifies Skywarp teleporting to a new location. The Aerialbot Skywarp fantasizes about is Air Raid, if anyone cares. (Skywarp certainly doesn't.)




It wasn’t that he didn’t like interfacing. Pit, he was a huge fan of it. It was a well-known fact among Decepticons that it didn’t take much to get a Seeker revved, and Skywarp was no exception. Just bend his ailerons a little, and he’d happily ‘face you to within an inch of your spark. But Megatron hadn’t even bothered with that much.

Fresh from a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Autobots, the Decepticon leader had ordered Skywarp to report to his quarters, and Skywarp had complied. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had a good idea of what to expect when he got there. It was practically core program at this point.

But ol’ Megs must've really had his circuits in a twist this time – he was groping for Skywarp’s panel before he’d even cleared the door. From there it was straight down to business, and Megatron clearly wasn’t interested in mixing his business with Skywarp’s pleasure. Skywarp wasn’t nearly lubricated enough, but that didn’t stop Megatron from jacking in immediately and hammering away. It was more than a little uncomfortable. Scrap that, it fragging hurt.

Megatron had also foregone the berth in favor of pinning him to the nearest wall, and Skywarp’s sensitive wings were scraping painfully against the unyielding surface with every vigorous thrust. It wasn’t like Skywarp could complain – not without getting a fusion cannon shoved in his faceplate, anyway – and teleporting away, while tempting, would only provoke a delayed but much deadlier response once the frustrated gunformer caught up with him. So he toughed it out.

A Decepticon never shows weakness. Steeling himself, he dampened the sensor nodes lining his wings and stoically endured the relentless pounding. He felt more relief than satisfaction when Megatron finally stiffened and overloaded with a deep grunt and a fierce final thrust. Concomitantly withdrawing from his valve, Megatron turned his back on him with a curt, “Dismissed.”

Skywarp opened his mouth to fire off a sharp retort, but belatedly recalled the whole fusion-cannon-faceplate thing and closed it again, comment unvocalized. Schooling his expression to conceal the irritation and disgust coiling in his fuel tank, Skywarp brusquely closed his panel and departed Megatron’s quarters as ordered. Three wincing strides down the corridor proved more than enough. Frag this. He activated his warp gate generator and ‘ported to the washracks.

**

For perhaps the first time ever, Skywarp cursed his Seeker libido. Getting himself properly cleaned up after servicing Megatron had necessitated a certain degree of attention to his intimate circuitry, and even adjusting the spray of solvent to cold wasn’t having much of an impact on his rapidly heating frame. At the rate things were going, the next mech to cross his path was practically guaranteed to jump him – very few ‘Cons on the Nemesis would willingly pass up a shot at a horny Seeker – and Skywarp’s valve ached at the thought of going another round so soon. Decepticons ‘faced like they fought: hard and dirty. Words like tender and gentle just weren’t in their vocabulary. That kind of slag was for weak, prissy Autobots.

Slagging Megatron, he thought resentfully, using me like a cheap pleasure drone just ‘cause he got his aft handed to him by Prime. Megatron wasn’t what you’d call a considerate lover, but he wasn’t a bad night in the berth, normally. Megatron’s quintessential greed, selfishness, and craving for conquest tended to translate into some pretty hot ‘facing as he sought to own and possess, to claim and plunder every last inch of his partner’s frame.

Skywarp indulged himself in a brief fantasy of Megatron stroking his spike in that same covetous manner, his own fingers tracing lightly over the housing. Oh, that was the ticket. Under the circumstances, there was no other option. He’d just take care of the matter himself. At least he’d be assured a decent overload. Smirking a bit, he offlined his optics and tilted back his helm, fingers alternately pressing firmly and easing back into light, teasing caresses. A soft groan escaped him as his spike began to extend in response to his efforts.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Skywarp nearly jumped a foot at the unexpected interruption. Not caring who it was, he spun to face the intruder, lashing out with a curse and a clenched fist.

His wild swing was blocked with apparent ease. “A bit tense, are we? Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

Skywarp glared at the other mech. Onslaught. “Frag off, ground pounder,” he said.

Undaunted, the Combaticon edged closer until they were practically scraping armor, deliberately invading Skywarp’s personal space. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” A roaming hand slid over his hip plate, then moved on to grope his aft. “Your core temperature says otherwise.”

Skywarp narrowed his optics. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Onslaught chuckled, grinding his chest plate against Skywarp’s cockpit. “‘Facing you into the next millennium sounds about right,” he replied.

Skywarp scowled. “Yeah. That’s what I figured.”

“Interested..?” Onslaught purred.

“No.”

**

Skywarp glanced around to confirm that his short-range warp jump had deposited him where he’d intended. Cargo bay. Not sure which one, but who cares? As long as it’s empty. Cycling his vents in a gusty sigh, he deliberated a moment before settling himself on one of the larger storage crates scattered about the bay. A slight smirk crossed his faceplate as he imagined Onslaught’s reaction to his little disappearing act. No doubt the Combaticon was feeling pretty frustrated right now.

Skywarp could relate.

But now he was free to address that little problem, here in the relative privacy of the cargo bay. His quarters would have been better, but since he shared them with Thundercracker, odds were good that his trinemate would be there, and that would be trouble.

Unlike a lot of the other fraggers on the Nemesis, Skywarp actually liked Thundercracker. Turning him down would be a lot harder than turning down any of the rest. TC was good in the berth, really good. Being a Seeker himself, he knew all the right places to touch, all the little tricks to drive Skywarp absolutely wild. And his voice... Primus, that voice! Sometimes Skywarp thought he’d overload from it alone.

But TC was also very much a spike mech, and never took it in the valve. Skywarp had suggested it – on more than one occasion – but Thundercracker always turned him down. He could hear him now: “I just don’t like it, ‘Warp. It’s nothing personal; I’m sure you’re great at it. I just can’t overload like that.” Skywarp sighed longingly. Bet you could with me, TC. I’d make you feel so good...

His hand drifted downward as he imagined finally convincing Thundercracker to submit, to open up and spread for him. His spike extended fully at the thought, and his hand closed around it instinctively, pumping slowly. Reaching up to tease his ailerons with the other, he groaned and sank deeper into his fantasy.

He’d do all the things Megatron wouldn't; he’d work TC over with his hands and glossa until he was moaning and writhing and ready for him, begging Skywarp to take him in that deep, rumbling voice that never failed to make Skywarp’s circuits sizzle. And Skywarp would do it; he’d sink his spike deep into Thundercracker’s tight little valve, ‘face him long and hard, and give him an overload he’d never forget…

He was so caught up in his efforts, he didn’t notice he was no longer alone – at least not until an arm slithered around his waist and a warm frame pressed up against his back. Once again rudely jolted out of his fantasy, and rapidly losing any vestige of patience, Skywarp abruptly stilled, growling out, “Whoever you are, you are scrap.”

“Going to take us all on, are you?”

He recognized that voice, smooth and cultured. Hook.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” another, coarser voice chimed in.

Bonecrusher.

“That’s what we’re all hoping, Bonecrusher,” a third voice retorted.

Long Haul.

Frag, they’re all here, aren't they? Skywarp groaned inwardly. He couldn't face taking on one mech right now, let alone all six Constructicons.

The one holding him – Scrapper, as it turned out – wheezed into his audial, “An attractive Seeker like you shouldn’t have to resort to self-service. Let us do the job.”

Skywarp had only one answer to that.

**

The Armory. Surely he’d be left alone here. It was unlikely they’d be going into battle again so soon, not until Megs had come up with yet another plan to steal one of Earth’s energy sources. The next one might even work – provided the fragging Autobots didn’t get wind of it. Skywarp hated those stupid, sanctimonious slaggers, always showing up to spoil things. Especially that little pissant excuse for a jet that fired on me today, he thought.

Skywarp leaned against a nearby wall, grumbling. I shoulda knocked that smartaft punk right outta the sky. Pounded his plating 'til he begged for mercy. Skywarp grinned viciously at the thought of that cocky Aerialbot reduced to cowering heap of scrap at his feet, his pristine white plating scorched and dented, optics staring up at him with fearful awe.

Skywarp’s grin widened as his neglected spike twitched with renewed interest in response to the mental image. Those Aerialbots were all newly sparked, weren’t they? They’ve probably never even ‘faced before, he thought. Fresh off the assembly line...

Once more he began pumping his spike, harder and faster this time, impatient after so many interruptions. Bet they’ve still got their factory seals intact, he thought lecherously, his internal fans kicking into high gear as he worked himself closer to the brink. I’d love to get myself a piece of that action.

Panting through his intakes, Skywarp envisioned himself pinning that smug little upstart ‘Bot to the ground, forcing his panel open and ‘facing him mercilessly. Oh yeah, he thought, his vents hitching as he imagined the virgin mech struggling beneath him. Oh..!

“Whoa! That’s fragging hot!”

Skywarp fought down the urge to scream in frustration as his fantasy was shattered by yet another interruption. Primus, was there nowhere on the entire base where a mech could overload himself in peace?! He whirled on this latest intruder, his vents cycling hard, his optics blazing a livid crimson.

Blitzwing.

“What?” he raged. “What is it now? You wanna piece of this? You wanna join in? Open me up, strip my gears, defrag my hard drive? Well, guess what?! I’m not interested! FRAG OFF!!”

The last thing he saw before he initiated his warp jump was Blitzwing’s stunned, pole-axed expression.

**

Skywarp flung himself onto his berth with a curse. His quarters were empty; Thundercracker was obviously occupied elsewhere. That really ground his gears – all this time, he could have come back here from the start, and had all the privacy he needed!

He slammed an angry fist into the wall, leaving a satisfying dent. He’d been so close, and now he was sore, overheated and frustrated beyond all reason. Huffing through his vents, Skywarp glanced around thoughtfully. After that last round, it wouldn’t take much. Maybe he still had time to –

The door hissed open, admitting Thundercracker. “Hey, ‘Warp,” he greeted him. “Where’ve you been?”

Skywarp turned his helm slowly, glaring daggers at his trinemate.

Thundercracker drew back slightly in surprise. “Whoa. Bad day?” His deep voice held the faintest tinge of amusement.

“Frag off,” Skywarp replied bluntly, turning his gaze of death back to the ceiling.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Thundercracker chuckled. He glanced around the room, noting the fresh dent in the wall above his trinemate’s head. “So what’s the malfunction? One of your pranks backfire or something?”

Skywarp continued to stare at the ceiling, silently seething.

It was around this time that Thundercracker finally registered his fellow Seeker’s…condition. “Jeez, ‘Warp, your core temperature is through the roof!”

“No, really?”

Thundercracker shifted slightly, taken aback by the sarcastic retort. After a moment’s hesitation, he offered hesitantly, “You, uh...want some help with that?”

Skywarp practically exploded.

“What is it with every ‘Con on this fragging base wanting a shot at my valve?” he demanded. “And why do I always have to be the one on his back?” Leaping to his feet, he began to pace back and forth, venting all the frustration he’d built up over the course of the past few joors.

“I’m sick of it, TC!” he ranted. “I’m sick of always being the one on the bottom! I can’t take it anymore! I’m not a slagging femme! I have a spike, too!”

He might have gone on for a breem or more if Thundercracker hadn’t abruptly stepped in, planting a hand on his cockpit and halting him in his tracks. Skywarp stared at him in surprise.

“‘Warp,” Thundercracker said conversationally, “Shut up.”

A sharp shove, and suddenly Skywarp was flat on his back in the berth. He struggled to right himself, but Thundercracker was already on him, one hand holding him pinned while the other pried open his overheated panel.

Skywarp snarled, incensed. “Don’t you dare, TC! Don’t you fragging dar – oh. Oh.”

It was the last thing he’d expected. Having successfully exposed his interface array, Thundercracker had lowered his helm and licked him. Licked his spike housing, completely ignoring his valve.

As revved as Skywarp was, that was all it took for his spike to extend, and to his utter shock, TC immediately took the whole thing into his mouth, his glossa swirling over the tip and then flicking across the ridged underside.

Skywarp moaned, his entire frame arching off the berth at the flood of sensation. “Oh – oh – Primus, TC –!”

Thundercracker hummed in response, sending a wave of vibration through Skywarp’s spike that made him buck and cry out, his hands clawing for purchase at anything within reach. That was when TC began sucking him in earnest, his helm bobbing rhythmically as he worked up and down the length of Skywarp’s spike.

Skywarp wanted that glorious feeling to go on forever, to feel TC’s warm, wet mouth surrounding him, devouring him, engulfing him in ecstasy – but after so many false starts and interruptions, he just didn’t have the stamina to hold back any longer. He overloaded hard, clutching at TC’s helm as his circuits sparked, his optics flickering as the resulting surge of pleasure nearly sent him offline.

He flopped back onto the berth with a resounding clank that nearly drowned out his thunderstruck whisper, “Primus.”

Thundercracker straightened, smirking. “Happy now?” he rumbled.

“Frag, yeah.”


*fin*

...or is it? The sequel is here.