Thunderstruck

[anon_decepticon]

Title: Thunderstruck
Author: anon_decepticon
Rating: M
Pairing or Character(s): Thundercracker/Skywarp, Starscream
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers. You knew that, right?
Warning(s): Slash, sticky
Summary: Skywarp wants to top. Thundercracker always says “no.”
Author's Note: My fourth fic for the meme, a sequel to the third. Takes place a few weeks after Skywarp Goes Solo. Thundercracker’s POV.




Skywarp whined impatiently, fingers gripping the edge of the berth hard enough to leave dents as Thundercracker thrust into his valve in a slow, steady rhythm. He could go on for joors like this, but he found he rarely had to. Skywarp would invariably tell him to just fragging pound him already within half a breem.

Even now Skywarp was rocking back against him insistently, wordlessly urging him to thrust harder, faster, deeper. If Thundercracker waited just a little longer, the silent request would become a vocalized demand...

“TeeeCeee...”

An amused rumble escaped his vocalizer at his insatiable trinemate’s all-too-familiar plea. Thundercracker shifted his grip from Skywarp’s hip plate to his wings, using them like handles to drag Skywarp back into his thrusts, forcing his spike deeper into his lover’s valve and manipulating his sensitive ailerons all at the same time.

Skywarp keened in ecstasy at the renewed rush of sensation, arching his backstruts in a graceful, sensuous arc as he ground enthusiastically against his partner’s interface array. The visual image he presented made Thundercracker’s spark flutter in a curious way, and he couldn’t hold back his own quiet moan.

Primus, he’s so beautiful.

It didn’t make any sense, really. Skywarp was a royal pain in the afterburners – always dragging him into fights, roping him into helping with whatever inane prank he’d cooked up in his CPU that day, expecting Thundercracker to watch his back when one of the victims of said prank came looking for a little payback – so why in the Pit did he make Thundercracker feel this way? Like his laser core had been thrown in a smelter and was slowly melting down into a warm, gooey puddle of slag?

Come to think of it, when exactly had Skywarp become such a slagging priority to him, to the point where is Skywarp happy? became a more pressing concern in his processor than the Decepticon cause, the fate of Cybertron, or even his own existence?

Pulled back from his distracted musings by the fervent cries, hitching intakes and increasingly frantic movements of his partner, Thundercracker shook off the disturbing questions clouding his processor and got back down to business, pumping his spike rapidly in and out of Skywarp’s clenching valve until Skywarp stiffened and cried out in overload, the electric surge and shuddering spasms of his climax pulling Thundercracker over the edge right along with him.

Still joined at the hip, the pair sank down onto the berth in a sated heap amidst the ticking sounds of cooling metal and the slowing cycling of their vents. Skywarp purred with satisfaction, but a klik later he was squirming under him and grumbling, “Get off, TC, you’re heavy.”

Thundercracker struggled to his feet, extricating himself from his trinemate and staggering over to his own berth, flopping down on his back with a loud clank. For a while he just stared up at the ceiling, basking in the afterglow of a good overload.

For a mech who all too often did far more thinking than any soldier in an army bent on conquest really ought to, Thundercracker relished moments like this, moments when his CPU finally shut up and simply hummed in contentment, unconcerned with anything beyond the here-and-now.

Then Skywarp had to go and ruin it. Shifting on his berth, then sitting up, he asked hesitantly, “Hey...TC?”

“Yeah?”

“How come you never let me ‘face you?”

Thundercracker offlined his optics, groaning inwardly. “Primus, ‘Warp, don’t start that again,” he said.

“I just wanna know.”

“I told you, ‘Warp,” he grumbled. “I’ve told you a million times. How many times do I have to say it?”

“You told me you don’t like it. You never told me why.”

Thundercracker huffed through his intakes, onlining his optics to stare long-sufferingly at the ceiling. “That is why, ‘Warp,” he said. “I. Don’t. Like it.”

“But –”

His good mood shot to the Pit, Thundercracker sat up abruptly, interrupting his trinemate with a rumbling growl, “Enough, Warp, enough already! Give it a rest, will you? If you wanna ‘face someone so bad, go ask Starscream. He’ll do it in a hot astrosecond.”

Skywarp muttered petulantly, “I don’t wanna ‘face Starscream. He’s a snotty little glitchhead.”

Thundercracker smirked. “Well then I guess you’re outta luck.”

“I wanna ‘face you, TC,” Skywarp said.

Something about his tone gave Thundercracker pause, made him actually stop and look at him. Skywarp’s tone had sounded almost...wistful.

The look in those crimson optics when they met his gaze triggered a peculiar sensation somewhere in the vicinity of his fuel tank, and caused his spark to give an unusually strong pulse in response.

Disturbed by his own reaction, Thundercracker quickly averted his gaze. “Forget it, ‘Warp,” he said. “You’re just going to have to get your kicks somewhere else. I’m not interested.”

A weighty silence was his only reply. For once, Skywarp didn’t argue or protest.

He wasn’t going to look at him. He wasn’t afraid to. He just didn’t want to, that’s all.

Heaving himself off the berth, he said, “I’m going to go refuel. Want me to bring you back a cube?”

“Sure. Sure, TC. That’d be good, thanks.” Skywarp’s casual tone sounded oddly forced.

Thundercracker departed their quarters without another word, trying to ignore the uneasy twisting in his spark.

It was just so stupid. Why did Skywarp have to make such a big deal out of a little thing like interfacing? Thundercracker knew 'Warp enjoyed being ‘faced by him; why couldn’t he just be content with that?

Because you won’t let him, his CPU supplied unhelpfully. He wants your valve because he knows he can’t have it. Because it’s new and different.

Thundercracker frowned. Maybe he should just...give in. Let Skywarp have what he wanted. In half a joor it’d all be over, and he’d never have to hear about it again. ‘Warp would get it out of his system, get over his little obsession, and move on to his next conquest.

The thought sent an uncomfortable twinge through his spark. A part of him hated that Skywarp was so – so slagging available to any mech who wanted him. Logically, Thundercracker shouldn’t even care. That was the way Decepticons did things; they took what they wanted and made no apologies. Want. Take. It was as simple as that.

So why did he care? And why was he so reluctant to give in to Skywarp’s demands? It wasn’t like Skywarp was being unreasonable. Thundercracker was the one holding back.

He paused halfway down the corridor, an energon cube balanced in each hand. That was it, then. He’d do it; he’d let Skywarp ‘face him. He wouldn’t overload – he never could, that way – but it would make Skywarp happy. The tension between them would go away, and life would go back to normal. Didn’t that make it worth the trouble?

Decision made, he continued back to their quarters. After they refueled, he’d tell Skywarp the good news.

Skywarp accepted the energon cube with a quiet, “Thanks.” Thundercracker hesitated a moment, then took a seat on his berth, silently regarding the mech sitting opposite him.

Skywarp had that look on his faceplate, the one that said he was thinking hard about something. Thundercracker rumbled in amusement at the sight of it. ‘Warp’s attention span was notoriously short; he’d probably forgotten all about the whole ‘facing argument and was now happily plotting his next prank.

Maybe he wouldn’t have to go through with his plan. Feeling relieved, Thundercracker relaxed back against the wall and sipped his energon.

Skywarp chose that moment to speak up. “TC...I’ve been thinking...”

Thundercracker smirked. “Don’t strain yourself, ‘Warp.”

“I’m serious, TC,” Skywarp said. “I’ve been thinking...maybe the reason you don’t like being ‘faced is because you’ve never been ‘faced right.”

Thundercracker nearly inhaled energon through his intakes. Spluttering, he choked out, “What?”

Spying an opening in his defenses, Skywarp seized the opportunity to make his pitch. “I’d make it good, TC. It’d be really good, you’d like it if it was me doing it to you. I know you would.”

Thundercracker offlined his optics in resignation. Guess he didn’t forget after all, he thought wryly.

Onlining his optics and cycling his intakes in a sigh, he replied, “Okay, ‘Warp. If you really want to.”

Skywarp looked downright startled by his sudden reversal of fortune. “You mean it?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Go ahead.”

“What, now?”

“Sure,” he said, struggling to sound casual and agreeable. “Why not?”

The expression of delight in those crimson optics almost made it worth it.

Almost.

There was no questioning Skywarp’s enthusiasm; he wasted little time joining Thundercracker on his berth, his optics alight with anticipation. Feeling significantly less enthusiastic, Thundercracker set aside his cube and lay back, parting his thighs to make room for Skywarp’s hips.

Skywarp already had his hands all over him, pawing at his vents and intakes, greedily stroking his wings. It felt pretty good, but knowing what came next made it difficult for Thundercracker to appreciate the effort as much as he normally would.

All too soon, Skywarp was reaching for his panel. ‘Warp’s core temperature was nearing its peak, his vents cycling rapidly in a futile attempt to cool his overheating systems. Thundercracker felt somewhat encouraged by that; as revved as Skywarp was, he probably wouldn’t last long.

It hurt more than he'd thought it would.

Thundercracker had braced himself when he felt the initial pressure of Skywarp’s extended spike against his valve, but he still had to bite down on his lip component to keep from crying out in pain as he was penetrated. He could only hope ‘Warp would mistake his strained whimper for an expression of ecstasy.

He had to give 'Warp some credit; he didn’t start hammering away immediately, or try to ‘face him through the berth. Setting a fairly moderate pace of firm, even thrusts, Skywarp threw his helm back and groaned, gasping out, “Primus, TC! Your valve is so fragging tight.”

“Yeah,” he gritted out in reply, "I noticed."

Skywarp slowed, then paused in midstroke, staring down at him in bewilderment. Cursing inwardly, Thundercracker realized he hadn’t quite succeeded in keeping the tinge of sarcasm out of his tone. And now ‘Warp was staring down at him like he expected something...

“What?” he asked, trying not to sound defensive. “Why’d you stop?”

The expression on Skywarp’s faceplate made Thundercracker’s spark twist in its chamber. He looks like I just kicked his turbo-puppy, he thought. Cycling a sigh, he asked resignedly, “What’s wrong, ‘Warp?”

“You don’t like it,” Skywarp said, looking crestfallen.

Primus, did he have to sound so slagging disappointed? And really, what did Skywarp expect? Swallowing his irritation and struggling not to voice a more scathing retort, Thundercracker replied, “I tried to tell you, ‘Warp. You didn’t believe me.”

“But...you’re supposed to like it.”

Thundercracker rumbled in annoyance, his tolerance all but exhausted. “Maybe I am, but I don’t, okay? I’m not like you, ‘Warp. You’re just going to have to deal with that.” He huffed through his vents, “Look, just hurry up and finish, all right? I need to refuel.”

“No.”

Thundercracker couldn’t believe his audials. “What?”

Skywarp didn’t reply, just retracted his spike and disentangled himself from his trinemate, moving back to his own berth and sitting down with a huff, a distinctly sulky look on his faceplate. Skywarp avoided his optics, staring sullenly at the dent in the wall he’d made a few Earth weeks ago.

Closing his panel and sitting up, Thundercracker ventured, “‘Warp...”

He was addressing empty air. Skywarp had once again lived up to his name.

**

The next few cycles were among the worst in Thundercracker’s long existence. The tension between Skywarp and himself was nearly unbearable. They spoke only when circumstances demanded it, and those rare exchanges were brief and formal.

Thundercracker spent most of his off-duty hours in their quarters, avoiding contact with others. He rarely saw Skywarp outside of combat; 'Warp seemed to have taken it upon himself to ‘face his way through every mech in the Decepticon army, and frequently opted to share the berth of whichever partner he’d chosen for the night rather than recharging in his own.

Their performance in battle began to suffer, and at the worst possible time. The addition of the Aerialbots to the Autobot forces had challenged the Decepticon supremacy of the skies, forcing them to defend what had once been exclusively their domain. No longer able to rely on simple strafing runs, they were now forced to employ more complex aerial tactics. While each member of the trine was individually an exceptionally skilled flyer, worthy of their status as Megatron’s elite, their ability to function as a unit – to fly, attack and defend in formation – had decreased considerably.

Thundercracker knew he was performing poorly, but there was little he could do. As much as he adored flying, having Skywarp hovering at his wingtip like a dark brooding cloud was more than a little distracting. Being forced to fly in formation with him, to maintain constant and continual awareness of every little shift and variation in Skywarp's speed, altitude or flight path, was torture.

For what it was worth, Skywarp seemed to be faring little better. 'Warp's performance had become downright erratic, even to the point of him spontaneously warping out of formation on a couple of occasions, setting their entire maneuver into disarray.

Their latest outing had been no exception; they’d flown terribly, and Starscream was absolutely livid. He stalked back and forth in front of his trinemates as they stood at attention on the flight deck of the Nemesis, expounding at length on their numerous faults, bemoaning his misfortune at being trined with two such worthless mechs, and speculating aloud about their probable fate as defective mechanisms.

Thundercracker silently accepted the verbal abuse. Skywarp was looking mutinous, but for the moment was keeping his vocalizer in check. Starscream continued his increasingly paranoid rant.

“I’m beginning to suspect you two are doing it on purpose!” he accused. “You’re both conspiring against me! You want Megatron to think I’m incompetent! That I’m not worthy of my rank as Air Commander –!”

Thundercracker interrupted him, endeavoring to sound as placating and reasonable as possible. “Why would we do that, Starscream? If we pretended to be incompetent just to make you look incompetent, we’d all end up on the scrap heap.”

Starscream eyed him suspiciously through narrowed optics. As paranoid as Starscream was, he couldn’t refute the logic of Thundercracker’s argument. He seemed about to accede the point when Skywarp, with his usual stellar timing, decided to chime in.

“Yeah, Screamer, why would we try to make you look incompetent? You do a great job all on your own.”

Starscream spun to face him, and Thundercracker tensed, anticipating violence. The smirk that curved Starscream’s lip components was nothing short of malicious. Addressing Skywarp in that sweet, insincere tone he favored, Starscream purred, “I realize you’ve been preoccupied lately, Skywarp, but unless you plan to frag the Aerialbots into submission, I’d suggest you spend a few more joors in the air and a few less on your back. Dismissed!”

Skywarp’s jaw clenched in anger, but he kept his temper, turning on his heel and departing as ordered, launching himself back into the sky with a scream of turbines.

“And as for you,” Starscream purred, turning his attention to Thundercracker, “I don’t even have to ask what your problem is. It’s been so…quiet lately.”

Thundercracker glared at him, but Starscream continued to smirk at him knowingly, unimpressed. Starscream’s quarters were adjacent to his and Skywarp’s own, and the interior walls of the Nemesis were thin. The implication was obvious.

Evidently undaunted by his lack of reply, Starscream continued, “Just because Skywarp has developed a loose panel and a craving for variety doesn’t mean you have to suffer alone, Thundercracker,” he said, caressing the length of Thundercracker’s cockpit as he spoke, smirking suggestively. “There are...other alternatives.”

Thundercracker stiffened at the touch, his hands clenching into fists. “Slag off, Starscream,” he rumbled.

Starscream made a moue of insincere disappointment. “Oh, dear. I guess you’re not interested." He smirked. "Oh, well. I’m sure Skywarp will be.”

The impact of his fist against Starcream’s smug, smirking faceplate was surprisingly satisfying.

**

The rhythmic clank of footsteps broke the oppressive silence of the brig, alerting him to the fact that someone had entered. Thundercracker looked up from his seat on the berth, trying to peer past the energon bars to identify his visitor.

Skywarp stood awkwardly outside his cell, an energon cube in hand. “Hey,” he said.

Thundercracker tried to ignore the way his spark pulsed at the sight of him. “Hey, ‘Warp.”

“Heard you jumped Screamer. That was pretty stupid, TC.”

Thundercracker shrugged. “He deserved it.”

“I brought you a cube,” Skywarp said. “Swiped it from the cargo bay.”

Thundercracker couldn’t suppress the smile that twitched across his lip components. “Thanks, ‘Warp.”

Skywarp began to fidget when he made no move to accept the offering. “You want it now?” he asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “There’s just one problem.” Twisting a little in his seat, he revealed the energon bonds on his wrists, keeping his arms restrained behind his back.

“Oh.” Skywarp looked nonplussed. “Wow, Screamer must’ve been really torqued off.”

Thundercracker smirked. “Yeah,” he agreed. “He was.”

“Why’d you go after him, anyway?” Skywarp asked.

“He was being an aft,” he replied.

“Screamer’s always an aft,” Skywarp said. “You never jumped him before.”

Thundercracker shrugged dismissively. “First time for everything.”

Skywarp shifted, glancing down at the cube in his hands. “Well...if you come over here, I can hold the cube for you.”

Thundercracker rumbled in assent, rising and moving to stand just shy of the dimly glowing bars.

Skywarp extended his hands through the gap and raised the cube to Thundercracker’s lip components, tilting it slightly so the other could drink.

The energon was good quality, not high grade, but close. Thundercracker could feel his exhausted systems reviving as the fresh charge flowed through them. He offlined his optics a moment, savoring the sensation.

When he onlined them again, he discovered that Skywarp had dispersed the empty cube and lowered his hands, but otherwise hadn’t moved.

He was so close. Thundercracker hadn’t been this close to him in weeks.

He wasn’t sure how it happened exactly, how he ended up kissing Skywarp through that gap in the energon bars. Kissing was something of a taboo among Decepticons, generally regarded as the sort of soft, overly sentimental slag better left to Autobots, humans and other weak species. The appropriate response to such a gesture was to shove the offender off and tell him to get a grip.

It certainly wasn’t to kiss back – which was exactly what Skywarp was doing.

The humming bars bit into his armor as he pressed closer, but Thundercracker didn’t care. All that mattered in that moment was the sensation of Skywarp’s mouth on his, the heat of Skywarp’s glossa melting against his own. Skywarp keened longingly, reaching for him through the bars, his hands clutching at his chassis.

The energon barrier abruptly fizzled into nonexistence, but neither mech paused to question their good fortune, being far too preoccupied with each other.

Skywarp advanced and Thundercracker retreated, backing into the cell until they stumbled back onto the crude berth. Skywarp’s arms wound around him, his hands hungrily caressing his wings.

Unable to reciprocate due to his bonds, Thundercracker made do with his mouth, kissing, licking, biting and sucking at Skywarp’s lip components, cockpit and neck cables in sheer desperation.

Panting through his intakes as he arched his neck in response to Thundercracker’s attentions, Skywarp confessed breathlessly, “It’s only good with you, TC. I don’t care who’s on top, I only wanna ‘face with you.”

Thundercracker’s spark swelled in response to those words, so bright and hot he thought it would burn right through its chamber. He wanted to grab Skywarp, to drag him down and frag him senseless, but the restraints on his arms denied him.

He felt like he was drowning, drowning in a deluge of want and need and hunger and joy, but he was helpless, unable to grant himself release from the veritable flood of emotion washing over him. It was too much to bear, too huge to contain; something had to give, or he was going to explode –

His panel clicked open of its own accord.

Skywarp whimpered and tugged open his own panel, pressing and grinding his interface array against Thundercracker’s, eliciting a deep rumbling groan. Thundercracker’s core temperature shot into the red as Skywarp’s spike housing scraped across his valve.

Skywarp paused, drawing back in surprise. “TC? You’re...wet.”

Thundercracker’s only response was to keen in frustration as Skywarp pulled away from him, and then to arch and press against him, grinding insistently in a wordless plea.

Skywarp was staring at him, his optics wide and startled. “You want me to..?”

“Yes,” he panted.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” he rumbled urgently.

Skywarp kissed him in reply, kissed him like he wanted to devour him. And then he was pressing into him, his extended spike sliding into Thundercracker’s valve like it had been made for him, designed for that and nothing else.

There was no pain, no discomfort; just a slow, exquisite stretch and the sensation of being filled in a way Thundercracker had never known he was empty. A deep, shuddering groan escaped him, echoing the one Skywarp vocalized as he sank his spike in to the hilt.

The first thrust pushed him back against the wall with a clank, but Thundercracker didn't care; he was far too busy arching and groaning in response to the tsunami of sensations sweeping over him.

Skywarp seemed to be trying for a slow, even pace, but Thundercracker was having none of it; his hip plate surged upward again and again, harsh and demanding.

Skywarp evidently saw no reason to deny him; he quickened his pace, pumping hard and fast into Thundercracker’s valve until his trinemate was trembling and gasping through his intakes, rumbling with desperate need.

Thundercracker had never felt anything like this. Every stroke of Skywarp’s spike sent a frisson of white-hot pleasure crackling through his circuits, rising and building until he thought he’d go mad from it. He could feel his valve beginning to clench, to clamp down possessively onto Skywarp’s spike as if unwilling to relinquish its prize, and it felt good, so amazingly good –

Skywarp howled at the sensation, “Oh – Primus – TeeeeCeeee-!”

Thundercracker could feel every last vestige of control being stripped away from him, the whole of his existence funneling down into a single searing point consisting only of the rapid thrusting of Skywarp’s spike, the wild spasming of his valve and the hot, frantic pulsing of his spark.

He tried to hold on, to retain some measure of himself amid the overwhelming pleasure that was threatening to consume him utterly, but it was just too much –

He succumbed with a roar, the violent crack of the sonic boom triggered by his overload shaking the walls and rattling the berth in an echo of his own paroxysms of ecstasy. In the astrosecond before he slipped offline, he was dimly aware of Skywarp jerking and crying out above him, flooding his valve with liquid heat, but his half-blown audials couldn’t make out the words…

**

Thundercracker onlined slowly, his systems rebooting one by one. He was half-sitting, half-lying on the narrow berth that made up his cell’s meager furnishings, and Skywarp was sprawled on top of him, seemingly in no hurry to change that status.

Skywarp did, however, turn his helm to meet his optics with a grin that was both wicked and weary. “Wow, TC,” he said cheekily. “I've never seen anyone overload like that before.” The undertone of pride in his vocalizer, the implied and I’m the one that did it was extremely evident.

Thundercracker rumbled indulgently, too content to be annoyed or embarrassed.

Skywarp hummed briefly, “There’s just one thing I don’t get. How come the bars deactivated?”

Thundercracker peered over at the empty space the barrier had occupied. “Dunno.”

~Epilogue~

Starscream smirked to himself as he switched off the live feed from the security cameras monitoring Thundercracker’s cell.

It was clear that that little problem had sorted itself out, thanks to his timely intervention. Now things could finally get back to normal. Those wretched Aerialbots were in for a nasty surprise.

Starscream had to admit, it had been quite an inspiring display. Sliding a finger slyly along the trailing edge of one wing, he couldn’t help wondering if Megatron was in a good mood, and if so, what he could do to spoil it...


*fin*

A/N: Not quite a sequel, more of a porny followup, but you can find more 'Warp/TC here.