Smoke and Mirrors: Moth to Flame

[anon_decepticon]

Title: Smoke and Mirrors: Moth to Flame
Author: anon_decepticon
Rating: M
Pairing or Character(s): Inferno/Red Alert (con), Inferno/Breakdown (not-so-con)
Disclaimer: I don’t own Transformers.
Warning(s): Slash, sticky, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, coercive sex
Summary: G1. Breakdown catches fire. Inferno puts him out. Breakdown becomes very...confused.
Author's Note: My eighth fic for the kink meme. The original prompt is here.
Credit: I quoted two lines of dialogue from the G1 cartoon episode “Masquerade,” and retold one of the scenes as a flashback from Breakdown’s POV. The time units are borrowed from the IDW comics, although the setting is still G1. These portions of the fic are not mine.



~1 stellar cycle ago (7.5 Earth months)

“Wildrider, wait!”

They’d gotten away with the laser lenses without so much as a hitch, but then the three Autobots had appeared, blocking their path, their bodies forming a barricade across the road. Wildrider had torn right past them, laughing maniacally, but Breakdown, with the stolen component stowed in his trunk, didn’t relish the thought of having to try and mimic the risky maneuver. If the lenses were damaged, it wouldn’t be Wildrider who got the blame.

His processor raced, calculating time and distance, striving to determine the series of actions that would have the highest probability of success. He had to act, and act fast. The slightest mistake could spell disaster.

To top it all off, his HUD was flashing. He was leaking oil. Again.

Making his choice, he swerved wide to avoid the first Autobot, accelerating as he went. One down, two to go. This was going to be tight…

The next thing he knew, he was on fire.

Not in the good way. In the literal sense.

A swarm of scarlet warnings lit up his HUD as they registered his external temperature’s rapid ascent. An astrosecond later, every sensor he possessed was screaming in agony. Unbearable heat enveloped him, frying his circuits, devouring him whole. His CPU informed him that if the fire reached his fuel reserve, there was a roughly 93% chance he’d end up in pieces scattered across the landscape.

That was when he started to panic.

He was on fire. He was burning..!

He was dimly aware of babbling something – screaming it, really – but he wasn’t sure what it was, or if it was even intelligible. He wasn’t computing clearly, he couldn’t process anything beyond fire, terror and pain.

And then suddenly, it stopped.

The awful heat receded, quenched by blessed coolness. Crimson warnings of imminent destruction gave way to orange and yellow damage reports, winking fitfully in his HUD. His internal cooling fans kicked on, cycled for a few revolutions, then stuttered to a coughing halt as he offlined, twitching.


~8.6 deca-cycles ago (6.5 Earth months)

The desert was peaceful.

Breakdown liked coming out here. Sometimes, when he couldn’t take being around the other Decepticons anymore, not even his own gestalt, he’d come here. He felt safe among the tall cliffs and rocky overhangs. There were plenty of nooks and crannies he could hide away in, lots of shadowy pockets to conceal him from prying optics.

He could finally relax, confident that there wasn't a sentient being around for miles. No one to watch. No one to stare at him.

He cycled his vents contentedly, settling back into the pleasantly sun-warmed crevice he’d found overlooking the canyon floor, and slipped into a blissful recharge.

He onlined with a start to the sound of engines…and voices.

“Are you sure about this, Inferno? My duties–”

“Can wait,” another voice interrupted. “Right now you got a duty to me, Red. I been feelin’ neglected.”

Breakdown’s optics widened. He recognized that voice.

“I’ll probably hate myself in the mornin’ but…”

It was him. The Autobot who’d saved him from a violent and explosive end.

Breakdown scrambled to his knees, crawling to the edge of the overhang to peer over the ledge.

“Mmm…’nferno…”

Breakdown stared in uneasy fascination, hypnotized by the sight of the intertwined mechs below. They were standing very close to each other, closer than he’d ever seen two mechs stand, and they were touching each other in ways he’d never seen anyone touch.

They were making strange noises, too. Odd pants and whimpers and…moans.

Breakdown could feel his faceplate heating as he watched them – in fact all of him seemed to be heating up, even faster than exposure to the desert sun could account for. His internal cooling fans kicked on automatically, but appeared to have little effect.

The pair was stretched out on the ground now. The one who had saved him had the other pinned beneath his larger frame, but the smaller mech didn’t seem to mind – he was murmuring words of encouragement in a strained but eager tone as they moved together in unison; small, curiously rhythmic movements that started slow but gradually sped up.

Their wordless cries rose in pitch and volume along with their pace, and Breakdown found himself panting along with them, a strange charge building in his circuits as he watched.

Their cries reached a peak and they abruptly went limp, like they’d actually offlined for few astroseconds.

They lay like that for a while, whispering to each other in voices pitched too low for him to hear, then rose, transformed, and drove off the way they had come.


~1.3 deca-cycles ago (1 Earth month)

“Nnnferno–!”

“I love hearin’ you say my name, Red. I love how you always say it right before you–”

“Inferno! Ah! Inferno–!”

Breakdown scowled as he watched the trysting Autobots thrust, moan and grind their way to completion. The soft whirr of cooling fans and cycling vents replaced the rhythmic clank and scrape of metal against metal. He checked his internal chronometer.

Just under three breems. Same as always.

He shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to stroke his own overheated plating, to touch his own sizzling wires. He’d given in to that temptation before. The results never failed to disappoint him.

He just couldn’t do it right. He didn’t know how. But the Autobot did. Breakdown was certain of it.

He knew because he’d watched him. A lot. He’d watched the Autobot fire truck touch his Lamborghini lover on countless occasions, seen how those touches made the smaller mech moan and writhe and cling to him, crying out his name with ecstatic abandon: Inferno, Inferno–!

He’d tried mimicking those touches, putting his hands and fingers in all the same places. The first time he’d tried it, he'd known immediately he was on to something – his spark had pulsed in a way he’d never felt before, and the heat and electric charge that always built up inside him whenever he watched or thought about the Autobot suddenly went supernova.

It had felt so good, Breakdown thought he was dying.

But that had been because it was new. He’d since realized that something was missing. Something big and good that would make how he’d felt that day seem trivial by comparison, a pale imitation of the real thing.

He knew because he’d watched them. There were places to touch that Breakdown couldn’t reach. There were…interlocking parts.

He stared down at the sated couple sprawled on the ground beneath his rocky perch. He hated them. He hated him. He bit back a keen of longing, afraid of alerting the pair to his presence. He wanted the big Autobot to touch him that way.

Of course the fire truck would never do it. He was an Autobot. Breakdown was a Decepticon. The only kind of touching permitted between them was the kind that caused pain, not pleasure.

He watched as the two departed, then leaned back against the rocky cliff face and contemplated giving in to temptation. Lately it only left him feeling bitter and resigned, unsatisfied. The Autobot would never touch him like that, not in a thousand vorns.

...but then why had the Autobot saved him?

Breakdown speculated on that topic at some length. He thought about it while he touched himself, mused on the solution as he stroked his wires and imagined the Autobot’s fingers caressing all those special places he couldn’t reach.

The answer came to him like a revelation, and triggered the most powerful explosion of pleasure he’d experienced yet. For the first time, he actually cried out aloud.

Inferno–!

How had he not realized it before? The Autobot wanted to touch him, too.


~1 cycle ago (1 Earth hour)

Breakdown was practically quivering in anticipation.

It had taken almost a deca-cycle to devise and coordinate his plan, but at long last it was nearly time to set it into motion.

He had escaped the Decepticon base without being waylaid or bothered with troublesome questions about where he was slipping off to. He was in position. He was ready. He was eager. Soon the Autobot couple would arrive for their usual rendezvous, ready to indulge themselves in a few stolen breems of sensual bliss.

When they did, Breakdown would be waiting.

Ah, there they were.

The smaller Autobot was in the lead, just as he always was. Just as Breakdown had hoped he would be. He took careful aim with his concussion rifle, fighting to still the trembling in his hands long enough to fire the precise shot he needed. The element of surprise was everything. The smaller Autobot had highly attuned sensors and a swift reaction time. If Breakdown missed, the whole plan would fall apart.

He was crossing into the target zone now. Breakdown fired.

The ground exploded beneath the red and white Lamborghini’s tires, launching the vehicle into the air and flipping it end-over-end. The Autobot tried to transform, but the secondary effect of the concussion blast had glitched his transform sequence, just as Breakdown had intended.

He landed on his roof with a sickening crunch, a shower of rocks and debris raining down on his exposed undercarriage.

The larger, slower and far less maneuverable fire truck skidded to a halt and transformed, crying out the other’s name in alarm as he ran to his companion’s aid.

Breakdown fired again.

The fire truck reeled and staggered, stumbling back and falling flat on his aft. He continued to flail about weakly, calling for his lover, but it was clear Breakdown’s plan had been sound, his aim true. The big Autobot was blinded. His partner was offline.

Grinning triumphantly, he descended into the canyon to claim his prize.


Now (Wednesday afternoon, 2 pm PST Earth time)

“Red? Red! Answer me, are you alright?”

Breakdown frowned as he approached the struggling Autobot. Why was he still calling for him? Feeling suddenly wary, he crouched down, dampened his energy signature, and crept the remaining few feet to the fire truck’s side on his hands and knees.

One of the Autobot’s blindly questing hands bumped against his arm, and Breakdown quickly caught it. The larger mech practically sagged in relief. “Red,” he said, “Thank Primus you’re all right.”

Breakdown kissed him.

It was a bad kiss, clumsy and awkward – Breakdown had never attempted to kiss anyone before – but the Autobot responded to it nonetheless, enthusiastically returning his embrace. An astrosecond later a slippery glossa pushed past his lip components, invading his mouth. A startled moan escaped his vocalizer at the unfamiliar sensation, simultaneously repellant and enticing.

Breakdown’s spark pulsed with elation and growing desire. He’d been right! The Autobot did want him! Already charged by anticipation and flush with his success, that single kiss was all it took to make Breakdown’s core temperature spike. His engine gave an involuntary rev.

The fire truck broke the kiss with a chuckle at the sound. “My optics’re bust, can’t tell how damaged you are, but I’m guessin’ you mustn’t be too bad off if you’re still in the mood, huh Red?”

Breakdown answered him with another kiss.

The next few kliks were the greatest in Breakdown’s short existence. Pausing only long enough to retract the nozzle covering his right hand, the Autobot quickly set both hands to the task of stimulating the Decepticon’s heated chassis. They moved over his frame with deft assurance, seeking out all his secret hot spots, caressing his sensitive spoiler and wheel wells, teasing and fondling his shoulder tires. The knowing touches that so lovingly ravished his frame were so much better than the ones Breakdown had bestowed upon himself. He didn’t know where the Autobot would touch next, and the mystery of it excited him all the more.

He tried his best to reciprocate, exploring the Autobot’s chassis with greedy fascination, and was rewarded when the fire truck groaned and arched against his fingers. Encouraged, Breakdown persisted, climbing into the Autobot’s lap and straddling his thighs, groping and tugging at wires, stroking every part of his frame he could reach.

And kissing. Oh, how had he gone so long not knowing about kissing?! The Autobot’s mouth was so warm, so wet, and his glossa–!

A faint clicking sound distracted Breakdown from his enraptured exploration. He glanced down, looking for the source of the noise, and his optics widened at the sight of the open panel exposing the Autobot’s interface circuitry, a sight that was currently dominated by a very large, very erect spike.

He drew back in surprise, feeling more than a little daunted. He was so distracted he didn’t notice the soft rustling sound of dislodged pebbles falling behind him, or the faint groan that didn’t come from his partner.

That was when everything began to fall apart.

“Red? What’s the matter?”

Breakdown’s spark contracted in panic. The Autobot had noticed his hesitation! He computed quickly, trying to think of a way to respond without using his vocalizer or arousing further suspicion–

“Uhn...where...Inferno, look out! That’s not me! It’s Breakdown!”

“WHAT?!”

The fire truck stiffened, flinching back from the hands he’d been leaning into, away from the touch that he’d been enjoying moments before. His darkened optics widened in shock, his lip components twisting in disgust. He tried to pull back, to push the Stunticon away, but Breakdown clutched at his shoulders, preventing him.

“NO!” Breakdown cried, and flinched at his own volume, his own desperation. “No,” he repeated, managing to achieve a calmer tone. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s me. You don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t have to settle for him anymore – I’m here.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?” the fire truck demanded. “Are you insane? Get offa me, ya crazy Decepticon!”

Breakdown shook his helm in confusion. The Autobot wanted him, not that other Autobot! Why else would he have saved him? Why else would he have chosen to dally with a mech who was practically Breakdown’s twin, a mech with the same build type, the same personality quirks? He was only with that mech because he couldn’t have Breakdown, because Breakdown was a Decepticon!

...wasn’t he?

“I – I’m the one you want. You want me, not him,” he insisted. Why did his voice sound so bewildered, so small and uncertain that Breakdown scarcely recognized his own vocalizer?

It was true. It had to be true!

“Why in the Pit would I want you?! I love Red Alert! I only want him!”

Breakdown’s entire world shattered.

It was a lie. It had to be a lie! The fire truck was only saying that because the other was listening!

...but what if it wasn’t a lie?

The shock and pain and devastation that had contracted his spark exploded all at once into a towering, incandescent rage. It was all his fault! He’d lured the fire truck away from Breakdown, convinced him to reject the Stunticon for his sake!

He unsubspaced his blaster with a snarl, raised and held it to the fire truck’s head.

“Don’t move,” he hissed. “If you move, I’ll kill him.”

“Inferno!” the other Autobot called out, sounding weak and frightened.

Inferno–!

“I love you, Red! Everythin’s gonna be okay!”

“It will be,” Breakdown purred dangerously, “as long as you do what I say.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to touch me. Like you did before. The way you touch him.”

“You’re crazy!”

Breakdown growled, shoving the blaster hard against the Autobot’s helm, hard enough to dent. “Do it. Or he dies.”

The Autobot hesitated, glancing with unseeing optics in the direction of his lover’s voice.

“I’m sorry, Red. I can’t let him hurt you.”

“Inferno…”

Breakdown sighed through his vents as the fire truck’s hands once more began moving over his chassis, stroking and fondling, stimulating wires and sensor nodes. He arched into the touches, groaning with pleasure.

He’d been right. The Autobot did want him. He’d just needed an excuse.

Things progressed much as they had before. Breakdown allowed his grip on the blaster to slacken as he shuddered and pressed himself against the Autobot. Warnings began to flash in his HUD as his core temperature rose and his circuits sparked.

“Good,” he panted as his internal cooling fans kicked on. “That’s right, just like that.”

His interfacing panel snicked open abruptly, startling him. He glanced down in surprise.

His spark thrummed with excitement. This was it. This was the part he’d been missing!

The Autobot’s spike was still extended, pressed hot and hard against his abdominal plating. Bracing himself on the fire truck’s shoulder-struts, Breakdown rose up onto his knees, positioning himself so that the tip was poised at the opening his panel had concealed.

“Do it now,” he told the Autobot. “Like you do with him.”

“I’m sorry, Red,” the fire truck whispered, and pushed inside him.

Breakdown choked back a scream. The Autobot had broken something inside of him! Hunching over in pain, he sobbed through his intakes, biting down on his lip component to keep from crying out as his sensory grid was assaulted by agony. The Autobot had betrayed him! He’d only been pretending to cooperate long enough to try and escape!

But the fire truck wasn’t trying to escape. In fact he’d gone very, very still. Gritting his denta against the pain, Breakdown fought to raise his helm enough to see the other’s face, meeting the Autobot’s blind gaze.

“That was a seal,” Inferno breathed in a horrified whisper. “You’ve never–”

“Shut up!” Breakdown shrieked, static lacing his vocalizer. “It’s not my fault! It’s yours! You’re doing it wrong! You’re supposed to do it like you do with him!”

Tightening his grip on the blaster, he pressed it against the Autobot’s helm again. “I’m not stupid,” he growled. “I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you. You can’t trick me.”

The sharp, stinging pain had receded, leaving behind only a dull ache and a vaguely uncomfortable sensation of fullness. Breakdown had flinched away instinctively when he was initially penetrated, but now he eased back down again, slowly and gingerly lowering himself to straddle the Autobot’s thighs once more, wincing as the spike inside him pressed in deeper.

“Now do it right,” he commanded. “If you hurt me again...I’ll kill you both.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then the tension slowly eased from the Autobot’s frame. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Large hands shifted to grip Breakdown’s hip plate. “Okay,” the fire truck said again, “nice and easy, now.”

With the Autobot’s hands guiding him, he began to rock back and forth at a gentle, unhurried pace. At first he winced and hissed in discomfort, but within a few kliks he felt a familiar heat beginning to pool in his interface circuitry, and Breakdown slowly began to relax.

“That’s it,” the fire truck murmured. “You’re doin’ fine.”

The surprising tenderness in the Autobot’s voice startled and delighted Breakdown. That was the way he spoke to him! His spark pulsed in its chamber, and he gasped as a sudden rush of pleasure washed over him.

Shifting his grip on the Autobot’s shoulder-struts to brace himself, he began to rock faster. The hands on his hips urged him upward, and Breakdown complied, adjusting to a motion that was less back-and-forth and more up-and-down. The fire truck groaned as the Decepticon rode him, and Breakdown’s spark throbbed with joy. He did want him!

Panting through his intakes, his initial pain nothing more than a memory, Breakdown quickened his movements, whimpering as the pleasurable sensations within him continued to increase. The fire truck was moving with him now, thrusting up and into him, filling him, drawing short, quavering moans from his vocalizer.

The Autobot’s spike, which had at first seemed intimidatingly large, now felt like it fit him perfectly, just big enough to fit snugly inside him while still sliding in and out smoothly. The rising heat and increasing friction were steadily building, and it was good, no, it was better, it was just as he’d known it would be–

Seized by a sudden urge, he dropped his blaster and embraced the Autobot, smothering the fire truck’s lip components in a fevered, hungry kiss.

After a moment’s hesitation, his kiss was returned, and Breakdown keened in happiness against the Autobot’s mouth, rocking faster. The initial warnings were popping up on his HUD; it was coming, it was happening–

Inferno–!

The Stunticon threw his helm back and wailed his overload to the open sky, his frame jerking helplessly as torrents of pleasure rocketed over him in waves. He felt the Autobot tense beneath him, felt his hands tightening on his hip plate and then the hot, fluid burst of his release.

Inferno...

He collapsed against the larger mech’s frame, panting and shivering in the aftermath of ecstasy.

For several kliks he simply basked in the sensation of pleasurable weakness, enjoying the comforting warmth emanating from the broad, solid frame under him. He nuzzled the fire truck’s helm, practically purring in contentment.

The Autobot shifted awkwardly beneath him. “Um…can we go now?”

Breakdown lifted his head in surprise, staring into the fire truck’s darkened optics. He opened his mouth to reply, but no words emerged from his vocalizer.

He was an Autobot. Breakdown was a Decepticon.

“...yes.”

He lifted himself off the larger mech’s lap, wobbily regaining his feet for only a few astroseconds before sinking weakly back down to the ground. He watched in silence as the fire truck rose, put himself in order, and then sought out his injured lover, calling out to him, finding him, helping him to his feet.

The smaller Lamborghini, Breakdown’s Autobot twin, hesitated only long enough to confirm that his partner was unharmed before turning to face the Stunticon, reaching into subspace to retrieve his weapon.

Inferno caught Red Alert’s arm, halting him. “No, Red. Let’s...let’s just go.”

One look at Breakdown’s lost and plaintive expression was all it took to persuade the incensed Security Director.

They transformed and departed without another word.

*fin*

Want more? The next part is here.

Comments

[sister-dear.livejournal.com]

I love stories like this where the POV character's actions are really quite creepy but they aren't written that way because they don't think there's anything odd about what they're doing.

...Or, short version: "unreliable narrator yay!" XD

Inferno's reaction to discovering that Breakdown was a virgin was one of the best parts.

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

Inferno's reaction to discovering that Breakdown was a virgin was one of the best parts.

I love that part too. That's when Inferno discovers what the reader already knew - that Breakdown isn't acting out of malice, he's just a confused, screwed-up kid who honestly doesn't understand that raping your crush is a really bad way to express your affection.

[narmoture.livejournal.com]

Oh wow. I feel strangely sorry for Breakdown, actually, even if he's behaving really creepily. He just doesn't know any better.

I also think the best part was when Inferno realized that Breakdown was a virgin, especially the way Breakdown himself didn't realize it; he just thought Inferno was doing something "wrong". That's just....well. *shakes head*

I loved it, in case you couldn't tell...

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

He just doesn't know any better. - Exactly the response I was going for.

Some of the commenters on the meme have asked for a sequel, and I'm trying to decide if I have one in me. I can envision a scene where they cross paths at some point in the future and Breakdown asks Inferno to "do it again", but whether Inferno would be willing or if there's a larger story in that, I don't know.

I guess I'll have to ponder it later; right now Skywarp and Wheeljack are waiting...

[kookaburra1701.livejournal.com]

Oh, goody! I thought this one might have been written by you, the fantastic writing gave it away. ;)

I, too, loved the reaction to Inferno realizing BD was a virgin. Though Inferno still needs lots of comforting from Red, yupyup.

[anon-decepticon.livejournal.com]

*squee* I have to confess, when I was writing it I found myself wondering if you would read it and approve. I consider you something of an authority on InfernoxRA and the Stunties, so the fact that you liked it means a lot. :)

I'm planning to do a sequel, in response to this prompt. I'm not sure what shape it will take yet, as I don't feel Inferno's quite that manipulative by nature. So it'll either be Red's suggestion, or...well, I don't want to give too much away. But I hope you'll enjoy that one, too.

[kookaburra1701.livejournal.com]

*is blushing like a blushing thing*

Ha ha, before I started writing Stockholm, I barely knew anything about the Stunticons, so my education on them has been ongoing and in public, as it were.

OH I also meant to tell you that this line:

He collapsed against the larger mech’s frame, panting and shivering in the aftermath of ecstasy.

For several kliks he simply basked in the sensation of pleasurable weakness, enjoying the comforting warmth emanating from the broad, solid frame under him. He nuzzled the fire truck’s helm, practically purring in contentment.

The Autobot shifted awkwardly beneath him. “Um…can we go now?”

Just killed me. You can feel the gutpunch it gives Breakdown (I love the unreliable narrator aspect too) because he was feeling so protected and loved, which he'd never felt before. And then Red Alert immediately going for his blaster to kill BD and then stopping when he sees how pitiful the Stunticon is...*wibble*

I can't wait to read the sequel!