Title: Female of the Species
Rating: R (or M, depending if you think sparksex is worth the M)
Warnings: sexuality (sparks, pnp; f/m/m), mild profanity; mild spoilers for TF:P in general
Summary: "'La petite mort,' some of the natives say." Breakdown/Airachnid/Knock Out (including variations)
Notes: My other half of a trade for lady_katana4544 at tf_trading_post. She wrote me TF:P Optimus/Ratchet and asked for Breakdown/Airachnid/KO in return. Hope you like!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Breakdown was not new to the concept of "voyeurism." Nor was he unfamiliar with the one being watched.
However, there were always two deciding, definite factors. First off, the one to watch was always Knock Out. Secondly, Breakdown's observed activities included beating the shit out of an Autobot, torturing and slowly tearing them apart. Knock Out always enjoyed his work, but could appreciate the art of others. He and Breakdown were opposite in their methods; the latter preferred things hard and heavy, while Knock Out was more fond of drawing things out, more low key and under the skin.
This... Now this was different from all the befores and last times.
The two constants had been thrown out, and replaced. For one, Breakdown wasn't arm deep inside his enemy as he tore out his insides. What he was doing was much more... intimate. Though it wasn't the first time Knock Out was beneath him, wiggling and vents cycling as they ground against one another, cords and wires connected to sprockets along their bodies, it was the first time they were being watched.
That came to factor two. Not his companion, his doctor. Instead, sitting in the medic's usual seat across the room was a lovely, lithe femme, all legs (almost literally) and femme fatale. Airachnid sat with one leg crossed over the other, her spider appendages tucked behind her, one hand relaxing idly on an armrest with Knock Out's quellazaire sporting an electric cygarette. In her talons, a goblet half-full of high grade. For all intents and purposes, Airachnid's mannerisms reflected Knock Out's so well Breakdown swore they could be related.
Breakdown glanced up at the femme, watching with a pair of distant, compounded optics. A wicked grin on her wine-purple lips. She was only a couple feet from the bed, yet it felt like miles. Breakdown would quickly distract himself when his partner beneath him sliced claws along his hips and chest, leave behind superficial scratches and softly shrieking glass. Knock Out was grinning, something lopsided and perverted, grinding against the larger, thick body hovering above him. Reaching to stroke along the edges of Breakdown's spark chamber.
Breakdown's chronometer told him they had been going at this torturous, slow pace for nearly fifteen minutes. He was different from his partner; hot, heavy, hard. Knock Out, however, enjoyed the sensuality of a long drawn out fuck, reveled in the teasing of being just barely dangled from the edge. Not that Breakdown entirely minded; the medic was always a pleasure in the berth, always knew where to push and pull. And despite their company, he knew the voyeurism act was simply foreplay.
Airachnid had not spoken once. Knock Out was vocal in soft growls and purrs, occasionally demanding more. Breakdown merely grunted and nothing else. Her smile was wicked as her gaze bearing hard down upon the mechs interfacing in front of her. She would pause to sip her drink, take a drag of her cygarette but beyond that, remained rather immobile. Breakdown got that eerie feeling of a predator watching its prey, waiting for one slip up before attacking. It made sense when it came to Airachnid.
Then, suddenly, Airachnid, after taking another slow drag of her cygarette said, calmly, instructively behind a thin cloud of smoke, "His optic sensor." Breakdown blinked his single functioning eye. Airachnid kept her expression neutral.
Knock Out seemed to understand, however. He reached up, traced a thumb and finger around Breakdown's eye patch. It was strangely sensitive, the touch sending a tickling chill down his backstrut. As if it was warning him of the close contact, was afraid of any further damage. Yet it registered these touches the same as it would the gentle caress of smooth snake scales before the beast constricted and suffocated its victim. Breakdown's plating shuddered as he let out a long drawn breath.
Airachnid tilted her head, peeked between the mechs' bodies. "There's a freshly welded wound along Knock Out's thigh," she noted. Another drag. "Stroke it."
Knock Out went to protest before Breakdown's massaging palm against the scar tissue sent him gasping. It was tender; there was pain, but it was a pain both partners knew the medic quite enjoyed. Usually on others, but it was okay to be masochistic once in a while. Airachnid grinned, the heat in her energy signature reaching the couple. Their sparks flared in response.
Airachnid said nothing more, crawled back into the cave of her silence. Continued watching with that smug, lecherous grin and glint in her optics. Breakdown's hand kept working the welded cut, the metal seeming to sink against the pressure. Knock Out ground up against him, their sparks rolling and riding one another.
However, the moment Breakdown began to feel restless, in need to go faster- The large 'con grunted as a spiked heel shoved itself against his chest. He looked at the foot then to Airachnid, standing beside them now. She smiled and eased him back into a sit with a push from her heel. Once he was up and off of Knock Out, she reached between them, tweaked their connected wiring; they each shivered and groaned before the cords were ripped free, nothing but dangling, limp things hanging pitifully from their chests, arms and throats.
"I didn't want to dip my foot in the pool until it was all warmed up," Airachnid giggled, hand still holding the cygarette pressed to her chest. Knock Out leered and scooted back. The femme crawled to a sit between them, beckoned Breakdown forward. She reached back, took the medic's chin and pulled him flush against her back. The larger 'con licked his lip components and obeyed, until both mechs sandwiched her in place.
They scrambled (though Airachnid with more composure) to reconnect wires. Only this time Breakdown was excluded, watched as Knock Out's shaky hands wired with energy and need plugged into her throat and upper arms. Sensing the loneliness, Airachnid scooped her hands forward, placed them on Breakdown's face. "You shouldn't be the jealous one," she purred before pulling him into a kiss, something fierce and agile. Her glossa slipped into his mouth; she tasted bittersweet, and Breakdown wondered if this was some sort of poison turning his receptors to jelly. Knock Out felt no envy, simply stroked gentle and slow along her hips and thighs as he let the two kiss.
When the femme drew back, her chestplates had slid open, revealing her pulsating spark. Breakdown's ached with desire, wanting to touch and feel that dangerous energy. She smiled, one arm looping around Breakdown's hip, cygarette between two fingers. She then crushed the space between them, shoved their sparks together. Each Decepticon gave a loud groan at the contact; Knock Out leaned in, kissed and sucked at her neck cables. Airachnid groaned and dropped her head back, tilted it to the side. She could feel the heat of his spark on her back as it reacted to the energy passing between their connections.
Breakdown leaned forward, hands stroking her hips, moving back to drag along Knock Out's legs, back and forth. Airachnid unhooked her arm around him, her claws scratching at his side; the thick, spicy smoke filling his olfactory. Their sparks continued grinding and bouncing, sending energy through her, soaring into Knock Out. She felt so thin in Breakdown's arms; he could easily crush her if he lost control. Though he was very well aware she was not fragile.
Whether it was Knock Out's whimpers or the way Airachnid wiggled against his frame, or both, Breakdown was the first to release. His climax filled the femme, her spark swallowing the excess energy ravenously as she cried out, sinking heavy into the medic's arms. Breakdown finished off the aftershocks with small tremors before grunting and sitting back. His CPU was swimming; he felt tired and light headed.
"Now's your chance, big guy."
Breakdown blinked wearily, looked up. Airachnid was still in the medic's arms as he kissed along her shoulder. Suddenly, like a whirlwind of black and purple, she was free of Knock Out's embrace, cords snapped free and cygarette abandoned; the red Decepticon grunted as thin hands took his arms, forced them behind his back. Airachnid sat behind him, propped up on her knees locked at his sides. Breakdown did not understand her previous comment at first, but when she forced Knock Out to bend back, protruding his chest and spark forward, it all clicked into place.
Airachnid's head hovered over the medic's shoulder. She leered at her larger partner, glossa flicking around her lips, showing a flash of fangs. Her spider legs, once tucked neatly against her back, erected, shot forward; they pinned against Knock Out's chest, as if keeping the mech spread open like a dissected frog on a table. It was unnecessary, as Knock Out wasn't going anywhere, but those spider appendages... Breakdown swallowed; it was strange, those extra limbs, but... Strangely arousing as well.
"You've always been the subordinate," the femme purred. Her optics caught his. "How would you like to play commander?" One corner of her grin quirked. "What would you like me to do to him?" Airachnid asked. One hand patted fingers against Knock Out's cheek; the mech was panting, eyes fixed on Breakdown's. He wasn't complaining; he was waiting, playing this game just as well. "Shall I make it quick?" One sharp tip of a spider leg pierced against dermal plating; the medic moaned. "Or slow and tantalizing?" She ran her tongue along his neck, the length of the small horn on the side of his head. "It's your call, commander."
Breakdown was silent. This was... unusual. He felt hesitant. Not that he didn't want to play, just... This was all very new to him. Finally, however, he said, "His spark. Squeeze it."
Airachnid slipped a hand inside the red Decepticon's chamber. "How so?" she asked. "Hard?" She squeezed and Knock Out hitched. "Or gentle?" Her grip loosened.
Breakdown quivered. "Hard. Hard."
"As you wish, commander."
The femme squeezed, wrenching a surge of energy from the tormented spark. Knock Out twisted in her hold as she continued clutching and rolling the glowing orb in her palm. "I have another hand, you know. Don't let my legs fool you," Airachnid chuckled. She rapped fingers on Knock Out's helm. "Left to my own devices, this can go from playful to painful very fast."
Breakdown's gulp was comical, loud and hard enough to hear and see from across the damn room. His yellow optic seemed to brighten in a blush-like fashion. "Well," he murmured. He tapped a finger to his chin. Was distracted a moment by the way Knock Out wiggled in her limbs. The larger 'con smiled crookedly and finally said, "Thighs. Go for his thighs." Another hesitation. "Stroke 'em real hard."
Knock Out looked alarmed. Airachnid's smile widened. "Of course," she purred against the medic's audiol. Her free hand stroked, nearly tore at the sensitive plating between his legs. Knock Out struggled to keep them open, tempted to move away; which was more powerful, the pain of her claws tearing into him, or the pleasure from the exact same thing. Whatever she was doing, they both knew she could do much worse. She could hurt them if she desired, and knew it would no longer be a mutually fun game.
Airachnid's other hand taunted his spark, squeezed as ordered, would draw back to mash in her palm or run a claw around its pulsating length and shape. She was rutting against him, spark and body, her plating hot against his. Breakdown felt his own spark give a small twitch, wanting to join them but still too fatigued from the last round.
Airachnid pressed her lips to Knock Out's throat. "Are you enjoying the show?" she crooned. She nipped a fuel line stretched along the medic's neck; a pinprick of energon bubbled to the surface. "You feel the power, don't you?" Her tongue slowly licked it clean. Breakdown breathed hard. "You don't always need to get hands-on to tear someone apart, you know."
Knock Out was falling apart in her arms. The edges of her spider limbs teased open sockets. She dipped her tongue into the seams of his shoulder. Fingers tightened and shook the spark. Other scratching territorial marks on his thigh and waist. It didn't take much longer before Knock Out released a small, guttural cry between his grit denta, heaved forward as electric surges burst from his tired, numbing spark.
Airachnid purred as remnants of the overload hit her system. Her own spark demanding attention, just at the point of releasing. Knock Out chuckled tiredly as he slumped in her arms. "You've got skilled servos, mon cher," he purred, turned his head and felt the heat of her face. "You know, I am in need of a nurse..."
The femme smiled. "Sorry. Not interested." She let his arms go, drew back on her spider legs. Knock Out fell forward, exhausted but laughing. As he rolled aside to stretch out on the berth, Breakdown winced as the Airachnid approached him. Not on her legs, nor her hands, but her spider appendages. Shadowed him from her perch before lowering herself, just enough to force him to look up to meet her optics.
Airachnid slipped a long finger beneath his chin, tilted his head upward. "Finish me off?" she purred. She drew his face to her open chest, spark trembling. It was amazing how she kept her composure with all that built up excess energy.
Breakdown grinned. "Why not, commander," he smirked. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth. Glossa running from the bottom to the very top of her spark in one, long stroke. It sent small volts of electricity into his circuitry; it tingled, shocked, numbed local receptors. But there was pleasantry to it, especially when it made the femme shake and whimper for once in his large hands. Her nails dug into his shoulders; she held on until the end, overload washing through and out of her system in a violent flash of light that nearly blinded the larger 'con's single optic.
Airachnid lowered herself into his lap. He felt her pet his cheek, but her hands were still on his shoulders. He jumped when he saw the spider appendage rest against his face. "You'll get used to them," she purred, taking him into another, hard kiss.
Not long after, Breakdown's fatigue turned into full exhaustion. Knock Out was out cold, sleeping soundly; his chestplates still open, allowing a peek at his chamber. Breakdown collapsed back on the wide berth, optic offlining the moment he made impact. He was out like a light a minute later. Knock Out grunted something, unconsciously inched over and laid against the larger mech's chest.
Airachnid gathered her bearings and stood at the edge of the bed. She looked over the two slumbering, cuddling mechs, smirked. "How sentimental," she said, sweeping a thumb over her bottom lip and smearing a bead of green venom.
"You're welcome to join," Knock Out offered. He cracked one optic.
The femme chuckled. "Cuddling was never my forte," she sneered. Her spider legs folded against her back as she turned for the door. "Call me when things start getting interesting." With that, Airachnid slipped out of the room.
Starscream was just a few feet down the hall, giving her a curious stink eye. "Why were you-"
"They won't be of any use to you for a couple cycles," the femme explained.
"What did you do? Kill them?"
Airachnid grinned pointed teeth, didn't look back. "'La petite mort,' some of the natives say. So, perhaps."
"What?" Starscream spat.
Airachnid laughed and just continued on her way.
END
A/N: The title of this fic is based on Space's song, Female of the Species. "La petite mort" means "the little death," a term/idiom for an orgasm (though not always necessarily.) KO used "mon cher" (French for "my love") on Airachnid because I like the idea that he'll occasionally use romantic/taunting terms in other languages. This is basically my headcanon.