AU-Post Predacons Rising. So I don't know what this is. Honestly my other stories are coming along so slowly that I just wanted to write something. If you have read anything by me before you know this is very different from my usual format. It is very short (like seriously, not even a thousand words. My chapters are usually almost ten thousand) and I don't know where it is going at this point.
Time measurements are on my profile page if you can't get a sense of how long something is.
Overall Rating-MA, consensual sticky, violence, NSWF, size difference, language
Chapter Warning-None
PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE LEGAL AGE!
Disclaimer- I do not own any of the characters or locations represented in Transformers Prime and I'm not profiting from this story.
Chapter 1-Proposition
"Get off me Predacon." Wheeljack pushed hard at the heavy frame on top of his own, his digits scraping along the other's plating and leaving marks along the side of the massive frame. He couldn't believe the normally graceful flier had just fallen clumsily on top of him, scuffing his plating a bit in the process.
"Watch your mouth Autobot. I am Predaking and you will show some respect."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll show some respect when you don't trip over your own pedes and nearly crush me into the ground."
"I apologize for that but I did not foresee the severe consequences of my injury," he said quietly, earnest in his apology. His right leg was practically mangled and had collapsed underneath him when he had tried to stand and greet the other mech. Both he and his predacons had underestimated the sneaky seeker, convinced that his groveling was real and that he may have been truly sorry for his behavior. The flier had maneuvered himself into a position to leave an impressive wound in Predaking's lower right leg with his deadly claws before transforming and making a hasty retreat.
"Whatever. Just get off me." The Predacon shifted until enough of his weight was finally off of the wrecker and Wheeljack pulled himself up into a sitting position. "Who is the lucky mech who got to take a piece out of you, anyways?" he said gesturing simultaneously at the wounded leg.
"Starscream…"
"Screamer!" he exclaimed, laughing at the absurdity of that picture in his processor.
Predaking's optics narrowed and he let out a low growl as he continued, "He proves to be more…deceptive than I anticipated."
"Imagine that. A deceptive Decepticon." They both removed themselves from the floor, Predaking returning to his throne and Wheeljack to his pedes, where he was ready to fight despite the lack of hostility from the other mech.
The Predacon surveyed his former enemy, his optics flowing over the smooth paneling of the other mech and silently admiring the strong frame in front of him. The upper body was a wide spread that boasted his power while still showing off his limited adornments and bright color scheme. The gradated grey flowed into the white metal and it was accented brilliantly by the red of his chestplate and swords. He was a true warrior, frame marred by old scars and personality hardened by war and loss. Predaking considered him a worthy enemy, first noticing both his prowess and his frame during their faceplate to faceplate battle when his brothers had perished. The memory of that solarcycle still caused anger to stir within him, but he had moved on since the Autobots and Predacons now had a truce.
He had sent a transmission to Bumblebee requesting the wrecker's presence for a specific purpose and the Autobot had hesitantly agreed. He had warned Predaking that Wheeljack was volatile, unlikely to take this request in an approving manner, and it would not be an easy task to accomplish. As truthful as that may be, he wasn't going to give up on this endeavor without exhausting his options and persuading the other by any means necessary.
"So you just gonna stare at me all solarcycle or you gonna tell me what the frag you want?"
"I will be direct as you seem to value that. I have been experiencing awkward sensations in my frame for a while now that led me to conclude I may have some sort of illness. That however proved to be false when I did some research and found that my problem appears to be called arousal. I have determined that you are the cause and therefore I will need to mate with you."
Wheeljack was honestly not expecting that to be the reason he had been called out here. A few decacycles of peace between their factions in addition to Cybertron's continued revival and now a Predacon wanted to frag him. "You've got some circuits misfiring if you think I'm going to submit to you Con."
"So your objection is to being dominated as opposed to being with me specifically?"
"I like to frag as much as the next mech. Not particularly into fragging Cons but haven't exactly tried it either."
"So you would be willing?"
"You are not hearing me Con. I'm not getting spiked."
"And neither will I." Predaking wasn't sure what 'getting spiked' was exactly, but he knew it was part of being on the bottom. He was a king, the king of his entire breed, and that meant he wasn't going to find himself beneath anybot.
"So find somebot else to frag."
"I have not found any others to be attractive."
"Not my fragging problem." Wheeljack turned to leave when he felt the other bot move up behind him quickly, leaving only a few meters between them. He turned back slowly, his optics had gone deadly serious even as he smirked at the other, "Back off Con."
"Do not think that I will give up on this, Autobot."
"And your mistake is thinking I give a scrap." Wheeljack left the throne room in an unhurried pace, his confidence unshaken by the turn of events, and knowingly, a set of optics burning into his backplates.
WTF did I just write?
