Ta-Da! Oh muses, such fickle things...so, instead of updating Thousand Years to Love You, Reach Out, or writing my RedFerno songfic, my inspiration decided to continue with the second installment of the one-shot that I published earlier, revolving around SunnyXBlue. This follows directly after that one, titled Shadow's Glance, so if you haven't read that, then parts of this will be confusing.
Sorry if the POV seems like it jumps around alot. The formatting didn't save when I put it on . Originally, each character had their paragraphs all grouped together, not as a giant paragraph, but with less space between them. Oh well, if it gets confusing, lemme know so I can change the formatting, okay?
Warnings: Sticky yaoi ahead! Read at own risk! *but given my other stories, would you expect anything less?*
Sunstreaker gently steered Bluestreak away from the wall, guiding the traumatized mech back to their quarters. When they first enlisted in the Autobot army, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had shared these quarters. But Sideswipe had since moved out to stay with his mate, Smokescreen, leaving his twin the quarters to himself. Prowl hadn't been happy to learn that his protege was in a relationship with the yellow menace, until he realized how much Sunstreaker made Blue happy. So, with threats of brig time, human-related volunteer hours, and acid pellets, Prowl granted his blessing to the young couple. Two years later, happily bonded, Bluestreak and Sunstreaker now shared the quarters.
Upon entering their room, Sunstreaker was assaulted by Bluestreak's tear-moistened lips. Fervently kissing his mate in response, the frontliner clenched his arms around Bluestreak, pulling him flush against his body. He wasn't aware that he was being herded by his younger lover until the backs of his knees hit against the side of the berth. The artist gasped, and pushed Bluestreak away, keeping care to be gentle.
"We can't do this, Blue. You're distracted, and upset, and I can't take advantage of that," the older mech panted.
Keening low in his throat, Bluestreak moved so he could straddle his mate. "Please Sunstreaker? Remind me of you, that I'm yours. Please?" Bluestreak pled, using Sunstreaker's possessive kink against the yellow warrior. "Please Sunny," punctuated by grinding their pelvic plating together.
Bluestreak needed this, to be claimed and told that he was loved, and still desirable. His hallucinations always left him shattered, and wanting to be reminded that the life he led now still had the potential to be as good as his life before the destruction of Praxus. Seeing all his childhood memories made him want confirmation that someone loved and cherished him still. Survivors guilt was an unattractive feature to most mechs. Succumbing to the despair yet again always made Bluestreak wonder if Sunstreaker still cared for this broken mess of a mech, bonded or not.
But Sunstreaker always chased away any doubt with their hours of intimacy. So why wouldn't he do it now?
Sunstreaker was torn. Half of him wanted to give in and take the sniper, show him that he belonged to Sunstreaker, and Sunstreaker only took the finest, the best. Pin him down and worship the lithe, trusting body as he moaned and writhed in ecstasy.
The other half didn't want to take advantage of him in his emotional state. He knew of Bluestreak's need for reassurance after one of these episodes, but this vision was much more potent than the rest. He had been sparring with Sideswipe when he felt the sudden wave of sadness shoot through his spark. It was enough to drop him to his knees, narrowly avoiding a kick to the helm, originally intended for his abdomen. Muttering something about getting a "rain-check" on their match, Sunstreaker sprinted out of the room to aid his mate.
The pain had never been that intense before, and the frontliner didn't want to hurt his mate by interfacing with him in this state. He was not a gentle lover by any means, and Bluestreak was well aware of that. Usually, his firm but loving touch would help the gunner to overcome any dark emotions in his CPU. But with his lover this…fragile…the artist was hesitant to jump right into 'facing his mate.
"Please, Bluestreak. I want you, always; you know I do. But I can't justify taking advantage of you," he attempted to reason with his lover.
Why couldn't Sunstreaker see that this was what Bluestreak needed? "Sunstreaker," he began, leaning intently over his mate's facial plates, utilizing his low, sultry, berth-room tone. "I need you. I need your spike, slamming home into my valve. I need your lips and servos ghosting on and around my lips and doorwings, taking me over the edge like only you can. I need you. Please Sunstreaker, please." Bluestreak opened up his panel, revealing his dripping valve and fully pressurized spike. Grinding down again, Bluestreak moaned as his sensitive hardware made contact with Sunstreaker's rapidly warming panel.
But looking into his lover's optics, Bluestreak paused in his ministrations. Sunstreaker's icy-blue optics were smoldering with barely constrained lust, but also concern, and was that…pity? Ashamed of his actions, Bluestreak pushed away from his lover, closing his panel as he went. Shame and anxiety swarmed below his spark, causing the gunner to clamp down on the bond, keeping Sunstreaker out. "I need you…but apparently not as much as you need me. Am I that hideous to you?"
Dejectedly trying to get off his lover's lap, Bluestreak was suddenly jerked back into the artist's grasp. "Sunstreaker, wha-" Bluestreak was cut off by the yellow mech's lips, fiercely slamming against his own. Warm servos fondled wires and joints in his doorwings, causing the younger mech to gasp into the kiss. Sunstreaker's glossa eagerly plundered into the moist cavern, swiping around his mouth before tangling in an intimate dance with Bluestreak's glossa. So lost was he in the sensations, he had no warning when the world suddenly shifted, and he was pinned underneath his lusting lover's weight.
Sunstreaker was annoyed. How dare Bluestreak even think that he was less than perfect? He wouldn't have fallen for the verbose mech had he not met each of Sunstreaker's standards. The pain that the young gunner had shown when he had failed to respond to his advances was understandable, but he would never, ever, if he could help it, make his lover feel undesirable. The beast inside snapped, and now he was going to show Bluestreak just how much he loved the mech, that much he was certain of.
Easing the gunner down on his back, Sunstreaker traced a burning trail of kisses down his lover's taut stomach cabling, until his glossa laved at his sensitive hip seams. He smirked as his lover bucked into his touch before he teasingly pulled away, not giving Bluestreak the satisfaction of having the sensation increased. Firmly pinning down his lover's hips, Sunstreaker playfully growled before nuzzling down his lovers plating, lapping at the edges of Bluestreak's panel.
Bluestreak threw his head back and moaned. When Sunstreaker turned animalistic, it was guaranteed that he would be feeling him for ages afterwards. "P-ple-please Sunny…oohhhh…" The unforgiving glossa teased seams that had already been revved up from his earlier advances, until he was leaking lubricant out of the seams of his panel. He knew that if he moved towards his lover, Sunstreaker would pull away, so the poor gunner was stuck having to wriggle side to side in an attempt to speed things up. Sunstreaker's left hand trailed a teasing touch down to his valve covering, lightly tracing circles over the heated metal.
"Open up for me, Blue," Sunstreaker lustfully growled. The bittersweet, tangy taste of his lover's lubricant had echoed on his glossa, and he wanted nothing more than to have the main course. Purring as his lover complied, the artist blew hot air over the dripping valve, loving the way that it clenched in on itself, trying to draw him in. And succeeding wonderfully. A drop of lubricant seeped out, and Sunstreaker dove to taste it. Lapping up the liquid like an earthen house-cat, the artist teasingly licked along the rim of the valve, before giving into the temptation and diving in. Flicking his glossa against the anterior node on the upper portion of the valve, Sunstreaker then took his hand, which had been tracing the covering, and wriggled a finger inside the clenching valve.
Bucking into the teasing touch, Bluestreak nearly overloaded right there. The sensation of being fingered always turned him on. It wasn't always needed; sometimes Blue liked a tight squeeze. But right now there wasn't anything in the world that could make him feel more loved than his lover was right now.
"Please Sun-sunstreaker….please! I n-need to…aahnn…I need to overload!" he panted, throughly done with the teasing. He wanted to be spiked and he wanted it now!
Pulling away just enough to whisper, "Then do it," Sunstreaker darkly chuckled at the desperation in his gunner's voice. Teasing him was always fun. Smirking to himself, Sunstreaker dove back in, roughly tonguing the node, stretching the valve with three fingers now. He wanted to see his lover come undone, to feel the heady rush of lubricants on his glossa, sliding down his throat. He wanted Bluestreak to reach the high-heavens, by his touch and his touch alone.
Bluestreak couldn't take it anymore. Three fingers thrusting in and out of his valve, Sunstreaker's glossa doing wonders on his sensory nodes; Bluestreak was very close to the edge. But it was Sunstreaker's right servo, daring to brush against his wing joints that threw Bluestreak over the edge.
"SUNSTREAKER!" he cried, arching his back as he overloaded for the first time that night. Throughout the sensory-storm, the feel of Sunstreaker's glossa licking against the node, drinking all of his lubricant prolonged the overload even more so.
Mine, all mine, mine, love, mine…The shattered thoughts spun around the frontliner's CPU, possessive and caring in nature, though intense; though how anyone could expect less from the vain mech was beyond him. Having just overloaded his partner, Sunstreaker, kissed his way up the quivering chassis in front of him. He would make the gunner cry his designation until it was the only thing he knew, he would show him just how loved and cherished he was.
Bluestreak's valve, after an overload, would be extremely sensitive and tight, benefiting both mechs involved. Opening his panel, Sunstreaker allowed his gold and black plated spike to slide into view. Taking the hand that had been playing within Bluestreak, Sunstreaker smeared his lover's lubricant over his spike, moaning low at the sensation. Looking down, taking in the blushing, panting mech below him, Sunstreaker could have overloaded right there. Locking optics with his mate, he growled, "Mine, all mine," before sliding into the overly sensitive valve.
Bluestreak threw his helm back, clenching his valve on the amazingly thick spike within him. Praxians were sensitive during interfacing to begin with, given their doorwings, chevrons, and valves were all hotspots, and Bluestreak's post overload haze was his most sensitive state during interfacing. Sunstreaker exploited it whenever he could.
"Please, Sunny…frag it, MOVE! aahhnnnn…" he panted, wanting the friction but not receiving it. He canted his hips up, trying to take in all of his lover, but the warrior pinned his hips down, preventing movement. The teasing got worse when Sunstreaker began swiveling his hips, pressing around each node, but not quite giving him the satisfaction that he wanted. Condensation began to drip off his overheated frame, further wetting the sheets below him.
"Say it. Tell me who you belong to," the yellow mech demanded. Bluestreak had to acknowledge for himself that Sunstreaker had control of the situation, had control of him. He would never do anything to hurt the younger mech, but he would always keep Bluestreak by his side. The high possessiveness within the frontliner was one of the biggest obstacles that they had to overcome when they agreed to bonding. But Bluestreak learned to love it, and thrive in it.
A sharp, teasingly hard thrust made Bluestreak cry out, before Sunstreaker halted all motion completely. He would hear those words, no matter what it took. Sunstreaker leaned in close to his mate's lips, staring into the cobalt optics. "Who do you belong to?" he asked again, softly, but no less intensely. His thighs were trembling with the effort of holding still; if Bluestreak didn't give in soon, Sunstreaker didn't know what he would do.
Just as soft, Bluestreak answered, "You, Sunstreaker. I belong to you. My artist, my mate, my love; you." Even though this was mostly for Bluestreak's benefit, the grey mech could see how this helped Sunstreaker. Letting him know that he, as a dom, was needed in the sniper's life helped the artist keep up his self-confidence. On the battlefield, in the rec room, or really any other place that wasn't the berth, Sunstreaker oozed self-confidence. But get him alone with his lover, and he was just as needy as his lover.
"And why do you belong to me? Why did I choose you?" Sunstreaker murmured, slowly, deceivingly gently, thrusting his spike in and out of his lover's valve, loving the heated suction around his piece.
Mewling at the feel of his lover finally beginning to move, Bluestreak answered, "Be-because…aahhh…y-you only take the b-best…ohh! Please…I need you! I belong to you; I'm yours to do as you wish, anything, anytime, anywhere, just please…uuhhnnn…MOVE!" By the end, the younger mech was screaming, begging to be taken hard by his lover.
Purring in contentment, Sunstreaker lightly kissed his lover, before gave in to the siren's call. The yellow frontliner picked up his lover's left leg, placing it on his shoulder and thrusting even deeper into the mech, setting a fast, punishing pace. Sunstreaker pushed forward, utilizing his lover's incredible flexibility.
"Yesss….say it again, Blue. Tell the whole fragging Ark who you belong to! Tell them who makes you feel this way, who owns you! SAY IT!" Sunstreaker growled, harshly nipping at the lines in his lover's neck. Finding a sensitive node, the artist teased and twisted it with his glossa, wringing the answer from his lover's vocalizer.
"YOU! Ahhhnn….SUNSTREAKER! Oh, Primus…please….f-feel zoo g-good…uhhnnn…think I'm close…Primus, I'm so close, SUNSTREAKER!" Bluestreak cried, barely hanging on. He wanted to overload so badly, but he wanted to take his lover with him. Tearing away from the pleasurable sensations on his neck, he arched up and sucked on one of Sunstreaker's helm fins, which were just as sensitive as his doorwings. Licking in-between all the slats, tracing his fingers around the outside, Bluestreak was pleased when the steady, fast pace became irregular, rushed thrusts; his mate was close as well.
Slaggit all! He really knows how to use that glossa! Sunstreaker thought as he sped up. Bluestreak had admitted it, and all that was missing was the processor blowing overload. Which, if Bluestreak didn't slow down, he would lose it before his lover.
"O-overload for me, Bluestreak. Overload, and scream my name, one last time. Who do you belong to?" he harshly whispered in Bluestreak's audio, before biting down on his chevron point.
"SUNSTREAKER!" and a wordless scream of pleasure tore out of Bluestreak's vocalizer, as his valve clamped down on the spike within him. He loved this, being dominated so throughly by his Sunstreaker. The yellow mech kept thrusting throughout his overload, and a sudden rush of scalding transfluid coupled with a low, throaty growl marked his lover's overload.
Panting, Bluestreak shifted his leg back down, but taking care to keep his lover's spike within him. Condensation pooled on both frames, dripping off chevrons and helm fins, the sound of pinging metal filling the quarters.
Sunstreaker turned them to lay on his side as he flopped down on the berth. Looking deep into his lover's optics, the artist spoke. "I love you, Bluestreak. Don't forget that. I only take the best, and I took you, didn't I?" Regretfully, the yellow mech withdrew his spike from his lover's hot valve, drawing a gasp from his mate. Lust briefly stirred deep within his belly, but tiredness won out. "You know that, don't you Bluestreak? That you're mine…"
Glancing back at his mate, the grey mech replied, "I know that now. I'm sorry Sunstreaker, I just get so scared after I see one of those memories, and all I can think about is the jeers and insults that I got when I first came here, and still get sometimes, and I get really sad. But I know that you still love me…I just need a little reminder. I love you too, Sunstreaker." Bluestreak tried to turn closer to his mate, but the ache in his valve prevented him from doing so.
"Although, next time, could it be a little…less….intense? I loved it, but the after effects…" Bluestreak trailed off as Sunstreaker got off the berth, and headed toward the desk against the far wall. "What are you doing?"
Wordlessly, Sunstreaker returned to his mate, carrying a small container of salve. After some of his more rough interfaces, Ratchet had gotten tired of repairing valves and hearing intermingled complaints and praise about his style of 'facing. As a result, the CMO had given him a jar of salve to numb the pain should any damage be done, but not take away that "post-overload feel," as the medic called it. Smearing some on his fingers, Sunstreaker massaged the rim and then inside of his lover's valve, enjoying the surprised moan that Bluestreak emitted.
"Hope this helps. Didn't mean to hurt you…you are too important for me to do that," Sunstreaker admitted, finishing off his task and setting the jar on the bedside table.
Bluestreak sat up on his left elbow, cradling his lover's jawline with his right servo. Sharp, attractive cheek struts, full, pouty lips, and intense optics stared back. "I love you, Sunstreaka," he said in his little used Praxian accent. It sounded a little like a human's British accent. All sense of desperation, of dejection had fled with the passion that overtook them, and the love that flooded the bond made him feel a little sheepish at feeling so unloved in the beginning.
"Und I jou," Sunstreaker replied, his slight Kaonian accent bleeding through, sound like an Earthling's Russian. Their lips met, and he reveled in the sureness, the confidence in his lover now. Laying him back down, Sunstreaker gently nibbled on his mate's lower lipplate for a few breams, before feeling his gunner slowly fade into recharge. Watching as he drifted away, Sunstreaker whispered, "Jou are the best, Bluestreak, und I love jou for eet." Kissing his mate on the chevron, the artist curled his lover against him, and settled into recharge.
So, this would be the end. Hopefully I will be able to get started on Chapter 12 of Reach Out soon. Thousand Years to Love You gets updated as the mood hits me, so no harm done there. And the rest are one-shots. Ugh...writing. I do love it, but it is much work!
Only my second time writing full on smut. (There is a brief scene in Reach Out, but nothing gets exposed. the other scene is in Thousand Years to Love You) Please, please comment on how I did! I agonized for days while writing this, and I wanna make sure that I did it justice!
Oh! BTW, I find accents attractive. Like, I just do. So, I made Praxians have a British accent, and Kaonians have Russian. Cuz I could.
R&R!
3 Huntress