Fandom: Transformers IDW
Author: gatekat, ultrarodimus on LJ
Pairing: Striker/Spindrift
Rating: NC-17 mech/mech
Codes: AU, Slash, Sticky, First Time
Summary: Just a random bit of smut between Striker and Spendrift just for the hell of it.
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal. com/290 .html). We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
Notes: Striker is Drift/Wing's first creation in Hunters from the Light, and this story is set in the same 'verse, but well after that story ends.
Striker: img62 .imageshack .us/img62/7862/strikerrecolor .png

When a Jet Shows Interest

By this time, no one in New Crystal City batted an optic at seeing seven emerald-and-amber bi-wheeled ground vehicles moving as a group. The seven vehicles wove neatly through the traffic, then gathered, transformed, and combined into a slim mech.

Spindrift had come to New Crystal City with Titanium and GoldenRod when the pair had resigned from the Autobots. The green-and-amber mech had not been suited for battle, being lightly-armored, and being a spark split between seven components he was even more vulnerable than the average Cybertronian. He'd resigned himself to being stuck in bases and outposts when Titanium had offered to take him to a place where his light armor wouldn't matter. Spindrift had never regretted accepting the offer.

Some poking around looking for something to do had landed Spindrift a job as a courier. Having seven components meant that he could literally be in seven places at the same time, making multiple deliveries much quicker than most ground-based mechs. He was slightly hampered by the fact that his components did not have their own separate, complete robot forms, each one being a part of his own form. Thankfully, no one overly minded him having to roll into shops and residences for deliveries.

This orn was one of his off orns, leaving him free to roll around and enjoy the peace of his new home. He was heading to one of his favorite parks, near the Knight's Citadel. Like most grounders, Spindrift was fascinated by fliers and airframes, and could happily sit for joors watching them. There was usually at least one in the air around the Citadel, more if Titanium was running a flight class or drill.

Finding a place to sit, Spindrift settled himself and looked up. His optics quickly caught on a flash of red and white, an airframe darting about in the open sky, colors almost glowing in the light from the twin suns. Silver optics widened slightly, the young mech's full attention on that flier, admiring the elegant wings and the graceful flight.

It rose to challenge the suns, dropped spiraling to nearly kiss the ground before roaring into the sky in an every widening spiral. A snap and flare of engines and it changed directions nearly on its tail.

Spindrift was riveted, all his attention on the display. He actually forgot about the other mecha around him, having optics only for that flier, dancing in the sky overhead. He wasn't alone in his staring, but some of the mecha knew more than he did. A whisper began to pass through those around him, comments that the jet was trying to impress someone.

Spindrift was oblivious to the comments. He was completely focused on that dancing jet. He'd seen many of the flying Knights and the non-Knight airframes in the air, but he'd never seen any of them flying like this. The jet suddenly dove right for him, at a speed that seemed impossible to pull out of.

Spindrift's silver optics went huge. What was the jet doing?

The answer came in the form of a transformation and a blast of thrusters to slow the red and white mech down enough to land smoothly, directly in front of the gawking green mech.

"Hello, handsome," the jet purred, ruby red optics raking over Spindrift's frame shamelessly.

Spindrift's jaw dropped as the flier landed in front of him. The green mech's silver gaze swept over white and red armor, taking just how beautiful this mech really was. Then the flier's words registered.

"Y... You think I'm handsome?" Spindrift squeaked, optics are wide as they could go.

"I wouldn't skydance for you if I didn't," he reached out to caress Spindrift's cheek. "I'm Striker."

If it was possible, Spindrift's optics grew even wider. "That was for me?" It took him a klik to get his bearing backs. "I'm Spindrift," he finally replied, shyly.

"Yes, for you," Striker revved his turbines lightly and stepped a little closer, inside Spindrift's personal space where their fields would mingle if one didn't pull back. "You have any plans for the evening, Spindrift?"

Spindrift's field was awash with awe-shyness-curiosity, licking hesitantly at Striker's. "No... this is my orn off... I don't have any plans..."

With a brightening smile Striker leaned in and down, capturing Spindrift's mouth for a soft, questioning kiss as his field twined with Spindrift's, full of desire-arousal-want.

Spindrift "eeped". Now he actually did blush, an odd trait for a Cybertronian. His response was hesitant and awkward, very clumsy.

When Striker leaned back slightly to look Spindrift in the optics his fingers remained and his field shifted to curiosity mixed with the lust-desire. "No one's been interested in you before?"

Spindrift shook his head. "N-no... Back on Cybertron no one gave me a second look." He shifted on the bench, embarrassed by that admission. Surely now the gorgeous flier would shrug and fly away...

"Well, I suppose that makes sense. Everyone with taste left with Dai Atlas," Striker said with a seductive smile. "Would you like to spend the night with me?"

Spindrift stared at him for a long moment. Shyness flooded his field for a long moment. "Uhm... yes, I would," the green mech replied finally.

A beaming smile rewarded him and Striker slid an arm around the smaller mech. "Come then. I have good energon and a soft berth ... unless you'd rather your first be at your place?"

"I don't have much room at my place," Spindrift admitted. He wasn't a very big mech, being smaller than Striker was, and wasn't a flier or used to having open spaces all around him. After so long in the war zone, having a closed, ground floor apartment was comforting for him. It also let him rent cheap, since those were not accommodations many in New Crystal City found appealing.

Striker stepped back and offered his hand. "Then let's fly to mine."

Silver optics brightened. "Fly?" Spindrift was a grounder, all his components were grounders. He had never had the opportunity to fly outside of a ship.

Bouncing to his feet, he took Striker's hand and was quickly wrapped in slender, strong white arms.

"Hold on," Striker advised as his engine cycled up for flight with a heavy load.

Spindrift obligingly clung tightly to Striker's frame, locking all his connection points to prevent any of his components from loosening during the flight. His field flooded with eagerness-anticipation at the chance to see the city as a flier saw it, even if only briefly.

Striker's field was full of amusement as he lifted off, giving an intentionally slow assent so his lover for the night could have a good memory of his first flight and the city as Striker saw it.

Spindrift's helm was turning every which way, staring around at the city as they lifted off, trying to look everywhere at once. He was clearly fascinated by what he was seeing. His arms remained firmly wrapped around Striker, holding on for dear life. Despite Striker's efforts to give him a good look, they landed on the young Knight's balcony all too soon for the grounder.

Striker loosened his grip and hummed. "I can suck you off, eat you out, while you watch the city, if you'd like."

Spindrift tilted his helm, blinking up at the taller mech. "I'm really not sure what that means," he had to admit, trying to shrink into his own armor in embarrassment.

"You're adorable," Striker purred, tipping the grounder's face up for a sensually chaste kiss. "Sucking you off is my mouth around your spike. Eating you out is my mouth and glossa at your valve."

The combiner blinked several times as he processed that. Curiosity-interest-shyness flowed through his field. Carefully, he returned the kiss, hoping he was doing it right.

The jet smiled into the kiss, his field humming with pleasure-approval. "Or should I stop asking questions and simply take you to my berth and do delectable things to your frame?"

Emerald-green armor puffed up at that, interest-shyness seeping into Spindrift's field, melding with the eagerness already present. The smaller mech didn't know just what to say, letting his field do the talking for him.

Strike chuckled in good humor and stepped forward to guide his shy lover into the large room that made up his quarters as a single, low ranking Knight. The berth on their left was large and luxurious, the primary investment Striker had made into upgrading what he'd been given as a new mechling.

Spindrift's optics were almost perfectly round as he took in Striker's quarters. The room was larger than his own, which was understandable considering that Striker was a larger mech and a flier. Spotting the berth resulted in a spike of amazement to dart through his field.

"I saved up my credits to upgrade what was important to me," Striker nuzzled him and urged the stunned grounder towards the berth. "Most spend it on energon confections or vid systems. I happen to enjoy my berth."

Spindrift padded over, reaching out to place one hand on it. "Certainly more comfortable than mine," he commented, smiling up at the larger jet.

"It's what a century of hard work, and several gifts, can buy," Striker gave him time to explore the soft expanse and its fine covering before nudging him to lie down. "Investing in a few things you spend a lot of time with is worth it."

"I don't spend that much time in mine." Spindrift actually purred as he lay back, pressing as much of his armor as possible against the softness. "And I typically wake up with parts of myself in two or three different locations spread over the berth."

"That is a fascinating trick," Striker's wings shivered in anticipation as he climbed on the berth and looked down at his lover for the night. Such a lovely little mech with an unusual finish and unique design. And he got to be this delectable piece of uniqueness' first experience. Slowly he knelt over Spindrift and lowered his helm to kiss him again, this time moving off his lips to kiss and nibble along his jaw, then delicate throat.

"Not sure why, but I can't seem to keep myself together at night." Spindrift's silver gaze swept over Striker's chassis, admiring the sleek lines of his armor and those gorgeous wings, his fingers twitching. A mew of surprise escaped him at the kiss, then he awkwardly returned it, optics flickering as soft lips moved along his jaw, automatically tilting his helm back as Striker's kisses found his throat. Spindrift tilted his helm to one side slightly, trying not to get the hornlike crests of his helm caught in the berth's covering.

"They won't catch," Striker purred as he nibbled his lover's throat, his hands stroking down Spindrift's sides. "You can touch anywhere you want, or not at all. I'm good either way."

Permission given, Spindrift's hands immediately went for those sleek wings, palms running over the smooth expanses, fingertips stroking lightly along the edges, exploring every square inch in reach. Touching a flier's wings had always been a dream of his, and he was not going to waste this chance. They pressed into his touch shamelessly, Striker moaning in appreciation as his field feed Spindrift how good it felt.

The emerald-armored body quivered under Striker's hands as Spindrift responded to the touches. It felt good, better than he'd ever imagined. Arousal greeted and mingled with arousal.

Slowly Striker kissed his way down his lover's frame, inching down until his lips were against the spike cover and his slender fingers dipped and teased under hip armor.

The combiner squirmed as the amber-hued panel was touched, one hand tightening on the berth cover while the other played with the audial spines on Striker's helm, tracing the edges up to the sharp tips. The red and white jet's touches and kisses were sending surges through his sensor net, his engines purring.

Slender black fingers slipped into the joints where leg components met lower body component, twisting and stroking connection points and transformation cogs. His mouth and glossa didn't let up either, kissing and licking at the panel he was trying to convince to open.

The green and amber mech gasped sharply, his whole body quivering. The connection points of limbs and body were highly sensitive. The engine in one leg roared, vibrating against Striker's side. Spindrift's spike cover seemed to snap open purely by reflex, the combiner's spike pressurizing out of its housing.

A self-satisfied grin crossed Striker's features and he x-vented across the sensitive length, then began to slowly kiss his way up the spike from housing to tip.

Spindrift made a sound that was part moan and part gasp, his hips twitching as he tried to process what he was feeling. Sensations he'd never experienced before swirled through his sensor net. But it felt so good.

"So pretty," Striker murmured before taking the tip of Spindrift's between his lips and swirling his glossa around it.

The smaller mech tried to say something, but all that came out was a garbled sound, followed by a deep moan. He could not keep still, limbs twitching and hips trying to jerk up to meet Striker. All of his engines were purring loudly, sending vibrations through his body into Striker's where their armor touched.

Striker's powerful jet engines and turbines answered as he lowered his helm. His glossa worked every inch of spike as it became available, swirling, licking and stroking while his fingers continued to work hip joints.

Spindrift was rapidly being reduced to a puddle of goo, or as close to it as a mech could get. One hand was stroking over Striker's helm, though there was no coordination to the movements. One limb connection actually partially separated before clicking back into place. The young mech was starting to feel an odd sensation running through his circuitry, a building charge, growing and growing.

Striker lifted his helm enough to speak. "Don't fight it," he cooed before taking the spike in his mouth all the way to the housing, taking the tip into his intake and squeezing.

As if those words had given Spindrift permission, the combiner's body stiffened, back arching. The tips of his helm's cresting horns pressed into the berth, his helm balancing on them as he cried out, reaching overload for the first time. Transfluid spurted from the tip of his spike into Striker's mouth as the green-and-amber mech's hips jerked. Then the young mech collapsed back onto the berth, venting heavily, optics out of focus and blinking hazily at the ceiling.

Gently Striker lifted his helm, licking his lover clean before moving down to lick and sniff at the valve cover, curious if it was ready.

It took a klik or two for Spindrift to get his bearings back. Silver optics, finally focusing properly, blinked down the length of his body at Striker as the sleek jet licked at the second panel between his legs. One emerald-and-amber leg shift aside, giving the white and red jet more space. The valve cover snicked open, the smaller mech's body knowing what it wanted.

Striker smiled up at him before lowering his face to lick lightly around the entrance, slick with lubricant and thick with pleasure-tuned sensor nodes. A low moan escaped Spindrift's vocalizer as his helm fell back, his hips rolling into the touch. His engines revved gently, encouraging the touch and pleasure.

"You taste good too," the jet purred, licking up the glistening jelly like lubricant.

Spindrift made another attempt to say something, again failing. His hips shifted, trying to press into Striker, his engines' purr revving higher. Sensor nodes that had never been touched before fired on, sending bolts of sensation through his sensor net.

With a smile Striker purred against the soft platelets around the valve entrance, the vibration stimulating even the ones he didn't directly touch.

The combiner's whole body quivered, one arm briefly detaching, then reconnecting. A sound that was half moan and half howl escaped at the sudden jolt that ran through his sensor net. It felt better than he'd ever imagined. Trying and failing to look down at Striker, Spindrift extended his field, pulsing with need-want-desire.

With a shudder of his own Striker lifted himself up, his spike cover snapping open as he climbed to cover Spindrift and kissed him. Taking the small grounder's field as permission, he rolled his hips forward to press his spike into the virgin slickness with a low, resonant moan of bliss.

Bright silver optics widened with surprise, staring up at Striker as Spindrift's back arched, his hips pressing into Striker's, taking the jet's spike in deeper. A soft mew escaped the combiner at the penetration, his hands coming up to claw lightly at Striker's plating as he adjusted to the new sensation. After a couple nanokliks he relaxed, one leg coming up to gingerly drape itself over Striker's hip.

"So hot," Striker shuddered at holding still until his lover relaxed. He lowered his helm to kiss Spindrift, his entire frame burning with arousal when his hips drew back slowly, savoring the intensity of sensations from his spike.

Spindrift moaned softly, his hands gliding over Striker's sides around to his back, fingertips finding the bases of the jet's elegant wings. He shivered as Striker drew back, spike stroking over the valve nodes. Tilting his helm up, he licked lightly at Striker's lips, the engine in the leg draped over the jet's hips revving against white armor.

The combiner let out a soft cry, slightly awkwardly rolling his hips into Striker's thrusts. His lack of experience showing through again. Spindrift's hands ran over Striker's wings, exploring around their bases and all along the jet's white armor, up the smooth wing panels and along the edges as far as the smaller mech could reach. Both arm engines were revving, causing Spindrift's fingers to vibrate as they stroked over the wing bases.

It was enough to cause Striker to cry out, shuddering as his pleasure began to spiral out of control. "If you want me to last, you'll need to leave the wings alone."

Spindrift made an odd sound, fingers obligingly dropping away from those wings to explore the rest of Striker's armor. One hand slid up to better explore the red and white jet's helm, tracing his audio spikes, while the other palm ran down Striker's side to his hip.

Soft moans and tremors rewarded the exploration as Striker continued to thrust, forcing the sensors in his spike to tone down their responsiveness. He would not overload until this lovely virgin under him did. He had a reputation to maintain.

Being a virgin, Spindrift was not going to last very long. That required experience the emerald-and-amber mech did not have. Spin was writhing under Striker, engines revving higher, venting heavily.

"Let go, lovely," Striker pleaded, rolling his hips to stimulate every node he could, inside and out. "Overload for me, with me."

Barely had the jet finished the sentence when Spindrift overloaded, his valve tightening around Striker's spike, his engines roaring, limbs vibrating against Striker's armor. Spindrift let out a sharp cry, his optics flickering briefly, hands tightening on Striker's chassis before loosening. The combiner vented heavily, blinking dazedly up at the larger jet, who was still caught in the throes of overload. Frame completely stiff, helm thrown back, back arched to drive his hips flush against Spindrift's while his spike pumped out hot, thick transfluid into the grounder's valve.

Wide, slightly hazy silver optics watched Striker, Spindrift trembling all over from the sensations still racing through his frame. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. The look on the mech above him was unlike anything he'd ever seen either. The agony some mecha expressed when badly injured came close, but Striker's field and fresh experience made it clear enough that this was pleasure, not pain.

Striker's frame abruptly went lax with a shuddering moan, tremors flicking through every bit of him as he struggled for cooling air while sprawled limply on top of Spindrift.

Spindrift barely reacted to having the larger frame sprawled over him, other than a surprised mew at the collapse. His engines' roar faded to a gentle idle. The combiner was content to just lay there and bask in the afterglow, purring very softly.

"Enjoy yourself?" Striker murmured as he gathered enough coordination to roll off Spindrift and pull him close to snuggle.

"That was... incredible," Spindrift replied once he'd gotten control over his vocalizer back. He leaned against Striker, letting his silver optics dim. "I've always wondered what it might be like, but that was... far better than what I'd always thought."

"Good," Striker thrummed in pleasure and snuggled close. "Stay for breakfast?"

Spindrift smiled. "Of course. Just don't be surprised if a couple of my limbs have migrated off the berth by morning..."

"I think I can manage that," Striker chuckled and let his optics dim, preparing for recharge.