Hey everyone!
How about a random one-shot?
I think it was high time I made this for these two, I swear it was eating me alive.
If you've read my other story, Of The Spark And Heart, you'll know exactly why I'm writing this :)
It should help you paint a better picture of our favorite pair of creators.
WARNING:
There is explicit content ahead. Nothing much, however, I do feel obligated to tell you that this is material border-lining on M-Rated. However, everything written here is purely base on deep, emotion contact. I would never write anything in my T-Rated stories that would would deal with unnecessary smut or mature content. Please, if anything here offends you in some way, feel free to PM me and voice your concerns. Thank you :D
Enjoy!
A Thousand Times Brighter
"Tell me what you think,"
"Think of what?"
"Of us - of this."
The mech sitting with a compad in his servo lifted his helm, setting two blue optics on a single form lingering by the doorway. Darkness dripped in from the late orn skies, showering her with a cape of stars and the nameless twin moons cycling their planet. Color bounced, mixing in whites and blues, with her figure touched in tragedy and beauty. Beautiful tragedy.
Shivers of empty excitement wafted from her, ruffling the flatness of the walls of the domicile. Everything of her, around her, touching her, hummed. They became hooked on the same note, synchronizing and producing a sort of invisible glow that was more for the edge of the peripheral vision than believable sight. A fleeting infection of damned light. Iridescent flutters wavered here, there, on the roof, on the floor - wherever he could not catch. He'd figured himself crazy. To see this fembot before him would be to see the mess of rainbows dancing in the corners of brilliant rays of the spectrum. Only when she appeared did they show.
That was where her name originated from. It was no sheer insanity gripping that poor mech's psyche. It was her presence, sparkling and jeweled under the luminescence of the celestial bodies circling above them. From servo, planted on the doorframe; to optics, piercing through him in the cobalt azure of her esteemed caste in the systems; to perfectly crafted armor, shelved for the wealthy and equipped with the bulky clutter of war stained on them; she became his picture of perfection. His divine empress. His smiling crown. His fevered spark. His vast, liquid-mercury oceans.
His Nova.
He stood, leaving the compad behind, to stand and face the future he sought. His features were hard in the determination of stubborn will. A will, of which he believed to be for the better. For her betterment. For the betterment of them both. Rifts cleared their path, separating what he'd originally figured never to be split. From the clamoring of her digits on his armor, not a single process in his CPU rose where he predicted they could ever, never, be. His digits lingered on the desk where he was seated for the heaviest orns of his life cycle. That had become his home. This barrack, where he'd spent vorns, fighting, losing, and sacrificing everything...was no longer familiar.
Stitches of alloy patched the area he had struck when the news breached his lip plates to the fembot that 'they' were destined to remain a 'he' and 'her'. Not they. Or them. Or us. Rivers of lubricant tears had trickled down her cheekplates then, and with them, the remnants of this mech's leaking spark. It had broken with her choked, single noise. All of it shattered there, in her hardened gaze and icy mandible. When she had picked up her resolve and met optics with him, her frame trembling in...anger? Fear? Sparkbreak? He couldn't deny the urge to collect her in his arms then and claim it all a lie.
But it wasn't. He was he. She was she. They were not 'they'. And 'they' couldn't ever be.
"I told you what I thought," he answered her smoothly, faceplates marked with the practiced look of a trained soldier. A warrior was standing before her. Not a lover. What she needed was the mech whom had held her close and whispered in her audio. What she needed was a mech who was willing to defend her with his life, as he'd done on the battlefield. However, he wasn't that mech she was looking for. She could easily find another fighter who was willing to do so much more for her - who was of her social status and could satisfy her ambitions.
What he had told her was this: He did not love her. He did not care. And he did not want her here. What they'd had was a fling - a single term of minor infatuation. He'd used her to interface, and that was all she was to him. They hadn't interfaced yet, and he was becoming tired of chasing her. A lotta was standing before him, not a Cybertronian royal, whom had attended balls and galas, and who was claimed as Cybertron's 'Pure Spark'. She was their darling. Who was she to sneak around with a mech of his lowly status and standing in the system? Her creators would have been ashamed of her. Or worse, they could have disowned her altogether.
Nova leaned greatly into the door, her vents making calculated sounds in the trim slits of her armor. Had she run here? On the news, it had explained that she and her family unit were to attend the Acceptance ceremony in Iacon that would name their next Prime. Then again, it could be the slimness of her armor. It was tight for a reason. For show. It made the mech furious to see his fembot forced to wear such garb because it was fashionable. All he wished was to tear it from her protoform, allowing her to vent comfortably, and take in the wholeness of his scent.
That vision of him, bowed dominantly above her exposed protoform, while she laid, restless and vulnerable under him, made his tanks ache in its strange, twisted way. His spark fluttered and his vents clicked on at the rising heat in his frame. Not even standing close to her, and the fembot was having her way with him.
She stepped once, then twice inside, faceplates breaking through the curtain of gloom and into the shade of light escaping through a dirtied window in his domicile. They were concerned, greatly so, and twin trails of dried lubricant were frayed on her cheekplates, as if she had cried while she ran. "Lies," she claimed, raising her privileged digit at his direction. It stabbed right through him, as an energon blade did long ago. Her helm tilted to the side some, sending her scalding glare mercilessly at him. "You, what you said-"
"What I said," he interrupted, his voice sharp against the accusing pitch of hers, "was to gain your trust - to get you to lay with me. Nothing more."
"Don't you lie to me!" she shrieked, arm snapping down. She stalked to him, and the mech had the distant urge to retreat backwards. "Drift, I swear to Primus I will rip off your cable and shove it up your aft until you choke on your own length!"
Drift had the half-bit side of himself that believed every threat she threw at him. When they had first met, he being her Guardian for the moment where her family unit had been targeted for assassination, she wouldn't had dared utter the words 'interface cable'. Now look at her. If the blade-wielding Autobot wasn't this concerned with keeping his calm, he would have laughed. Pride was in him at seeing her evolve into the less stuck-up, prissy fembot she'd been before. The last orn they had walked together as a 'they', he'd paid witness to her giving away a full pouch of credits to a random Terminal class mech slumped on the streets of Kaon. She'd gained compassion. A bite had developed, yes, however, Drift had known it to be there all along. It came with the package. Primus bless the next mech to tame her.
Nova was a foot from him, burning him through with her proximity. Her optics stole through his frame without needing leave a scratch. How could she, a fembot not passing his chassis in height, bring him down so? "You are an upper-class fembot," he snapped, harsher than he'd meant. But he knew it was necessary. "You believe me idiotic enough as to pursue a fembot where I could have my helm lopped off my neck for even looking at? You're insane!"
"I'm insane?!" she burst back, the seams of her frame bustling with rapid activity. Drift could feel the intensity of them increasing, passing innocent squabbles and preparing to move onward to full-blown shouting. "You, of all mechs, are calling me insane?" Her gaze was sarcastic and narcotic, the way they were when she refused to hear what she didn't want to. Why was she this stubborn? Why couldn't she see this was what was best? He was only trying to keep her out of harm's way.
Drift's mandible hardened, his frame puffing outward in his show of challenge. Silently he dared her to go on - to venture into lands she would regret. She accepted the trap as if it were a welcomed greeting to the local spas. "You, whom have murdered mechs and fembots on the battlefield, showering this planet in energon that was never yours to spill? You, whom have wrenched the screams from innocent bystanders and licked the wounds of your undeserving comrades, only to kiss the aft of your leader and up yourself in ranking? Hm?" she demanded harshly, leaving no plate unturned in her venomous rant. Drift was stunned to say the least at her depth of attack.
But she wasn't done yet. "You, who call me insane, whom have smiled at the taste of power on your glossa, and thirsted for its rapturous release, yourself? What of the sparklings you left without creators? What about the helpless and homeless who were but running for their lives when you shot them from behind?" Her words stung him down to his core, allowing a violent storm of rage to build. How much of this nonsense did she actually trust, that she was spewing?
"You call me insane, when it is you that have ripped the sparks out of empty frames, because you can't carry one of your own?" she spat viciously.
Drift snapped at this outburst, knowing, deep within himself, of the utter torture he was enduring at standing here to merely take the brunt of her claims. He could handle the memories of the physical snapping of his limbs; the cackling shudder of his vents as they bubbled with his energon; the prayers racing through his processor as he knew he was about to die, and no friendly faceplate would be there to say goodbye, or even know he'd deadsparked at all. All that he could handle. Having her believe this...garbage about him was intolerable.
The mech leapt at the fembot before him, swift to thrust her up against the wall beside the door, with her wrists in his servos, high above her helm. "If either of us is lying, it is you," he growled, close to her faceplates. Their hovering stance beat the heat between them into a fluster of fiery magnificence. Her stuttering vents flowed over his, mingling their airs with a thrift luster. Energon turned to acid within him, and his lines bulged in his arms though he dared not put a pressure on her arms that could hurt her. Their optics locked, neither giving in, and both reveling in the dark flush of the fight.
Something feral and almost...primal was coursing in his lines at that look of fierceness. She was a dangerous fembot, he realized. And that thrilled him. "You do not know me, even if you think you do. What I have done, throughout these vorns, has been for the betterment of my comrades, and never for myself, no matter if it was for the Decepticons, or Autobots. You figure me a monster? A selfish glitch? A murderer?" he hissed, helm angling and optics narrowing. Nova swallowed, but her gaze remained stonily on his. "You don't know the first thing about war, or what we do. You're just a privileged, Alpha-class fembot, with nothing but the worlds at your beck and call. You wouldn't know how to survive by yourself out there, in the real Cybertron, without your jewel-encrusted berth and gold-trimmed wash racks."
A vacuum sucked the life from that room. An entity dipped well into the recess of their moment and ripped his spark out then and there. What was he getting out of all of this? What about what he wanted? It had always been about the others. About his brothers. His sisters. His leaders. But why couldn't he have something for himself? Why couldn't he be selfish and claim this single entity when he'd given everything else away? Nova was waiting for him. Him. Of all mechs.
He didn't mean all he said, and he knew she didn't mean any of it either. What were they doing, playing this game of strangled bites and intoxicating makeups? She was able to chose any mech, or even fembot, on the planet. Yet, it was Drift's door she had run to. It was Drift who she had escaped her family to see. It was he who captured her attention. A blind mech could see that the fembot had changed, in her own, subtle ways. She wasn't here to toy with his spark, only to toss him away, as most of her kind did.
Her kind. When did they become a different race?
Drift huffed, throwing his body away from hers when it began to slowly bow toward her. Her spinal support was arching as well, unable to ignore their undeniable, brazen desire. His spinal support to the fembot, Drift was able to process better. He let the cool breeze from the doorway Nova had neglected to close wash over him. Its unruly tendrils curled over his heated plates, tending the lines along his seams and brushing a chilled servo down the stretch of his spinal support from neck to aft. It was starkly different from the welcoming stroke of Nova's frame.
"Leave," he stated, helm ducking to the side so he wouldn't be tempted to peer back at the one he'd left at the wall.
Of course, it was a stupid thing for him to demand. If there was one being in the universe that could match the stubbornness of Drift, it was Nova. She took orders from no being, especially not the mech who'd she had set her sights on the moment they were in a room alone together. It was no surprise when her servos slipped around his midsection, the dainty shape of them able to dip into the contours of his armor without effort. Drift withheld his moan when she grabbed him, for he knew, for him to make a single reaction was to lose. It was what she was looking for: for him to break.
He felt her pressed against him from behind, her helm tucked to his spinal support. Could she hear his spark, thrumming, agonizingly, through the cage of his chamber? All he wished for was to throw caution to the wind and take this fembot, here, where they were at their most fragile. But he couldn't. It wasn't right. It would only cause trouble for the both of them. And besides, Drift was known as a traitor among the ranks of the Decepticons for leaving his old life behind as Deadlock. They would surely be hunting him down for retribution. He couldn't ever place Nova in that kind of danger. If anything happened, he would never be able to forgive himself.
Yet when she placed her servos, so gently through his outer shell, and played with the wires beneath...it was hard to imagine anything but her. This moment was meant for them. Their universe was beginning to build and take them into it. What right had he to destroy something so beautiful - something great in his life cycle for once?
"I won't ever leave, Drift. You know that," she murmured quietly against him. Her voice was strained with emotion. The cheekplate on his spinal support became slick and warm with what he knew had to be tears. Her grip was tighter, afraid to let him go. For that moment, he was afraid she would too, and leave to never return to him. Always she had come back. But never had he ordered her to leave. Would she have come back from that? A betrayal that strong?
A sniffle picked up from Nova in their still, brittle quiet. Drift couldn't manage to say a word, as his throat was tight and his vocal capacitor was refusing to work. Each nanoclick they came closer to extinction. This, right here, this 'they' moment, was drilling through him, only to leave a permanent mark. A hardened, seasoned warrior found himself crippled by a Cybertronian wealth who couldn't change out the lubricant in her pivotjoints by herself if her life cycle depended on it. A weakness was inside of him for this fembot. He had to admit it to himself eventually.
"I can't, Nova," he rumbled softly, voice pleading that the fembot understand why 'they' couldn't be. "You know I just...can't."
"Why not?!" she yelled in obvious frustration, her arms wrapping harder around him until he was afraid they would get stuck together. And he would have been ok with that. Then nothing could pull them apart. "Why can't it happen, Drift? Because we're in a different caste? Because I don't satisfy you? What do you want from me? Credits? My body? You can have it all! You can have it, just...just please..." Her babble broke with a hiccup, her digits bouncing where they were locked on his front. "Please don't leave me..."
Drift winced, barely able to contain himself. Up to this point, he had consoled Nova in her times of sorrow or pain. When her sibling perished, he was there, holding her until she shut down in exhaustion. He was there, always, to be her strength. Now, he was the cause of it. Things were really falling to slag. "Nova, you know what I-"
"Drift, you can't go." Her faceplates dug into his spinal support. "I lov-"
In an instant he had the fembot in his arms, one servo clamped against her lip plates. Those same lip plates, that had danced on his own, covering his frame in pecks of sweet, sweet pleasure. He was terrified of what was going to come out of them. The other arm was around her spinal support, pinning her to his chassis. Their crests were touching, as Drift had bowed his helm in an instance of fright. Their optics battered against each other, the light waging a war of its own. The fembot's were wide as they stared into Drift's very gridmap. What could she see?
Their venting was hurried, Drift's being a bit more hesitant than her own short cycles. The factor that may have scared him most was that some 'Bot may hear them. It was a ridiculous fear, however, with one of Cybertron's wealthiest under his roof, nothing was impossible. When Drift spoke, it was almost too quiet to hear above the roar of the silence, "Don't," he gasped, his whispers laced in tension, "say it."
Nova's optics ridges came down and she ripped her faceplates free. "And if I do?" the fembot demanded, her words clear enough to be screamed.
Drift huffed, yanking himself away. He strode over to the door, slamming it with astounding force. He then locked it down, shutting off the magnificence of the view outside. Taking a vent, he turned back to the fembot.
His optics went hard. "You don't understand how hard this is for me," he grounded out. He walked to Nova, servo lifting from his side, hovering uselessly for a moment, then balling up into a frustrated fist. The mech's optics shuttered shut and his faceplates aimed away. "To see you every orn, and tell myself I don't care... That tears me to pieces, Nova, it really does. But you know what, I don't want to put you in danger from a choice I made vorns ago, so I dealt with it." His optic slips opened, revealing a side of himself he'd tried hiding from her.
"But I did it to protect you. I pushed you away and then brought you in, all because I couldn't make the hard decision and cut everything before it got to this point. I was supposed to leave you alone, but you broke me Nova; you shatter my very spark into tiny, indescribable pieces, and I don't think I'll ever be able to put them back together again." His comment dribbled off into the nothing, sinking into the pair of audios they were meant for alone. "And I played in this game - I played with your spark. I'm sorry, Nova. I'm so, very sorry I ever got involved or made you think there could be something between us."
He didn't realize Nova was about to kiss him until her lip plates had already met his. Her arm had snaked around the back of his neck, holding him in place as she smashed their faceplates together. The taste of her overwhelmed whatever fight was in him, and he fell victim to the embrace of her once again. His arm, which he had forgotten was around her, unconsciously held her nearer. A precious thing was in his grasp. He had to have the ability in him to let it go.
When they parted, ventless and searing hot, Nova steadied her optics with his. Lightning flashed in them, the way they did when she was determined about some unseen thing. "This, right here," she murmured, gesturing between them with the servo on Drift's chassis, "is what I'm fighting for. You did your work with them, I know of it. I know the danger you carry with you, and I'm well aware that I may lose my life cycle to it." Her digits slid down through his armor, grabbing hold of a bundle of wires and making him release a guttural growl. "But frag it all to Pit Drift, I will die alone, or I will die with you. Your choice."
She smothered him with her everything, taking his words when she kissed him and stealing away the chill that kept his processing straight. A glimmer of heat scalded him wherever she drug her servo. It brought with it a dizzying curtain of mist that fogged his consciousness and obscured the reasoning he'd held onto before. Like the anger he'd held for himself, that reason was slipping away with the current of the wind. Each touch - each embrace and each sigh - was enough to drive him to do things he thought himself incapable of doing.
Drift gasped when he felt their lip plates part, giving him room to surface to the real world. That mugginess was still within him, no matter if they parted or not. A literal ache was in his spark. It sang, clear and strong, through the armor of his chassis, for the one writhing in his gasp. "We shouldn't, I don't want you hurt," he muttered. The feel of her was too strong a calling. Without a second thought, the mech abruptly snatched Nova's leg and hoisted it up next to his hip bolt, making her intakes take a sharp gulp of air.
Their movements became more desperate and frantic, their limbs grappling and their servos exploring places they'd yet to explore before. Nova was against the wall, her arms latched around his broad shoulderbolts. "I want this," she hissed as her helm tilted up. Drift made a trail of light kisses down her mandible, leading across her sleek neck and along her sloped shoulderbolt. "I want you." When he connected himself to her, from chassis to kneebolts, he heard the indescribable crack of armor hit the atmosphere.
Drift snarled in lethal fury, finally fed up with the restraints those disgusting Alpha-class beings had put on his fembot. It was a type of armor made for special occasions, being a bit more flashy than normal. However, her creators always found ways to torture her poor frame anyway. His palm flattened against the side of her cage, sliding along the constrictive alloys until he found the seam. He nipped at the nape of the fembot, reveling in the way she turned for him and murmured her hypnotizing words of need. Then, in one, hard yank, the Autobot stripped her of her armor. It popped off with little resistance, which went to show how effective a piece of junk like that would have been in battle. As he'd suspected, it was for show, not keeping its wearer protected.
Nova drew in a long, slow vent, taking in his scent and the wonderful feeling of freedom against her vents. A smile adorned her lip plates and she lowered her chin, setting her cheekplate to Drift's. Her servo cupped the other side of his helm, keeping him there. Drift was merely admiring the masterpiece standing in front of him. Beneath his servos, where he'd laid them on her hipbolts, he was seeing her protoform in its entire glory.
It was brushed with the milky blessing of the moons. A halo of white vibrated from her, sending cascades of soft, feathery shadows across her perfect surface. Smooth ridges and curves passed under the optics where he drank in his fill of her. His servo rose, carefully moving across her sensitive covering, at a pace that was slow enough that he could feel every living node and plate under his digit tips. Nova shivered against him, and reached for his servo. Their digits interlocked, and he tore his hungered gaze from her protoform to the majesty of her tortured faceplates. She was smiling at him, tears gathering at the brims of her optics.
"I want you to want me," she whispered, voice full of hurt. "I don't know what to do anymore."
Those words were all that were needed to finally break Drift. His oral sheets gritted, and he closed the space between their frames again, his crest resting on the wall beside her helm. Their arms were still above them, pinned with the gentleness of a creator holding their sparkling. Her lip plates grazed his shoulderbolt, her leg lifting further at its spot on his hipbolt.
"I do," he admitted to her, afraid of these very words. "I do, so very, very bad."
"What is holding you back?" she hummed, soothing his qualms with the circle of her arm around his spinal support. His free servo stroked up the thigh against him, resting on the pocket behind her kneebolt. Her fevered sounds passed by his audio, making him nearly double over then and there.
The truth was that he didn't know. "Everything," he answered her lamely, sending another path of kisses from the side of her helm until he found her lip plates. When they parted, he continued. "Of the danger. Of your family unit. What will they think of you being with a mech like me?"
A grin worked its way over her faceplates, the kind that always told of relief and immeasurable content. "Had I made you believe for a nanoclick that I cared for what they thought?" she laughed, finding another one of his sweet spots to tug at. Drift's optics shot wider and he fell forward onto her, his arm flying out to catch himself on the wall. Her mischievous optics were there to meet his surprised ones. "You are too much for me to lose. If it means leaving my life behind to be with you, I would already be in the Terminal class happily. But you're holding me back. Credits, fame, jewels, popularity...it all means nothing if I don't have my warrior mech by my side."
Drift actually laughed at this. He guessed he actually was insane. If what Nova said was true, then things would become far easier for them. However, leaving everything behind would mean that her entire universe would turn upside down. Her credits would be null and her name could be tarnished in reputation. Her family unit would surely strike her off as one of them, leaving her with no one but the mech she held. Could he do that to her? Was she strong enough to endure the pain of starting all over again, as he had long ago?
Nova made it difficult to process on things when her glossa was tracing the line of his bottom lip plate, sending her savory taste across the entirety of his senses. He could feel the festering beating of her spark against its chamber. Heat from her protoform drained through him, creating a vortex of unimaginable heat. Wind did nothing to help this. Their limbs tangled, finding even this level of contact not enough. They needed more.
Drift lifted Nova up effortlessly, swinging her around with her legs wrapped around him and their faceplates smashed together. He skillfully dodged the walls of his domicile until he'd reached his personal quarters. There, he laid Nova down on her spinal support. They hadn't lost touch for a single astrosecond, their contact too engrossing to bear losing. His weight settled just on her, lining them up from hipbolts to chassis. Their grinding plates creaked, their warmth unfathomable.
Nova's leg was parallel to his thigh, the amazing length of it sliding up and around him. Drift's servos planted on either side of Nova, giving him leverage as he settled dominantly above her. She arched upwards, rubbing in a way only she knew how against him. His chassis was wailing to open, the song becoming a deafening roar in his audios now. His interface system was very well burning through his covering.
He could feel everything. From the thrum of energy leaking from her flustered frame. To the tenor of light basking them with drunken whites. From the scrape of her lust-driven, crazed digits as they scored his armor. To the flurry of their servos, petting and stroking at each other as they'd yet to do before. Nova had been a character in Drift's life that was untouchable. She was precious and above his worth, and as much, she became a deity in a world of peasants. Then she'd noticed him. They'd grown closer. Through fights and protection and friendship... It all eventually turned into desire. Dangerous, deadly, crazy desire.
"Drift," Nova pled, her optics wide and allusive in their way of her want. And it hit him then. That want was meant for him. What was he doing, denying her? All he wanted was her happiness - her safety. It seemed as though he could only have one or the other.
"Don't say it," he begged her, foreplate falling down to touch hers. Nova's servo traveled over his chassis, trickling down his midsection as she silently studied him. He never studied her. He marveled. Everything that made Nova herself, he'd caught himself in awe over. The kindness she'd shown was something he didn't deserve. Her ferocity was genuine and enchanting. Her figure was something that made other fembots envious. It could be his. Both the inner beauty of her and outer. It could all be his.
Nova panted, rolling her frame against his and nearly making his arms give out. He groaned lowly, setting a servo on the curve of her spinal support and bringing her flush to him. "Don't say it," he repeated in her audio, helpless and weak.
"You can't control me, Drift," she murmured back to him, pushing away slightly. Their optics met and the fembot remained sprawled in her exposed glory beneath him. "I want to tell you what I feel, no matter if you feel the same or not. Don't take this away from me."
Lost for words, the warrior became silent. He didn't know how to move on from here. And Nova wasn't making any moves. Their urge for each other was still fresh. It would be some time before the height they'd brought themselves to would fall down. Still, Drift felt his processor clearing and the sheer fear in himself that told of Nova's detachment from her privileged family unit and the harm that could come to her from his old faction. This vorn had been used trying to protect Nova. This couldn't be the moment where he broke his contract and let the already brash fembot get herself hurt.
However, as he moved his servo from her spinal support, Nova shifted. She lifted her servo and gently pressed the tip of her digit to his right shoulderbolt. With determination and craving staining her expression, she carefully carved in a single symbol into his paint. Provider. Drift's lip plates parted with the words he wanted to say, but couldn't. They swelled up his throat, but never made it past the barrier of his glossa. It was tied.
Nova went to his left shoulderbolt now, watching her work with soft optics. She never hurt him when she carved her next symbol, however, that single mark she made sent the mech through a place he'd been terrified of since his entrance into mechhood. With her last swoop, Nova finished the second symbol on him. Creator. It was graceful; made with a servo that had been trained in the art of scripture and writing for a lifetime.
Lastly, she put her digit to his chassis. Right in the center. Her optics darted up while she made this one, her sights holding his in place while she wrote. When Drift looked down on his armor, he saw the distinct, unmistakable character of a word that their language had cherished since before time began. Lover.
"Nova, I-"
"You're mine Drift, and nobody can change that," she stated, holding a palm over the symbol of Lover over his chassis. Her touch was magic. Sensual tingling bloomed from his core outward, spreading through his energon until his digits were pulsating as well. A twitch from her digits sent them through a crevice in his armor. She pinched a group of sensitive wires underneath, making Drift release a moan that vibrated the both of them. Nova's smile sent all doubts away to the oblivion of his processor, leaving them alone to this moment. To now.
They kissed in hurried passion, unable to stand even this distance between them. They fit perfectly as one whole - as two pieces to the same puzzle. To Nova, this mech above her was massive. His overwhelming presence would have made any mech cower. His experience in battle made his hardened depth of ruthlessness special. Nonetheless, he was a gentle creature when he wanted to be. His touch never became violent toward her; it was always made for her comfort or pleasure. Nova was safe in his grasp, and she knew this as his experienced digits roaming across her leg and brushed inside of her thigh.
To Drift, Nova was perfect. She tossed dangers away as if she were invincible. And until now, she had been. She moved with precision, whether it be to address a Council member, or entice him into her sneaky embrace. Nonetheless, beside her scathing words and sharp processor, she was a caring thing. She clawed into him as her anchor to the worlds, however, she was merely a breeze to him when she drew her symbols into his paint, marking him as hers. He felt himself drowning in her, becoming lost in the glory of she.
Drift sat up, Nova attached to his lap and her arms around his neck. Drift's servos were on her spinal support, feeling all there was to feel along her spinal support. Every ridge and dip he found. Nothing went unfelt. The mech kissed his fembot's neck, tracing for the hundredth time the beating bulges of her energon line the went down the side. It was a vulnerable spot, and not many allowed the access of it. For her to allow him near it showed the invaluable trust between them. Nova's venting turned shallow as she lifted her helm, optics closed, and soaked in the bliss of his lip plates against her bare protoform.
The mech's servos dipped down, treading on grounds he'd never crossed. His optics flew up to Nova, searching for her permission. A grin captured her and she lowered her servo as well, guiding his digits to her interface panel. With a click it pulled away, revealing her most intimate space. His rough, scarred digits breaching across her systems made the fembot gasp, clutching him tightly. Drift smiled, gently brushing his fembot where she wanted him to most.
Her tremble was enough for him to know that he was doing well. Her hipbolts shifted closer to his, shivering. She whimpered, servos locking on his armor when they had nowhere to go. "Relax," he murmured to her, touching her again. Nova hissed, helm bowing against his neck. The fembot probably hadn't the slightest clue what she was supposed to do here. Drift almost balked at the idea that he had a virginal fembot strapped to him. It made this moment that much more special.
"Nova," he whispered, removing his digits from the sacred place between her quivering legs. Nova glanced up, optics drowsy in unreleased pleasure. He could tell she was nearing her limit, however, he wanted to draw this out for her as best he could. This was going to be memorable. "You have never touched a mech, have you?" he wondered, voice as lulling as the sea of the moon coming in from the widow on the wall.
She shook her helm from side to side, her broken gaze innocent enough to destroy his spark. He removed his codpiece and grabbed her servo, bringing it down carefully for her. The fembot drew in a sharp intake of air when she felt his interface cable, tempered and alive. Her touch swept along it, taking in the feel and sight in all its newness. Drift grunted when she did this and she grinned, kissing him on the cheekplate. "I'm doing alright?" she asked.
Drift tensed up when she made a circle across his scorching cable. His oral sheets gritted and he looked to the skies, trying to hold himself together. "Yes, yes, you're fine," he managed, fighting down the shiver encroaching him. Nova promptly pulled, digit tips swirling, and Drift finally broke. He cried out, grabbing her servo from him and holding them behind her spinal support. They sat, chassis to chassis, with their faceplates a vent apart. "But Primus fembot, you're certain you've never done this before?" he vented heavily, still in a stupor.
Nova chuckled, kissing him until he released her servos. "I'm certain," she admitted with another laugh. "But I have friends who like to tell incredibly in-depth stories of their experience." Her optics sparkled with life and the drunkenness of the scene. True, this fembot may have been a virgin to the world of interfacing, however, it seemed she had all the experience she would need to act like a seasoned Cybertronian.
Drift kissed her back, edging his way across her leg. When she gasped against his lip plates, he silenced her with another burning kiss. His digits were waving along the line of her core, sending her into a craze of which left her ventless and restless. Once again, the mech found himself in control. She was begging him through her body language, longing for things she was unfamiliar with, but needed too greatly to express. He nipped at the lining of her mandible, soothing over the sting with his glossa.
"Drift..." she called in a gravely frenzy. "Drift please."
Taking mercy, the mech finally connected himself and the worming fembot. The initial contact was blazing, already having been riled up from their playful teasing. The couple gasped as one, folding into one another as the information attacked their systems. Unparalleled, wanton emotion filled them, making both Cybertronians' plates waver. Their frames slammed together, leaving uncountable scratches while they moved together, as one, single entity.
This essence of being one in the same being made everything too certain. Nova vented her cycles, leaving Drift ventless with his. They pumped one another with all their memories, thoughts, actions, beliefs, and fears, until neither one believed they had anything left to share but the creation of themselves by their creators. Drift left himself bare and open, letting her explore where she wished. She cleaned the slate of questions she may have ever had for him as she delved into what made Drift, himself. She saw the pain. She saw the terror and the grief and the sorrow and the regret. But she also saw happiness and joy and uncertainty and...and love.
Drift found the inner of Nova to be in turmoil. It was laced with panic and sparkache and fear, mostly coming from his point in her life cycle onward. Her creators came up often, mostly with visions of them beating her for minor things. It put fury in Drift's spark, to see that they'd abused her. It seemed she was no safer at home than beside him. He snarled in a mixture of anger and pleasure, until he came up to the more pleasant sensations. Laughter rang in his audios, and smiles sent light through the shadows of his processor. He saw her enveloped in his arms; pushing him teasingly as they walked through the markets; crying into his shoulderbolt when her friend from sparklinghood was taken on the front lines.
They came up from their ocean of memories with a new perspective of each other. Their situation became heavier, their intimacy of greater meaning. They weren't here because of infatuation or need anymore. This was the real thing. What they'd experienced here, was going to stick with them for eternity over. Drift felt he should slap himself for how blind he had been to it all. Nova was here for him, to bear with him the burden of the worlds and make his life cycle a bit more enjoyable. The gift she was willing to give him was worth more than he was deserving of.
A mutual emotion passed through their connected interface, making Drift's chassis rumble and Nova's vents hitch. This level of ecstasy threw them off their standing, leaving Drift with no other choice but to lower Nova back on the berth before they fell off. They moved as one; they vented as one; their sparks sung as one; their energon circulated as one. Drift needed her more than she realized. He sent that through their connection and Nova's leg came up, her helm snapping back.
Drift was using all the meager energy he had in him to stay up. The gears in his arms were whining along with Nova. They needed their release, or he was afraid he was going to crush her. Nova grabbed his spinal support, meshing them together. "Open your chassis," she ordered, vocal capacitor unstable. She was nearing her point and Drift could feel it. He knew he was going to go too soon, and it was difficult to think of anything other.
"Nova, you can't b-"
"Yes, I am, now open your chassis," she demanded, giving a good thrust of her hip. Drift released a sound that was between gratification and pain. He was holding back. He knew he wouldn't be able to for long. The mechanisms in his lower tanks were tightening, warmth spreading.
Apparently he was taking too long, for Nova went for the latch that held his chassis shut, her digits fumbling with the approaching climax. Drift took pity on her and set his servo on the latch, opening the panels for her. Nova then went to undoing her own latch, sending them back with a confident retraction. The look in her optics was wild. She couldn't possibly be thinking straight, but, neither was he.
Right now, this was exactly what he wanted. He wanted Nova, spark and whole, with no force able to drive them apart. He was sure that if she were to perish, he would have done himself in as well. There was no 'Bot in this world that would miss him except her. It only made sense that they would do this. But she did have Cybertronians that would grieve for her. If she was lost because Drift was killed in combat, he would be stripping them of a daughter.
The view of her spark, pure and beautiful, caught his optics. It floated blindingly in light, bobbing and flashing in tune with his. Its thrashing blue hue struck him speechless. It was its own sun, rotating in place with piercing rays shooting in all directions. Fiery licks of electricity shot from it in large arches. It was Nova's spark alright. With her fierce disposition, it was instantly recognizable. Their haze shimmered, letting them reach for each other's spark.
Drift cupped hers in one servo, rubbing a thumb link over it. Electricity raced up his arm, sending his circuitry ablaze. He could feel her digits moving over his spark, and every minute movement she could have made. With a tremor, he knew it was all over.
The mech hit his point at the exact same time as Nova did, sending them over the edge together. They arched, sending a web of blue lightning over their exposed chambers. Drift gave a feral bellow into the late orn darkness, his arm tightening around Nova while the other shot out to catch himself on the berth. She cried as loudly, releasing a purely wonderful sound from her throat as she hit the wall. It struck them both with astounding force, leaving them unable to but hold onto one another until they'd ridden out their high.
Drift felt Nova's helm tucked next to his, and he let her back some to see her features. Perfect, as always. She was still coming down, he could tell, but she did it with such practiced grace he'd had trouble believed she'd never done this before. The only hint of betrayal for her was the complete release of her memories to him. That was a novice mistake, to leave everything out in the open for him. However, it seemed as though she'd meant for that circumstance, and so he allowed himself to be honored by her trust.
"Are you alright?" he vented, planting soft, fluttering kisses across her cheekplate. Nova nodded, but still held onto him as if he were the last solid thing in the worlds. "Nova, do you really want to do this?" His question went still in the air, as a bitter thing that dried up and shriveled in death. Their chassis were still open, their interface systems still connected.
The fembot lowered herself, peering from behind a cloudy sheen of lingering overload at him. Vaguely, he saw a flash of something in them he couldn't describe. "Are you?" she inquired back, servo passing by the symbols she'd made on him. From experience, he knew that this pattern of symbols was no mere fancy placing. It was a religious act, made for when a Cybertronian proposed to another.
In the practice of those who followed under the will of Primus, it was common that they would mark their intended with symbols over their frame in this shape. Shoulderbolts would carry the responsibilities expected of them. Their spark was meant to keep up as the bearer of their love's needs. Directly above Lover, would be the arch-shaped scar that would tell every mech and fembot of Cybertron that that being was indeed bonded. If the intended refused their partner's proposal, they could simply paint over the marks. But Drift felt that these marks were not merely superficial, but internal.
"You'll lose everything," he told her, his optics saving the image of this fembot dressed in the glow of his spark deep within his CPU. Their first time would be their first time only once. He was determined to remember it. "You would be starting everything over again, with your family unit forever disapproving of you. There is no promise that I will survive this war either. Do you really wan-"
"Drift," Nova interrupted, putting a digit over his lip plates. Her own were turned up in his weak attempt at convincing. "I'm sure. I'm so very, very sure. I'm a big fembot, I can make my own decisions."
Drift smiled against the digit on his lip plates and kissed it. He then brought up his digit and went to her right shoulderbolt first. There, he wrote in his best, sloppy writing. Giver. On her left shoulderbolt, he gently placed the next symbol. Creator. With her chassis open, Drift had to write half next character on one side, and the other half on the other. Lover. They weren't as practiced as hers were, nor as uniform, however, they would have to do.
Nova's smile lit up the entire room. Drift could still feel her through the connection of their interface systems, and he was taken aback by the sensation of sheer happiness from her. This made her happy. Nothing he could do for her would make her happier. Unless there was a sparkling involved...no no, that's a whole different topic for a different time. Briefly wondered if he should disconnect them or not. However, he decided against it, as this was their moment for eternity. He didn't want to ruin it.
"Nova?" he questioned, wiping away a tear from her delicate, strong faceplates. Her optics lifted from his symbols and set on him. Nothing but joy flowed from her end of their connection.
"Yes?" she said, bringing her servo up to cup his cheekplate.
Drift swallowed. "I love you."
There. He'd said it. No going back now.
Nova's features went from shock to happiness in the span of a sparkbeat. She craned her helm up to place her lip plates to his, and he met her halfway, joining them. He melted into her, frame slanting atop of hers. She laughed against his lip plates, her slick tears wetting his faceplates. "How is it that you may say it, but I'm not allowed?" she stated humorously.
"You aren't supposed to," Drift answered her, sending a wave of pleasurable memories toward her. Nova responded well, sighing wistfully and arching her spinal support slightly. She edged closer, toying with the spikes of energy zapping her way.
"I love you too," she responded despite his warning. "I have for a while now. I don't think I ever didn't." Her gaze was distant as she traced the edge of his open chassis. He grabbed her servo, putting it around his neck. She swung beneath him, spinal support off the berth, and expression vague with the indulgence of him.
This was all they needed. They. Them. Him. Her. Us, he thought to himself. The word was nice on his thoughts. It was full of opportunity and promise.
"But Drift?" she spoke, voice almost too quiet to hear.
Drift's attention perked, his plates buzzing wherever they had contact. Which was pretty much everywhere. "Yeah?"
"If you don't bond with me now, I'll put you on your back and do it myself."
The mech chuckled, laying his fembot on her spinal support and caressing the edges of her chassis with his. Their sparks jumped for each other, straining out of their chambers to get at each other. Drift could almost feel the sensation of his spark against hers; of having this fembot steal a half of himself and keep it locked away; of experiencing utter completion. Of being bonded.
"That won't be necessary," he complied, plunging them together. In a burst a sparks, their wonderful, tragic, legendary story began.