Broken Wings

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Chapter 2: Red Alert's Ward

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Red Alert had been missing this too. He lay on his back, Inferno atop him, the red mech's long spike completely filling his valve. Like the mech himself, Inferno's spike was larger than average. And Red loved it. He'd always had an attraction to larger mechs, and admittedly that attraction had played a part in his hooking up with Inferno in the first place. Finding that Inferno's interfacing equipment matched his frame had been something of a pleasant surprise when their relationship came to that point half a year after the Negavator incident.

"Red... I'm close," the big mech moaned as he wriggled his hips, trying to fully hilt himself. Usually he could if Red Alert was completely relaxed or had been carefully stretched out. But this time his partner seemed unusually tight and short, much more so than usual.

"Overload for me," Red Alert whispered in his passion. "I'm all yours. Fill me..."

Inferno couldn't help but chuckle. "I already have, darling. You're so tight tonight. I guess you've not been taking care of yourself while I've been away."

He heard a deep intake of air into Red Alert's systems, but the mech said nothing. Instead black hands settled on his aft and pulled attempted to pull Inferno's hips in with a harder rhythm.

Inferno obliged, and began pounding into Red Alert as hard as he estimated he could without hurting him or doing any damage to the sensitive equipment inside. There was something of a size difference for them, which meant they had to be careful when interfacing. Going at it with wild abandon certainly meant an embarrassing trip to Ratchet the next morning.

"You were away far too long," Red Alert grunted between thrusts.

"I wish you could have come with me," Inferno responded. "You and I are a good team."

"I know. I was needed here though."

Inferno leaned forward and pressed his face into Red Alert's shoulder, his mouth catching onto a transformation cog that was always so temptingly visible when Red Alert was in his root mode.

"Mmmmmph!" Red Alert sighed as Inferno's tongue teased the cog. "You're so naughty. No one else has done that to me."

"I'm surprised it's that sensitive," Inferno responded, pushing his face harder into the shoulder to try to grasp more of it between his lips, all the while working his spike in and out of Red Alert's clutching valve. The charge within him built quickly and soon the electricity was crackling over their frames in a tiny storm of excitement and desire. And when Inferno overloaded came they both whined, internals revving hard, sparks pulsing, sensor networks out of control, and Inferno held himself still as the gush of transfluid emptied deep within his lover. He adored filling Red this way, channeling the fluid well past the valve and spurting right into the gestation chamber, and subsequently hearing him complain about how it would drip continually over the next day if he didn't wash it out, which was neither an easy nor a comfortable procedure. "Just practicing for when you're viable," Inferno would always tease.

-o-o-o-o-o-

When the whirlwind of bliss had abated Inferno kissed the smaller mech's faceplate gently and with all tenderness. "Red, I've missed you so much. I'm so glad to be back," he sighed

"I've missed you too. At least I knew you were out there doing some good for this planet."

"Yes. I thought that same thing every time I tucked down into recharge." He suddenly chuckled. "One of the humans took to napping in my cab. He wasn't you, but at least I didn't have to recharge alone."

"And here you chide me for having Ramjet when you had a pet of your own."

Inferno laughed. "I wouldn't dare call him a pet. Greg was young and pretty new to firefighting and sometimes he just seemed a little overwhelmed. I think he felt safe when he slept inside of me, so that's probably why he did it. You know how some of these humans are."

"You're very sweet and caring, you know." Black hands toyed with the radio-nubs on Inferno's helm.

"Am I? I've not brought you to overload yet," Inferno teased. He waggled his hips, rubbing his spike around against the pressure nodes inside of Red Alert's valve. Inferno had not withdrawn after overloading, instead remained deeply seated inside of Red Alert.

"That can be remedied," said Red Alert encouragingly between purrs of pleasure.

"And it shall," grinned Inferno, beginning to thrust again.

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Inferno woke later, finding himself alone in the berth. Both Red Alert and Ramjet were gone.

He sent a ping to his lover, which was answered immediately. ::I'm in my office. It's a regular day around here.::

::And your pet?::

::Ramjet's not my pet.::

::Could'a fooled me.::

::He's sitting outside my office. He's not allowed in, so he waits outside.::

::Just sitting there? In the hallway?::

::Yes.::

Inferno sighed. ::Well I'm heading down to the washracks. Can you take a break and give me a steaming?::

::I think I could join you for a while. Blaster's nodding at me. You did smell like woodsmoke last night.::

::We all do. I hit the racks as we came in, but I need a deep cleaning to get all the soot and ash out of me.::

::See you there in a breem?::

::Sure thing.::

Inferno twisted out of the berth and headed for the main washrack. Although Red Alert had one in his quarters—one of the luxuries afforded to officers—there wasn't a steamer unit inside. And on arriving at the racks he found Powerglide in one of the bays, his plating open wide and Tracks going at him with a scrub brush in each hand.

"Hey! 'Mornin' you two. Nice to be back in your own berth, Powerglide?"

"You said it. I recharged for ten hours straight," laughed the jet.

"And it's going to take another ten to get all this gunk out of you," moaned Tracks.

Inferno wondered why the dark blue beauty was helping out the jet, but then remembered that Powerglide had mentioned back at some point in Idaho that Tracks owed him a favor. "I know what you mean. I showered last night, but I still need a steaming. Red's on his way down to give me a hand with it."

"You meet Ramjet?" asked Tracks, looking up from his work.

"Yeah."

"That mech's a mess," Tracks said disdainfully. "And I'm not talking about his plating."

"So I hear. I came in to find... Well, he's like some pet dog to Red now."

"All I heard was that he got banged up in battle when he hit a cliffside, and then Red was hacking him and he kinda got messed up in the processor from that," said Powerglide.

"Yeah, that's pretty much the story he told me," said Inferno, stepping beneath a showerhead to clean off what the cloth had missed after last night's interfacing. "At least it's what Red told me. He feels pretty guilty about it."

"It's really strange. Seeing Ramjet just running around here after him. No cuffs or anything," divulged Tracks. "He follows Red everywhere, except when he leaves the Ark. And then he just sits outside fretting and waiting for him to come back."

"He doesn't fly away?" asked Powerglide.

"Nope. Just sits there waiting for Red. He's not flown since he was brought here. Though he runs off and hides if anyone starts to harass him. The twins have been pretty mean to him."

"Can't say I blame them. But he doesn't fight back?" inquired Inferno.

"Nope... just takes it and cries. At least he used to. Sideswipe roughed him up pretty good once, and now he'll run off if he sees the twins coming and Red's not there to protect him. No offense Inferno, but Red's gotten pretty attached to him. You might have to get used to sharing your boyfriend now."

Inferno huffed. "I kinda got that impression last night when I got in. Well how long..."

The doors into the washracks opened and Red Alert walked in, Ramjet on his heels, bringing an abrupt halt to the conversation. "Hello 'Fern!" he called, moving straight for him.

They embraced, Red Alert not caring that he was getting wet from the shower. Ramjet didn't seem to mind either as he hugged Red Alert from behind, sandwiching the smaller car-former between himself and the fire-fighter.

Tracks and Powerglide stifled a snigger as Inferno looked over at them with some disgust on his face.

"It's so nice to have you home," Red Alert sighed against Inferno's chest, now somehow completely beneath the spray of hot water from the jostling.

"Thanks," he replied glaring at the seeker. But the seeker didn't see it. His optics were off for the moment.

"Blaster's at my station for an hour, so let's get to it, shall we?"

"Yes please," Inferno responded, switching off the water and moving to lie upon the steam table. And to his surprise, Ramjet did not follow Red Alert over, but turned the shower back on and bathed himself under it as his keeper gave Inferno a deep cleaning.

And Inferno loved it, watching and feeling his beloved attend to him. He'd become used to bathing himself in the lakes where he'd been fighting fires at, hoping not to get to much sand or silt in his feet. He was too big to go through the car washes. Though at one point a grateful fire department in Montana had washed him along with their fleet after putting out a local flare-up. But it had been nothing like this, Red Alert blasting away layers of accumulated dust and grease and ash with the steamer's nozzle. And when they were done Red gave him a quick polishing, as Tracks was now doing for Powerglide as well. "I've gotta look good," laughed Powerglide. "After I'm done with reports I'm flying down to LA to visit Astoria."

"I'll bet right now she's getting her nails done or shaving her legs or having her hair curled for you," Tracks teased.

"Oh probably. Not that it matters that much to me. I think she looks good all the time," beamed Powerglide.

"Got any plans?" asked Tracks.

"At this point just a nice flight out to Catalina Island for a picnic dinner. She'll probably drink a whole bottle of wine and fall asleep on my hand. I love it when she does that though. She's so sweet when she's asleep."

"Raoul won't touch wine. He says wine is for pretentious people," Tracks laughed.

Inferno continued to unwind, relaxing deeper beneath the circular stroking of the mitt in Red's hand. He'd missed this. And to feel Red Alert's field enmeshing with his again... Three and a half months should have been the wink of a star but it had seemed like forever. The only strange thing was the fact that there was a white Decepticon seeker sitting on the floor beside them giving himself a bit of polishing.

And when Red Alert excused himself with a quick kiss to return to work, Inferno sighed. He would have loved to return to Red's quarters, but reports had to be made first. "Could we go out tonight?" he called after him.

"Of course. Don't want Astoria and Powerglide to have all the fun now, do we?"

Ramjet, noticing the white and red mech leaving suddenly tossed away his own polishing mitt, scrabbled to his feet, and hurried after his keeper.

Powerglide and Tracks burst into laughter. "So, is it true? Does Red let him recharge in his berth with him?"

Inferno glared at the pair, put away the polishing supplies left out, and stalked off with a huff of disgust.

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After Red Alert's shift ended, he met Inferno in the entryway to the Ark. And of course Ramjet was right behind Red Alert. "Stay here and wait. Be good for me, okay?" said Red Alert to the seeker, who was already fretting the departure.

"Red stay. Red stay," Ramjet whimpered as he clutched at Red Alert's tires.

"I'll be back later," Red Alert assured him, giving him a few mollifying strokes to his helm. "Just be good, and stay away from any of the others if they give you trouble."

"Red stay," the seeker begged. "Ark stay."

"Don't worry. I'll come back soon, all right?"

Inferno withheld a groan. It was if he'd come home to find his lover had adopted a particularly clingy sparkling or pet, one that demanded far more time than reasonable.

"Red..." Ramjet whimpered, clutching the edges of Red Alert's pectoral plates.

"Sometime tonight?" Inferno huffed.

"I'm sorry," came the apology. "He gets like this sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

Red Alert ignored the question and addressed his charge. "Ramjet. I'm going. You be good while I'm gone," he instructed, dropping into his alt-mode.

"No," whined the seeker, trembling visibly as the Lamborghini drove away quickly.

Inferno snorted a little laugh at the jet's misfortune. "Have a nice evening," he said sarcastically to the seeker as he transformed himself and drove away, working to catch up with Red.

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"Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 3: Ramjet's Presence

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Transformers and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

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