Title: Crystal (Mech In A Rage) [2/2]
Author: diayang
Rating: MA; non-con, mindgames, and copious amounts of profanity.
Pairing: Barricade/OC
Summary: "I'm a man, in a rage,
With a girl I betrayed"
- Crystal, by New Order
Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro/Dreamworks.
A/N: This is an expansion of the story behind the most excellent pic previously posted here. Warning for non-con; if it is not your thing, please navigate away from this fic.
Some time in the night - or early morning - she snapped to wakefulness, disoriented for a moment. This wasn't her bed, her room, or even her apartment - these weren't her bedsheets, and she never - never - slept buck naked. Staring into the pale gloom, Calleigh struggled to piece together last night's events, mapping out the dull sting of bruises and cuts. What the hell had she done? She remembered work and her feet hurting in those black suede heels, and - oh, that shithead.
"Barricade," she hissed, eyes narrowing. Even they felt puffy and swollen, and - used. That was the word. Every part of her felt used, and he hadn't even... yeah. She swallowed, knees pressed together, recalling the feel of living metal pressed up against her and nearly drowned in the conflict between lust and betrayal. Squinting in the watery blue light, she sat up, peered around until she managed to pick out the sleek lines of the Saleen, resting lightly on its wheels and looking very asleep. If a mech did sleep. She remembered Barricade using the word 'recharge' yesterday night. Like recharging batteries, she thought idly.
Quiet as a mouse, she slid out of the makeshift bed and padded over to Barricade, wrapping one of the sheets around her. He really did seem to be sleeping, so still and seemingly so harmless in comparison to the towering mechanical monster from yesterday night. Circling him, she drifted a hand under the curve of the sideview mirror, over black and white flanks, pausing near the rear quarterpanel with her palm bare milimetres from plating. And snorted at the inscriptions. "To punish and enslave," she whispered to herself, pressing lightly on the decal. Calleigh couldn't help her lip curling at that. "Christ, you are such a bastard."
Beyond him, past the short, angular lines of a Saleen aft, the open door of the warehouse and the silhouette of the structure were just visible, pale blue dawn outlined in a neat square. A breeze nipped in, curling around her ankles and flicking at her hair, raising goosebumps along bare arms. It couldn't be that early, she thought, longing for routine. Thinking that someone would probably have had found her bag, her keys, her car still in the lot. Maybe someone would raise the alarm. Report it in. Maybe someone would be there at her desk later, rifling through drawers and inboxes, picking up the debris of her life. Emails to reply and text messages to take care of, bills to pay and people to answer to. It suddenly sounded desperately futile and she sagged, folding neatly onto her knees, arms around herself.
His engine rumbled low, coughing, and came to life, furiously sharp, sensors sweeping out on max range, registering Calleigh's startled rabbit-leap to one side. Good. Only them, and they were alone even now.
"Sleep well?"
Calle's jaw worked a moment, gathering herself. The short, honest answer was yes - once she'd gotten over the fear of being dragged out of bed and raped, that is. She sighed, wincing, when unwanted memories flooded back.
"As well as any one could with a would-be asshat rapist right next to them," she flung back, intriguingly unphased when he did that explosive jigsaw thing again, rising up to his grand 20-odd foot height of liquid black and white grace. Red optics stared back down at her, calculating.
"Must you keep overriding my vocaliser?" he growled, dropping to a knee to scoop her up, immensely pleased when she did little besides gasp, and tense up in the cage of his claws, a reaction commonly attributed to heights. Barricade brought her close to his chest as he moved back, leaning against the wall.
Calleigh grinned brilliantly, a feral expression that would've made a demented clown proud. "Hell yeah." The machine snorted, settled to the floor, just a little stiff-legged.
"Looks like slag."
"So does your face."
"Harsh, Calle, harsh." Yet Barricade grinned, settling her onto his chest, carefully pulled his hands away. She moved like a stiff little kitten, he thought, watching the way her head went up, the same spark of interest he'd seen in her eyes from yesterday night, when he'd made some progress. "Not afraid anymore, are you?" he asked quietly, rubbing a clawtip gently over her back. His little femme shook her head, rose up on hands and knees, poking and prodding carefully around his chest; grille, armour seams, headlights. Yeah, definitely unafraid, he smirked to himself, petting her through the thin layer of fabric, slipping clawtips under the hem of her makeshift dress to explore over the back of her thighs.
Calleigh froze, glared at him. "The fuck d'you think your hands are going, ass?" she snapped, kicking out at his hand.
"Where do you think yours are?" he shot back, deliberately letting the growl of his engine drop several notes, roughening. "You think you're the only one with erogenous zones?"
When the lightbulb clicked on, he could almost have had laughed out loud at the variety of expressions crossing her pretty face - shock, horror, shame, embarassment, her cheeks flushed red on visuals and nearly white on infrared. "Fair and square," Barricade purred, rubbing it in as he worked his way between her legs, claws creeping higher. "You've been feeling up my chest. Which is just about the same as my feeling up your aft. Your pleasure centres lie between your legs; ours are hidden in our chests. So, equivalent trade. Time to pay up."
"That, God, that doesn't even begin to count or make sense," she gulped, shifting uncomfortably. "Dammit, stop that, take your hands away." Calleigh kicked out again, moving further up to get away from him. "I'm sorry, okay? Shit. I didn't know, and why the hell didn't you tell me!"
"You figured it out anyway." Neck arched, he slouched, making himself cozy, pressing a finger up between her legs, rubbing lightly. "Now don't move."
"Don't - what do you mean, don't - ah, ah, oh - shit - fuck it, stop, stop!" she gasped, hips bucking into, away from warming metal. Oh, fuck it, fuck it, damned sneaky Saleen. How the hell could she have had missed something as big as his frickin' hand between her legs? And the pressure was just enough to press into her pussy, rubbing against her clit - she arched up, face flushed, crying out when electricity rippled through her, dead square in 'pleasure' instead of pain somehow, unlike last night. His other hand curled over her upper body, pressing her flat onto his chest, the vibration and heat from his engine thrumming against her front, and hell, some part of her wanted to feel that in her. "Stop - Oh, God, 'Cade, 'Cade..."
"Want me to stop?" Barricade didn't bother with waiting for an answer, drawing a clawtip between moistening folds, tickling lightly. He kept one hand on her thigh, snapping out a corrective shock when she attempted to press her legs together, then went back on the offensive, reaching further to toy with her clit. Calleigh shuddered, mind spinning in mad circles - it felt so horribly good, until she remembered where and who exactly she was with, and then that numbing wave of shame, that little voice whispering treachery in her ear, crashed into her. Gasping, her fingers dug into his grille; his engine revved in response, hips twisting up.
"I won't stop, you know," he said mildly, pressing into wet heat, vents flaring as the slick walls gripped along the digit. "I can't." Calleigh tensed around him, choking out a whimper; she could feel it move in her, curling up, pressing against her. "P - please, 'Cade - "
"No." The faintest bit of charge he could manage rippled into her, and she threw her head back with a cry, body tensing. Slow and easy was the key, he thought to himself, the fine control forced over his movements a heady rush in itself - how slow could he go, how much control could he exert over himself to drive the femme screaming into overload before his own lust got the better of him? His protocols were already was urging him to release his cord - he had to obey, at risk of damage, vents hissing when plating slid apart and the pressure eased a little. Calleigh pushed against plating, her hands pinpoints of heat, and the first small 'pop' of release dug little claws into her spine. That one single finger in her suddenly felt incredibly large as muscular walls closed around it, and the note of his engine changed yet again.
Slowly, patiently, he wriggled his way deeper, shifting to better stimulate key areas, driving her to yet another orgasm as heat gathered and rose between them. There was a frustration in this for him, as she'd fallen silent, only voicing the smallest little whispers of sound against plating that were too easily drowned out by his own vocalizations, but she was - had been - responding, grinding back against him with a fluid grace, fingertips tightening spasmodically on plating edges and shivers rippling over skin. The contrast between loud, mouthy bad manners and the quiet gasps now... annoyed him, and he realized that he'd enjoyed her fight. He wanted to hear Calleigh scream, hurl insults at him and challenge him, and - Barricade shook his head, mentally. It was a change, that was all - and that change he'd found enjoyable.
Hovering close to three orgasms in a row wasn't doing Calleigh any favours - in fact, she was beginning to find it downright uncomfortable, and she squirmed forward, glad when 'Cade seemed to take note, and slowly withdrew his finger, letting her legs fold up on him when she half-collapsed, panting, head spinning. The world no longer was in focus, and her entire body shook like she'd been running a marathon - and heat pooled between her legs, leaving her feeling sticky and uncomfortable. The Saleen seemed to find her pliance intriguing, as he pushed upright against the wall and gathered her up, arranging her like a puppetmaster would adjust the positions of his marionettes.
"I think you're up to something," she murmured, palming the headlights and feeling strangely dirty for doing so. He didn't respond, but his engine revved, and she sensed a strange rumble surrounding her - the infrasonic sound of encouragement almost inaudible to the human ear, something like a Cybertronian courtship song. Large, heated claws wrapped around her hips and upper thighs. "Man, if you're thinkin' something, you gotta use English. I don't speak robot - or even car, for that matter," she slurred, resting her forehead against living metal, sensing more that seeing the smirk. Barricade deliberately replied in Cybertronian as he let her slip down lower to his hips, prompting a snort from her that soon turned into a shocked intake of air as the tip of his cord brushed lightly between her legs, rubbing against slickened folds. "Hey - "
"Relax, Calle. Do us both no good if you tense up," muttered the Saleen, easing the head into position, struggling not to buck up into the tight, inviting heat. Calleigh froze, looking suddenly ready to rip him to shreds with her bare hands, her breath hitching and snarling in her throat. "Don't," she begged quietly. "'Cade, I - 'Cade!" And the roar of his engine drowned out the thin scream that whistled between teeth and metal, red optics narrowed, almost shuttered, a deep, low thrum resonating in the air. Her back arched up, fighting to soften the bright, sharp lance of pain that wrapped around her lower torso, turning the panicked scramble of thoughts into a sheet of white noise. He rocked up, driving deeper into her, a metallic groan escaping his vocalizer as slick muscles gripped at the subtle ridges on his cord, clenching around him as though metal could be crushed. Calleigh's entire body vibrated with singing pain, cutting her breath short, eyes wide and blind with it until she could draw back into herself and focus. He hadn't moved, thank God, hadn't so much as twitched even though her was heating up underneath her - in her - she whimpered, pushing weakly against him.
He knew the game well from this point on, and he kept his hold firm and his movements slow, giving the woman time to adjust, to allow the lubricating fluids to coat the tight passage. By the time she'd stopped shaking, the clear, vicous fluid had started to dribble to the base of his cord, and he deepened his thrusts, growling. Calleigh shivered again, head bowed against the massive black chest. Whatever expression she might have had was hidden by hair, and she only reluctantly moved back against him erratically. Barricade could all but hear the shocked garble of thoughts in her processors - brain, actually, and it made him smile.
"Come with me," he growled, field flickering in little 'come hither' gestures against her, old Cybertronian motifs whispered in subsonic speech to her, slowly increasing the pace and power of his thrusts. "Come with me over the edge - let me show you - let me feel you -" came the rough snarls. The expression on her face twisted and seemed to break, head tipped back and mouth open in a gesture that looked almost pained; Calleigh raked blunt nails over black metal, awareness floating back into dark eyes, and she hissed between her teeth.
"If you take me you take me all the way," she snarled back, teeth bared. "I become your responsibility and your weight - God - if you fail me, I'll kill you," Calleigh promised darkly, surprising even herself with the certainty of her words. Above her, red optics narrowed, almost friendly, almost accepting -
"Come with me," he repeated, vents flaring.
And she did.
---
Her lower abdomen throbbed dully, with a sensation that was somewhere between pain and pleasure, easily the first part of her to have any feeling at all. Calleigh's ears were still ringing, and whatever it was that she was laying on... was hot to the touch, hot and thrumming with power. Idly, she skimmed a hand over the slick black surface, trying to push away the fog over her brain. An experimental shift had a low sound humming in her throat, as something thick and hard ground into her, sending a ripple of electricity up her spine.
"Shit, what..."
At her slurred words, a large, warm hand skimmed along her back, gently pulling hair away from heated skin. Shivering, Calleigh cracked open an eye, slowly becoming aware of her graceless sprawl over... over...
"Welcome back, Calle."
"... fuckin' bastard," she muttered weakly, forehead thunking onto plating, all too aware of the wet, sticky mess that coated her inner thighs and spilled onto silver-and-black metal, sliding in fat drops to drip onto bare concrete. Her heart beat slow and easy for once, as she worked her hand over Barricade's plating. The Saleen shuddered when her fingers hit bare metal, idly tracing the shape of the scrapes, the ragged borders where paint had been shredded off. His plating was so warm under her fingers, warm and almost silky. "Oh, you fuckin' bastard."
Barricade smirked, pinched her ass, engine revving when she squeaked. Calleigh scratched at silver-gray alloy in retaliation, grinned fiercely when he shuddered again. "Hurt?"
"'These weak little things that would hurt you, only stroke you," he paraphrased, rolling his hips, grinning at the way her eyes widened as she inhaled shakily, her body tensing around him - he couldn't help but groan at the way the muscles of her pussy contracted deliciously around his cord, sending it twitching. "You can't hurt me, like this, you know." Slag, he wanted more and he wanted it now, right now - but if he was going to keep his new toy intact, he'd have to pull back. Besides, if he played this right, it'd leave her wanting as well; after she got over that little battle of wills, that is.
"Oh, fuck you, I have screwdrivers - you gotta - God, stop that, I - 'Cade, please, please," she begged, trembling, each stroke feeling as though it'd stop somewhere just under her heart. She could see his smug shit-eating grin hovering above her, blurry at the edges. "I can't, I - I gotta - oh I'm going to fuckin' skillet your ass," she swore vehemently, fingers twitching. Silver claws raked over her skin, trailing shivers after them, as he moved into round... something. Calleigh silently fumed, even as her heart tripped over itself again when he managed to do that to her clit, hips lifting in response; bloody stubborn males never listened, the idiots.
"Then do it."
"Betcha ass I will."