Fandom: Transformers IDW AU with a dose of Bayverse and G1
Author: gatekat and ultrarodimus on LJ
Pairing: Axe/Dai Atlas, Drift/Wing
Rating: NC-17 mech/mech
Codes: AU, Slash, Sticky, Spark
Summary:
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: nanoklik = 1/8 second; klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds; breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes; groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours; joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours; orn = 42 joor/13.02 days; decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years; metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years; vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years; century = 96 vorns/7968 years; millennia = 1056 centuries/101,376 vorns/7,944,096 years (7.944 million years)
::text:: comm chatter
~text~ hardline/bond chatter
Hunters from the Light 07: Ways of Knighthood
"You know he'll have to be trained," Axe smiled at his mate as they lay sprawled on their giant berth, limbs entwined and frames still cooling from overload.
The blue mech stirred, red optics powering up. He tilted his head at his mate. "Drift? Yes, he will." An optic rim lifted at his mate's smile. "You have something in mind?"
"Well, if he's going to be courting our creation, he'll need to be trained by the best," blue optics glittered with amusement. "That does mean us."
Dai Atlas considered that for a moment, before a slow smile appeared on his features. "You have a point there," he agreed. "And it will give us plenty of opportunity to make sure of his intentions. As well as making sure he's good enough for Wing."
"Something like that," Axe smirked. "His expression will be priceless. Give him a processor meltdown this time."
Dai Atlas's smile became a wicked grin. "It's only fair, after the shock he gave us." He shifted position, extending one wing to lightly cover his mate.
"All good shocks," Axe chuckled as he reached to stroke the extended wing. "But I am going to enjoy springing this one on them."
The grin on the blue mech's face went from "wicked" to "cheerfully evil", not a look anyone expected to see on the leader of the Knights. "That makes two of us."
It sent a shiver down Axe's frame and a deep rumble in his engine. "It's been too long since you looked like that," he purred, curling his fingers around the leading edge of the wing over him.
"Been too long since I had a reason to look like this," was the response, Dai Atlas's own engines purring at the touch on his wing. White fingers slid across black armor, flirting along the seams.
"Maybe I should arrange for it next time," Axe arched into the touch, moaning shamelessly as his field went submissive and white hot with desire.
The bigger mech's only response was a low, throaty laugh as he ran his hands over his mate's body, finding all of the sensitive places he'd discovered over the millennia. White fingers dipped into seams and stroked over sensitive plating while Dai Atlas leaned forward to capture Axe's lips in a fierce kiss. His field meshed with the black mech's, echoing Axe's desire.
It was rare when Axe was in the mood to submit so completely, nearly as rare as Dai Atlas' mood to dominate in their berth, but they were always times that left both wondering why they didn't indulge more often.
Axe's fingers moved slowly and carefully, stroking his mate's wide, long, strong wings with a tenderness he rarely displayed.
Dai Atlas purred, spreading his wings for the attention, kissing his mate deeply before slowly shifting his attentions to the exposed throat. His hands moved over ebony armor, knowing exactly where and how to touch to drive the other triple changer wild. As much as he loved it when his mate didn't asked, didn't hold back, there were times when it was a blissful change to have tenderness and submission from his mate.
Under him Axe moaned and pressed into the touches, absolutely willing to submit and comply with anything Dai Atlas wanted of him.
Dai Atlas pressed his chestplate against Axe's, his powerful engines vibrating through their bodies while the bigger mech sucked lightly on a control cable under the black mech's jaw. Shifting, Dai Atlas slid one knee between Axe's thighs, just brushing his mate's interface hatch.
The valve cover slid open immediately as Axe spread his knees and moaned at the attention. It was all he could do to continue to stroke Dai Atlas' wings as he rocked his hips into the contact, silently pleading for more, to be filled and taken completely.
"Eager, aren't you," the blue mech crooned, sliding one hand down Axe's chassis to stroke one fingertip along the very rim of Axe's valve. Red optics sparkled as they met bright blue, Dai Atlas leaning down for a deep, passionate kiss.
"Always for you," Axe groaned, grinding his hips into the contact as his arms came up to wrap around his mate's neck, holding him into the kiss as Axe's chestplates unlocked, but didn't part. Not yet.
Dai Atlas's spike cover slid back, allowing his spike to slide out, fully pressurized. He continued to circle the rim of Axe's valve, the very tip of his finger dipping inside, driving the black mech absolutely wild. "How eager are you?" the blue triple changer purred, leaning down and curling his spine slightly to lick along the seams of Axe's chestplates.
"Please," Axe nearly whined, his valve rim already slick as he rocked into the finger, wanting so much more. "Want you. Love you."
Knowing that if he went too far with his teasing, his mate would get him for it later, Dai Atlas very slowly withdrew his finger, making a show of licking the lubricant off as Axe watched. Sidling forward, he leaned down to kiss the black mech, allowing his mate to taste himself in Dai Atlas' mouth as the larger mech slid his spike into the welcoming valve.
They both trembled at the slow slide that lit up sensors for them both that weren't stimulated often, especially for Axe. Black hands found large wings and rubbed them, encouraging and trying to share the pleasure even more than interlaced fields could offer.
The blue frame over Axe shuddered at the touches, hitching his wings up higher, bringing the tips and the vanes on them into easy reach. Dai Atlas's vents were pushing warm air over obsidian plating as he leaned down to apply lips and glossa to the seams of his mate's chest armor. His hips continued their smooth motion until he was completely sheathed, his pelvic plating pressed against Axe's.
"Ohhh, Dai," he moaned, trembling as even the deepest sensors tingled, the stretch of a spike on the large side even for him enough to force his processors to stop thinking of anything but the pleasure in his frame and the movement of his hands as they found the vanes on his mate's wings and fondled them, stroking them in time to the pace he wanted that spike to set.
Long wings tilted even farther forward and down, into Axe's hands. Dai Atlas' response was a chuffing laugh as he shifted his hips, not thrusting in but shifting his spike in his lover's valve, stroking it over another set of sensor nodes. Finally starting to thrust into his mate, the blue Knight started slow, teasing, slowly picking up the pace each time Axe was ready to keen in frustration.
In retaliation Axe squeezed and rubbed the vanes harder with his hands, while his valve did the same with the spike inside him. His hips rocked up into each thrust, bringing a little more force to each.
Dai Atlas's engines roared. Panting, all vents open to try and cool his systems, he finally increased his pace to his mate's preference, hard and fast, bracing himself with one hand while the other slid into a particularly sensitive seam. It felt so good, too good, to have Axe writhing and keening helplessly under him. It felt impossibly good to have hands that knew him so well on his vanes and the tight valve around his spike, squeezing and rippling whether he moved or not.
It was his mate's field and voice that were the hardest to resist, however. When Axe submitted, he did so without reservation, asking only to be pleasured, to be taken, filled and flooded until they couldn't move.
Red optics gazed into blue, Dai Atlas intently watching every move his lover made, every moan and cry. His own chestplates loosened, sliding away to expose the light of his spark, glowing like a small sun in its casing. Leaning down, Dai Atlas nipped along the central seams of Axe's chestplates, coaxing them to open for him. It didn't take any real effort. They were already unlocked and merely awaiting Dai Atlas' pleasure.
With a shuddering moan of anticipation Axe brought his spark chamber forward and spiraled it open the moment his chest plates were clear. His field roared with need-desire-plea for this.
For a moment Dai Atlas could only look, staring right into the very core of his beloved. Then he leaned forward, bringing his spark into contact with Axe's. Light exploded between them, gleaming on blue and black armor, sparkling in ruby and sapphire optics.
Axe's helm snapped back with a keening roar, not in overload, but still of pleasure so intense it could not be silenced. His frame trembling uncontrollably his spark reached out to welcome and embrace its mate with pleasure, memories and all the devotion and love he felt for the larger mech.
Two sparks met and merged, entwining until it would be difficult if not impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Dai Atlas's back arched as he let out a keen of his own, shudders running through his body, though his hips never faltered in their driving rhythm.
Emotions, memories, hopes, fears, joys and sorrows flowed easily from one to the other. Even as their frames reached for the bliss of overload, they became less and less noticeable to the mecha as their sparks joined in the first pleasure known to their kind.
Dai Atlas reached overload first, throwing back his helm and letting out a deep, almost feral roar as transfluid poured into Axe's valve. Light flared from their entwined sparks as the charge crackled over the blue mech's plating, along the lengths of his wings and into the black mech's body.
It was more than enough to drive Axe over the edge as well and he welcomed the plunge into bliss-induced oblivion with his mate.
Dai Atlas and Axe stood side-by-side in front of the assembled Knights of the Circle of Light, having just formally introduced the cadre to the others and accepting them into the Circle. The other Knights had all greeted them, making places for them, accepting them as their brothers- and sisters-in-arms.
The blue mech tilted his helm toward his mate, letting the tiniest of grins sneak onto his face. Catching it, Axe echoed it briefly, then schooled his features back into a mask of neutrality as much as he could.
"Drift," Dai Atlas called, pitching his voice with almost ritual cadence. "Come forward."
The white mech jerked slightly in surprise, but complied with all the poise and acceptance of fate as a full Knight.
Level red optics fixed on Drift's blue. "You have stated that this time you are staying, and as a bearer of a Great Sword, it is imperative that you complete your training as a Knight." He paused to let that sink in for a moment. "You will be training under Axe and myself, until such time that we judge your training complete."
Behind them, they could hear Wing's frame jerk in shock, the small sound of protest he made, but their attention was firmly locked on the open shock, mixed with disbelief and a shadow of fear, that radiated from Drift's frame.
"What?" the rattled mech gasped.
"We will personally see to your training until you are ready to become a full-fledged Knight," Axe replied, somehow managing to keep a straight face despite the hilarious expression on the white mech's face.
"But that is my duty!" Wing broke rank and moved forward, ready as always to challenge for what he wanted, what he believed in.
Dai Atlas tilted his head. "He is also courting you," he pointed out. "Training and courting at the same time is more than a little awkward. Not to mention distracting. In this case, Drift will be trained by the best of the Circle."
Wind had no counter for that. He couldn't contest that Drift's training wouldn't be better for the change, even if he didn't want to surrender the connection.
The exchange did give Drift enough time to regroup, at least enough to get through the orn. "I accept."
This time Axe let his grin show. "I won't let Dai go overboard with you. At least, not too far overboard. And I won't let him bite."
"Even when I do?" Drift felt some of his natural cockiness come back. "I eventually beat everyone I train against."
Dai Atlas gave him the same cheerfully evil grin he'd given Axe the previous night. "That might take a while."
Drift snorted. "Good look on you, really. But you'll never come close to Turmoil or Megatron ... much less Motormaster in the crazy evil department."
Axe snorted. "Maybe I won't try to keep him from going overboard. You're certainly asking for it."
Icy blue optics glowed brightly as they shifted targets, and Axe recognized exactly what was happening. Drift was giving himself over to the bravado that kept him alive, but also in a very calculated effort to be extinguished. A mind completely locked on the truth of what does not kill one, makes one stronger.
Only Drift was willing to take that to an extreme no sane mecha could ... yet he was completely sane.
The two large mechs exchanged glances. Training Drift was going to be one interesting experience. Interesting, intense and probably more damaging than their medic would at all approve of.
Wing darted forward, grabbing Drift by the spaulders and dragging him away from the two bigger mechs. "Not now!" the white jet hissed at him. "They trained me, and as good as I am I am still nowhere near their level. They'd cut you to pieces, and I would be very angry, with them and with you."
The medic and their creation would approve of both amended at the same time.
"I expect you in the main training room at dawn, Drift," Dai Atlas called after the disappearing white forms.
"I'll be there," Drift tried to twist his way free. "Let'm go!"
Axe snorted. "This is going to be interesting."
"That it will be," Dai Atlas smiled. "He'll make a fine Knight when the four of us are done with him."
Wing continued to drag Drift through the city back to their quarters, ignoring his mate's protests. Finally, the jet pinned Drift against a wall, glaring at him.
"What the slag were you thinking?" Wing demanded. "You're not on their level; Pit, I am not on their level! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"Better or dead, either works," he rumbled back, fully into the siege mentality that kept him functioning among the Decepticons, the pit fights and on the streets.
White wings flared out in distress. "You're starting to worry me, Drift! Snap out of it!" He shook the white mech gently. "They won't hurt you; they just have... questionable sense of humor!"
"They intend to break me," Drift countered. "See if I survive it, prove I'm worthy enough for you."
"They won't!" Wing shook him again. "They will train you, and you will become a Knight of the Circle when your training is complete! They won't break you!"
"Then what do they mean by courting?" Drift abruptly changed the topic, only he wasn't to himself. "How else do they plan to make sure I'm good enough for their creation."
"You courting me, or me courting you... To be my true mate, my bondmate." Wing was rapidly becoming a nervous wreck. He dragged Drift further into their quarters, his wings fluttering with anxiety. "Stop this, Drift! You're scaring me!"
"What do you mean by it then?" Drift asked, his field muting to raw confusion heavily threaded with distress of his own. "How else do they expect me to prove myself?"
The white jet wrung his hands for a long moment, at a loss as to how to explain it. Finally, he let out a groan of frustration and opened his dataport, offering a hardlink cable.
After a leery look, Drift accepted the cable and offered his own.
Wing connected the cable, then showed Drift just what was meant by 'courting'. And showed him that Axe and Dai Atlas didn't really mean any harm. They were just looking out for their creation the best way they knew how, and intended to help Drift become the mech they knew he could be.
When it was over, Wing looked at Drift, hoping he'd snapped out of the strange mood he'd fallen into.
"Too weird," he grumbled and leaned forward to claim a kiss. "We already share quarters."
"I keep forgetting the cultural differences," the white jet murmured, returning the kiss eagerly, humming into it. "Don't mind them. No matter how old I am, to them I'll always be the sparkling who insisted on trying to climb Dai's leg when he was trying to put on his 'stern Order Master' or getting under Axe's feet all the time."
Despite himself, Drift snickered as he reached for folded wings. "Still, what's the point in courting when we already share a berth? We'll get to more or not, but we all know you'll get what you want in the end," he murmured without any malice as he nuzzled in for another kiss. "You can have it all if you ask."
"As long as you want it, too," Wing replied, returning the kiss, stretching his wings into Drift's hands. His entire body radiated relief that Drift had come out of that strange mood.
It was enough to still Drift, an odd look crossing his features as he regarded his lover. "When have I ... either of us ... ever managed to tell you no?"
"Vanishingly rarely," Wing admitted. He tilted his head at Drift, reaching up to gently touch his cheek, sending a wave of love through the still-connected hardline. Something jumbled came back; submission, confusion, devotion ... though Wing knew enough to recognize that Drift considered it addiction ... a tumble of less pleasant sensations ... and simmering through it all was desire, hot and demanding.
The white jet leaned against Drift, resting his head against Drift's shoulder, purring softly. Waves of comfort and love washed through the connection. This wasn't the first time he'd had to draw his love back from that dark place that Drift had spent most of his existence, and he didn't doubt that it wouldn't be the last.
Patience, strength and affection had worked before, and Wing had an abundance of all three.
An interfacing drive stronger than Drift's helped too. It was a common ground where even this new to being lovers Drift had grasped the concept of mutual pleasure and how good it was.
White wings fluttered, inviting black hands to stroke them. Wing nuzzled against Drift's cheek, golden optics glowing warmly, vents gently blowing warm air across Drift's plating. The jet's nacelles hummed idly, vibrating against Drift's spaulders.
It was quickly enough to rev Drift's engine, adding to the humming vibrations between them and the quickly building arousal in Drift's systems. "You know I'm not going to be the same mecha you bonded with before."
"I know," Wing murmured. "Too Pure For This World has been working on you for quite a long time. You have a different history than my Drift, different experiences. I don't expect you to be like him." Briefly, he wondered what he was going to do with Challenger of Ways, which he still carried as well as his own Sword.
"I'm more like you, you've become more like me," Drift gave a crooked smile and let his hands find Wing's wing joints. "How did your last courting go?" he asked, somehow making the question seductive as he lightly pressed Wing towards the berth.
"And is that a bad thing?" Wing teased, nipping at the white grounder's cheek. He purred happily as his wings were stroked, pressing them into Drift's hands. "It was long," the jet finally replied. "It took my Drift a long time to settle into city life. A long time for him to trust me enough to bond with me."
"I believe it," Drift murmured, capturing Wing's mouth for a kiss. "If his past is much of a match for mine, spark contact wasn't a pleasant thing."
"But it can be," Wing murmured. "It was... incredible." He returned the kiss, nibbling on Drift's lower lip. "Perhaps one day you'll trust me enough to try."
"Trust isn't the issue," Drift moaned softly and pushed Wing against the edge of the berth, using the edge to take the mech to his back. His hands shifted focus to Wing's nacelles while his mouth found Wing's throat to nibble on the cables.
"I would never hurt you." Wing landed on the berth, wrapping his arms around Drift to bring the other mech down with him. The jet ran his fingers down Drift's back, sliding them under one hip sheath to stroke the sensitive underside and connection point. He leaned his head back, exposing his throat to the other white mech.
"I know," Drift murmured, a faint shiver passing along his frame at the touch. He rocked his hips into it, now as always far more focused on his spike for pleasure than anything else.
Wing sent a burst of data along the hardline, an echo of what it felt like to merge sparks with a lover. But he didn't want to push Drift. Wing trusted that Drift would come to him when he was ready.
The jet's fingers stroked along the underside of Drift's hip scabbard, sliding into armor seams on the dark thigh. His other hand was exploring Drift's spaulder, seeking out all the most sensitive places, relying on very old memories of his bonded as much as what the past few metacycles had taught him about this lover.
Drift retaliated with a databurst of his own, flooding Wing's systems with his arousal and the fierce independence that no amount of influence could do more than faintly temper and temporarily submerge.
Wing let out a breathy keen, sliding his fingers into a particularly sensitive seam, brushing his fingertips along a cable underneath. Tilting his head, he nipped at Drift's jaw and lower lip, nacelles humming, vibrating through their bodies.
The powerful grounder engine growled in reply, seeking to overpower the jet engines it had no hope of competing with. Drift claimed a kiss that demanded submission and rocked his hips more firmly against Wing's as his spike cover slid aside.
Wing purred into the kiss, having absolutely no problem with submitting. His valve cover snapped open, valve already dripping with lubricant. Nimble fingers slid along one of Drift's helm finials, one ankle hooking over Drift's hip.
He moaned into the demanding kiss as the thick, wonderfully ridged spike spread him open, lighting up sensors as it pressed deep in a single smooth stroke.
A shudder ran through Wing's body, his back arching and pressing his hips into Drift's, taking the spike as deep as it could go. The white jet wriggled under Drift, wanting more. Drift was more than willing to give and drew his hips back before thrusting forward, keeping the pace just on the easy side of intense; just slow enough not to drive Wing over the edge quickly but hard enough to make him keen and writhe in need for more.
Wing squirmed, rocking his hips back against Drift's, urging him to go faster, harder. A whine escaped his vocalizer while his fingers were after every sensitive point in reach, encouraging the other mech to pick up the pace. Need echoed across the hardline, and that proved to be Drift's undoing.
The white grounder had never been one to deny or delay pleasure. With a growl he shifted his weight to catch Wing's hands and pin them on either side of Wing's helm before driving his spike into the jet with his full strength, the pace picking up quickly.
The white jet let out a deep purr, arching into Drift's body. Slender wings flared out across the berth, twitching slightly. His engines revved higher. Wing leaned his head back, exposing his throat to the attention Drift willingly gave it.
Burningly hot air blew over each of them from the other, the clang of metal on metal, the scent of friction-heated lubricant, the moans that vibrated both air and frame swirled around them, heightening the blazing pleasure that sought to blind them.
Wing's back arched right off the berth. The white jet let out a keening cry as he reached overload, his valve tightening around Drift's spike, the pleasure washing through his field and the hardlink. Steam was curling lazily from his vents, swirling around his body, brushing across Drift's armor. It was the tight, slick side as it began to pulse around his spike that dragged the roar out of Drift as his hips jerked, his spike pumping hot, electrically charged transfluid to fill Wing's valve and heighten the bliss rushing through Wing's systems.
Wing's keen rose to a near-shriek, his back arching again, optics flaring nearly white. His valve rippled around Drift's spike as he pressed up against Drift, fingers clawing at the air as they surrendered to the overload fully.
His frame locking briefly as his overload reached its pinnacle, Drift collapsed on top of his lover the moment the charge abated enough to release him, panting and only slightly coherent.
Wing was barely any more coherent, panting heavily, his frame still shuddering. Half-spread wings slowly folded again, the white jet's leg sliding off Drift's hip as he relaxed into a tensionless mass under his heavier lover.
Gradually they both cooled, both content to not move long after the last pings of pleasure had faded. Drift's fingers let go of Wing's wrists as moved to drawing seemingly random patters over whatever part of Wing's armor they ended up on.
"Who's courting who?" Drift asked, his processors still focused on the thing he didn't have a clue how to aproch.
Golden optics, still unfocused, turned to Drift. "I think, at this point, we're courting each other," Wing replied after a moment. He stretched his arms, idly drawing a circle on Drift's spaulder with one fingertip.
"You're really not helping here," he grumbled, tension trying to build inside him again.
Wing hummed softly. "The point of courting is to prove that you're worthy of me. I already know you are; it's Dai and Axe who are going to need convincing. Power and wealth don't mean anything to a Knight, so what's important is to show skill, virtue, and restraint." He shifted slightly. "They'll be training you, so they'll have plenty of opportunity to judge your skill."
"Judge me in every way they want," Drift couldn't quite hold back the shudder at what 'training' still meant in his processors, even though he was reasonably sure it didn't apply here. "And if I'm not good enough?"
Wing wrapped his arms around Drift, kissing his cheek lightly. "You will be." He rested his forehelm against Drift's. "On the very, very, very, astronomically tiny chance they decide otherwise, to the Pit with them. You're mine."
Something Drift couldn't even name melted deep inside him until there was a snap and a flow of tension escaped him with a tiny sound. A tremor passed through his frame as he relaxed, emotions he couldn't even begin to sort out swirled and tumbled through him before settling into a pleasant background hum.
White arms tightened around Drift's frame, hugging him tightly. Wing pressed his lips against the nasal of Drift's helm, purring softly.
Drift tipped his helm to claim those lips in a kiss, the relief, the wonder at being so valuable, still flowing through him unchecked. If he wasn't so desperate for it to be true, if it wasn't Wing saying it, the corner of his processor that always warned against becoming attached, that no one looked out for anyone but themselves, might have actually been listened to.
As it stood, Drift was willing to ignore even evidence that Wing was lying to hold onto the illusion of being wanted a little longer.