There's Always Someone Stronger 8: Challenges
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Two more challenging worlds fell and once more General Dai Atlas' unit was on a world with life but few challenges beyond the weather and muck that organic worlds inevitably created en masse. It was a comfortable routine for Saltem now, along with usually sharing Fortis Bronte's berth when their shifts matched enough.

As it was, this particular orn had gone well enough. His chores and other duties had been completed in a timely manner without any real mishaps. The washracks had been blissfully empty when he went in to use them, and he knew his lover had a matching off-shift right now. All in all, it left Saltem in a good mood as he entered the quarters that officially belonged to Fortis Bronte, but in practice were shared with the enslaved mech. Every night he shared with his lover was a night he silently thanked his master for allowing it. No matter how rarely Dai Atlas made a point of Saltem's status, it was still a blunt truth that Saltem only had his lover so often because his master permitted it.

Saltem gave the thanks in his processors and pushed it all way to set up one of their favorite games, City Wars, knowing that Fortis Bronte would be back soon from pounding new recruits into the dirt.

It was an enjoyable way for them both to unwind from their orn, often with their energon rations to drink while they played. It never ceased to amuse Saltem how much Prowl could approve of a game, but the Praxian had positively lit up in his own quiet way when he learned that Saltem spent more orns than not playing at least once against Fortis Bronte.

"Hey," Fortis Bronte greeted him warmly as he stepped inside with his ration in hand. "Glad your orn went well."

"Hello yourself," Saltem purred with equal warmth, stepping close to steal a quick kiss and caught a feel for his lover's field. It was off, but not seriously, and Saltem couldn't place exactly how. "How was yours?"

"Long, dull and repetitive," he chuckled, returning the affectionate kiss without passion. "I'm looking forward to a quiet evening."

"Doing what?" Saltem asked, is own field playful as he led his lover to the table where he had the game set up. There was a background note of arousal, something that had developed only through Fortis Bronte's work, but it was low enough that interfacing wasn't what the larger mech was thinking of that moment.

"A game, relaxing with you, and a solid recharge cycle," he answered easily as he relaxed in his chair and set his energon on the table next to the game.

The younger mech settled in his own chair, and waited for the other to make the first move of the game. "A massage to help you relax?" Saltem offered. "Or a massage?"

"A massage sounds nice," Fortis Bronte smiled at his lover and selected to play Kaon. "I don't really feel like interfacing."

Saltem's optics cycled in surprise, but he quickly smiled. "Then that's what we'll do," he accepted. He hadn't expected the other to not want to interface, but if he didn't want to then who was Saltem to try to force the issue? He was grateful that his lover had mentioned it before he had gotten worked up, though. That would have been uncomfortable.

"Good," Fortis Bronte relaxed a bit as the game began, the computer taking the cities that the players didn't. He considered his lover as Saltem made his move. "I'm not trying to make a double standard between us," he added evenly. "You can tell me no. I push harder because you needed to be convinced that it was good."

"And you're usually right about me needing the push," Saltem agreed quietly, reaching out to grasp Fortis Bronte's hand affectionately. Their fields mingled easily after the vorns, expressing the mutual understanding and acceptance.

"You're getting the hang of it, at least as much as we've tried."

"Thank you, for out-stubborning me," Saltem said quietly, fingers twining with his lover's the way their fields were.

Amusement flickered in Fortis Bronte's field. "With age comes some grasp of patience and tenacity youth never has." He paused. "Well, most youths."

"Prowl?" Saltem asked, amused.

"Who else?" he snorted. "That mech is messed up. I don't expect he'll have a long functioning, but he's what you get when a mecha puts everything into their function to the exclusion of what makes existence worth sticking around for."

"I was putting everything into my function, before," Saltem said quietly. "He's... not so different than me."

"I know," Fortis Bronte sighed, a flicker of resigned failure in his field. "He's a much more difficult mech to connect with. I think it comes from being a civilian first. He doesn't think like us. I doubt he ever will. He's going to be with us much longer than you will."

"Unless you can find the right person who is able to connect with him," Saltem agreed.

"Even if we do he's got a longer way to go than you ever did and far less reason to do so," he said quietly, making a move somewhat absently. His spark was just not in the game, though he wanted to play. "He doesn't hate interfacing or socializing. He just doesn't have any use for it. He doesn't have the fighting drive most of us do either."

Fortis Bronte paused again and muttered. "I'm not sure why I'm fixating on him lately. I'm not someone who can help him."

"He will need someone who can convince him that it is worth his while," Saltem said. He gave his lover's hand a sympathetic squeeze as he made his own move.

"Very much so," he nodded as they focused on the game and allowing a comfortable silence to settle.

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Fortis Bronte hummed quietly as he returned to his quarters after a long patrol. The three orn continental loop was enjoyable, but he was glad to be back on base, very glad to be clean again and looking forward to seeing his lover. Hopefully it was the right time to give Saltem another push.

His lover was waiting in their quarters, sitting on a chair with a datapad in his hand. He looked up and smiled as Fortis Bronte entered, setting the pad aside.

"How were your orns?" Fortis Bronte asked as he stepped close to claim a kiss, his field expressing his interest in an interface as clearly as any words.

"Not much unusual," Saltem replied after the kiss, his hands coming up to stroke his lover's back and pull him closer. A matching interest quickly rose in the younger mech's field. "Played a game of City Wars with Prowl one off-shift, but he's not as good of company as you."

"I'm not surprised," Fortis Bronte grinned as he slid onto Saltem's lap. "Think you're up for trying something new?"

"What do you have in mind?" the larger mech asked as he leaned in for a deeper, hotter kiss.

"Suck me off," he rumbled into the kiss.

Saltem hesitated and pulled back from the kiss as the words sunk in. "What?"

"I want to feel your mouth around my spike," he purred, his field expressing just how hot an idea he found it to be. "My back against the wall, your hands on my hips and your mouth, glossa and intake making me moan."

Saltem trembled as unpleasant memories rushed at him, trying to push them back as he clung to his lover.

Fortis Bronte allowed him to deal with it and held him back. He was as opposite to those who demanded it as could be and they both knew it. Yet he also knew it wasn't an easy request.

"Please... help?" Saltem whimpered.

His lover leaned forward and kissed him gently. "Anything I can, just tell me."

"Don't know how... to get past..." Saltem confessed against Fortis Bronte's lips.

Fortis Bronte kissed him again with all the passion in his frame. "You don't have to start there," he suggested softly. "Start with exploring my frame, touch with your hands first. You're going to be in control. I promise."

Saltem kissed him back. "I'll try," he whispered, his hands going back to stroking along his lover's frame. He rested his helm against the older mech's neck as he gathered himself to move forward.

"That's all I ask," the elder mech murmured, stroking his lover and slipping fingers into armor seams in an effort to arouse. "All I ask is that you try to remember I'm not like them."

"Know you're nothing like them," was the reply as Saltem nuzzled at neck armor, fingers dipping into what armor seams he could to stroke at the wires and circuitry underneath.

"Good," he murmured as he shifted to catch Saltem's lips in a kiss. His systems were heating rapidly, as much in anticipation as from the stimulation.

The younger mech kissed him back, trying to lose himself in his lover's arousal. After several long moments, he pulled back enough to murmur. "Let's move to the berth."

Fortis Bronte nodded and shifted from Saltem's lap, offering his hand to his lover as he stepped towards the berth. Saltem took his hand, pressing close. He gently pushed his lover on the edge of the berth, kneeling in front of him and kissing him again, relishing the way Fortis Bronte melted into the contact and went willingly submissive. It made his processors spin at times, but it had made things easier so many times to feel that his lover wasn't making demands.

He began trailing kisses down the older mech's neck to his chest, his hands stroking up his thighs. Fortis Bronte moaned and arched into the contact, willingly spreading his legs and offering it all to his lover. Saltem let his mouth hover at his lover's chest as one hand stoked over Fortis Bronte's spike cover. It slid open immediately, but the spike remained housed. The younger mech nuzzled and kissed the armor seam running down the center of his chest. One large hand swirled around the tip of the spike, trying to coax it out. The other hand dipped into Fortis Bronte's hip joint, stroking it.

With a deep moan Fortis Bronte looked down, watching intently as his spike slid from the housing and into the waiting fingers. His field encouraged, expressing the pleasure and desire Fortis Bronte felt. Saltem let his forehelm rest against his lover's chestplates, over his spark, as he squeezed and stroked the spike in his hand.

Touching him like this wasn't bad. In fact, he enjoyed the noises he could get the older mech to make, and the pleasure in his field. This time was no different, and Fortis Bronte was free with his pleasure and letting Saltem know exactly how good it felt. Just as he promised, he wasn't pressuring for more. There was only the silent encouragement for it and the vocal encouragement for anything Saltem was up for doing.

A full frame shudder passed though Fortis Bronte as he leaned back on his hands to keep from insisting on more too strongly. That movement gave Saltem more of an optic-full of the spike he was stroking. He leaned in closer, but then hesitated at the last moment.

"Please," Fortis Bronte moaned, his voice quivered and field flaring hotly with desire.

Saltem shivered in lust-fear, pushing back memories that threatened to overwhelm his vision. He needed to do this, to conquer the darker parts of his processor. He closed his optics and let his helm dropped down slightly, brushing his lips along the side of the top half of his lover's spike, still stroking and squeezing the base with his hand.

"Sal..." Fortis Bronte quivered, his vents stuttering slightly and voice thick with desire as his optics remained focused on his spike and the attention being given to it. His field flared again with encouragement and pleasure entwined with the lust the vision was producing.

The larger mech let his mouth open, glossa coming out to stroke along the spike, tasting and exploring. It tasted of Fortis Bronte, a scent that had long been associated with safe pleasure. The flares of lustful pleasure in the field entwined with his had that same familiarity from interfacing that had always been good, and the sounds ... oh Primus the sounds he was drawing from his lover…

It was enough to bolster his courage and he let his lips wrap around the head of the spike, glossa swirling around the tip. His hand continued to stroke the base as he slowly took more and more in his mouth.

The sound that escaped Fortis Bronte might have been his lover's designation, but it was difficult to tell. His entire frame arched, seeking more of that welcome contact. He didn't care that his hips were being held in place by the fingers deep in the joint. It felt so good. He'd wanted his spike inside Saltem for so long it was intense to finally feel the lips around him and the glossa exploring.

Expected memories were pushed further back as Saltem continued to work his lover's spike with hand and mouth, trying to find what caused the best responses. When he lowered his helm with his glossa curled around his lover's spike the rush of pleasure-arousal from Fortis Bronte was enough to startle him. He pulled back some in order to be able to glance up at his lover's blissful expression before letting his helm drop again, drawing another deep moan.

Fortis Bronte's fingers curled against the berth as his internal temperature spiked along with the charge that was rapidly building. It felt good, but it was the sight and long wait that made this touch so special. He put as much as he could into recording the details for later enjoyment and the rest into enjoying the moment.

The touch and movement of Saltem's mouth and glossa over his spike was in no way skilled, but the fear-hesitation was fading from his field and was being replaced arousal of his own. Spurred on by the pleasure he could hear and feel in the older mech, his movements began to speed up.

"Yesss," Fortis Bronte hissed into a moan. His charge was beginning to crackle across his plating and along his spike, sending tingling jolts into Saltem's mouth.

The younger mech continued to work the spike in his mouth, the fingers still buried in his lover's hip joint flexing, trying to send him over the edge. He could feel the charge building, had felt his lover overload enough times to know it was close even before Fortis Bronte gasped out a warning.

Saltem pulled back, his helm tilting to watch his lover's face in overload as he continued to stroke with his hand. Deep red optics flared and Fortis Bronte's features twisted in the blissful pain of a welcome overload. In Saltem's hand the spike crackled as hot transfluid spurted onto it, under his chin and up to Fortis Bronte's abdominal plates.

Saltem rose up to claim his lover's mouth in a kiss as the overload dissipated. Fortis Bronte moaned into the kiss and slid back, trying to draw his lover on top of him as he spread his legs and slid his valve cover open in welcome, desire and offer.

"Fill me," the smaller mech whispered, his field giving no doubt that he genuinely wanted it.

Saltem groaned against his lover's mouth as he covered him with his frame. His cover opened automatically, spike pressurizing between them. The younger mech started to slowly sink into Fortis Bronte, his glossa mimicking the action in his lover's mouth. Both penetrations were welcome, their entwined fields sharing Fortis Bronte's pleasure with Saltem at an act that Saltem still couldn't come close to contemplating accepting.

Sharing it, being the penetrator, Saltem had learned that it could be very good and could be an act that both could enjoy. He kept the motions of his hips slow, drawing out the sensations. It was a bit selfish of him to keep it slow, gentle, but he needed the reassurance it gave after what he had done and his lover gave no objection.

The kiss was passionate, encouraging, as Fortis Bronte's hips smoothly rolled up into the slow thrusts.

Saltem returned it just as passionately, relishing the feel of his lover's mouth and valve as they moved together in waves, pleasure slowly rising between them. It was the kind of pleasure that required caring for one's partner, and their experience. It was not something Saltem thought would ever be part of his existence, but he thanked Primus every time he was with Fortis Bronte that he'd been wrong.

Fortis Bronte squeezed and rippled his valve, moaning into Saltem's mouth. On a good orn he'd sometimes overload first and drive Saltem over the edge, but with his systems still reeling from the first overload it wouldn't be this time. Yet he still relished the way the larger mech moved, stroking in and out with a steady thrusting of his hips.

The larger mech braced himself with one arm, the other stroking hot spots on his lover's body that had become familiar to him over the vorns. He kept up the steady tempo, even as he finally started getting close to the edge. Fortis Bronte felt the change and responded in kind, his hips moving in tandem, each thrust met, each move welcomed with a moan of encouraging and his own pleasure.

It was such a change from the first time he'd felt that spike inside him, a change even from the first time he'd convinced Saltem to be on top like this, and he relished it as much as the physical pleasure.

It wasn't long before Saltem was falling over the edge, crying out into his lover's mouth with each burst of transfluid, his hips not stopping in their motion. That first burst primed Fortis Bronte's systems, making the second burst enough to send him into an unresisting overload. His valve rippled and squeezed, milking the spike driving into him for each burst of pleasure-inducing transfluid until they both came down.

"Thank you," Saltem mumbled thickly, nuzzling his lover tenderly as they lay in post-overload bliss.

"Welcome," Fortis Bronte murmured in reply, turning his face for a lazy kiss. "You've worked hard for what you have."

"Wouldn't have, if not for you," Saltem admitted, kissing him affectionately.

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A couple of orns had passed since Titanium's unit had arrived. For the most part the new mechs had joined the normal duty rotations, working alongside Dai Atlas' forces. In their off-duty time there was some mild chaos as troops that had been cooped up in a ship for too long enjoyed being planetside.

Titanium himself had spent quite a bit of his time with Dai Atlas, but this orn the General had duties to attend to, so the elder mech had some time to himself. He had been watching Saltem from a distance, evaluating the enslaved mech in his own way. Spotting an opportunity, he casually walked over to the smaller mech. "Saltem."

Saltem glanced up and came out of his training forms. "Sir."

The much older mech tilted his helm to the side. "I have heard that you have sparred with my student, and Dai speaks highly of your skills. I would like the opportunity to spar with you myself, to evaluate your skills on my own."

"Alright," Saltem agreed. "Limits?"

"Hand-to-hand only, no maiming, no major damage," Titanium listed off. "Nothing that will send the medics into raving fits. Dents and bent armor are fine, though."

"That is acceptable," the smaller mech replied, dropping into a ready stance.

A flick of a long wing brought over one of Titanium's troops, that strange beast-alt mech with the crystal viper for a tail. The older warrior removed the swords he carried across his back, handing them to the smaller mech to hold, then settling into his own ready position. For a moment he was perfectly still, watching Saltem intently. The next moment he was moving.

And Saltem was moving as well, the first blows and dodges testing. Seeing response times, testing for weak points.

For all his age, the old triple changer was fast, with that same flier-agility Saltem had seen in Dai Atlas. Titanium circled Saltem briefly, then came in again, aiming high but coming in low at the last moment.

Saltem was quick himself for his size, jumping to the side and tumbling to avoid the larger mech.

How the larger mech kept from overbalancing as he changed direction was some involved move that involved one leg and a wing but was otherwise too fast to catch. He sprang after Saltem, aiming to catch hold of the nearest bit of the other mech's frame.

A crowd was starting to assemble, maintaining a distance but watching with interest. Most of Dai Atlas' unit had seen Titanium sparring before, and those who hadn't were eager to see what their comrades had been going on about. The betting on the victor was quick to begin.

The younger mech was quick to avoid capture, staying in motion and trying to stay below his opponent's center of balance.

Grinning, Titanium feinted in one direction, digging one toeplate into the ground and launching himself at his opponent. The sudden burst of speed allowed him to catch Saltem by the arm and yank him off-balance. The old mech took one step forward, catching Saltem's hip with the other hand and pivoting, sending the younger mech helm-over-pedes across the ground.

Saltem yelped as he tumbled to absorb the excess energy, and when he rose to his pedes once more, he was covered in mud. He roared as he charged back at the older mech, intent on avenging himself.

There was a groan in unison from the watching crowd. One real mud hole on the whole sparring field and Titanium had managed to find it. Other mecha, hearing the groan, came over to watch.

Titanium laughed out loud, springing forward and tackling Saltem in mid-lunge, the triple changer's greater mass throwing the smaller mech backward and driving both of them into the mud. There was a loud "splat" as both of them landed, the closest watchers skittering backward to avoid getting spattered by flying mud.

Saltem growled, thrashing, displeased at being covered in so much mud.

Titanium, on the other hand, was entirely amused about the mud. He was grinning hugely as he grappled with Saltem, taking every opportunity to flip the smaller mech back into the worst of the mudhole. Long wings were raked high and wide, clearly indicating just how much the old warrior was enjoying this.

Saltem got more and more annoyed at it, struggling to keep moving as mud started gunking up his joints.

Glittering red optics met Saltem's as Titanium did his best to keep the younger mech from escaping. Every attempt ended with Saltem being flicked back into the mud, the older mech pouncing on him in a distinctly playful manner.

"Argh!" Saltem cried out. "Enough with the mud!"

A deep chuckle answered him. Somehow Titanium had gotten Saltem down flat on his back, pinning him there with one knee on his chest. "I'm quite enjoying this, actually."

Saltem gave him a dirty look. "This is going to be horrible to try to wash off," he replied.

"This is one of the things I usually recruit someone else to help me with," Titanium replied with a grin, glancing up as Axe made his way through the crowd.

"What is it with you and mud?" the black and gold mech asked, shaking his helm.

Axe missed the wicked, mischievous grin that crossed the old mech's faceplate, but Saltem didn't. Titanium shifted, though he didn't take his knee off his opponent's chest. Scooping up a handful of mud, he threw it right at Axe, nailing the other mech right in the helm.

Saltem scowled as he watched, unable to get up with the giant kneeling on him.

Axe just stared at Titanium for a moment. "Did you just..."

The wicked grin on Titanium's features widened. "Yup, I did. And what are you going to do about it?"

The gathered crowd looked from Axe to Titanium and back for a long moment. Then Axe pounced, landing on the older triple changer and knocking him backward off Saltem. Mud flew as the two grappled and flailed.

Saltem was quick to scramble out of the way, joining the onlookers watching the two experienced mechs.

This had absolutely nothing to do with sparring. This, apparently, had more to do with seeing who could get who more covered in brown glop. The two were playing like a couple of oversized younglings. Mud was flying in all directions.

It took a couple of breems for one of the two to concede defeat, though no one could be sure which one. Both mechs were so completely covered in mud that none of their paint could be seen. Axe was flat on his front in the mud, Titanium leaning back on his palms with his legs stretched out in front of him.

"That was fun," the older of the pair finally announced, picking himself up.

Saltem snorted at that declaration, wondering how two officers could behave in such a juvenile manner.

"I see Loopy got to you," Fortis Bronte chuckled as he walked up to his mud-drenched lover.

"'Loopy'?" Saltem asked him, raising an optic ridge.

"Titanium's nic," he chuckled as the two mud-covered giants got up and started to grab mecha to help clean them up. "He gets loopy under painkillers. Come on, let's get the mud off you."

"Please," the younger mech groaned, reminded of his state. "It's already mucking with my joints." He followed his lover off, towards the washracks.