Surrender
Wheeljack watched as the Decepticon slowly collapsed to the ground. It was gravity-time, and he was just through a really exhausting harvest. Three vials were more than what was reasonable to take from anybot. Despite their previous agreement (that today's yield would be a recompense for Skywarp's repairs) he couldn't leave his Seeker contractor empty-handed. Just one cube from the reserves, why would that matter to anyone? He knelt down to the mech, and handed a day's dose of fuel to him.
"This is why Decepticons won't trust you." Thundercracker smiled. "Thanks."
Wheeljack turned to the lower half of the comfortably lying Seeker, and started detaching the harvesting set.
First of all he put the vial away. As it was teleport-proof, it also couldn't be subspaced, but the engineer had long ago crafted small normal-space pockets with magnetic locks.
Then he unclipped the sleeve. The rubbery plug with the small clamps and the large handle looked like a piece of history from his student orns. Without this technology, his training would have never been completed, for simple financial reasons. He couldn't understand why Prowl was sarcastic about that.
The spike imitation was halfway in the valve, but its locks were so stiff that he couldn't pull it out. Of course, everything was also dry. Thundercracker didn't have the reserves to oil the tool enough to be removed. Leaving it in was out of question for several good reasons. So the Autobot just sat down next too his Seeker, and started rubbing the dry valve.
"Hmmmm..."
"You've locked on the straight tool."
"M-hmm."
"Please give it back."
Thundercracker's sole reply was to turn into an even more suggestive angle before falling back to stasis.
Wheeljack hesitated. First, he wanted to get the spiking-tool back to his set. Then, he wanted to be home before the gravity-less period. There was still plenty time, but Wheeljack could only move around effectively if he had enough traction. Besides, despite the repairs he didn't trust Skywarp and the Seeker would be at advantage in the atmosphere.
Thundercracker was fast in recharge.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
It was, in fact, a sign of unconditional trust for the Seeker to power down in an Autobot's company. His frame still reacted to impulses, but his mind was processing the telemetry data from the previous days, and... well, Wheeljack admitted it had quite a lot to calculate.
He put a gentle hand on Thundercracker's tight interface panel. The Seeker replied with a purr.
"Hello?"
No purr this time.
The Autobot run his hand on the half-closed valve lock, then started circling his fingers around the stuck harvesting piece. Thundercracker gave a low sound, similar to a growl.
"Like distant thunder" Wheeljack murmured.
Under his palm, the valve was still playing with the straight tool, albeit at a rather sleepy pace. Wheeljack kept rubbing the area nearby, just enough for the offline Con's sensors to pick it up.
The larger robot gave a low-tune beep, that was all. Wheeljack slid his palm on the handle of the dildo, and tried to keep it from sliding back in with the constant pulsing of the valve's automated motion. Just like the first time, he was surprised how incredibly strong a Seeker's valve was. And it wasn't letting go.
He continued with one hand on the handle, the other gently on Thundercracker's plating. He was pulling slowly, because an abrupt reclaiming of the straight tool could have lead to damaging the fully dry entrance. Thundercracker didn't seem to mind his attempts: he was deep in recharge save for a few occasional, satisfied sounds.
Wheeljack tried to recall if his farmer had ever been in a similar situation. Overharvesting did occur: one of his fellow students had, on another farm, closed his locks on a tool that had been built for him specifically, so it was physically impossible to disconnect the too-good match. He couldn't recall how the situation had been resolved, however. But it certainly had cost a lot.
He applied a few drops of artisan oil, although he remembered it had made no real difference back then. On this Primus-forsaken planetoid, far from civilization, it was unfair of the valve to remain this tightly closed!
As he suspected, the oil didn't do much in the way of getting the dildo out. Mech and machine seemed so tightly bound, Wheeljack started to wonder if they'll remain so for the next gravity-less period. He very much hoped not.
He looked up at the distant stars and the nearby asteroids. As they were rotating towards the center of the field, more and more space objects covered out the setting star.
It was gorgeous. The slowly returning atmosphere refracted the rays into a million shades of light against the quickly darkening sky. Wheeljack had loved sunsets back home, he also loved the golden-red lights on Earth, but this parade of colors was beyond anything he'd ever witnessed.
He sent a radio message to Prowl before the mech would have started to worry. The reply was simply 'PERV.' He couldn't really decide what to do with it.
He settled comfortably next to Thundercracker, careful not to touch his wings.
"It's not like I understood why it's prohibited," he murmured, "but since you said no, well, that's it. I just don't think you have more sensors on an exposed appendage than in your valve, which you don't mind me touching."
He tried to think the Decepticon way. Maybe usefulness made the difference, not vulnerability. A Seeker without a functioning valve is still capable of flight, while a Seeker with dented wings is a miserable grounder. He wanted to run a caressing finger on the red stripe of the blue wing, but he didn't want Thundercracker to smash him for it. Armed or not, the Seeker had almost double iron content than he. And much better self-repair.
All in all, self-restraint was due. Anyway, as an Autobot, he had clear regulations not to molest prisoners.
Gravity was fading rapidly; it was already less than what they had on Earth. Wheeljack checked on the dildo in the Seeker. It was still being pulled inwards as the valve had reacted to its presence at the entrance sensors, then it was pushed out when the more sophisticated scanners didn't deem it a worthy partner for the flightframe. Without a conscious override, it would remain so for a long while. In, out. In, out. The friction made Thundercracker quietly purr in his sleep.
As much as Wheeljack could tell, the movement was slow enough not to cause any damage on the short term, but he was certain it would be bad in the long run. Even if it's just TC refusing to be harvested the next few days, it'd still be a considerable delay.
He wondered how Seekers had pleasured each other. How did they make another lubricate, if not by the harvesting vial's small engine? Wing rubs? Too bad, then.
Wheeljack's gaze fell on the orange crystal of the cockpit, shining gilded by the last rays of the sunset. Should he try touching that? It looked like an obvious surface for stimulation. While still rubbing the area near the valve in vain hopes of re-triggering lubrication, Wheeljack rested his other hand on Thundercracker's main chest crystal.
"Mmmmmhmmmh."
So was that positive?
"Hmmmmmhm."
Positive. Or at least the Seeker liked being touched there.
And what a wonderful feeling it provided. Through the amber-gold crystal, Wheeljack could palpate the appeased murmur of the main engines. He ran his fingers on the cockpit, remembering it was thanks to him that the Seeker was optimally fuelled. He got four cubes every second day; even if he shared it with his trine-brother, he must have consumed one cube every day for a whole week. Not even on Earth did the Decepticons gain this much fuel, Wheeljack supposed. They caused much trouble, but they weren't very effective.
TC would be kept on proper rations after they arrive on Cybertron, Wheeljack promised to himself. Skywarp too. Even if it would mean himself starving. Even if it would mean being mocked for his leniency.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe can go frag themselves, he decided. He would have two Seekers at his call.
He touched a neck cable, and Thundercracker involuntarily shivered and turned away.
"Sorry."
There might have been a purple flash of teleportation in the colorful sunset. Now that the shadows were growing long, it was impossible to tell if a black Seeker was nearby.
Wheeljack was more concerned by the loss of gravity. He could lie across Thundercracker's broad center without actually putting detectable weight on him. His hands must have felt comfortably warm, one on the valve, the other on the cockpit. From this new angle the Autobot could also see that his Seeker had finally started to lubricate again. Apparently, touching the cockpit was the key.
The straight piece was still where it shouldn't have been, but at least it was damp now and no longer damaging the living metal surfaces. Eventually, with one swift move, Wheeljack managed to pull it out.
Thundercracker moaned in his sleep, and it wasn't a happy moan this time. With one hand he reached into his own valve, only to grab at the empty space of the tool. He gave a disappointed half-cry.
"It's for the better, TC," Wheeljack patted him. "I'm here. Perhaps not the company you would long for when you're awake, but I think we'll need to settle for each other tonight."
Wheeljack moved one hand from the cockpit, but the other was still moving around the now empty valve. He could feel the needy shivers with his palm.
"I understand you long for a real partner. We would not be each other's first choices, but who could be a chooser after millions of years of fighting?"
As if on a cue, the unconscious Thundercracker grabbed him with one hand, and pulled him close.
Lying on the sensitive crystal cockpit, chest against chest in almost zero gravity, Wheeljack started to wonder how the Seeker's spike might feel like. He should really try it one day.
