Warnings: Slash, Non-Sexual Bondage, Oral Sex, Prison Setting, Extremely Dubious Consent, Heavy Angst, No Happy Ending, Rape/Non-con Elements
Author's Note: Originally written for the "SkyStar Smut Exchange 2021" on Ao3.
Behind That Mask
xxx
The energon cuffs bite into the metal of Skyfire's wrists. He tries to shift his weight, but it doesn't help much. The position they've chained him in - against the wall, with his arms stretched above his head - is starting to take its toll out of his joints. The cell is tiny, probably a rebuilt utility room somewhere deep in the Nemesis' belly. The air is hot and humid and briny, enough so that rust is sure to creep under a mech's plating if you expose them to these conditions long enough.
Skyfire wonders if that's the plan: leave him here until he crumbles into rust flakes. They disabled his chronometer along with his weapons and comm. systems when they hauled him in here, so he can't tell how much time has passed, but is certainly feels like an eternity. His only consolation is that, by playing decoy, he was able to provide his companions with a chance to escape.
There's movement and noises in the corridor outside, and the maglock on the door disengages. So much for the rust plan. Skyfire squares his shoulders.
"I don't care what Megatron ordered," a familiar voice snaps. "I'll deal with this one myself."
Skyfire flinches, and he can't for the love of him define the sensation that makes his spark clench so hard. The door slams shut, the lock reengaging, and he finds himself optic to optic with -
"Starscream," he says.
The dim light turns Starscream's wings into triangular shadows looming over his shoulders. His expression is blank, completely neutral, but his optic are glowing like plasma fire as he surveys Skyfire from helm to pede. An uneasy shudder runs through Skyfire's neural net.
The Seeker's lips curve into a small smile. "My," he murmurs. "Look at you. What a treat you make."
Skyfire doesn't let him out of his sight as he saunters over. The Seeker's null rays are deactivated, he can tell, but he is under no illusion that Starscream needs weapons to hurt him if he intends to. "I think it has been well established by now that I'm not telling you anything," he says.
Starscream invades his personal space, stopping just short of their chest plates touching. "Oh," he says, smile never wavering, "I think talking won't be necessary." And with that he drops onto his knees in one fluid motion, slithering down Skyfire's frame like an Earth serpent, grabs hold of his hip plates and licks a broad stripe across his spike panel.
Skyfire flinches away from the touch, shocked, but Starscream's grip is unrelenting. His glossa delves into the gaps around the panel, tickling and teasing. Skyfire's vents skip a rotation. "Starscream," he gasps. "What -"
The Seeker huffs out a laugh and looks up at him. "I apologize for the poor accommodations," he says, grin turning sly. "But if memory serves, such things have never exactly… stopped you."
Skyfire's processor races. Is this a trap, an attempt to catch him off guard? Some cruel and perverse way to mock him?
Starscream licks his panel again, and the sensation of that warm glossa sends a shiver up Skyfire's spinal strut. He reaches out with his field, desperately trying to get a read on the other mech, but all he encounters is empty space. He shudders again, torn between dismay and awakening arousal. No mechanism can cut off their EM pulses so completely; Starscream has to be using some kind of cloaking device, and he doesn't want to ponder the implications of that.
He squirms in place, trying to dodge Starscream's next lick, but since he has so little room to move, he only succeeds in making it land on the juncture between his hip and thigh plates - which, unfortunately, his neural net classifies as 'not so bad either'. "What's your game, Starscream?"
Oh so slowly, Starscream lifts his head. His optics are only half-lit, smoldering rubies in the room's twilight.
Skyfire's spark and processor simultaneously do something akin to a hiccup, and a veritable deluge of memory files infuses his cache: memories of his beautiful mate in exactly this position, wearing exactly this expression. In some of them, Starscream's features are lit by the rising suns of an alien planet, in others they're almost obscured by the cozy darkness of their berthroom. Some are accentuated by the playful anxiety that comes with knowing you might get caught, and still others swamp him with the lazy contentment of unhurried, mutual pleasure. It's true, they've never been particularly choosy about the… circumstances.
He moans as his panel clicks open without his conscious decision. His extending spike is welcomed by Starscream's firm, warm grip, and the Seeker makes a low sound of appreciation deep in his vocalizer. "There," he murmurs. "Good boy." His glossa meanders around the biolights on the underside; he knows all the trigger points, of course he does, and any plans Skyfire might have had to seriously resist him are drowned in the mounting pleasure of his mate gently coaxing him to full hardness. Starscream's fingers find sensitive spots that haven't been touched in too long, and Skyfire chokes on a whimper. "Star," he gasps out, but the only answer that gets him is that Starscream closes his lips around his spike's head and sucks, hard.
The shackles rattle as Skyfire instinctively tries to yank down his arms and cup Starscream's helm in his palms - if to push him away or to pull him closer, he can't tell. The chains don't give, of course, all he can do is curl his fingers around the dura-steel links - a poor substitute, but it will have to do. Starscream makes that encouraging little noise again that makes Skyfire's engines produce throaty, growling revs in answer. The Seeker wriggles his tongue into the little slit on the head, then sucks again, and with a groan, Skyfire surrenders. So what if this is a game? He'll deal with the consequences later.
Sometime during their long separation, Starscream has perfected his technique. He alternates between feather-light kisses, long licks and heavy sucking, and Skyfire is dimly aware that the moans and gasps he keeps hearing are his own. Primus, he wants to move, to thrust into those teasing, beckoning touches, but Starscream's having none of it; he grabs Skyfire's hips again and pushes him back against the wall - not overly rough, but the message comes through loud and clear: Don't move. Skyfire whines in near-desperation. His fans are rattling so hard it hurts and still can't keep up with his rising core temperature; the sensations are too sharp, too overwhelming for this to last long. "Close," he rasps, and Starscream gives a little hum, probably to indicate that he's heard and understood, but he doesn't draw back. All Skyfire can do is moan helplessly as a powerful electric explosion tears through his frame and the discharge of his overload grounds, unfiltered, in his mate's throat. Starscream stiffens, and his fingers leave dents in Skyfire's hip plates.
More than ever Skyfire wishes that his arms were free so he could reach out and take Starscream's hands. But they aren't, so all he can do is to ride the waves of pleasure until they subside and he begins to feel the rest of his body again. Starscream lets his spike slide out of his mouth slowly, and Skyfire shudders at the sudden coldness against the hot metal. He wants to look down at his mate, he wants to so much, but an inexplicable fear makes his spark jitter. He lets his head drop back against the wall with a thud, staring blindly at the ceiling and resigning himself to whatever will come next.
The moments tick by, and the silence grows ever louder. Starscream's grip has gentled, but he shows no inclination to move, and finally Skyfire can bear it no longer. He glances down.
Starscream's head his still bowed, his face resting softly against Skyfire's inner thigh; Skyfire can feel the hot draft from his vents. His wings are set at a low angle that implies relaxation, a beautiful broad expanse of gleaming metal even in the gloomy twilight. Skyfire's entire frame aches with the desire to scoop his mate up into his arms. "Starscream," he whispers, but there's no response, not even the slightest twitch. Since he can't physically touch, Skyfire reaches out with his field again, offering an electromagnetic caress instead.
Starscream practically jumps to his feet. Skyfire gasps, not only because the action is so abrupt, but also because his field once again grasps at nothing. Starscream's expression, when their optics meet, is as cold and aloof as ever.
"Please,"Skyfire hears himself say. "Talk to me."
He gets no answer, but Starscream steps closer again, his optics boring into Skyfire's. His fans are on idle, and so are his engines, his frame radiating no more heat than it would in recharge. Without breaking optic contact, he reaches down.
Before Skyfire can so much as flinch, the Seeker has taken hold of his still exposed spike, pushed the softening shaft back into its housing and closed the panel. There's none of the pain or discomfort he half-expected, only the practiced touch of a familiar berthmate indulging in basic aftercare.
Skyfire panics. He has no idea why, but his spark suddenly lurches in its chamber, straining to get closer to its mate, and when Starscream backs away it feels as if something unutterably precious is about to slip through his fingers and be lost beyond recall.
"Please," he repeats, and he barely recognizes his own voice with all the static clouding it.
Starscream has reached the door and raps his knuckles against the metal in quick succession. There is a series of clicks, and the door swings open.
"Star," Skyfire whispers.
Starscream turns and ducks out into the corridor. The door slams shut behind him, and Skyfire is, once again, alone.
*Fin*