Rated: M for adult themes: language, violence, erotica, lemony
Disclaimer: This is a work of complete fiction. I make no money from this but wish I could. Roughly takes place in the bayverse.
Shattere offered a challenge: Angry Prime ending in intimacy. That is it.
XxxX
Rising from Perdition
XxxX
The rifle felt heavy and solid in my hands. A tool built to take lives, perhaps a deer meant to feed a family, or in this case, to maim an alien mechanoid. This weapon could not kill the towering Decepticon, but a few well-placed shots could blind him.
I ran across the roof, hunched down so none of the raging mechs could see me against the skyline. The summer heat had melted the tar used to seal the roof, and every so often, it sucked at my boots greedily. The tar didn't matter; the small pebbles and trash it stuck to my shoes didn't matter. The only thing I cared about was fighting with the Autobots on the street below me.
It took over a year to flush him out of hiding, over a year of tracking, of following sightings and half hints. This monster enjoyed ripping apart lives, he reviled in the chaos his actions created, but he covered his movements and chose his victims sporadically and randomly. Today, it would end. Today, one of his forgotten victims would help end his terror.
I chose a spot on the corner of the building. I could easily see the intersection where the Autobots pinned in the Decepticon. They encircled him, goading him from all sides but staying out of his attack radius. As a little girl, I watched a pack of feral dogs attack one of our bulls the same way. None of them were big enough or dumb enough to challenge the beast, but working together, they wore him to the ground. That's what the Autobots did, they baited the bull until the executioner arrived.
My father's old bolt-action rifle lacked a huge magazine for dozens of rounds, but it could easily take a house fly off a post without chipping the wood. I dug around in the bag slung across my body, the brass I'm digging out jingles. I drop five rounds onto the lip of the roof; three of them fill the old Winchester. If it took more than five rounds to hit my target, my father would be ashamed of me.
The Decepticon whirled in a fury. He lashed out at the Autobots but could not land a hit. The roar of a diesel engine alerted me to the Commander's arrival. Once Optimus Prime joined the melee, the Decepticon would not last long. I wanted this bastard to suffer. I wanted him to know the blind terror of not being able to fight back.
The Winchester locks against my shoulder, and I tighten my grip on the oiled wood stock. My father taught me how to shoot when I was little. He always wanted a son, but he got me instead. I breathe slowly and peered down the scope. The magnified image showed Ironhide's mangled face. I panned to the right trying to find the Decepticon. Dull aubergine armor told me I found my target, now to find his only weak spot, his optics.
The crosshairs of the scope traveled up the Decepticon's form. The sounds of a mechanoid changing form replaced the roar of the diesel engine. I don't pull back to watch the Prime of Cybertron make his entrance; I have seen it multiple times. I continued trying to find the Decepticon's face, a difficult task looking through the scope, the quick movements of my target created a dizzying gyroscopic effect. As I crept up his body, I see the outline of his jaw and the mangled dental plates that look like shards of glass. Above that is the nasal ridge. I moved the scope ever so slowly to the left, and the glow of an optic filled the lens.
Without hesitation, I pulled the trigger, the recoil slammed into my shoulder. I didn't see the bullet enter the mech's optic, but I saw it in my mind's eye, the shattering of glass and delicate sensors, the spurt of energon, and the darkening of that hated red glow.
Immediately, I ejected that casing and lined up for another shot. This time it will be harder; Optimus Prime has joined the fight, his red and blue armor a blur as he assaulted the Decepticon. Whatever, I have four more rounds. I sight the target again, but he moved so much I have a hard time staying on the remaining optic. The red glow refused to sit in my crosshairs; I ground my teeth in frustration. My hands shook, so close to vengeance, yet the Prime would not stop his assault long enough for me to take the shot. As I followed the Decepticon, more often than not, red and blue flames filled my sights.
Dammit, Prime, get out of the way. I have to do this; I have to hurt the one that killed my family. Pulling away from the scope, I tried to locate my target. Optimus had moved between us; the massive Autobot unintentionally blocked my shots. Putting my eye to the scope again, I found the Decepticon's face, but the Prime's blue helm mostly obscured it.
Tears welled in my eyes and made it hard to see. The muscles in my arms cramped from the strain. I hated this mech. I hated that he took everyone from me.
I saw the shimmer of a red optic in my scope. Without thought, my finger pulled the trigger. The explosion of the firing pin ignited the primer then the gunpowder, the butt of the rifle slammed into my shoulder. I heard the roar of the bullet exiting the barrel, but it all happened so quickly it became one event.
I waited for the mental image of the mech's remaining optic to shatter into useless bits, but it never came—the Prime moved between the bullet and the intended target. The armor-piercing round struck the Commander on a delicate facial plate and punched a hole in the silver metal.
This is why we target their faces and why many Cybertronians utilize battle masks. The thin metal of their faces is filled with tactile sensors and no where as thick as their body armor.
Sitting up, I watched in horror as the Autobot Commander ducked down, a hand pressed to his face. Forgetting the Decepticon, he looked for the source of the injury. The source was me, and it took him less than a second to locate my position on the roofline. Fuck. He was pissed, and from the force of the punch he delivered to the Decepticon, he took his fury out on the enemy.
All the anger and hatred drained out of me as hot tears. I had missed my target; I hit a friend and ally, a scream ripped out of me. A year spent chasing this mech, constantly on the move trying to track him down, wasted. The nights asleep in the back seat of a willing Autobot, barely eating, cleaning myself in gas station bathrooms, ignoring my needs, and not accepting the grief. All of it for nothing. I fucking missed.
The cacophony of metal striking metal echoed around me. I heard the Prime's roars of anger as he continued to battle the Decepticon. I unloaded the rifle, tossed the unused rounds in my bag, and then wiped my face. It wouldn't last much longer. The Prime would dispatch the Decepticon, and a year of my life would come to a close.
I looked down; Optimus rammed his sword into the vile mech and pulled it out. Fluids rushed from the gaping wound. The blade flashed again, and I felt nothing as I watched the Decepticon's head fall from his body. The rest of the mech crashed to the ground.
I needed to leave. Optimus Prime stared at me; anger rolling off him. I ducked my head and left the area.
XxxX
The motel was a dump, decorated once in the 70s and never touched again, a treasure trove of shitty antiques. The room offered two lumpy beds, and creaking chair and a table that listed alarmingly. The TV actually had antennas and offered three channels of fuzzy static. Like I said, a dump.
After a shower and brushing my teeth, I wrapped a towel around me. Sitting on the polyester bedspread, I cleaned my dad's rifle. The actions are automatic; my mind a blank as I tried to process that the Decepticon was dead. I got what I wanted, the death of the enemy, but there was no triumph from the act.
The whine of alien supercars and a rumbling diesel announced the Autobots arrival. It didn't take but a second for a massive finger to thump at my door. Here we go, the intergalactic ass chewing. I felt bad about what happened, kinda', but it was hard to feel anything at that moment. Emotions refused to come; I had shut them off for so long I doubted I would ever feel again.
I considered ignoring the summonsing.
The thumps sounded again, but harder, more insistent. If I didn't open the door, he would send one of the smaller ones to come and get me. Don't think an Autobot isn't above breaking down a door and squeezing into a room to retrieve a person. I've seen it happen.
So, I flung the door open, and the massive face of the Prime greeted me. The Commander glared at me, those blue optics the color of the deep ocean. The wound from my misplaced shot marked the side of his face. Fuck, a few inches over, and he would have lost an optic; I looked away as guilt sank through me.
"Sorry," I mumbled. "I wasn't aiming at you." Obviously, Optimus Prime was not my target, but I felt I had to say it.
An angry rumble filled the air around us. "You were not to accompany us on this mission. I made that clear."
Snapping my head up, I interrupt the Autobot. "You know I wanted to watch him die for what he did to my family. Did you think I would stay here?" I began shouting; I knew if I looked past the giant crouched in front of my motel door, I would see curious eyes and optics staring at us. Whatever, I didn't care. "You are an arrogant dick to think you can order me around!" I slammed the door in the Prime of Cybertron's face and threw the locks to seal out the world.
Through the thin walls, I heard the whining gears and clicks that accompanied these beings as they changed shape. He could sit there and pout for all eternity. I didn't care.
I dropped my towel, grabbed a clean pair of shorts from my bag, and stepped into them. Tying the drawstring, I turned and jumped. A man stood in my room.
Scrambling, I grabbed a wad of dirty clothes to cover my bare breasts. Stepping sideways, I wanted to reach a pistol I had tucked beneath a pillow. I watched the man, feeling exposed and vulnerable in my near nudity. "Get out!" I screamed at him and tried to figure out how he got in my room.
"Stand down." The familiar voice snapped.
I paused; I knew him. I had never seen this, but I had heard of it; a holoform. The mechs used them whenever they needed to interact on a more human plane. It's like a hologram, but solid and they can feel and experience sensations through it. Also, it sucks up huge amounts of energy, and from what I heard, they can only use one for a couple of hours.
My heart pounded furiously, but the blind panic subsided enough I could observe his appearance. Optimus Prime took the form of a pleasant-looking, but nondescript male, broad shouldered, short brown hair, blue eyes, jeans, lace-up boots, and a plain t-shirt. The kind of guy that didn't stand out in a crowd but was attractive enough most women wouldn't turn him away.
"Get out, Optimus," I demanded, still holding the wad of clothes to my chest. The hidden pistol was no longer a goal; He was not a threat and I wanted to be left alone.
"I am not finished discussing what happened and why you disobeyed my orders." He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet. "Your emotions and need for vengeance have made you careless. For those reasons, I did not want you on this mission."
Anger bubbled from deep within me. An anger that came from being told girls cannot be tough, girls are weak and cry too much, or girls don't shoot guns, here is a doll to play with. I hate being told my gender makes me less. Snarling, I threw my clothes at the figure. "How dare you. Get out. Fuck off and get out." The cold air hit me, and I realized I was only wearing a pair of shorts.
He didn't move, rooted to his spot like a Grecian statue, his gaze locked on my face. "I told you, Dropdown would pay for his crimes."
Hot tears pooled in my eyes and blurred my vision; the mech's words infuriated me, "I am not some damsel in distress; I wanted to kill him myself. Don't you understand that?" Stomping towards the figure, I shoved him. His holoform was surprisingly firm, and he stepped backward. "You took away my revenge." I moved to shove him again.
His hands wrapped around my wrist, stopping me. He slammed into me and knocked me sideways. Before I understood his intent, he pinned me against the wall. Both of my hands were trapped between us. "Vengeance is not the answer, it will only consume you and your future. Dropdown killed more people than just your family; he was dangerous and had to die. But it was my place as the Prime to execute him, not yours."
He looked away, emotions twisting his features before he regained control and looked at me again. "I executed him, to save you from the hollow stain it will leave within you."
The hot tears spilled from my eyes; I had to look away from that intense gaze. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to be weak, especially in front of him.
A hand touched my face and slowly wiped away my tears. I still don't know why, but I raised my head and pressed my lips against his.
Optimus froze, his eyes opened wide. He pulled away slightly, searching me. I glanced down, heat rising in my cheeks, and noticed my bare chest pressed against his shirt. The heat spreads throughout my body. A finger touched my cheek and tipped my head up; I couldn't look at him.
Without warning, he leaned forward and returned my kiss. Dry lips pressed against mine, and I opened my mouth slightly; that is all the invitation he needed. A hand gripped the back of my head, fingers tangled in my hair, and his other slipped around my waist.
Some tiny voice in my head asked what the hell was I doing, but I ignored it. A year of hunting and grief had taken its toll, I needed something to take it all away, and another body might just be that thing.
Raising my arms, I wrapped them around his neck. I pressed against him as he continued kissing me. I could have drowned in the intensity of those kisses. They started lightly, soft and hesitant, then rapidly demanded more.
As I came up for air, his kisses moved to my neck and the sensitive area along my collar bone. "Please," I whispered.
A rumble vibrated through him. "Are you certain?" he mumbled into my neck.
"Oh god, yes." The words barely left my mouth, and the Prime scooped me into his arms. A few short steps, and he knelt, laying me on the bed. A sweep of his arm knocked everything to the floor. I am glad this room had two beds, and the dismantled rifle was on the other one. He kissed me and cupped a breast in his hands, his thumb rubbing the nipple.
Standing, Optimus dragged his fingers over me, tickling my skin. Walking to the foot of the bed, he stared down at me, his gaze roving over my body. I couldn't move; his scrutiny held me in place. He stopped at the tiny blue shorts I still wore. A small frown creased the too-human face. My heart pounded frantically, my breath hitched, and muscles deep within tightened.
Wordlessly he crawled onto the bed, straddling my lower legs. Thick hands ran along my thighs and slipped beneath the edge of the blue cotton; goosebumps sprang up wherever he touched. Pulling a hand free, Optimus reached towards my waist. He picked up the tip of the string that held my shorts in place and slowly pulled. The pressure of them sinched around my waist lessened. A tiny smile quirked his lips. Grabbing the cloth, he pulls at the only fabric covering my body. I watched him slip them from my hips and down my legs.
A tremble ran through me as he tossed the shorts aside. Slipping his hands beneath me, he cupped my butt, fingers squeezing the flesh. Laying on top, he pressed his lips to my abdomen and trailed kisses downward. "Human females are amazing. So much life held within their bodies," he whispered, pressing his mouth against the mound of hair I never had time to coif.
Hot embarrassment shot through me, and I began to squirm away.
He raised his head but held onto me. "What is wrong?"
Stumbling over my humiliation, I finally got the words out. "I haven't shaved in a while." I was not going to have sex with the leader of another planet without presenting my best.
A chuckle reverberated through him. He lowered his mouth and flicked his tongue between the folds.
The sensation pulled a moan from me and killed my argument. I could not fight against his mouth as it stimulated the bundle of hidden nerves. I shut my eyes, focusing on the tingles of ecstasy that would eventually build into the release I desperately needed.
He stopped and slipped his hands from beneath me. I opened my eyes. He shifted to his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, exposing solid muscles. As the cloth dropped from his fingers, it disappeared. Holoform, I reminded myself, a solid hologram he built. This was not the Prime of Cybertron but an avatar he chose.
Raising, I tugged at his jeans, popped the button open and unzipped them. Beneath my hands, he was hard. The jeans vanished, and he straddled, me naked and rigid.
Pushing me down, he ran a finger between my folds and slipped it inside me. Slowly he fingered me, searching for that so sensitive spot inside. A second finger joined the first as he slid in and out. In and out, so slowly, so agonizingly slowly. He watched his manipulations, a serious expression of concentration, then flicked his gaze towards me. Rocking my hips, I wanted him to go faster. A frustrated moan fills the air; I needed more from him. He pulled his fingers out and left me cold and wanting.
He grabbed my hips and dragged me toward him. His tip pressed against my opening, and the hollow need to be filled nearly drove me insane. He kept me on the threshold of intimacy as I squirmed and whimpered.
Finally, he thrusted into me and held still. That was not what I wanted; I rocked my hips demanding him to do something. He did. He pulled back and thrusted into me again. He continued over and over. I arched my back and grabbed fistfuls of the bedspread.
"More. Harder." I demanded. I wanted the sex to wipe away all the loss and hate and misery I had suffered for so long. Optimus slammed into me harder and faster. His rapid thrusts nearly hurt, but I wanted more.
Wrapping my legs around him, I locked the holoform to me. He continued to slide in and out, faster and faster. I felt the tightness deep within my abdomen, the impending release not far away. The orgasm hit me hard. I screamed as the rush traveled through my body, and my scalp tingled.
Optimus did not stop; he continued. Every movement stimulated my hypersensitive body. I thrashed beneath him, my body reacting to his touch, all logical thought crushed by the sensations. He pulled another orgasm before the first one ended. As my moans and screams tapered off, he slowed but stayed inside of me.
Tears escaped from the corners of my eyes. A year of buried feelings exploded forth. I didn't sob or moan, but the tears wouldn't stop; they slid down the sides of my face and pooled on the cheap bedspread. "Make love to me again," I told him.
Thick arms wrapped around me as he covered me with his body. Slowly, deliberately he stroked me, his hips guiding his movements. "You can have a future," he whispered in my ear. He rocked faster. "You can have a life." Speeding up, he kissed my breasts.
The tears were still flowing, but my body tightened. Moans slipped from me as his length slid through me. It didn't take long for him to bring me to the height of pleasure. Sweat covered me in a sticky sheen, and my muscles quivered.
He pulled out and laid beside me, propped on his elbow. Trailing his fingers, he made designs in my sweat. The air began to cool my overheated body, and goosebumps covered me. Optimus threw the loose edge of the bedspread over us, and we snuggled together. Wrapping around my body, he held me until I dozed off.
XxxX
When I awoke, he was gone. The sunlight no longer sliced through the room. The room was washed in shades of grey and black. I stared at the dark ceiling; his words echoed through my thought as my body ached from his attentions. He said I had a future, and he was right. Our few hours together reminded me there was so much more than anger and death.
I am still angry; my world was destroyed, and I am alone, but I can start again. I can find someone to share my life with. Optimus Prime showed me that; he reminded me to live and feel.
Leaving the bed, I dressed. Underwear, pants, a bra, and a t-shirt with a jacket against the cold. Everything else I crammed into my duffle bag and slid the disassembled rifle into its case. Stepping into my shoes, I grabbed my stuff. Unlocking the motel door, I slipped into the night.
My beat-up truck sat a couple of parking stalls down. Throwing everything in the bed, I glanced to a semi in the shadows. I knew he watched me, and the temptation to stay ached through my body. Pushing it aside, I opened the driver's side door and hopped onto the seat. The engine turned over, and I pulled away from the parking lot and the shitty motel. But I also pulled away from an ugly past and into an unknown and open future.