Hardened Frailty

Chapter 2

Oh how had he ended up there, how, how how?! His CPU raced as heat flooded his systems. The scientist was pinned up against the wall, his frame half covered by that sleek pale form of Drift's. A soft whimper left him as the mech nipping at his neck grasped a hand about his leg. It was so sudden, they had only been speaking for a week even though Perceptor was helm over pedes for the mech. Perceptor couldn't help but gasp to the feel of Drift drawing his leg up. Soon, the swordsmech had pressed Perceptor's thigh against the shining white plating of Drift's hip.

"Do you want me?" Drift asked in a whisper and Perceptor could only nod his head up and down as his hands weakly clutched at Drift's shoulders.

"Are you sure?" Drift continued, flicking his glossa out against that audio receptor. Such a touch made Perceptor moan and he couldn't help but nod again before bleating out a weak, "Y-yes. . ."

"I'm not really a nice mech inside," Drift said in a hushed tone, his optics dimmed and Perceptor just couldn't believe that. "You see. . . I used to be a Decepticon," Drift revealed and Perceptor's intakes hitched as the mech pressed his lips to his audio receptor again.

The mere thought of Drift being a Decepticon seemed impossible yet all too frightening to the meek scientist.

"I need someone. . . Someone to help me. . .with my urges. . ." Drift managed in a slow rasp before grinding his panel against Perceptor's. That zone upon the scientist had been so ignored for so long and heat blossomed while pleasure rolled over him. The swordsmech had been quick to wrap an arm about his waist possessively. That strong grip made Perceptor shiver from his neck all the way down to the end of his backstrut.

"Would you be that one? You'd never be lonely again, I'd take care of you, but it wouldn't be the best care. . . I might hurt you. . . but I need someone," Drift almost growled out.

Perceptor thought he felt lubricant dripping down his valve at that. Was he insane that he was even considering this, even wanting it?! Common sense said no, but he wanted all that Drift was promising. The mech had been so good to him, but Drift said he could hurt him. . . Yet Drift had also saved his life. . . Didn't he owe Drift what he wanted. . .?

"Do you still want me?" Drift asked he ground against Perceptor, his voice becoming less and less refined.

"Yes. . ." came Perceptor's weak answer.

"I didn't hear you, Perceptor," Drift growled as he forced their panels together once again which caused a loud moan from Perceptor.

"Yes! Yes, I want you!" Perceptor cried out, though his voice still trembled and cracked, though it seemed to be a good answer for Drift who pressed his lips hard against Perceptor's.

Before he knew it, Drift's glossa was in his mouth, wiggling seeking his own glossa out. Every so often, Drift's denta would scrape at his lips while the mech moved against him. Paint was surely being scraped off, but Perceptor couldn't bring himself to care as Drift dragged him back from the wall, his arm still wrapped around his waist. The next thing he knew was that he was being forced to the berth.

Those hands of Drift's were quick and Perceptor cried out as his legs were pulled apart and spread wide. A gasp left Perceptor as Drift moved over him, and the weight of the mech atop him felt so good for a reason he could not comprehend. Thinking he should do something, Peceptor lifted his hands to touch those powerful shoulders only to find them pinned above his head. The mech growled at him and Perceptor could only stare dumbly for a moment before his audio receptors were greeted by a shriek of metal. Pleasure hit him and Perceptor rolled his head back before moan at the sensation of their panels meeting.

"Mine," growled Drift and Perceptor could not find the will in him to debate that and nor did he want to. If Drift wanted him then he could have him. The attention Drift was currently displaying was perhaps not the positive type but Perceptor was neglected, needy and at that moment he didn't care.

Pain hit him as Drift actually bit his shoulder and the scientist squirmed before whining, but the mark was quickly soothed by Drift's lapping glossa.

"Open," Drift demanded as he gathered both of Perceptor's hands into one of his before moving one down to rub harshly at Perceptor's panel.

The scientist found himself squirming even more at that rough touch, but he moaned despite it. Oh he couldn't resist Drift for long and his panel slipped right up and open a moment later. Squealing out, Perceptor realized Drift was not one to waste time when the mech shoved a digit into his valve. Wiggling his hips, Perceptor moaned as Drift's digit would press against the pliable walls of his valve.

"Good. . . very good. . . nice and tight. . . No seals though, unfortunately, but nearly as good," purred Drift, speaking as if he was trying to determine the worth of something rather than Perceptor's pleasure. The digit drew out from Perceptor's valve and he whined, craving more of that stimulation. Wanting to know where that hand went, Perceptor lifted his head, only to see Drift rubbing it on his own panel, smearing purplish lubricant all over the pale plating. It was an arousing image and Perceptor moaned as he watched. A moment later, Perceptor heard the tell tale click of Drift's panel lifting.

Perceptor questioned himself, wondering why he was so willing to this but the only answer he could come up was that he was purely desperate.

"Turn off your optics and lay your head back," Drift demanded with narrowed optics and Perceptor found himself automatically responding to that all too strong voice. Letting his head drop, the scientist flicked his optics off. There was movement, and his bottom lip trembled in anxiety. There was no warning, none at all, and Perceptor cried out as he was invaded. While Perceptor squirmed, Drift pinned both of his hips while the swordsmech pressed himself into Perceptor's valve.

Moans and cries left Perceptor while Drift's spike pressed into him, it was a little painful given the lack of use to his valve, but the pleasure was so worth it. Still, Perceptor couldn't help but think that there was something odd about Drift's spike. Not that Perceptor had taken too many spikes to his valve to really form a conclusion, but there was something peculiar. . .

A howl left Perceptor as that spike pulled back and he clamped his denta to his bottom lip to quiet himself. The ridges upon it seemed far more pronounced than what he would've expected and Drift surely was larger, both in length and girth than what he would've expected. Yet it was dreadfully good as a muffled sound left his lips when Drift pressed back into to him and none too gently. There was a slight crack, and then another one and pleasure and pain stung in Perceptor's cheeks. Shocked, the scientist turned his optics on before he had realized that Drift had slapped him. . .Twice.

"Moan for me," growled the pale mech before he drew his length back out as he slapped him for a third time.

Perceptor did just that, crying out at the sensations working along his frame, the sting in his cheeks actually being translated into pleasure, and most definitely the sensations in his valve from the thick, heavily ridged spike teasing and rubbing over the nodes within.

Watching Drift hike one of his legs up, Perceptor would moan as the mech gave him several more of those long thrusts. A gasp broke the scientist's lips as Drift suddenly pulled out of him and he looked up in time to see that spike that had been pleasuring him. It was just as thick as it had felt, as well as long, and Perceptor's optics brightened at just how ridged it was. Drift's spike looked. . .painful at first sight and it was no wonder why the mech had made him turn his optics off. The tip of it was almost bulbous, wider than the part of the shaft directly proceeding it, but still more slender than the mech's base.

Looking to Drift in confusion, the swordsmech rumbled, "Turn over."

A squeak left Perceptor when the mech did not even give him a chance to do as he was told and instead found himself shoved over on his chest before Drift's grabbing hands yanked his aft up. "Get on your knees," the swordsmech commanded and Perceptor managed to do just that before the mech pressed upon his backstrut so that Perceptor had his face pressed against his arms. There was no chance to catch his breath at the change of position as he felt his legs spread before being penetrated. Crying out, Perceptor turned his head to the side as pleasure hit his sensory grids hard while Drift's spike pressed deep into his valve. Deeper, and deeper did Drift press into him and Perceptor was forced not to squirm at the sensation of his valve stretching to accommodate the large spike.

Moaning loudly as Drift's form pressed over his in a fashion all too dominate, Perceptor felt the mech draw his hips back before starting to thrust into him. The motions were quick and sharp, but all too pleasurable for the mewling Perceptor. The scientist sensed Drift's mouth by his shoulder, intakes spewing hot air over the plating. The weight of the mech atop him only added to the sensations Perceptor was experiencing.

"So wet," rasped Drift before he bit down upon Perceptor's shoulder plating while Perceptor resisted the urge to scream out. . .in pleasure. Wailing in pleasure, Perceptor writhed as the Drift's thrusts became shorter but so much quicker. All Perceptor could hear was his own sounds and the grating and clang of metal as their frames met from Drift's exertions. Perceptor's mouth would jerk wide as his own fluids dripped onto the berth while the swordsmech pounded his valve with those sharp exertions.

There wasn't even the smallest chance that Perceptor could've possibly held up to that assault all too long. Crying out louder and louder, Perceptor's valve tense about that pleasurable intruder. That only made Drift feel all the larger, which only made Perceptor grow that much closer to completion. A mewl left Perceptor as overload hit him and hard, while Drift's denta locked onto his shoulder when his valve constricted upon Drift's heavily ridged spike. Gasps left the scientist as those thrusts became even more flurried, desperate even, which told Perceptor that Drift was working for his overload.

Even as his own overload was dying down, Perceptor was still moaning at the sheer sensation of those deep ridges rubbing against the nodes in his valve. A squeal left him when Drift drove his digits into his hips, yanking him back and completely upon his spike to hilt. Hot fluids poured into the scientist's valve as Drift grunted out his overload. The sensation of those fluids filling his reproduction tank was intoxicating the point that Perceptor mewled out loudly.

Moments later, Drift pulledl out from him, which left the scientist's valve empty while a whole onslaught of fluids dribbled from his valve onto the berth or down his thighs. Soon Perceptor was knocked over, rolled back onto his back and he cried out when Drift shoved two digits into his over sensitive valve. It was brief though, as Drift drew his digits back only a moment later, his fingers coated in a mix of violet and silvery fluids. A feral smile touched the mech's lips and Perceptor could only shiver when the mech leaned forward to smear those fluids across his lips before shoving them into the scientist's mouth. Optics flashing, Perceptor was forced to suckle the fluids off those digits as the mech swished them around his mouth. The fluids were tangy, but almost sweet at the same time and he was rather surprised by the taste.

A shiver worked down Perceptor's back strut when Drift's lips pressed against his audio receptor again, this time the opposite one. The sound from the mech's intakes was husky, a low rattle in his chest that only made Perceptor want Drift to take him again.

"I'm tempted to fill you full of transfluid," Drift threatened in a whisper, his optics sharp but dimmed. "Make you mine," the mech continued before biting at Perceptor's neck. A whine broke Perceptor's vocalizer at those words, aroused by those words, becoming fond for the aggressive mech for even wanting him.

Perceptor watched as Drift lifted his head, only to press his lips firmly to Perceptor's. A muffled moan left him when the mech also pressed his digits into Perceptor's valve once again, this time scissoring his digits. Soon, Drift had his glossa tangled about Perceptor's, his mouth turned at an angle so he could kiss the scientist firmer than before.

"Do you want me to fill sweet little valve of your's full again, Percy. . .?" Drift crooned against his lips and there was something extremely arousing about how Drift could sound so smooth and then sound so rough to Perceptor. . .

"Y-yes," came Perceptor's weak answer before he moaned aloud at the touches of those digits.

"Such an eager little thing," Drift said with a smile that Perceptor could only describe as a look one would see on the face of a Decepticon. . .