Feminine Troubles Chapter 13: Collision
Nothing belongs to me, Transformers belongs to Hasbro/Takara. Adult content, slash of all kinds, sticky, continuity soup, do not read if underage. In other words, yada yada yada. Hopefully I'll still have power tomorrow. I'm hoping to get some writing done.
There was atmospheric turbulence, of course, a lot of it. If Cosmos hadn't been so very, very eager to get back to base and see some other bots for a change, she would probably have just gone around, but she figured that if she was careful, and approached the situation with the same humility as she would any dangerous asteroid field or radiation flares, she would be fine…
But apparently the seeker from before wouldn't.
Her tanks roiled in anxiety as she watched him struggle on her mid-range sensors. He had approached it badly, had overcompensated, and now it looked like he had…encountered a flock of flying organics? Cosmos winced inwardly, for both the organics and the seeker.
Oooh, that flight path was not looking good.
She winced inwardly as one of the Seeker's engine failed completely, trailing a cloud of dark smoke. Well, frag.
The beautiful golden seeker was literally going down in flames, and there was nothing Cosmos could do but watch. She dithered for a few moments. It was unbecoming of an Autobot, and totally unbecoming of an experienced space mech (femme, whatever) but she wasn't sure it was at al wise to follow the seeker down.
On the one hand, ancient protocols among her kind required that she lend all possible aid to a flier in such distress. On the other hand, well, insane radioactive Decepticon.
Fraggit.
Blitzwing hadn't expected to meet the youngling Autobot fliers so unexpectedly. He dodged a couple of lasers easily, and raked them with return fire. The enemy jets scattered like startled birds.
Their technique had improved, he noted. Not nearly enough to go one-on-one with the Decepticon seekers, but certainly enough that he didn't much want to tangle with all five of them at once. He was a lot less maneuverable, given his shuttle frame. He dove towards the one closest to him, transforming in mid-air. The maneuver was a difficult one, and could easily be fatal for an inexperienced flier.
He grabbed the femme jet, and the two of them went tumbling through the atmosphere, heading towards the distant ground with an uncontrolled spin. His arms closed around the red and white jet, crumpling armor as his claws dug for purchase.
He activates his thrusters, far less balanced in mech form than he was as a shuttle, and managed to turn their uncontrolled plummet into s sort of sideways drift.
Blitzwing opened comms to the young jet's comrades.
I don't need trouble, Autobots. Let me fly outa here and I'll let your sister go without so much as another scratch once we're out of your range. The earth plane in his arms tried to twist away in a manner that a jet wasn't actually capable of, and he dug his claws in a little harder as a reprimand.
They slowed, and his antigravs compensated for his burden. The jet in his arms was being a good youngling, and all he had to do was get farther from the others, and they would be focused on her and any injuries the nasty Decepticon Triple Changer had done to her while he made a getaway.
That was…weird. He felt strangely hot under his plating, far more than the brief combat should have caused, and up here in the thin atmosphere, the young jet's scent seemed peculiar…and really…good.
Oh.
Blitzwing had misjudged his comrades. Oh, sure, he had been looking down on them for being a bunch of interfacing obsessed idiots with interfacing arrays for processors, but now he was doing it too.
Ugh.
There, they were far enough away, and he could ditch the little enemy jet (who was much, much too young for him to be sniffing after like he was a…whatever sniffs after an Autobot in heat.
Blitzwing bent a wing flap out of alignment, enough so that it would interfere with the other jet's steering and maneuverability. It wasn't much of a plan, but he figured it would keep the femme from making any more trouble, and the other Aerialbots would have to rescue their wing-mate instead of going after him.
The jet cried out, and this time he let go.
"Uh, sorry kid." He said. "Your gestalt mates will be here to help you in a bit, and I'm just going to get the frag outta here before they arrive. No hard feelings, right?"
As he made a (very) fast strategic withdrawal, Blitzwing shuddered. He was very much afraid that close enemy contact was going to turn him into as big a perv as his comrades. He figured that he could at least be a little classier about it than most of them. He sure wasn't going to go mooning after a bunch of new sparks who didn't even have the paint behind their audios dry yet, though.
He liked a femme with experience, after all.
Hound and Mirage eyed the black and white Decepticon warily. There were two of them, and they could probably take Barricade on if he was alone, but the situation was…awkward.
They had been on a scenic drive not too distant from the base when Hound had smelled something that she liked. It was a subtle, spicy metallic scent that she had never encountered before. Actually, it was kind of like the way the rec room used to smell after a party, only good.
Intrigued, Hound had convinced Mirage, who couldn't catch the scent, at least at the time, to investigate. As they had neared the source, Mirage had been able to detect it too. Like her lover, she found it extremely alluring. Unfortunately, the source turned out to be none other than Barricade, who was spending some quality alone time with his unsheathed interfacing unit. From the look of things, the cruiser had been at it for a while, too.
Hound, intent on finding the source of the smell, had driven straight into the clearing. Seeing the Decepticon scout, she stopped with enough suddenness to find herself in a fender-bender with the blue and white car-former following her. Fortunately neither of them were going fast enough to actually cause dents, but Mirage let out a startled (and not particularly genteel) curse and transformed, followed immediately by Hound.
Four red eyes in an angular black and white face stared at them, defiant and more than a little embarrassed. Barricade had been trying to overload for what seemed like ages, but whenever he got close, it seemed that he was interrupted by the grating and decidedly unsexy voices of his comrades over his comms. His taloned hand had frozen on his spike when two beautiful femmes stumbled into his secluded glade.
Horrified, he wondered if anyone would actually mind if he offlined himself right here. Perhaps Primus would be merciful and the ground would open up and swallow him. Bad enough that his enemies had come on him totally unaware, but it being two femmes he was pretty sure were together and regularly experiencing all the delights that implied was just the limit.
The hot, blue and white towers noble was staring at his sprawled form and erect spike with shock. The more rugged, but also hot green scout was starting to grin.
Barricade decided to go with bluster. "Look, I don't know how you knew I was here, but if you're going to kill me, could you at least give me a click to get my panel closed so I can die with some dignity?"
Hound's grin widened. It was unlike her to take pleasure in another's discomfort, but the other scout was just so cute. And hot. She commed Mirage. "Are you pondering what I'm pondering, Raj?"
"Does it involve pouncing on the poor frustrated Decepticon and doing our part to improve inter-factional relations?" the ex-noble's tone was wry, but not disapproving. "Because I would definitely be willing to file that under helping the needy. The very, very needy. He really does smell great. And obviously needs a helping servo. Or something."
Mirage had been in the Decepticon base, scouting invisibly enough times to know that the enemy had a very un-Autobot approach to intimacy. She had never seen Barricade with anyone, even in one of their dominance-struggles-which-lead-to-interfacing.
Honestly, there was something more than a little sad that any transformer would be out here, alone and near enemy territory, simply because he didn't have a close enough trusted friend to be with, or privacy within the safety of his base. Cybertonians were not like their organic neighbors, who tended to place a lot of cultural restrictions on interfacing. They interfaced casually with friends of either gender all the time, or at least Autobots did.
Mirage had been in the Decepticon base, scouting invisibly enough times to know that the enemy had a very un-Autobot approach to intimacy. She had always rather pitied them for the lack of emotional closeness among them. The war was bad enough without having anybot to confide in. The almost ritualized dominance and submission that the opposing faction tended to indulge in as part of their pecking order looked like it could be quite enjoyable as a way to spice up interfacing, but not at the expense of actual relationships.
They always seemed so alone, unable to trust one another, even during their most intimate moments. The ex-noble had never actually seen Barricade with anyone, even in one of their dominance-struggles-which-lead-to-interfacing. For all she knew, he might have been secretly shagging the Constructicons or something, but she somehow doubted it. It seemed like an almost criminal waste of an attractive, competent scout.
Once upon a time, Mirage had known beautiful, cultured bots who were expensive professional courtesans. They were also poets, musicians, and philosophers. Sometimes they were also councilors and tutors in politics or protocol. She attempted to channel one of those regal, confidant beings now. She approached Barricade in a swaying, seductive saunter that she had observed during her youthful crush on a femme courtesan named Starsong.
The decepticon stared at her, a wild, wary creature who expected violence and had been caught in a compromising and vulnerable position.
"Kill you? Why would we want to do that?" She purred. "What kind of Autobots do you think we are? Besides, that would be a terrible waste. I can think of much, much better things to do with you. Your cyber pheromones drew us here. I can't believe I never noticed a delectable scent like that before." Mirage kept advancing on the dark mech, who looked like he couldn't decide whether to run, fight, or roll over on his back and beg the femmes to run their servos over his aching length.
Hound piped up, "it probably didn't smell the same to us when we were still mechs, Raj." She was still grinning. "Femmes have different olfactory calibrations."
"Look," Barricade growled. "Is this some kind of sadistic Autobot game, or are you seri-oooh." Mirage, moving with a spy's graceful speed, had firmly removed the cruiser's clawed hands from in front of his groin, and wrapped her own servo around his spike. She expertly stroked in a spiraling upward movement that had the poor, neglected 'Con arching into her servos.
Hound, who had been alternately sweeping their surroundings for danger and enjoying her friend's femme fatale routine, gently reached out and turned Barricade's face towards her. "Autobots never play sadistic games, just enjoyable ones." She said, then kissed him.
Barricade stiffened in surprise for a moment, then snarled softly. "I'm not a toy, Autobitch."
The next thing Hound knew, her oral plating was being thoroughly ravished by the sharp mouth of the Decepticon. His arms came around her body and neck, holding her close. Barricade gave another purring growl as Mirage enveloped his spike in her hot, soft mouth and began an agonizingly slow up and down rhythm.
He grabbed one of Hound's thighs and pulled her leg over his body to straddle him. Then he seized her softly rounded hips and pulled them towards his faceplate. The Decepticon lapped urgently against her anterior valve cover, while his other hand stroked hard against the posterior cover. Naturally she allowed both to open under his enthusiastic ministrations.
Mirage couldn't grin at the sight of the Decepticon's fingers, their claws firmly retracted, delving into her friend's well -lubricated posterior port. Her mouth was otherwise occupied. To reward Barricade for good behavior, she stroked at his port cover while sucking hard.
Barricade's sudden overload took all three of them by surprise. He had just stroked his glossa around the jeep's anterior valve opening, and begun to push into it, when the combination of the spy's mouth and hands on his interface equipment hurled him into the overload that had been so elusive before.
The sudden energy surge made him thrust up into the racecar's mouth, then transmitted through his glossa to the interior of the port he was exploring with it. His energy field, which had been roiling with built-up charge from his earlier efforts, flared wildly, triggering the femmes' sensors and personal fields. Hound shrieked with pleasured surprise and arched her back-struts into a graceful curve above her new lover.
Mirage's mouth was flooded by energon-laced transfluid and missed the show, but was surprised by the spicy, subtle taste. Aparently olfactory senses weren't the only things that were set differently on femmes. Either Barricade was yummier than any of her comrades, or this was another interesting little change that came from their unexpected gender reassignment.
She supposed it made sense. After all, femmes needed a lot of extra energy to conceive, that was the point of having another port able to receive transfluid. Not that their current activities would result in any possibility of conception, but the ability to take in large amounts of extra energy during interfacing was a critical femme mod.
Mirage caught her friend's body before she collapsed over the mech's face, and eased her to the side. She showily licked her lips and smiled seductively a the interceptor. "That all you got, Decepticon?"
Barricade bared his fangs at her, his angular features set in a fierce, lustful expression. "Pit no, Autobot. I've got way more than that for you. Let your friend take a little break and I'll show you."
(Author's note:) I hope I'm not plagiarizing Decepticon personalities from other writers, but I suspect that some fanon characterizations are inevitably going to creep in. Particularly from the awesome, addictive fics of Antepathy (movie cons) and Dreaming of Everything (Constructicons). I fully realize and admit that I have nothing on those gals when it comes to writing. If I'm being too grabby with other people's characterizations, I totally apologize.
I wrote some Barricade, then re-wrote it, because I came to the realization that he was dropping the "I"s from his speech, which is the way Anthepathy writes him. I think I caught them all, but I can re-edit if necessary.