"You're not going to take them off?" Hot Rod looked over his shoulder at his lover--and probably-former archnemesis--who had detached the chain, releasing his arms from each other but leaving the weight of the the shackles.
Galvatron laughed and pulled Hot Rod into a hard kiss. For a long minute there was no further discussion, or indeed thinking, on the matter; one of Galvatron's hands wrapped around both wrists, just below the shackles, almost as though Roddy were still chained, the other held onto his spoiler. Then he pulled back and was, for a brief moment, serious. "If you do not wish to wear them..."
Roddy's field pricked with embarrassment but also a fresh rush of arousal--if Galvatron hadn't already worn him out he would be asking for the chain again, not just the shackles--"I would like to. Wear them, that is." The other Autobots would stare, of course, but it'd be nothing to what he'd dealt with before Optimus had reclaimed the Matrix. And totally and completely worth it.
"Good." Galvatron pulled him close against his chest, Roddy's arms trapped between them. "Never know when I may need to chain you again...."
"...Now, maybe?" Roddy pressed back into Galvatron's arms and chestplates. Suddenly he wasn't so worn out after all...
Hot Rod blinked up uncomprehendingly at Springer, then glanced down at his own wrists and chuckled. "Oh, those. Yeah. Galvatron gave them to me." He'd thought it would be awkward wearing the heavy shackles outside of Galvatron's chamber, but it'd only been an hour since he'd left and he'd already gotten used to their weight - as if they were meant to be there.
Springer, however, was looking like he wasn't quite convinced. Smiling, Hot Rod moved over to invite him to sit. " 'Rod, far be it from me to question someone's choice of partners..." Springer began as he accepted the invitation.
"Yeah, remember that helicopter chick you were chasing?" Hot Rod grinned.
Springer took a moment to chuckle ruefully at the memory. "Seriously, Roddy. If he ever hurts you..."
"He's never done anything I didn't want," Hot Rod told him seriously, putting a hand on Springer's. "I swear." He smiled, a bit mistily. "He's... very considerate, in his way."
"Please no details," Springer groaned theatrically, and at that Hot Rod simply had to pounce him. They tussled, laughing, and only slowed down when a third mech entered the room.
"Hi, Magnus!" Hot Rod greeted cheerily, lifting a hand to wave at him - and displaying the shackle to full effect. Ultra Magnus stared at it, put his face in his hand, and sighed.
"...we can probably take a hundred on Charr if they're willing to..." Cyclonus froze in the doorway behind Ultra Magnus and glared at the shackle on Hot Rod's wrist, his business with Ultra Magnus forgotten.
"Cyclonus. Hi," Roddy said, a little uncertainly--dealing with his fellow Autobots was one thing. Dealing with Cyclonus, who had completely different and more personal reasons to object to his new accessory, was something else entirely.
Springer pulled away, slightly, ready to defend Hot Rod if necessary. Cyclonus just stood there, completely without words, his optics glowing as though he would like them to burn the shackles away from Roddy's wrists. Or so Roddy thought; it was possible Cyclonus wanted to haul Roddy back to Galvatron's chambers and whip him instead. Or that he wanted both at the same time.
Ultra Magnus removed his hand from his face--someone needed to do something, and it was going to have to be him. "Cyclonus, how about we discuss Paradronian resettlement in my office instead...?" He put his hand on Cyclonus' shoulder.
Cyclonus pulled his attention away from Hot Rod and focused on Magnus instead. "Not in your office." He took hold of the arm that was touching him. "We can discusss this while sparring. In a private practice room."
Magnus paused for just a second before saying. "Yes."
"Good." Cyclonus didn't let Magnus' arm go as he turned and led Magnus from the room.
Springer stared. "What, them too?"
"Yup. Them too."
"Way, way more information than I needed today." Springer shook his helm to clear it, then pounced Hot Rod.
Hot Rod moaned. His shackled hands were chained above his head this time, the chain looped over a pipe affixed to the ceiling, and he was pretty sure that was the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees. His back and spoiler were on fire from Cyclonus's whip, and his entire body jerked as the spacejet struck him again.
"I said speak," Cyclonus said, in the same deceptively calm tone.
"Ow," Hot Rod rasped.
"Try again."
"Please..."
"Begging for mercy already? I'm disappointed." Cyclonus gripped his ravaged spoiler, eliciting a rough whine from Hot Rod's vocalizer. "Do you truly think yourself worthy of my lord?"
That hand tightened; Hot Rod gasped. "Cyc..."
"Do you have something to say to me?"
Hot Rod let a smile curve his lips. "I wasn't... begging for mercy."
Across the room, there was a low rumble of arousal. Cyclonus and Hot Rod both looked over at Galvatron, who took time out from stroking his own cannon in order to wave for them to continue.
Cyclonus gave Ultra Magnus a second or two to get ready after he'd closed and locked the door of the practice room. Fair play, always--that was what he went to Magnus for.
Well, fair play and his sheer power and skill. Cyclonus had lost the fight the moment the door was closed, cutting him off from his advantages in distance fighting.
But Cyclonus was good enough to give Magnus a good fight before he went down, dented and scuffed and happy and still struggling, because if he yielded officially, Magnus would likely get off of him rather than get him off. Cyclonus could feel how much Magnus wanted it, but he still looked down at Cyclonus uncertainly.
"Do you want...?" Magnus couldn't even specify what it was that he knew Cyclonus wanted; Cyclonus wasn't even sure Magnus had the vocabulary, for all his millions of years of existence. Magnus lifted a hand in the direction of Cyclonus' antenna instead.
"Yes." Cyclonus took advantage the arms no longer pinning him to flip them over. Although Magnus didn't want from him what Hot Rod wanted from his Lord, it seemed to be easier for Autobots this way. "Do you want?" Not particularly interested in pinning him long-term, Cyclonus reached out and touched his antenna.
Gently. The fight was, officially, over, and the interface hadn't started yet. Cyclonus could be rough with them soon.
Magnus paused, and this time Cyclonus could recognize the hesitation better, having felt it himself. He said, "The door's locked, the room is reserved, neither of us has a meeting scheduled with anyone else until tomorrow, and we've already said most of what needs to be said about the Paradronians and everything else on the agenda." Cyclonus paused; was that everything? "And the human child is with his father."
There was a pause and then Magnus smiled and pulled Cyclonus down into a kiss. A hard kiss. He was learning. Then he pulled Cyclonus' helm back and said, "It is good to have you here, Cyclonus."
Mirage was looking forward to a nice, quiet duty shift on the monitors, which is probably why he didn't get one.
Shockingly, it wasn't sharing his shift with a Decepticon that was a problem. Scourge was quiet and polite - well, quiet, anyway, which amounted to the same thing, and he did his job diligently, which was more than Mirage could say about certain Autobots. Mirage settled back to watch his half of the monitors, content enough for the moment.
Rapid footsteps sounded down the hallway, coming quickly closer; Mirage looked up and frowned, and saw Scourge frowning as well. "What's-"
Hot Rod burst in, breathless and entirely too energetic, his hands chained in front of him. "Hide me!" he announced, grinning maniacally.
Scourge put his face in his palm; Mirage put on his best 'affronted noble' attitude. "If you expect to drag us into your bedroom games-" He paused as a massive shadow appeared behind Hot Rod in the doorway.
Hot Rod had enough time to say "Uh oh," before Galvatron clamped an arm around his chest and lifted him off his feet. "Uh - sorry guys bye!" he called over his lover/captor's shoulder as Galvatron bore him away.
Mirage sighed and sat back down. "Are they ever going to get enough of each other?"
"They're not the only ones." Scourge pointed a clawed fingertip at one of the monitors; Mirage craned his head to look. Magnus and Cyclonus were just leaving one of the sparring rooms, both looking more content and satisfied than when they went in. Their antennae were scuffed and dented.
"Interesting," Mirage mused. "Are Decepticons simply good in bed?"
Scourge made a rough noise in his vocalizer, almost a cough. Mirage let the tracker recover his composure before making his offer.
As excited and relieved as everyone had been to see him again, Optimus couldn't help but, sometimes, think of himself as a relic of an earlier time.
So much more had changed in the year he had been dead--and the year since he'd come back--than in the twenty since he'd come back out of stasis, the four million he'd been in stasis, and perhaps even the five million years of endless war prior to that.
Optimus had been happy enough to take back the burden of leadership--he'd gotten used to it over the years, and seeing the desperate relief in Rodimus' optics as he'd asked him, "You're coming back as leader, right?"--he hadn't the spark to refuse him.
And now Hot Rod was running--and driving, and flying, and interfacing--around Metroplex--and Cybertron, and Charr--with the leader of the Decepticons. With whom they now have a truce, and while Optimus had certainly played his part in the negotiations, he'd never felt so old and so useless. And he's quite happy with that, really. Perhaps soon he would be able to retire officially.
In the meantime--Optimus looked down on Hot Rod fondly, and then stared. The shackles around his wrists...!
He knew some of the details of what Hot Rod did with Galvatron, of course. It was hard not to--neither of them had ever been prone to subtlety, or discretion. Seeing direct evidence of it never quite stopped giving him pause, however. Out of concern, yes, but also because--ages and ages ago, Orion Pax wouldn't have minded at all wearing those shackles for Megatron. Would have worn them proudly, if Megatron had looked at him then with the fierce possessiveness that Galvatron lavished on Hot Rod.
But Galvatron wasn't Megatron, even if, sometimes, when he speaks to Optimus, he almost seemed to be. Hot Rod wasn't Orion Pax, and Optimus wasn't either of them.
It wouldn't have solved anything at all, if Orion had gone to Megatron. Only given Megatron another soldier. Orion couldn't have saved him, as Hot Rod had, inexplicably, saved Galvatron (and, sometimes, Optimus suspected, vice versa).
Optimus shook his head. He really was getting old, pondering might-have-beens when Hot Rod and Galvatron were right in front of him.
"...Prime?" Roddy looked up at him anxiously, interpreting his headshake as disapproval. (Not something the old Hot Rod would have worried about that much. Even if he'd taken back the old name, Optimus thought, Hot Rod may still be Rodimus inside.)
"Hot Rod." Optimus tried to sound reassuring. "My apologies, I was thinking about the past. You have business with me?"
Galvatron, meanwhile, gave Optimus one of his 'there is still some of Megatron in me' looks, considering and almost thoughtful. "I think the--business--can wait for tomorrow morning. Will you join us for the night, Optimus Prime?" He extended a hand--his left hand, the cannon arm was around Hot Rod at the moment--towards Optimus' chestplates. "For old times' sake, Orion Pax?"
Optimus looked at him, startled. He found that he did, very much, want to take Galvatron up on his offer, but--he looked at Hot Rod, who was looking between him and Galvatron, embarrassed but also aroused, if Optimus was reading him right. (And they had all had plenty of opportunity to figure out how Hot Rod looked when he was 'embarrassed but also aroused' lately.)
"Do you want this, Hot Rod?" Optimus had never really thought about Hot Rod that way before, although he found that he wasn't at all averse to it now. He'd seen Rodimus in the Matrix; he'd rather like to see Hot Rod in the berth.
Hot Rod visibly shoved away the embarrassment and looked him in the optics. "Yes. Yes, I would definitely like that."
Galvatron looked down at him. "Want me to lend Optimus the chains for these?" He rubbed a shackle fondly.
That was--moving a bit fast. "I haven't actually said yes yet, Galvatron," Optimus said.
At the same time as Hot Rod said, "Yes," and then, hearing Optimus, looked crushed.
"Were you going to say 'No,' Optimus?" Galvatron held Hot Rod closer, and there was almost a growl there, of 'You hurt my Autobot!"
Optimus looked from one to the other of them and said, "...No. I was not. Which is to say--yes. I would love to spend the night with the two of you." He paused. "Although--do you have another pair of those? Just for the night?"
"Of course we do, Optimus," said Galvatron, as Hod Rod slipped out of his grip and threw his arms around Optimus' neck.
In the end, they had to send for a set of maximum-security manacles for Optimus. He kept breaking the other kind.
It was worth the delay, though, and the mild frustration, and his partners' teasing. He was truly immobile now, shuddering under Galvatron's devastatingly skillful hands while Hot Rod whispered surprisingly dirty things in his audial. His couplings were open and exposed, sparking wantonly, and his mask was somewhere across the room. He was helpless, defenseless, aching for every touch. And he loved it.
"Louder for us, Optimus," Hot Rod murmured. "I want the whole compound to know what we're doing to you."
Optimus obligingly moaned louder, tilting his head back and clenching his fists. He moaned again when Galvatron paused in his ministrations. "We?" the Decepticon asked archly.
"Hey, with my hands chained behind me, I'm kind of limited to dirty talk." Hot Rod wiggled, the chain clinking between his shackles. "But you're doing a great job on your own."
"Of course I am! I'm Galvatron!"
"Yeah, yeah. You're Galvatron, I'm Hot Rod, he's Optimus. So glad we all know each other."
"Hot Rod, I'm warning you..."
"Excuse me," Optimus rumbled, arching his hips off the berth. "But if you two wouldn't mind..."
Galvatron smirked; Hot Rod laughed. Galvatron resumed his ministrations on Optimus's hips and thighs, while Hot Rod put his mouth to work doing more that just talking. And if the two of them were surprisingly adept at working in concert, that was something Optimus couldn't bring himself to worry about at that moment.
Hot Rod heard the clangs and yells from halfway across the Decepticon base, although most of the Decepticons were pretending that they couldn't. He transformed and raced through the halls, arriving at Galvatron's door in under a minute and tried to pull the door open. Then he tried the door code. And pulled again. And pulled harder. And tried a different code. And pulled yet harder. And pushed for good measure.
Nothing.
He had been locked out, and he could hear how much pain Galvatron was in, how much pain he was inflicting on Cyclonus as his second attempted to calm and restrain him--"GALVATRON! CYCLONUS! LET ME IN!" Roddy banged on the door.
The only response was another roar from Galvatron and a clang as Cyclonus hit something again, hard. And a second or two later, on his comm: "Rodimus." Cyclonus was too distracted to remember that Roddy wasn't, anymore. "Please. Leave us. I will take care of Lord Galvatron."
"No. I won't. I love him, Cyclonus, same as you do. Let me help him. Help you." There was no response for a few terrifying seconds, as the two inside the room grappled. From the sound of it Cyclonus had been pushed to the point of defending himself physically, which wasn't a very good sign. Roddy went back to trying to force the door open.
"Hot Rod." And now Cyclonus remembered. "I can’t protect you both. And you can't take the damage I can. Not anymore."
"Doesn't matter. I will take it. Cyclonus, please. Between the two of us we will be able to subdue him..."
"No. I'll let you in when--" the comm dissolved into static as Galvatron hit Cyclonus again-- "he's not violent anymore. It should be soon."
"Cyclonus!" Hot Rod spoke out loud this time. "Galvatron!" Having discovered that forcing the door wasn't going to work--it was, after all, built to stand up to Galvatron's rages as much as was possible--he set to work picking the lock. He thought he could manage it…
A pair of blue arms wrapped around him and pulled him back. "No breaking into Galvatron's room today, Roddy."
"Not you, too, Scourge!" Roddy allowed Scourge to hold him. For now. "Get me in there!"
"If he breaks you, it'll be a major diplomatic incident, Hot Rod. If he breaks Cyclonus--well." Scourge stopped that sentence right there. "He's not going to break Cyclonus, if he hasn't already." Scourge' grip on him shifted, more embracing than restraining. "Besides, breaking you would break him. Break him worse, that is."
"And having me not there with him, isn't? I can't just stand here and listen…" Roddy started struggling in Scourge's arms.
"You can. And you will. Just like I do." Scourge held on grimly. "Neither of us are built to take that. It was just me in there with him, once, during a particularly bad episode--they had to kill a Sweep to repair me."
Roddy broke off staring at the door to look back at Scourge in horror. "Kill a Sweep?!"
Scourge shrugged. "Me or him. I'm lucky Cyclonus chose me." He paused, realizing that he was, after all, talking to an Autobot. "We don't have to do that anymore, of course. More resources, access to Autobot medics and medical tech, the Constructicons trying to recruit your entire technical and medical staff into their crazy collective…"
"All that tech and it can't--" Roddy's frustration was interrupted by further noise from inside Galvatron's room.
Hot Rod kicked Scourge hard, broke free, and rushed the door again.
"Oww! Hot Rod! Don't let's have a brawl on this side of the door, too. Get away from there." He grabbed Hot Rod's waist again and pulled.
"Roddy...it's better that it was. Really. You're helping. The peace is helping. Just...let Cyclonus do this."
Roddy glared at the door. There hadn't been another clang, and the sounds of Galvatron's voice and Cyclonus's were quiet enough that he couldn't make out the words through the thick walls. And there'd been an emphasis on that last statement that he should perhaps be paying attention to--but he could think about that, later, because Cyclonus had just commed him, "You can come in, now," and Scourge was opening the door, finally.
"Rodimus? My Prime?" Galvatron was sitting on the floor, leaning back against Cyclonus' chest as he embraced and supported his Lord--and, incidentally, hid most of the damage on Cyclonus' chassis, although Roddy could see the dents in his arms and his legs and his twisted and bent antennae, damage that wasn't, really, as extensive as what Cyclonus sometimes got happily and willingly, but was unmistakeably different nonetheless. And the look on his face, as he saw Roddy--someone needed to take care of Cyclonus, and it couldn't be Hot Rod, right now. He opened a private commlink to Scourge: "Cyclonus? Will you?"
Scourge gave him a look of "of course," as he moved around behind and slightly to the side, holding Cyclonus in turn.
Roddy turned all his attention to Galvatron. There was a very slight sparkle off Galvatron's helm, and he didn't seem quite back to himself yet. But his arms were open, and Roddy climbed into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. "Always yours." He didn't mention that he was neither Rodimus nor Prime anymore--it wasn't important at the moment.
Cyclonus' arms tightened, protectively, around Galvatron, pulling him closer to him and further from Roddy, but Roddy just followed the motion until they were both half-sitting on Cyclonus who was half-sitting on Scourge. Scourge wrapped Cyclonus in his arms and wings while Roddy settled into Galvatron's embrace and pressed gentle kisses to his lips.
In another context, it would have been wonderful. As it was--they could give Galvatron all they could, Roddy thought. All they had, and still it was not enough.
Galvatron awoke on his back on the berth, which was unusual. He never recharged on his back, and as he shifted, he remembered why - he was balanced uncomfortably on his tail sight. He tried to roll over and immediately discovered the two reasons why he couldn't.
The first was that his hands were shackled above him. The second was that Hot Rod was straddling his hips.
"Prime," Galvatron snarled. "What is the meaning of this? Where is Cyclonus?"
"Cyclonus is in the repair bay," Hot Rod told him, unsmiling. "And the meaning of this is a lesson I think you need to learn."
Galvatron jerked at the shackles, and his optics flashed in fury when they held. Hot Rod's mouth quirked. "They're not the maximum-security manacles," he told him. "You could break them if you worked at it. But if you do, I'll leave."
"You're in no position to threaten me!" Galvatron hissed - more out of habit than anything, since Hot Rod was certainly in the perfect position to threaten him.
By Hot Rod's laugh, it seemed he knew that too. "And you," he said, holding out a hand, "need to learn what helplessness feels like." There was a minute flash as the Autobot accessed his subspace compartment; a multitailed flogger appeared in his palm, trailing lengths of some organic threadlike substance.
"You wouldn't dare hit me!" Galvatron jerked against the shackles again, and thought he felt them give way just a little. He paused as Hot Rod stroked his fingers through the strands.
"You're right, I wouldn't. But this isn't for hitting. It's just for..." he flicked it out and held it over Galvatron's chest - "...sensation play." He dragged the ends over Galvatron's chest and torso.
Galvatron gasped sharply as his sensors shivered under the flogger's touch. Hot Rod grinned for the first time then, and stroked it along his sides, and Galvatron yelped and twisted away.
"Nnngh - stop! It - hh- it hahahahahatickles!"
"Begging for mercy already, Lord Galvatron?" Hot Rod flicked the ends over his plating and grinned when Galvatron jumped in response. "I'd hoped you could last a little longer."
"Y-y-you! I'll - hahaha - get you for this! NyaaahahahaHot Rod!"
"Magnus?" Cyclonus and Ultra Magnus were lying in a sated and somewhat damaged tangle on the floor of a practice room. It was the first he'd spoken since the session slipped from sparring to interfacing, and his voice sounded oddly uncertain.
"Yes, Cyclonus?" Magnus looked up--horizontally--and down--vertically--at his counterpart. Now that they were not, actually, interfacing or sparring or both, he was starting to think again about the many, many things he had to do. But Cyclonus' hesitant question threw him off of both topics. I wasn't not a tone of voice he heard from the Decepticon 2IC very often.
"Would you be willing to join Hot Rod and Galvatron and myself occasionally? Only when they want it, of course, but I would like to have you there." Cyclonus extracted a hand from--somewhere in between them--and stroked one of Magnus' shoulder pillars.
Magnus paused for a second, startled. "You're interfacing with them too?--Of course you're interfacing with them, forget I asked."
"Not always." Cyclonus kept stroking, gently. "Only when they ask. Would you consider it? Hot Rod was extremely embarrassed at the thought of asking you, and we did not think that Galvatron should make the approach. But they would like to have you with them."
Magnus drew back slightly. "I did not think that that was how Galvatron wanted me."
"As you may have noticed, the two desires aren't so far away from each other, for us." Cyclonus continued the soothing touches. "You will be safe with him, he gave his word--as safe as the Prime is." Cyclonus meant Hot Rod--the Unicronians had never quite switched back. "And he will be there."
"I don't share Hot Rod's desires, Cyclonus. What we do here," he made a gesture encompassing the practice room, "is not--that." However much Hot Rod seemed to enjoy his chains, Magnus couldn't help but shudder at the thought that he wore them for Galvatron, and the thought of being in them himself--even for Cyclonus, never mind Galvatron--was horrifying.
"You wouldn't have to." Cyclonus started petting him reassuringly with the other hand, too. "I don't think I would want you like that, anyway, and Hot Rod feels the same way. You can't enjoy each other properly if you're both restrained."
"Hot Rod--wants me to--while he's chained up?" Magnus found the thought more appealing than he wanted it to be. But still. Galvatron. "And Galvatron? What does he want from this?"
Cyclonus looked a little bit uncomfortable at the question, an expression that made Ultra Magnus decidedly nervous. "To please his Prime. He certainly would not mind interfacing with you for his own sake, but it was not his idea. It was Hot Rod's." Cyclonus paused. "And my own."
Which would explain some of the uncertainty, Magnus thought. He didn't know the details of Cyclonus' relationship with his Lord, but the broad outlines of it were blindingly obvious to all involved. "And you? Why do you want this?"
And Cyclonus suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Because you are--important to me." Cyclonus paused. "I want to bring you to my Lord and show him how very--" Another pause: clearly this was difficult for him to express. "Very wonderful you are."
Ah. Suddenly it was all very clear, and it was going to be extremely awkward to deal with. "I'm flattered."
"So will you?" Cyclonus looked relieved and happy, and Magnus nearly just said yes outright.
"I--I'll have to think about this. And talk to Hot Rod. It's not an easy thing for me." He stroked one of Cyclonus' wings. "But you are important to me, too."
Cyclonus leaned up to give Magnus a gentle kiss--though only gentle by Cyclonus' definition of 'gentle'. "Thank you."
"We're almost done, Mighty Galvatron," Scrapper soothed, a bit awkwardly from his position across Galvatron's knees. Long Haul and Bonecrusher had his arms, while Hook did his best to quickly repair the connectors in the warlord's shoulders. Galvatron snarled and struggled, more for the look of the thing than any real desire to hurt the Constructicons - but they well knew how quickly that could change.
"Done!" Hook announced, and the restrainers scattered. Galvatron surged to his feet, cannon tracking over their heads for an enemy that failed to materialize. It wavered, then lowered to draw a bead on a very amused Chosen One.
"Are you always this much of a baby about repairs?" Hot Rod asked, seemingly unconcerned.
Galvatron paused a moment, then snorted and lifted it away. "You," he pronounced, "are walking a thin line."
"I," Hot Rod answered loftily, "am being a perfect angel. Right, 'Aid?" He craned his head back to grin at the much more diminuitive medic patching his spoiler.
"Aside from taunting the Decepticon, sure," First Aid agreed indulgently. "Scavenger, would you hand me that spanner?"
"Right here," Scavenger replied warmly, passing the tool over to him. "And some paint as well, maybe?"
First Aid's hands, normally so steady, actually jittered. "Oh! Please don't go to any trouble."
"It's no trouble! I'll be right back."
First Aid watched silently as Scavenger scampered off. "I do believe you're being courted, my friend," Hot Rod teased gently.
"Roddy!" First Aid wailed, covering his face. "Don't say silly things like that."
Hot Rod laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders, scrubbing his knuckles over the young medic's helm. The two made so much commotion - and amused Galvatron and the Constructicons so much to watch them - that they almost missed the entrance of two more mechs, leaning against each other, into the repair bay.
Magnus cleared static from his vocalizer. "Excuse me..."
"It's not urgent, but..." Cyclonus added in a grumble.
The two of them were clearly not in danger of their lives; but they were equally as clearly in Sorry Shape, covered in scrapes and dents and each other's paint. Galvatron took one look and started smirking; Magnus blinked like a mech on the tail end of a bender and turned away, while Cyclonus straightened and flared his wings.
"Oh, the two of you," First Aid huffed, though his scolding lost something when he was half-draped over Hot Rod's lap. "Really!" The Constructicons shot each other indulgent grins; though his posture didn't wobble, Cyclonus seemed to lose just a little of his dignity.
"You want me to join you and Magnus?" Scourge looked at Cyclonus doubtfully.
"Yes. You're less intimidating than Galvatron." Cyclonus walked down the hallway, confidently assuming that Scourge would follow along with him. He did.
"I'm less intimidating than you. Or him. Or half the other Autobots." Scourge was, indeed, very very unintimidating-looking, wings angled downward and claws tucked anxiously away out of view. "I'm not going to be very good preparation for Galvatron."
Cyclonus abruptly stopped and turned around to face Scourge, who did his best not to collide with his Second. "Scourge--do you remember back at the very beginning? When you and your Sweeps tore Ultra Magnus apart?"
"Yes?" he said, warily.
Cyclonus gave him a small smile. "You'll be better preparation than you think." He took Scourge by the shoulders, firmly but soothingly, and pulled him close. He pressed a kiss to Scourge's beard. "Does Magnus scare you?"
"No!" At Cyclonus' doubtful look: "I mean, yes. I'm a coward, Cyc, not like you and Galvatron. Everything scares me. It doesn't mean I won't go with you."
Cyclonus moved his head back up to place kisses on Scourge's headgun. "Thank you, Scourge."
Scourge gaped at him for a moment. "You never used to thank me. I think Magnus has been an entirely too good influence."
Cyclonus shrugged and turned away. "This is personal. I can't order you to do it."
"And there's an Autobot involved." Scourge said, cynically. "An Autobot whose opinion you care about."
"Two Autobots, actually." Cyclonus stopped, looking down at Scourge again.
"Two--? Wait. Roddy is going to be there, too? Galvatron's Prime? And Galvatron isn't? And why didn't I know about this yet?"
"Very recent arrangement." Cyclonus paused. "Also I think you were busy interfacing with that Autobot spy."
"Mirage? ...Yeah, probably. He's good." Scourge shook his head. "Never mind. Lord Galvatron is okay with this, right? He knows?"
"Yes. He expects we'll convince Magnus to come to his berth soon, but if we can't--" Cyclonus shrugged. "Rodimus has done wonders for his temper. He will accept it."
"And meanwhile I get the three of you." Scourge paused for a second. "Awesome."
"Thought you'd see it that way." Cyclonus walked the rest of the way down the hallway to Magnus' quarters. Scourge could see the signs of a brief comm chat, and then the door opened to Cyclonus' touch.
Hot Rod beamed at them from Magnus' lap. Roddy's arms were unbound and they were canoodling like the pair of Autobots they were. "Cyclonus! Scourge!" He reached out an arm invitingly. "So glad to see you."
Magnus looked a bit tense, but he managed a smile for the Unicronians. "Yes! Good to see you. Both of you." He reached out an arm as well--the other one he kept wrapped around Hot Rod.
Scourge looked at Cyclonus. Cyclonus said, "Magnus. Prime," and climbed onto the berth next to them, settling into Magnus' extended arm and giving Roddy a kiss. "Scourge." It was just short of a command, and Magnus gave him a brief disapproving look.
But Scourge didn't hesitate to walk across the room and wrap Roddy in an arm and a wing--they had been in the same berth before, of course, although it had always been Galvatron's. Roddy turned to kiss Scourge while Cyclonus pulled Magnus into a kiss that Scourge would really have liked to get a better view of; by the time Roddy released him, there were hands all over each others' antennae and their paint was starting to transfer.
"Quite a pair," Roddy said to Scourge. "Magnus gets the key to my chains for the evening, although if he's not interested..." He grinned and left the offer hanging.
Cyclonus pulled back and nudged Magnus in Roddy's direction. "Take him up on it. It's an honor."
"An honor from Galvatron?" But Magnus took hold of Roddy's proffered wrists, rubbing at the plating above and below his shackles.
"And from me." Roddy offered Magnus a soft kiss, and Magnus pulled him closer, harder, giving into it. Roddy pulled out the chains and Magnus gently moved Hot Rod's arms behind his back and attached them together.
Magnus looked over, for a second, at Cyclonus. He was staring, captivated, at his counterpart taking over his Lord's role with his Lord's Prime. Scourge looked from Cyclonus to Magnus and back again, and then at Hot Rod.
"Got another set of cuffs?" Roddy asked.
"I've always got another set of chains." Scourge paused. "Well, either I do or Cyc does, but I do have one now." He pulled a pair from subspace and turned back to Cyclonus.
Now that Magnus had finished with Hot Rod, Cyclonus pressed close to him, again, and pulled him into an almost-violent embrace. "Hold me down," he ordered in a low, deep whisper. "Please."
Magnus paused, looking Cyclonus in the optics for a second, as though he were going to ask Cyclonus if he really meant that, then quickly flipped them around, pinning Cyclonus' wrists to the berth and spreading himself out over him, kissing Cyclonus hard. Cyclonus moaned and arched up into Magnus.
Scourge caught Roddy as he scrambled off Magnus' lap, settling him in a wing and petting him as they watched the two lieutenants enjoy themselves.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Hot Rod said.
"Of course. Hey, Magnus!" Scourge reached out with the cuffs in his general direction. "Cyc needs these."
Magnus gave him a slightly startled look, but then took them and attached Cyc's wrists to each other and the berth. Then he looked at Scourge consideringly for a moment and pulled him into a deep kiss on top of Cyclonus, who broke into a loud moan and pressed up against them.
When Magnus pulled back, Scourge could see Rodimus--quite adept at moving with his arms chained beside his back these days--pressed against Cyclonus' side and gently kissing the side of his helm. Magnus wrapped his arms around all of them and the foursome was well and truly begun.
Peace between the Autobots and the Decepticons didn't mean an end to all fighting. The galaxy remained largely a lawless place, despite the Autobots' best efforts to export civilization and the rule of law; piracy was a huge problem, and doubly so those pirates who participated in the interplanetary slave trade.
"Attention, crew of the Violator." Hot Rod stood on the deck of his flagship, hands clasped behind him (lest the pirates see his shackles and get the wrong idea). "This is Hot Rod, co-leader of the Autobots. You are in our territory, depriving sapients of their freedom in defiance of Article Three of the Galactic Accords. Power down your engines and weapons and prepare to be boarded, or we will fire."
The pirate on the screen sneered, displaying sharp metal teeth. "Don't make me laugh, flamer. You won't fire on us - you might hurt our cargo."
Hot Rod rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. "Oh, gee," he pronounced, "you're right." He let the pirate be smug a moment before adding, "I guess I'll just have to let my boyfriend take care of you."
The pirate blinked. "Your wh-"
The video link stuttered and dissolved into abrupt static. The other Autobots on deck laughed and cheered, but Hot Rod remained silent, watching out the viewport as the slaver ship rocked and shudder and die a death of a hundred violet-lit cuts.
The video link blipped on again; Galvatron's grin threatened to break the confines of the screen. "The Violator is ours!" he declared.
"And the prisoners?" Hot Rod asked pointedly.
Galvatron grumped. "As promised, they are unharmed."
Hot Rod grinned and let his hands fall to his sides, displaying the cuffs to full view. "Good. Then I guess I won't make you recharge on the couch tonight."
"As if you could!" Galvatron snorted with a proud toss of his head. "Galvatron out!"
The connection was cut; Hot Rod relaxed. At the weapons station, Springer shook his head and chuckled. "Are you two ever going to get enough of each other?"
Out of hearing range of his dangerous lover, Hot Rod let his pleasure and admiration show in his voice. "Primus, I hope not."
"You want me to haul *what*?" Long Haul glared at Scavenger and his large collection of broken machinery. There weren't many people Long Haul could intimidate, but usually Scavenger was on that very short list. Which was a mercy, or he'd always be hauling junk around.
Scavenger wasn't particularly intimidated today. He stood his ground and gave Long Haul his best cutely plaintive expression. Which, you would think, Long Haul would be immune to after five million years. "It's for First Aid! He likes fixing them. Pleeeeeeeease, Long Haul! Help me carry! You want to make him happy too, right?"
Long Haul crossed his arms at him. The shovel had a point, but it wasn't as though he was going to be giving in anytime soon. "Doesn't he have enough junk of his own to fix without hauling it all the way from Charr?"
Scavenger's tail drooped. "It's not junk, Long Haul. First Aid--appreciates it." And appreciates me, was the unspoken implication. Long Haul was kind of envious: he could only dream of having Scavenger's passive-aggressive pouting skills. He'd tried, but when it was him the others just told him to stop his belly-aching already.
Well. First Aid never did. First Aid had investigated the aches and pains in his shovel and wheels and back struts that the others had long sense determined were entirely imaginary, and even when he didn't find anything physically wrong with him, he'd somehow made Long Haul feel so much better that he'd spent all afternoon hauling patients around and enjoyed it.
So, yes, he was definitely going to haul First Aid whatever Scavenger wanted him to haul. He allowed himself a long-suffering sigh--an mode of expression which was, as far as Long Haul was concerned, the best thing the humans ever invented--and transformed. "Pile 'em on."
"Thank you, Long Haul!" Scavenger pet Long Haul affectionately on the cab and then started carefully loading him with...Long Haul didn't even want to know what, but hopefully none of it was liquid, fragile, perishable, or hazardous. Or explosive. Scavenger had that advantage over his other teammates: his collections generally weren't dangerous on purpose.
"You do know, Scavenger," Long Haul said, not letting himself look entirely on the bright side, "He's not like Grapple and Hoist. He already has brothers, and he's not going to leave them for us."
Scavenger stopped loading for a second. "Well, then. Clearly we'll just have to recruit all of them. Which do you want to go for?"
Long Haul stared at Scavenger blankly, as much as a dump truck could stare blankly. "Just don't make me carry them all home, Scrounge."
Scavenger gave a delighted laugh and rubbed his shovel against the side of Long Haul's bed. "'Course not, Warrior. Now do you think I can fit on another damaged radio?"
"Stubborn, aft-headed, violent, ugly spawn of the Unmaker!" Hot Rod stomped past Optimus in one Pit of a temper, burning so brightly that he didn't even register the senior Prime's presence.
"Cyclonus! The war is back on!" At the same time, Galvatron stormed past Ultra Magnus in much the same mood, and with the same regard for other mechs in his presence. Magnus blinked, opened a comm line to Optimus, and received a busy signal in reply - only, he discovered a few seconds later, because his superior had been trying to contact him.
//Galvatron?// Optimus guessed.
//Yes,// Magnus confirmed. //Hot Rod?//
//Yes.// The mech sounded weary even over the comm line. //This is... an unfortunate development.//
//For the truce?// Magnus asked, then regretted the question as soon as he heard himself ask it.
//And for them,// Optimus responded, confirming Magnus's instinct. //Normally I am not an advocate of getting in the middle of a lovers' quarrel, but...//
//Consider the lovers,// Magnus finished dryly when his leader trailed off. //I... am unsure of my ability to handle Galvatron. Perhaps I should take Hot Rod?//
//Yes.// There was a smile in Optimus's 'voice.' //I will take care of Galvatron. Meet us at the usual place?//
//Understood, Prime. Ultra Magnus out.//
***
Hot Rod was clearly still angry, but he was keeping it ruthlessly under control in Ultra Magnus's presence. Magnus approved of the show of restraint, and almost regretted that he was about to decisively shatter it.
"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Hot Rod asked, nothing but professional curiosity in his voice.
"It's not something we can speak of in the open hallway. Wait until we're somewhere more secure."
Hot Rod lifted an optic ridge. "The residential sector is secure?"
Magnus allowed a flicker of a smile. "Keep getting smarter, Hot Rod, and soon none of us will be able to hold you." So saying, he took a firm grip on Hot Rod's shoulders and steered him the last few steps: into a room with no assigned dweller, well-stocked with various toys and lubricants and the highest-grade energon they could afford to keep stocked, euphemistically called the Boudoir.
Optimus Prime was already there. And with him, pacing restlessly, was Galvatron.
Hot Rod stiffened, understanding all at once. "Magnus, let me go," he rapped out, sounding so much like Rodimus Prime for a moment that it was a struggle not to obey.
Fortunately, it was Optimus Prime who answered. "You don't really want to leave, do you, Hot Rod?"
Galvatron whirled on the elder Prime, furious. "Optimus! You deceived me!"
"I told you I had something of great import to discuss with you," Optimus answered, as calm as if Galvatron didn't have that particle cannon aimed at his head, "and I do. Shut the door, Magnus. Hot Rod won't run."
It was true. Hot Rod was staring at Galvatron, transfixed, his fans whirring softly. Galvatron's cannon was lowering, slowly, and though he wasn't looking at his young Prime, it was clear where all his attention was. Whatever had passed between them, it was clear they still desired each other.
//We'll log this as 'truce maintenance,'// Magnus told Optimus silently, and received an amused ping in reply. Smiling, Magnus let go of Hot Rod's shoulders and shut the door.
Cyclonus grabbed the Sweep's beard and hauled him toward him. "Scourge!"
Sweep #3 gave Cyclonus a scared look. If Cyclonus couldn't tell the Sweeps from their leader, he was probably in the sort of mood where he'd pull one of them apart for fun. And if he was in that mood, it was safer to be the one he thought was Scourge. At least until he realized you weren't. "Y-yes, Cyclonus?"
"Truce is back on. Just got the comm From Magnus. And Lord Galvatron."
The Sweep stared at Cyclonus in confusion. "Um, Cyclonus, sir. Is this a bad thing?"
Cyclonus looked at the Sweep more closely. "You're not Scourge."
"N-no, sir, do you want me to call Scourge for you?" the Sweep asked, hopefully. That way Cyclonus would let go of his beard. Maybe.
"I can call him myself." Cyclonus, unfortunately, didn't let go. "Magnus and Galvatron are in the Boudoir together. With Optimus Prime. And Hot Rod."
The Sweep gave him a confused look. "Ahh--how terrible!"
"No, no, not terrible!" Cyclonus made a visible effort to pull himself together. "It's a very good thing. Galvatron and Hot Rod get back together, the truce stays together, all of us get more energon, less injuries, more resources to battle the Quintessons and space pirates."
"Ahh--how wonderful, then!" Sweep #3 would declare it whatever Cyclonus wanted it to be. Just as long as Cyclonus would let go of the beard. Or--wait. Another good thing about the truce: respect for Autobot morality, at least when they're on their territory. "Cyclonus, sir--would it be possible for you to maybe let go of my beard?"
"What?" Cyclonus stared. "Oh, yes." He let go.
"Will that be all then?" He asked, hopefully, and prepared to run away, fast, as soon as Cyclonus gave the go-ahead.
Cyclonus gave him a contemptuous look, and was--probably, hopefully--about to give him permission to leave, when Scourge came around the corner. The real Scourge: Sweeps could always tell the difference, even when Cyclonus couldn't.
"Why are you terrorizing that Sweep?" Scourge stopped before he got anywhere near beard-grabbing distance--even before the truce, Cyclonus didn't have these moods very often, but often enough that he could know and fear the signs.
Cyclonus gave him a frustrated look--his 'I'm angry about something I don't want to admit being angry about' look. Sweep #3 discreetly backed down the hallway to hide behind Scourge. Who, in turn, grabbed his wing and hid behind him. Why couldn't they have a leader who was less cowardly than they were?
(Oh right, they did: Cyclonus. And Galvatron, for that matter. Being at the bottom of the Unicronian pecking order sucked slag.)
"The truce is back on, Scourge." Cyclonus advanced on the two of them--clearly he would not be content without a beard to pull. Or something like that. Sweep #3 instinctively pressed back against Scourge, who, for once, held his ground, but was quite insistent on the point of his Sweep staying between him and Cyclonus just now. Cyclonus gave them an exasperated look. "Oh, stop, you two, I'm not going to hurt you."
Scourge and his Sweep gave Cyclonus identical doubtful looks. Scourge cleared his throat--not that his vocalizer needed clearing, but it seemed like an appropriate sound to make. "Don't you--want it to be back on?" It wasn't impossible that he didn't; Cyclonus had dealt remarkably well with Galvatron's relationship with Hot Rod, presumably because of all the time he spent in the (usually metaphorical) berth with the two of them, but Scourge and the Sweeps had had to deal with Cyclonus' jealousy over the relationship before.
Cyclonus shook his head. He was very much within beard-grabbing (or wing-grabbing, or any-number-of-vulnerable-areas–grabbing) distance, but he refrained from grabbing anything at the moment. "No, I have no problem with the truce continuing. However. The truce is continuing because Magnus and Optimus Prime hauled Galvatron and Hot Rod into the Boudoir together. And they're all still in there."
This didn't make any more sense to Sweep #3 than it did the last time Cyclonus had said it. Scourge, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what Cyclonus was getting at. "Ohhh. And you are not."
"Yes." Cyclonus took hold of Scourge's wings. The Sweep made an extremely undignified squeaking sound as he was pressed between them, but Cyclonus didn't seem to notice. "All this time I've been trying to get Magnus and Galvatron in the berth together, and somehow they manage to pull it off without me."
"Um." Scourge's body was heating up from the wing-grab. He peeked at Cyclonus over Scourge #3's shoulder "You could comm and ask to join in?"
Cyclonus shook his head forcefully enough to shake Scourge's wings a bit, too. "It's make-up sex. I can't just intrude on them."
"Um, well--Optimus and Magnus are already there. Clearly it's not a private party?" Scourge was getting off on being shaken substantially more than Sweep #3 thought was reasonable. For that matter, Sweep #3 was starting to get off on being pressed between the two of them--he didn't know whether to curse or give thanks for his Unicronian programming and conditioning.
Cyclonus growled. "But I can't just--!" And now he was tugging on the wings. Sweep #3 tucked his own wings further around himself as the space available between him and the other two suddenly became zero on all sides.
"Cyc--I've got a camera in there. Have our own orgy while we watch?"
Cyclonus considered this for a second. "Acceptable." He then looked at the Sweep between the two of them. "If it is not acceptable to you, we can always get some of the others."
Sweep #3 gave Cyc a slightly shocked look.
"I mean it, Sweep," Cyclonus growled. "You may go if you like."
"Um. If I stay--no beard grabs? It's already sore!" For all that he was terrifying, Cyclonus was good in the berth, and with what all else that had been going on lately, opportunities for the Sweeps to 'face with him were few and far between. But he was not kidding about the beard.
"No beard grabs." Cyclonus leaned in--not very far, really, considering how closely they were pressed together--to purr into his ear, "Unless you ask for them."
"Yes! Definitely yes!" Sweep #3 realized a second after that he'd actually said that out loud. "Um, on joining you in the orgy. Not on the beard grabbing."
Cyclonus laughed, just for a second, and the vibrations rippled through all three of them. "Understood. Now. To Scourge's room. Before they finish." He released one of Scourge's wings, turned around, and headed off.
"Ow, hang on!" It took Scourge and his Sweep an astrosecond or two to get out of each others' way sufficiently to follow Cyclonus at the right angle to keep Scourge's wing from being pulled off. "It does record, you know."
"Watching live is better." But Cyclonus waited.
"Also better when I have two wings," Scourge grumbled, but he was already keeping pace, not protesting the hand on his wing.
Sweep #3 followed behind them, as he was designed to do, summoning his brothers to join in the entertainment. Or, if necessary, split the pain.
So I have thoughts about the ship manifesto you posted the other day, and one of those thoughts is 'get thee to whyilikethisship to post there!' but the other thoughts all take time to figure out, SO. Have a comment about the picture instead!
I... can tell I'm going to really *like* Roddy when I get to s3. I love the way his fingers are wrapped around each other, and the way his head is tilted.
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raisedbymoogles) wrote2010-05-06 10:27 pm
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Roddy!
*pervs!*
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The chain can be detached when he has to do stuff with his hands, but he can keep the shackles themselves on all the time.
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Um. Yes.
Galvatron laughed and pulled Hot Rod into a hard kiss. For a long minute there was no further discussion, or indeed thinking, on the matter; one of Galvatron's hands wrapped around both wrists, just below the shackles, almost as though Roddy were still chained, the other held onto his spoiler. Then he pulled back and was, for a brief moment, serious. "If you do not wish to wear them..."
Roddy's field pricked with embarrassment but also a fresh rush of arousal--if Galvatron hadn't already worn him out he would be asking for the chain again, not just the shackles--"I would like to. Wear them, that is." The other Autobots would stare, of course, but it'd be nothing to what he'd dealt with before Optimus had reclaimed the Matrix. And totally and completely worth it.
"Good." Galvatron pulled him close against his chest, Roddy's arms trapped between them. "Never know when I may need to chain you again...."
"...Now, maybe?" Roddy pressed back into Galvatron's arms and chestplates. Suddenly he wasn't so worn out after all...
Re: Um. Yes.
Hot Rod blinked up uncomprehendingly at Springer, then glanced down at his own wrists and chuckled. "Oh, those. Yeah. Galvatron gave them to me." He'd thought it would be awkward wearing the heavy shackles outside of Galvatron's chamber, but it'd only been an hour since he'd left and he'd already gotten used to their weight - as if they were meant to be there.
Springer, however, was looking like he wasn't quite convinced. Smiling, Hot Rod moved over to invite him to sit. " 'Rod, far be it from me to question someone's choice of partners..." Springer began as he accepted the invitation.
"Yeah, remember that helicopter chick you were chasing?" Hot Rod grinned.
Springer took a moment to chuckle ruefully at the memory. "Seriously, Roddy. If he ever hurts you..."
"He's never done anything I didn't want," Hot Rod told him seriously, putting a hand on Springer's. "I swear." He smiled, a bit mistily. "He's... very considerate, in his way."
"Please no details," Springer groaned theatrically, and at that Hot Rod simply had to pounce him. They tussled, laughing, and only slowed down when a third mech entered the room.
"Hi, Magnus!" Hot Rod greeted cheerily, lifting a hand to wave at him - and displaying the shackle to full effect. Ultra Magnus stared at it, put his face in his hand, and sighed.
Re: Um. Yes.
"Cyclonus. Hi," Roddy said, a little uncertainly--dealing with his fellow Autobots was one thing. Dealing with Cyclonus, who had completely different and more personal reasons to object to his new accessory, was something else entirely.
Springer pulled away, slightly, ready to defend Hot Rod if necessary. Cyclonus just stood there, completely without words, his optics glowing as though he would like them to burn the shackles away from Roddy's wrists. Or so Roddy thought; it was possible Cyclonus wanted to haul Roddy back to Galvatron's chambers and whip him instead. Or that he wanted both at the same time.
Ultra Magnus removed his hand from his face--someone needed to do something, and it was going to have to be him. "Cyclonus, how about we discuss Paradronian resettlement in my office instead...?" He put his hand on Cyclonus' shoulder.
Cyclonus pulled his attention away from Hot Rod and focused on Magnus instead. "Not in your office." He took hold of the arm that was touching him. "We can discusss this while sparring. In a private practice room."
Magnus paused for just a second before saying. "Yes."
"Good." Cyclonus didn't let Magnus' arm go as he turned and led Magnus from the room.
Springer stared. "What, them too?"
"Yup. Them too."
"Way, way more information than I needed today." Springer shook his helm to clear it, then pounced Hot Rod.
Drabble tennis! XD
Hot Rod moaned. His shackled hands were chained above his head this time, the chain looped over a pipe affixed to the ceiling, and he was pretty sure that was the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees. His back and spoiler were on fire from Cyclonus's whip, and his entire body jerked as the spacejet struck him again.
"I said speak," Cyclonus said, in the same deceptively calm tone.
"Ow," Hot Rod rasped.
"Try again."
"Please..."
"Begging for mercy already? I'm disappointed." Cyclonus gripped his ravaged spoiler, eliciting a rough whine from Hot Rod's vocalizer. "Do you truly think yourself worthy of my lord?"
That hand tightened; Hot Rod gasped. "Cyc..."
"Do you have something to say to me?"
Hot Rod let a smile curve his lips. "I wasn't... begging for mercy."
Across the room, there was a low rumble of arousal. Cyclonus and Hot Rod both looked over at Galvatron, who took time out from stroking his own cannon in order to wave for them to continue.
Re: Drabble tennis! XD
Well, fair play and his sheer power and skill. Cyclonus had lost the fight the moment the door was closed, cutting him off from his advantages in distance fighting.
But Cyclonus was good enough to give Magnus a good fight before he went down, dented and scuffed and happy and still struggling, because if he yielded officially, Magnus would likely get off of him rather than get him off. Cyclonus could feel how much Magnus wanted it, but he still looked down at Cyclonus uncertainly.
"Do you want...?" Magnus couldn't even specify what it was that he knew Cyclonus wanted; Cyclonus wasn't even sure Magnus had the vocabulary, for all his millions of years of existence. Magnus lifted a hand in the direction of Cyclonus' antenna instead.
"Yes." Cyclonus took advantage the arms no longer pinning him to flip them over. Although Magnus didn't want from him what Hot Rod wanted from his Lord, it seemed to be easier for Autobots this way. "Do you want?" Not particularly interested in pinning him long-term, Cyclonus reached out and touched his antenna.
Gently. The fight was, officially, over, and the interface hadn't started yet. Cyclonus could be rough with them soon.
Magnus paused, and this time Cyclonus could recognize the hesitation better, having felt it himself. He said, "The door's locked, the room is reserved, neither of us has a meeting scheduled with anyone else until tomorrow, and we've already said most of what needs to be said about the Paradronians and everything else on the agenda." Cyclonus paused; was that everything? "And the human child is with his father."
There was a pause and then Magnus smiled and pulled Cyclonus down into a kiss. A hard kiss. He was learning. Then he pulled Cyclonus' helm back and said, "It is good to have you here, Cyclonus."
Cyclonus looked back down at him expectantly.
"And yes. I want you."
Re: Drabble tennis! XD
Shockingly, it wasn't sharing his shift with a Decepticon that was a problem. Scourge was quiet and polite - well, quiet, anyway, which amounted to the same thing, and he did his job diligently, which was more than Mirage could say about certain Autobots. Mirage settled back to watch his half of the monitors, content enough for the moment.
Rapid footsteps sounded down the hallway, coming quickly closer; Mirage looked up and frowned, and saw Scourge frowning as well. "What's-"
Hot Rod burst in, breathless and entirely too energetic, his hands chained in front of him. "Hide me!" he announced, grinning maniacally.
Scourge put his face in his palm; Mirage put on his best 'affronted noble' attitude. "If you expect to drag us into your bedroom games-" He paused as a massive shadow appeared behind Hot Rod in the doorway.
Hot Rod had enough time to say "Uh oh," before Galvatron clamped an arm around his chest and lifted him off his feet. "Uh - sorry guys bye!" he called over his lover/captor's shoulder as Galvatron bore him away.
Mirage sighed and sat back down. "Are they ever going to get enough of each other?"
"They're not the only ones." Scourge pointed a clawed fingertip at one of the monitors; Mirage craned his head to look. Magnus and Cyclonus were just leaving one of the sparring rooms, both looking more content and satisfied than when they went in. Their antennae were scuffed and dented.
"Interesting," Mirage mused. "Are Decepticons simply good in bed?"
Scourge made a rough noise in his vocalizer, almost a cough. Mirage let the tracker recover his composure before making his offer.
"So... want to interface?"
Re: Drabble tennis! XD
So much more had changed in the year he had been dead--and the year since he'd come back--than in the twenty since he'd come back out of stasis, the four million he'd been in stasis, and perhaps even the five million years of endless war prior to that.
Optimus had been happy enough to take back the burden of leadership--he'd gotten used to it over the years, and seeing the desperate relief in Rodimus' optics as he'd asked him, "You're coming back as leader, right?"--he hadn't the spark to refuse him.
And now Hot Rod was running--and driving, and flying, and interfacing--around Metroplex--and Cybertron, and Charr--with the leader of the Decepticons. With whom they now have a truce, and while Optimus had certainly played his part in the negotiations, he'd never felt so old and so useless. And he's quite happy with that, really. Perhaps soon he would be able to retire officially.
In the meantime--Optimus looked down on Hot Rod fondly, and then stared. The shackles around his wrists...!
He knew some of the details of what Hot Rod did with Galvatron, of course. It was hard not to--neither of them had ever been prone to subtlety, or discretion. Seeing direct evidence of it never quite stopped giving him pause, however. Out of concern, yes, but also because--ages and ages ago, Orion Pax wouldn't have minded at all wearing those shackles for Megatron. Would have worn them proudly, if Megatron had looked at him then with the fierce possessiveness that Galvatron lavished on Hot Rod.
But Galvatron wasn't Megatron, even if, sometimes, when he speaks to Optimus, he almost seemed to be. Hot Rod wasn't Orion Pax, and Optimus wasn't either of them.
It wouldn't have solved anything at all, if Orion had gone to Megatron. Only given Megatron another soldier. Orion couldn't have saved him, as Hot Rod had, inexplicably, saved Galvatron (and, sometimes, Optimus suspected, vice versa).
Optimus shook his head. He really was getting old, pondering might-have-beens when Hot Rod and Galvatron were right in front of him.
"...Prime?" Roddy looked up at him anxiously, interpreting his headshake as disapproval. (Not something the old Hot Rod would have worried about that much. Even if he'd taken back the old name, Optimus thought, Hot Rod may still be Rodimus inside.)
"Hot Rod." Optimus tried to sound reassuring. "My apologies, I was thinking about the past. You have business with me?"
Galvatron, meanwhile, gave Optimus one of his 'there is still some of Megatron in me' looks, considering and almost thoughtful. "I think the--business--can wait for tomorrow morning. Will you join us for the night, Optimus Prime?" He extended a hand--his left hand, the cannon arm was around Hot Rod at the moment--towards Optimus' chestplates. "For old times' sake, Orion Pax?"
Optimus looked at him, startled. He found that he did, very much, want to take Galvatron up on his offer, but--he looked at Hot Rod, who was looking between him and Galvatron, embarrassed but also aroused, if Optimus was reading him right. (And they had all had plenty of opportunity to figure out how Hot Rod looked when he was 'embarrassed but also aroused' lately.)
"Do you want this, Hot Rod?" Optimus had never really thought about Hot Rod that way before, although he found that he wasn't at all averse to it now. He'd seen Rodimus in the Matrix; he'd rather like to see Hot Rod in the berth.
Hot Rod visibly shoved away the embarrassment and looked him in the optics. "Yes. Yes, I would definitely like that."
Galvatron looked down at him. "Want me to lend Optimus the chains for these?" He rubbed a shackle fondly.
That was--moving a bit fast. "I haven't actually said yes yet, Galvatron," Optimus said.
At the same time as Hot Rod said, "Yes," and then, hearing Optimus, looked crushed.
"Were you going to say 'No,' Optimus?" Galvatron held Hot Rod closer, and there was almost a growl there, of 'You hurt my Autobot!"
Optimus looked from one to the other of them and said, "...No. I was not. Which is to say--yes. I would love to spend the night with the two of you." He paused. "Although--do you have another pair of those? Just for the night?"
"Of course we do, Optimus," said Galvatron, as Hod Rod slipped out of his grip and threw his arms around Optimus' neck.
Re: Drabble tennis! XD
It was worth the delay, though, and the mild frustration, and his partners' teasing. He was truly immobile now, shuddering under Galvatron's devastatingly skillful hands while Hot Rod whispered surprisingly dirty things in his audial. His couplings were open and exposed, sparking wantonly, and his mask was somewhere across the room. He was helpless, defenseless, aching for every touch. And he loved it.
"Louder for us, Optimus," Hot Rod murmured. "I want the whole compound to know what we're doing to you."
Optimus obligingly moaned louder, tilting his head back and clenching his fists. He moaned again when Galvatron paused in his ministrations. "We?" the Decepticon asked archly.
"Hey, with my hands chained behind me, I'm kind of limited to dirty talk." Hot Rod wiggled, the chain clinking between his shackles. "But you're doing a great job on your own."
"Of course I am! I'm Galvatron!"
"Yeah, yeah. You're Galvatron, I'm Hot Rod, he's Optimus. So glad we all know each other."
"Hot Rod, I'm warning you..."
"Excuse me," Optimus rumbled, arching his hips off the berth. "But if you two wouldn't mind..."
Galvatron smirked; Hot Rod laughed. Galvatron resumed his ministrations on Optimus's hips and thighs, while Hot Rod put his mouth to work doing more that just talking. And if the two of them were surprisingly adept at working in concert, that was something Optimus couldn't bring himself to worry about at that moment.
My apologies for the mood switch
Hot Rod heard the clangs and yells from halfway across the Decepticon base, although most of the Decepticons were pretending that they couldn't. He transformed and raced through the halls, arriving at Galvatron's door in under a minute and tried to pull the door open. Then he tried the door code. And pulled again. And pulled harder. And tried a different code. And pulled yet harder. And pushed for good measure.
Nothing.
He had been locked out, and he could hear how much pain Galvatron was in, how much pain he was inflicting on Cyclonus as his second attempted to calm and restrain him--"GALVATRON! CYCLONUS! LET ME IN!" Roddy banged on the door.
The only response was another roar from Galvatron and a clang as Cyclonus hit something again, hard. And a second or two later, on his comm: "Rodimus." Cyclonus was too distracted to remember that Roddy wasn't, anymore. "Please. Leave us. I will take care of Lord Galvatron."
"No. I won't. I love him, Cyclonus, same as you do. Let me help him. Help you." There was no response for a few terrifying seconds, as the two inside the room grappled. From the sound of it Cyclonus had been pushed to the point of defending himself physically, which wasn't a very good sign. Roddy went back to trying to force the door open.
"Hot Rod." And now Cyclonus remembered. "I can’t protect you both. And you can't take the damage I can. Not anymore."
"Doesn't matter. I will take it. Cyclonus, please. Between the two of us we will be able to subdue him..."
"No. I'll let you in when--" the comm dissolved into static as Galvatron hit Cyclonus again-- "he's not violent anymore. It should be soon."
"Cyclonus!" Hot Rod spoke out loud this time. "Galvatron!" Having discovered that forcing the door wasn't going to work--it was, after all, built to stand up to Galvatron's rages as much as was possible--he set to work picking the lock. He thought he could manage it…
A pair of blue arms wrapped around him and pulled him back. "No breaking into Galvatron's room today, Roddy."
"Not you, too, Scourge!" Roddy allowed Scourge to hold him. For now. "Get me in there!"
"If he breaks you, it'll be a major diplomatic incident, Hot Rod. If he breaks Cyclonus--well." Scourge stopped that sentence right there. "He's not going to break Cyclonus, if he hasn't already." Scourge' grip on him shifted, more embracing than restraining. "Besides, breaking you would break him. Break him worse, that is."
"And having me not there with him, isn't? I can't just stand here and listen…" Roddy started struggling in Scourge's arms.
"You can. And you will. Just like I do." Scourge held on grimly. "Neither of us are built to take that. It was just me in there with him, once, during a particularly bad episode--they had to kill a Sweep to repair me."
Roddy broke off staring at the door to look back at Scourge in horror. "Kill a Sweep?!"
Scourge shrugged. "Me or him. I'm lucky Cyclonus chose me." He paused, realizing that he was, after all, talking to an Autobot. "We don't have to do that anymore, of course. More resources, access to Autobot medics and medical tech, the Constructicons trying to recruit your entire technical and medical staff into their crazy collective…"
"All that tech and it can't--" Roddy's frustration was interrupted by further noise from inside Galvatron's room.
CLANG!
"Kill! Quintessons! Autobots! Traitors! Destroyyyyyy!"
"Mighty One..."
Hot Rod kicked Scourge hard, broke free, and rushed the door again.
"Oww! Hot Rod! Don't let's have a brawl on this side of the door, too. Get away from there." He grabbed Hot Rod's waist again and pulled.
"Roddy...it's better that it was. Really. You're helping. The peace is helping. Just...let Cyclonus do this."
Roddy glared at the door. There hadn't been another clang, and the sounds of Galvatron's voice and Cyclonus's were quiet enough that he couldn't make out the words through the thick walls. And there'd been an emphasis on that last statement that he should perhaps be paying attention to--but he could think about that, later, because Cyclonus had just commed him, "You can come in, now," and Scourge was opening the door, finally.
"Rodimus? My Prime?" Galvatron was sitting on the floor, leaning back against Cyclonus' chest as he embraced and supported his Lord--and, incidentally, hid most of the damage on Cyclonus' chassis, although Roddy could see the dents in his arms and his legs and his twisted and bent antennae, damage that wasn't, really, as extensive as what Cyclonus sometimes got happily and willingly, but was unmistakeably different nonetheless. And the look on his face, as he saw Roddy--someone needed to take care of Cyclonus, and it couldn't be Hot Rod, right now. He opened a private commlink to Scourge: "Cyclonus? Will you?"
Scourge gave him a look of "of course," as he moved around behind and slightly to the side, holding Cyclonus in turn.
Roddy turned all his attention to Galvatron. There was a very slight sparkle off Galvatron's helm, and he didn't seem quite back to himself yet. But his arms were open, and Roddy climbed into his lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. "Always yours." He didn't mention that he was neither Rodimus nor Prime anymore--it wasn't important at the moment.
Cyclonus' arms tightened, protectively, around Galvatron, pulling him closer to him and further from Roddy, but Roddy just followed the motion until they were both half-sitting on Cyclonus who was half-sitting on Scourge. Scourge wrapped Cyclonus in his arms and wings while Roddy settled into Galvatron's embrace and pressed gentle kisses to his lips.
In another context, it would have been wonderful. As it was--they could give Galvatron all they could, Roddy thought. All they had, and still it was not enough.
But it would never keep them from trying.
My apologies for... everything. -_-
The first was that his hands were shackled above him. The second was that Hot Rod was straddling his hips.
"Prime," Galvatron snarled. "What is the meaning of this? Where is Cyclonus?"
"Cyclonus is in the repair bay," Hot Rod told him, unsmiling. "And the meaning of this is a lesson I think you need to learn."
Galvatron jerked at the shackles, and his optics flashed in fury when they held. Hot Rod's mouth quirked. "They're not the maximum-security manacles," he told him. "You could break them if you worked at it. But if you do, I'll leave."
"You're in no position to threaten me!" Galvatron hissed - more out of habit than anything, since Hot Rod was certainly in the perfect position to threaten him.
By Hot Rod's laugh, it seemed he knew that too. "And you," he said, holding out a hand, "need to learn what helplessness feels like." There was a minute flash as the Autobot accessed his subspace compartment; a multitailed flogger appeared in his palm, trailing lengths of some organic threadlike substance.
"You wouldn't dare hit me!" Galvatron jerked against the shackles again, and thought he felt them give way just a little. He paused as Hot Rod stroked his fingers through the strands.
"You're right, I wouldn't. But this isn't for hitting. It's just for..." he flicked it out and held it over Galvatron's chest - "...sensation play." He dragged the ends over Galvatron's chest and torso.
Galvatron gasped sharply as his sensors shivered under the flogger's touch. Hot Rod grinned for the first time then, and stroked it along his sides, and Galvatron yelped and twisted away.
"Nnngh - stop! It - hh- it hahahahahatickles!"
"Begging for mercy already, Lord Galvatron?" Hot Rod flicked the ends over his plating and grinned when Galvatron jumped in response. "I'd hoped you could last a little longer."
"Y-y-you! I'll - hahaha - get you for this! NyaaahahahaHot Rod!"
Not directly following any of the previous scenes
"Yes, Cyclonus?" Magnus looked up--horizontally--and down--vertically--at his counterpart. Now that they were not, actually, interfacing or sparring or both, he was starting to think again about the many, many things he had to do. But Cyclonus' hesitant question threw him off of both topics. I wasn't not a tone of voice he heard from the Decepticon 2IC very often.
"Would you be willing to join Hot Rod and Galvatron and myself occasionally? Only when they want it, of course, but I would like to have you there." Cyclonus extracted a hand from--somewhere in between them--and stroked one of Magnus' shoulder pillars.
Magnus paused for a second, startled. "You're interfacing with them too?--Of course you're interfacing with them, forget I asked."
"Not always." Cyclonus kept stroking, gently. "Only when they ask. Would you consider it? Hot Rod was extremely embarrassed at the thought of asking you, and we did not think that Galvatron should make the approach. But they would like to have you with them."
Magnus drew back slightly. "I did not think that that was how Galvatron wanted me."
"As you may have noticed, the two desires aren't so far away from each other, for us." Cyclonus continued the soothing touches. "You will be safe with him, he gave his word--as safe as the Prime is." Cyclonus meant Hot Rod--the Unicronians had never quite switched back. "And he will be there."
"I don't share Hot Rod's desires, Cyclonus. What we do here," he made a gesture encompassing the practice room, "is not--that." However much Hot Rod seemed to enjoy his chains, Magnus couldn't help but shudder at the thought that he wore them for Galvatron, and the thought of being in them himself--even for Cyclonus, never mind Galvatron--was horrifying.
"You wouldn't have to." Cyclonus started petting him reassuringly with the other hand, too. "I don't think I would want you like that, anyway, and Hot Rod feels the same way. You can't enjoy each other properly if you're both restrained."
"Hot Rod--wants me to--while he's chained up?" Magnus found the thought more appealing than he wanted it to be. But still. Galvatron. "And Galvatron? What does he want from this?"
Cyclonus looked a little bit uncomfortable at the question, an expression that made Ultra Magnus decidedly nervous. "To please his Prime. He certainly would not mind interfacing with you for his own sake, but it was not his idea. It was Hot Rod's." Cyclonus paused. "And my own."
Which would explain some of the uncertainty, Magnus thought. He didn't know the details of Cyclonus' relationship with his Lord, but the broad outlines of it were blindingly obvious to all involved. "And you? Why do you want this?"
And Cyclonus suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Because you are--important to me." Cyclonus paused. "I want to bring you to my Lord and show him how very--" Another pause: clearly this was difficult for him to express. "Very wonderful you are."
Ah. Suddenly it was all very clear, and it was going to be extremely awkward to deal with. "I'm flattered."
"So will you?" Cyclonus looked relieved and happy, and Magnus nearly just said yes outright.
"I--I'll have to think about this. And talk to Hot Rod. It's not an easy thing for me." He stroked one of Cyclonus' wings. "But you are important to me, too."
Cyclonus leaned up to give Magnus a gentle kiss--though only gentle by Cyclonus' definition of 'gentle'. "Thank you."
:D
"We're almost done, Mighty Galvatron," Scrapper soothed, a bit awkwardly from his position across Galvatron's knees. Long Haul and Bonecrusher had his arms, while Hook did his best to quickly repair the connectors in the warlord's shoulders. Galvatron snarled and struggled, more for the look of the thing than any real desire to hurt the Constructicons - but they well knew how quickly that could change.
"Done!" Hook announced, and the restrainers scattered. Galvatron surged to his feet, cannon tracking over their heads for an enemy that failed to materialize. It wavered, then lowered to draw a bead on a very amused Chosen One.
"Are you always this much of a baby about repairs?" Hot Rod asked, seemingly unconcerned.
Galvatron paused a moment, then snorted and lifted it away. "You," he pronounced, "are walking a thin line."
"I," Hot Rod answered loftily, "am being a perfect angel. Right, 'Aid?" He craned his head back to grin at the much more diminuitive medic patching his spoiler.
"Aside from taunting the Decepticon, sure," First Aid agreed indulgently. "Scavenger, would you hand me that spanner?"
"Right here," Scavenger replied warmly, passing the tool over to him. "And some paint as well, maybe?"
First Aid's hands, normally so steady, actually jittered. "Oh! Please don't go to any trouble."
"It's no trouble! I'll be right back."
First Aid watched silently as Scavenger scampered off. "I do believe you're being courted, my friend," Hot Rod teased gently.
"Roddy!" First Aid wailed, covering his face. "Don't say silly things like that."
Hot Rod laughed and slung an arm around his shoulders, scrubbing his knuckles over the young medic's helm. The two made so much commotion - and amused Galvatron and the Constructicons so much to watch them - that they almost missed the entrance of two more mechs, leaning against each other, into the repair bay.
Magnus cleared static from his vocalizer. "Excuse me..."
"It's not urgent, but..." Cyclonus added in a grumble.
The two of them were clearly not in danger of their lives; but they were equally as clearly in Sorry Shape, covered in scrapes and dents and each other's paint. Galvatron took one look and started smirking; Magnus blinked like a mech on the tail end of a bender and turned away, while Cyclonus straightened and flared his wings.
"Oh, the two of you," First Aid huffed, though his scolding lost something when he was half-draped over Hot Rod's lap. "Really!" The Constructicons shot each other indulgent grins; though his posture didn't wobble, Cyclonus seemed to lose just a little of his dignity.
Re: :D
"Yes. You're less intimidating than Galvatron." Cyclonus walked down the hallway, confidently assuming that Scourge would follow along with him. He did.
"I'm less intimidating than you. Or him. Or half the other Autobots." Scourge was, indeed, very very unintimidating-looking, wings angled downward and claws tucked anxiously away out of view. "I'm not going to be very good preparation for Galvatron."
Cyclonus abruptly stopped and turned around to face Scourge, who did his best not to collide with his Second. "Scourge--do you remember back at the very beginning? When you and your Sweeps tore Ultra Magnus apart?"
"Yes?" he said, warily.
Cyclonus gave him a small smile. "You'll be better preparation than you think." He took Scourge by the shoulders, firmly but soothingly, and pulled him close. He pressed a kiss to Scourge's beard. "Does Magnus scare you?"
"No!" At Cyclonus' doubtful look: "I mean, yes. I'm a coward, Cyc, not like you and Galvatron. Everything scares me. It doesn't mean I won't go with you."
Cyclonus moved his head back up to place kisses on Scourge's headgun. "Thank you, Scourge."
Scourge gaped at him for a moment. "You never used to thank me. I think Magnus has been an entirely too good influence."
Cyclonus shrugged and turned away. "This is personal. I can't order you to do it."
"And there's an Autobot involved." Scourge said, cynically. "An Autobot whose opinion you care about."
"Two Autobots, actually." Cyclonus stopped, looking down at Scourge again.
"Two--? Wait. Roddy is going to be there, too? Galvatron's Prime? And Galvatron isn't? And why didn't I know about this yet?"
"Very recent arrangement." Cyclonus paused. "Also I think you were busy interfacing with that Autobot spy."
"Mirage? ...Yeah, probably. He's good." Scourge shook his head. "Never mind. Lord Galvatron is okay with this, right? He knows?"
"Yes. He expects we'll convince Magnus to come to his berth soon, but if we can't--" Cyclonus shrugged. "Rodimus has done wonders for his temper. He will accept it."
"And meanwhile I get the three of you." Scourge paused for a second. "Awesome."
"Thought you'd see it that way." Cyclonus walked the rest of the way down the hallway to Magnus' quarters. Scourge could see the signs of a brief comm chat, and then the door opened to Cyclonus' touch.
Hot Rod beamed at them from Magnus' lap. Roddy's arms were unbound and they were canoodling like the pair of Autobots they were. "Cyclonus! Scourge!" He reached out an arm invitingly. "So glad to see you."
Magnus looked a bit tense, but he managed a smile for the Unicronians. "Yes! Good to see you. Both of you." He reached out an arm as well--the other one he kept wrapped around Hot Rod.
Scourge looked at Cyclonus. Cyclonus said, "Magnus. Prime," and climbed onto the berth next to them, settling into Magnus' extended arm and giving Roddy a kiss. "Scourge." It was just short of a command, and Magnus gave him a brief disapproving look.
But Scourge didn't hesitate to walk across the room and wrap Roddy in an arm and a wing--they had been in the same berth before, of course, although it had always been Galvatron's. Roddy turned to kiss Scourge while Cyclonus pulled Magnus into a kiss that Scourge would really have liked to get a better view of; by the time Roddy released him, there were hands all over each others' antennae and their paint was starting to transfer.
"Quite a pair," Roddy said to Scourge. "Magnus gets the key to my chains for the evening, although if he's not interested..." He grinned and left the offer hanging.
Cyclonus pulled back and nudged Magnus in Roddy's direction. "Take him up on it. It's an honor."
"An honor from Galvatron?" But Magnus took hold of Roddy's proffered wrists, rubbing at the plating above and below his shackles.
"And from me." Roddy offered Magnus a soft kiss, and Magnus pulled him closer, harder, giving into it. Roddy pulled out the chains and Magnus gently moved Hot Rod's arms behind his back and attached them together.
Magnus looked over, for a second, at Cyclonus. He was staring, captivated, at his counterpart taking over his Lord's role with his Lord's Prime. Scourge looked from Cyclonus to Magnus and back again, and then at Hot Rod.
"Got another set of cuffs?" Roddy asked.
"I've always got another set of chains." Scourge paused. "Well, either I do or Cyc does, but I do have one now." He pulled a pair from subspace and turned back to Cyclonus.
Now that Magnus had finished with Hot Rod, Cyclonus pressed close to him, again, and pulled him into an almost-violent embrace. "Hold me down," he ordered in a low, deep whisper. "Please."
Magnus paused, looking Cyclonus in the optics for a second, as though he were going to ask Cyclonus if he really meant that, then quickly flipped them around, pinning Cyclonus' wrists to the berth and spreading himself out over him, kissing Cyclonus hard. Cyclonus moaned and arched up into Magnus.
Scourge caught Roddy as he scrambled off Magnus' lap, settling him in a wing and petting him as they watched the two lieutenants enjoy themselves.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Hot Rod said.
"Of course. Hey, Magnus!" Scourge reached out with the cuffs in his general direction. "Cyc needs these."
Magnus gave him a slightly startled look, but then took them and attached Cyc's wrists to each other and the berth. Then he looked at Scourge consideringly for a moment and pulled him into a deep kiss on top of Cyclonus, who broke into a loud moan and pressed up against them.
When Magnus pulled back, Scourge could see Rodimus--quite adept at moving with his arms chained beside his back these days--pressed against Cyclonus' side and gently kissing the side of his helm. Magnus wrapped his arms around all of them and the foursome was well and truly begun.
Re: :D
"Attention, crew of the Violator." Hot Rod stood on the deck of his flagship, hands clasped behind him (lest the pirates see his shackles and get the wrong idea). "This is Hot Rod, co-leader of the Autobots. You are in our territory, depriving sapients of their freedom in defiance of Article Three of the Galactic Accords. Power down your engines and weapons and prepare to be boarded, or we will fire."
The pirate on the screen sneered, displaying sharp metal teeth. "Don't make me laugh, flamer. You won't fire on us - you might hurt our cargo."
Hot Rod rolled his gaze toward the ceiling. "Oh, gee," he pronounced, "you're right." He let the pirate be smug a moment before adding, "I guess I'll just have to let my boyfriend take care of you."
The pirate blinked. "Your wh-"
The video link stuttered and dissolved into abrupt static. The other Autobots on deck laughed and cheered, but Hot Rod remained silent, watching out the viewport as the slaver ship rocked and shudder and die a death of a hundred violet-lit cuts.
The video link blipped on again; Galvatron's grin threatened to break the confines of the screen. "The Violator is ours!" he declared.
"And the prisoners?" Hot Rod asked pointedly.
Galvatron grumped. "As promised, they are unharmed."
Hot Rod grinned and let his hands fall to his sides, displaying the cuffs to full view. "Good. Then I guess I won't make you recharge on the couch tonight."
"As if you could!" Galvatron snorted with a proud toss of his head. "Galvatron out!"
The connection was cut; Hot Rod relaxed. At the weapons station, Springer shook his head and chuckled. "Are you two ever going to get enough of each other?"
Out of hearing range of his dangerous lover, Hot Rod let his pleasure and admiration show in his voice. "Primus, I hope not."
Re: :D
Scavenger wasn't particularly intimidated today. He stood his ground and gave Long Haul his best cutely plaintive expression. Which, you would think, Long Haul would be immune to after five million years. "It's for First Aid! He likes fixing them. Pleeeeeeeease, Long Haul! Help me carry! You want to make him happy too, right?"
Long Haul crossed his arms at him. The shovel had a point, but it wasn't as though he was going to be giving in anytime soon. "Doesn't he have enough junk of his own to fix without hauling it all the way from Charr?"
Scavenger's tail drooped. "It's not junk, Long Haul. First Aid--appreciates it." And appreciates me, was the unspoken implication. Long Haul was kind of envious: he could only dream of having Scavenger's passive-aggressive pouting skills. He'd tried, but when it was him the others just told him to stop his belly-aching already.
Well. First Aid never did. First Aid had investigated the aches and pains in his shovel and wheels and back struts that the others had long sense determined were entirely imaginary, and even when he didn't find anything physically wrong with him, he'd somehow made Long Haul feel so much better that he'd spent all afternoon hauling patients around and enjoyed it.
So, yes, he was definitely going to haul First Aid whatever Scavenger wanted him to haul. He allowed himself a long-suffering sigh--an mode of expression which was, as far as Long Haul was concerned, the best thing the humans ever invented--and transformed. "Pile 'em on."
"Thank you, Long Haul!" Scavenger pet Long Haul affectionately on the cab and then started carefully loading him with...Long Haul didn't even want to know what, but hopefully none of it was liquid, fragile, perishable, or hazardous. Or explosive. Scavenger had that advantage over his other teammates: his collections generally weren't dangerous on purpose.
"You do know, Scavenger," Long Haul said, not letting himself look entirely on the bright side, "He's not like Grapple and Hoist. He already has brothers, and he's not going to leave them for us."
Scavenger stopped loading for a second. "Well, then. Clearly we'll just have to recruit all of them. Which do you want to go for?"
Long Haul stared at Scavenger blankly, as much as a dump truck could stare blankly. "Just don't make me carry them all home, Scrounge."
Scavenger gave a delighted laugh and rubbed his shovel against the side of Long Haul's bed. "'Course not, Warrior. Now do you think I can fit on another damaged radio?"
Re: :D
"Cyclonus! The war is back on!" At the same time, Galvatron stormed past Ultra Magnus in much the same mood, and with the same regard for other mechs in his presence. Magnus blinked, opened a comm line to Optimus, and received a busy signal in reply - only, he discovered a few seconds later, because his superior had been trying to contact him.
//Galvatron?// Optimus guessed.
//Yes,// Magnus confirmed. //Hot Rod?//
//Yes.// The mech sounded weary even over the comm line. //This is... an unfortunate development.//
//For the truce?// Magnus asked, then regretted the question as soon as he heard himself ask it.
//And for them,// Optimus responded, confirming Magnus's instinct. //Normally I am not an advocate of getting in the middle of a lovers' quarrel, but...//
//Consider the lovers,// Magnus finished dryly when his leader trailed off. //I... am unsure of my ability to handle Galvatron. Perhaps I should take Hot Rod?//
//Yes.// There was a smile in Optimus's 'voice.' //I will take care of Galvatron. Meet us at the usual place?//
//Understood, Prime. Ultra Magnus out.//
***
Hot Rod was clearly still angry, but he was keeping it ruthlessly under control in Ultra Magnus's presence. Magnus approved of the show of restraint, and almost regretted that he was about to decisively shatter it.
"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Hot Rod asked, nothing but professional curiosity in his voice.
"It's not something we can speak of in the open hallway. Wait until we're somewhere more secure."
Hot Rod lifted an optic ridge. "The residential sector is secure?"
Magnus allowed a flicker of a smile. "Keep getting smarter, Hot Rod, and soon none of us will be able to hold you." So saying, he took a firm grip on Hot Rod's shoulders and steered him the last few steps: into a room with no assigned dweller, well-stocked with various toys and lubricants and the highest-grade energon they could afford to keep stocked, euphemistically called the Boudoir.
Optimus Prime was already there. And with him, pacing restlessly, was Galvatron.
Hot Rod stiffened, understanding all at once. "Magnus, let me go," he rapped out, sounding so much like Rodimus Prime for a moment that it was a struggle not to obey.
Fortunately, it was Optimus Prime who answered. "You don't really want to leave, do you, Hot Rod?"
Galvatron whirled on the elder Prime, furious. "Optimus! You deceived me!"
"I told you I had something of great import to discuss with you," Optimus answered, as calm as if Galvatron didn't have that particle cannon aimed at his head, "and I do. Shut the door, Magnus. Hot Rod won't run."
It was true. Hot Rod was staring at Galvatron, transfixed, his fans whirring softly. Galvatron's cannon was lowering, slowly, and though he wasn't looking at his young Prime, it was clear where all his attention was. Whatever had passed between them, it was clear they still desired each other.
//We'll log this as 'truce maintenance,'// Magnus told Optimus silently, and received an amused ping in reply. Smiling, Magnus let go of Hot Rod's shoulders and shut the door.
Re: :D
Sweep #3 gave Cyclonus a scared look. If Cyclonus couldn't tell the Sweeps from their leader, he was probably in the sort of mood where he'd pull one of them apart for fun. And if he was in that mood, it was safer to be the one he thought was Scourge. At least until he realized you weren't. "Y-yes, Cyclonus?"
"Truce is back on. Just got the comm From Magnus. And Lord Galvatron."
The Sweep stared at Cyclonus in confusion. "Um, Cyclonus, sir. Is this a bad thing?"
Cyclonus looked at the Sweep more closely. "You're not Scourge."
"N-no, sir, do you want me to call Scourge for you?" the Sweep asked, hopefully. That way Cyclonus would let go of his beard. Maybe.
"I can call him myself." Cyclonus, unfortunately, didn't let go. "Magnus and Galvatron are in the Boudoir together. With Optimus Prime. And Hot Rod."
The Sweep gave him a confused look. "Ahh--how terrible!"
"No, no, not terrible!" Cyclonus made a visible effort to pull himself together. "It's a very good thing. Galvatron and Hot Rod get back together, the truce stays together, all of us get more energon, less injuries, more resources to battle the Quintessons and space pirates."
"Ahh--how wonderful, then!" Sweep #3 would declare it whatever Cyclonus wanted it to be. Just as long as Cyclonus would let go of the beard. Or--wait. Another good thing about the truce: respect for Autobot morality, at least when they're on their territory. "Cyclonus, sir--would it be possible for you to maybe let go of my beard?"
"What?" Cyclonus stared. "Oh, yes." He let go.
"Will that be all then?" He asked, hopefully, and prepared to run away, fast, as soon as Cyclonus gave the go-ahead.
Cyclonus gave him a contemptuous look, and was--probably, hopefully--about to give him permission to leave, when Scourge came around the corner. The real Scourge: Sweeps could always tell the difference, even when Cyclonus couldn't.
"Why are you terrorizing that Sweep?" Scourge stopped before he got anywhere near beard-grabbing distance--even before the truce, Cyclonus didn't have these moods very often, but often enough that he could know and fear the signs.
Cyclonus gave him a frustrated look--his 'I'm angry about something I don't want to admit being angry about' look. Sweep #3 discreetly backed down the hallway to hide behind Scourge. Who, in turn, grabbed his wing and hid behind him. Why couldn't they have a leader who was less cowardly than they were?
(Oh right, they did: Cyclonus. And Galvatron, for that matter. Being at the bottom of the Unicronian pecking order sucked slag.)
"The truce is back on, Scourge." Cyclonus advanced on the two of them--clearly he would not be content without a beard to pull. Or something like that. Sweep #3 instinctively pressed back against Scourge, who, for once, held his ground, but was quite insistent on the point of his Sweep staying between him and Cyclonus just now. Cyclonus gave them an exasperated look. "Oh, stop, you two, I'm not going to hurt you."
Scourge and his Sweep gave Cyclonus identical doubtful looks. Scourge cleared his throat--not that his vocalizer needed clearing, but it seemed like an appropriate sound to make. "Don't you--want it to be back on?" It wasn't impossible that he didn't; Cyclonus had dealt remarkably well with Galvatron's relationship with Hot Rod, presumably because of all the time he spent in the (usually metaphorical) berth with the two of them, but Scourge and the Sweeps had had to deal with Cyclonus' jealousy over the relationship before.
Cyclonus shook his head. He was very much within beard-grabbing (or wing-grabbing, or any-number-of-vulnerable-areas–grabbing) distance, but he refrained from grabbing anything at the moment. "No, I have no problem with the truce continuing. However. The truce is continuing because Magnus and Optimus Prime hauled Galvatron and Hot Rod into the Boudoir together. And they're all still in there."
This didn't make any more sense to Sweep #3 than it did the last time Cyclonus had said it. Scourge, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what Cyclonus was getting at. "Ohhh. And you are not."
"Yes." Cyclonus took hold of Scourge's wings. The Sweep made an extremely undignified squeaking sound as he was pressed between them, but Cyclonus didn't seem to notice. "All this time I've been trying to get Magnus and Galvatron in the berth together, and somehow they manage to pull it off without me."
"Um." Scourge's body was heating up from the wing-grab. He peeked at Cyclonus over Scourge #3's shoulder "You could comm and ask to join in?"
Cyclonus shook his head forcefully enough to shake Scourge's wings a bit, too. "It's make-up sex. I can't just intrude on them."
"Um, well--Optimus and Magnus are already there. Clearly it's not a private party?" Scourge was getting off on being shaken substantially more than Sweep #3 thought was reasonable. For that matter, Sweep #3 was starting to get off on being pressed between the two of them--he didn't know whether to curse or give thanks for his Unicronian programming and conditioning.
Cyclonus growled. "But I can't just--!" And now he was tugging on the wings. Sweep #3 tucked his own wings further around himself as the space available between him and the other two suddenly became zero on all sides.
"Cyc--I've got a camera in there. Have our own orgy while we watch?"
Cyclonus considered this for a second. "Acceptable." He then looked at the Sweep between the two of them. "If it is not acceptable to you, we can always get some of the others."
Sweep #3 gave Cyc a slightly shocked look.
"I mean it, Sweep," Cyclonus growled. "You may go if you like."
"Um. If I stay--no beard grabs? It's already sore!" For all that he was terrifying, Cyclonus was good in the berth, and with what all else that had been going on lately, opportunities for the Sweeps to 'face with him were few and far between. But he was not kidding about the beard.
"No beard grabs." Cyclonus leaned in--not very far, really, considering how closely they were pressed together--to purr into his ear, "Unless you ask for them."
"Yes! Definitely yes!" Sweep #3 realized a second after that he'd actually said that out loud. "Um, on joining you in the orgy. Not on the beard grabbing."
Cyclonus laughed, just for a second, and the vibrations rippled through all three of them. "Understood. Now. To Scourge's room. Before they finish." He released one of Scourge's wings, turned around, and headed off.
"Ow, hang on!" It took Scourge and his Sweep an astrosecond or two to get out of each others' way sufficiently to follow Cyclonus at the right angle to keep Scourge's wing from being pulled off. "It does record, you know."
"Watching live is better." But Cyclonus waited.
"Also better when I have two wings," Scourge grumbled, but he was already keeping pace, not protesting the hand on his wing.
Sweep #3 followed behind them, as he was designed to do, summoning his brothers to join in the entertainment. Or, if necessary, split the pain.
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+grins+
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Jazz is post movie, so he knows, in some continuities, he dies. Megatron's been told that too.
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I... can tell I'm going to really *like* Roddy when I get to s3. I love the way his fingers are wrapped around each other, and the way his head is tilted.
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