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C.M.D: This was a drabble that I wrote a long time ago on FF.net, which has been removed because of it's following sexual content. Basically just an introspection piece into Devcon, while also subtly slashing him with Smokescreen. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
Doorwings attempted to flutter against his servos, but his fingers kept them in place. The owner of the appendages wriggled beneath him, gasping and moaning as the mech ground back into his capture's pelvic armour. He hissed at the pleasant sensation, servos closing on the doorwings tighter in response. "What do you want?," he growled, unable to hold back the smirk that rose as the other's coolings fans hiccuped at the deep-throated tone. "Tell me..."
"P-please...," the mech moaned, "T-touch me... r-rip open my codpiece, fill m-me with your...o-oooohh... sp-pike. F-flood my valve w-with your, mmmmm... t-transfluids."
The wanton pleas made his engine roar with lust, servos removing from their spots to teasingly slide along seams and hidden wires on the inside of the doorwings. "I don't think I quite understand what you want," he taunted, leaning forward. His glossa darted out and trailed across neck cables, forcing his partner to throw his helm back, exposing his unarmoured throat further. At the simpering moans, he opened his mouth, latching onto the energon lines and nibbling harshly.
It drew a surprised gurgle and a shriek of fans from the other mech. In the din of the other's garbled cries for more, there came a click of a retracting panel. Optic ridge raised curiously, he pulled back from his partner, staring down at the charged 'bot beneath him.
"So naughty...," he leered, eyeing the exposed interface equipment appreciatively. "Showing me that drenched, hungry valve of yours... Didn't your creator ever tell you that there would be some big, bad 'bots that would want nothing more than to plunder that lovely, little hole of yours?"
"W-what if I want y-you to plunder it?," the door-winged mech mumbled. He shifted, angling his hips so that his valve was in better view of the mech pinning him down. "C-claim your prize, my Rogue."
"Mmmmm...," he grinned, licking his lip components. "Don't mind if I do."
He wasted no more words, retracting his own codpiece and burying himself deep within the other mech. The resulting scream of delight frazzled his sensory net, forcing his intakes to hitch at the cry of passion he had wrought and from the unbelievable heat clenching around his spike. "A-aah!," his partner moaned, writhing underneath him. "D-devcon!"
"S-smokescreen!"
xxXxXxx
Devcon snapped out his recharge cycle abruptly, lurching up off his berth. His startled processor tried to file through the sudden change in status, while at the same time drowsily flitting through the simulation that had crept up on him while he had been sleeping.
Where in the slagging Pit had that come from?!
The bounty hunter grumbled wordlessly to himself, sliding off the berth and heading for his room's door. There was no point trying to get some more sleep now, as the simulation had effectively destroyed any desire for further recharge. With nothing better to do, the Autobot figured he might as well collect his fuel and head off to the next gathering point. After all, why should he bother wasting time when there were Decepticons to catch?
His room was on a second story landing, surprisingly, which then led downstairs to a circular room, dipped in the middle to where a blazing fire-pit was set. The fire, which would have been useless to a Cybertronian, was meant more so to accommodate the organics filling nearly every seat in the ramshackle inn.
For a strange astrosecond, Devcon was reminded firmly of Monacus. The dirty, little excuse for an asteroid had been his last destination during his hunt for the three Decepticons Ramjet, Dirge and Astrotrain. The trail had led him all the way to the shadiest spot on the gambling rock, where the bounty hunter had, surprisingly, come across a fellow Autobot.
He could still remember the dark and dank smell floating just before his olfactory sensors, making them ache faintly with annoyance. Then the smooth, cheerful vocalizer calling out 'Autobot', drawing his attention, turning to see the Datsun; blue and white doorwings fluttering quickly and pleasant surprise highlighting blue optics.
Devcon had never thought he would receive such a smile from someone else glad to see an Autobot... nor did he think he would be just as equally glad to see his fellow mech.
It was a shame that their meeting had been a very abrupt and short affair. Putting it out of his processor, the bounty hunter approached the bartender of the inn, slapping a credit down on the dilapidated counter top and requesting a cube of energon. The scaly lizard flicked its head forward in acknowledgement, turning about to grab one of the magenta cubes. While the blue mech waited, he tried to mull over the simulations that had roused him from recharge in the first place.
Unfortunately, not even the dregs of such files remained, for his processor, adapt at quickly filtering out pointless and unnecessary information, had moved on past the issue. Shrugging nonchalantly, Devcon stopped bothering to recall the simulations, taking his energon from the bartender and drinking from it deeply; thinking about that strange night on Monacus and his run-in with the odd Autobot, Smokescreen.
xxXxXxx
Cables clenched tightly around his glossa, making him open his mouth wider and wiggle the grey appendage just to be able to free it some. Hot, decadent lubricant gushed at the action; slipping past the glossa, out of the valve and into his waiting mouth. Devcon happily received it, pressing lip components to the curve of the other's pelvic plating and giving a good suck to get as much as the fluid as he could. His partner, moaning before, screamed and bucked at the pleasurable assault, bucking against the berth.
"D-devcon! Oooh... P-primus... P-please, suck m-me some m-mmmmmmm- oh, mo-more!," the other mech whimpered, twisting desperately.
The bounty hunter swirled his tongue once more around the valve, gathering another dollop of lubricant before retreating and smirking up at the other mech. "So demanding," he rumbled, glossa sliding along his denta languidly as he savoured the delicious lubricant. "One would think you were nothing but a little whore with a vocalizer like that."
Spread doorwings fluttered sharply at the filthy words, their owner being further charged by the dirty talk. "But I'm your little whore," the Praxian replied, a small grin pulling at supple lip components. The amusement faded to be replaced with desperation though as he realized the blue mech was not going to be moving again any time soon.
"Please...," the other mech begged, servos tugging on the cuffs keeping his arms pinned to the berth. "P-please, stick your glossa back into my valve. La-lave my cables, a-and prod my sensor nodes. Nibble m-my rim with your denta, and s-suck all of my lubricant up again, u-until I can't take anymore. M-make me overload, s-screaming your name!"
"You sure are specific," Devcon chuckled, leaning down again. His servos rested on his partner's knee joints as he lowered himself, but he did not head for the waiting valve like the other wanted him to. Instead, the bounty hunter nuzzled an inner thigh; pressing soft, chaste kisses to the trembling plating.
The doorwings fluttered anxiously again, blue optics blazing as they peered over the rounded hood. "D-don't tease me t-too much," his partner pleaded, arching as Devcon did just that, blowing warm air over the clenching passage. Lubricant gushed again from the opening, trickling down to the berth. "Aah, aah...," the multi-coloured mech cried, shuttering his optics in bliss. "O-oh Devcon... a-any longer and I think I m-might just melt..."
The blue mech groaned softly, pushing the other's legs open further. "When you talk like that, you make it hard for me not to do the same," he rumbled, spike pressing against his codpiece painfully. "Frag... Guess I'll just have to fill you back up after hollowing you out first."
Not giving the Datsun even an astrosecond to process what he had just said, the bounty hunter lunged forward the rest of the way, plunging his glossa back into that sweet, moist valve. The mech beneath him screamed to the rafters above, whole frame arching into the other Autobot's touch, trying to get more of that wonderful attention.
Devcon hummed into the wet passage, groaning in response as he slid his glossa along the clamping walls, tonguing sensor nodes harshly, causing his partner to cry out again. "Primus...," the bounty hunter mumbled, pulling back just an inch to lap at the lubricants seeping out of the valve's folds a third time that orn, "You're so beautiful, Smokey..."
The Praxian moaned loudly, shivering as the blue mech thrust his glossa back inside of him; finally overloading.
xxXxXxx
Devcon rose out of recharge, fingers rubbing at his optics tiredly. It had been the seventh time this past megacycle that the bounty hunter had been so rudely woken by simulations running rampant in his processor. Though he tried to focus on the actual events of the forced-upon dream, it was already fading from his thoughts, leaving only the distinct impression that Smokescreen had been dominating his processor.
Reminded of the Datsun, there came an aching in his chestplates, just near his spark.
Annoyed that it might be another leaking fuselage line, the Autobot rose from his make-shift bed of asteroid rock; pulling both a medical kit and a cube of energon out of subspace. He took a sip of the cube before he unlocked his hinges, slowly opening his chestplates to the dead space around him. He poked around a bit, fixing a twisted wire here and there and snapping a couple gears back into place, before Devcon had certified himself as functional and closed up his delicate interior again.
The ache was still there, but not nearly as powerful as it once was. It was a pain muted enough that the mech could easily brush it aside.
Drinking the rest of his ration, Devcon looked out onto the endless infinity of space before him, realizing for once in his life just how quiet it was. The silence was like a heavy, oppressive weight that cloaked his shoulders; following him from one point to the next. His journal would be the only proof that he even existed out here at all in the great black, and there had been times he'd needed to play it back to himself just to hear something.
That same sort of non-existence remained, no matter if he was space-ward or not. Many planets, thousands more asteroids belts and moons had he been on, and on all of them he'd been nothing more than a fleeting shadow to the lives of the ones living there. Yes, that was natural; but the same could be said to his Bounties. He was barely an imprint on their processors and minds, before the memory of him was erased entirely. Did anyone actually see him anymore?
Smokescreen had.
Ah, Smokescreen... The bounty hunter smiled wryly into his cube, shaking his head in remembrance. The blue, red and white Praxian had been an interesting mech. Not many Autobots were still hard-hitting gamblers, what with the war and all, but the Datsun had managed to keep up his horrible habit. Normally, such a thing would have made Devcon want to smack the fellow 'bot upside the head, but his great dislike for gambling was quickly overruled by Smokescreen's own complicated, but wholesome personality.
Smokescreen had been so fixated on saving his friends from the local slavery ring, that even when he heard that there were Decepticons about, he did not get frightened. In fact, the Datsun seemed to get even more valiant and determined in his goals. They had succeeded, almost barely, but Smokescreen had fought well the entire way; looking for the best ways to undermine the Decepticon's own cheating ploys and rescue the rest of his comrades.
It had been a swift goodbye from there, Devcon recalled numbly.
Sworn in his own duty, the bounty hunter would chase his quarry to the ends of the universe and back. He had transformed to his spacecraft alt-mode and had taken to the stars, leaving behind the brave, young Autobot that he had only just begun to befriend.
Dirge, Thrust and Astrotrain had long since disappeared from his range; fleeing back to an organic planet in another quadrant, or so the rumours said. Low voices whispered that the planet was named something like "Urth", and Devcon could only assume it was the planet Smokescreen had mentioned to him before when he had invited the bounty hunter to join them.
If the Decepticons were on Earth with the rest of their comrades, then the Autobots stationed there could handle them. He had others to hunt, hundreds more Decepticons that run rampant and free, harassing the beings of other planets and solar systems where the Autobots' influence could not reach.
Tipping back the rest of his cube, Devcon rose to his feet, slowly easing out some sore joints before transforming. He had wasted enough time reliving moments of the past; he had to move on and continue the hunt.
Time waited for no man, mech or beast alike.
And there was nothing to be found in memories of a few words shared with strange, curious Praxians.
xxXxXxx
Soft servos moved across his helm, brushing at the mounted cannon on top before sliding down worn cheekplates. The touch was warm and gentle, keeping him in the lull of half-recharge, half-attentiveness. When the servo stopped, he had all but whined at the halted action. A lovely, soft chuckle followed.
"Come now, love. I don't want you to fall asleep on me," the other mech was saying, "I came to spend time with you, and how can I do that if you're deep into recharge?"
Devcon did not reply, though he pushed his helm back further into that lap, slowly onlining his optics. He only kept them half-unshuttered, gazing up into his partner's faceplates. Noticing the attention being given to him, doorwings on the other Autobot's backstruts fluttered gently; a warm smile tugging at luscious lip components.
"Hello," the Datsun purred.
The bounty hunter did not reply, reaching up and grabbing one of the wayward servos and pressing it back against his cheekplate. His partner chuckled again; thumb rubbing sensuously along the metal.
"I'm glad to know you're comfortable," the mech above him said. Devcon still did not speak, merely revving his engine slightly to convey his agreement. The Datsun laughed a third time, sinful glee burning within his optics. "I know you're especially comfortable when you have me pinned to the berth, your long, handsome spike nestled in my wet valve."
"...you are crude," the blue Autobot finally replied. Though his tone was bland, it couldn't belie the foxy smirk starting to grow on his lip components. Blue and white doorwings fluttered in response, appendages turning the air some in their excitement.
"Only for you...," the other mech whispered. He leaned down, until their faces were merely inches from each other's; an eternity seeming to pass as they quietly looked into the other's optics. "I love you Devcon," the Datsun said, quieter than the whisper he had just spoken in before, and more than sparkfelt.
"I love you too, Smokescreen," the bounty hunter rumbled back. Blue optics blazed brightly with the confession, a serene smile painting grey faceplates. Slowly, the door-winged mech closed the last of the distance between them, melding their lip components in a gentle, passionate kiss.
xxXxXxx
Almost like routine, Devcon came out recharge frowning. Usually, it was because of the continuous simulations that plagued his processor, before fading completely once he had woken up.
This time was different.
There was no way to forget the simulation he had just went through now; opening overlooked doorways to its brethren and swamping the mech's processor with the numerous thoughts. With a forlorn spark, the bounty hunter gazed up at the current inn's ceiling, suddenly wishing that Smokescreen was here with him.
Feeling that though frustrated him to no end.
Was he really that lonely? Did his existence mean so little, even to himself, that only the presence of another could cement his place in reality?
Pathetic, Devcon wanted to hiss... but that did not stop the painful longing in his spark.
Sighing, the blue mech moved on the berth, setting his feet on the floor as his servos rose to his helm in disbelief. Trust him to fall in love with the one mech he could never see again, let alone have.