He didn’t have anything better to do. He’d been left alone. He’d rested. He’d refueled. He’d internally spun himself in circles, chomping on the problem that was Starscream.
Hours inched by.
So he paced.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Jittery anxiety kept him in motion, but there was nowhere to go. He couldn’t go for a drive because he couldn’t transform. He couldn’t go for a run because his hip couldn’t take his speeds. He couldn’t go spar because he couldn’t stress the joint.
He couldn’t do anything but pace.
He again considered the handful of pain patches stuffed into his subspace. He hated the fog that crept over his thoughts when he took one. He hated how it slowed his processing. He hated everything about them.
He would deal with a little pain. What he couldn’t deal with was the overcharge crawling through his lines. He hated to be still. He hated waiting. He hated all of this.
The main door beeped.
Blurr drew to a halt and whipped toward it, his spark pulsing in his chassis. Fight or flight was a constant nagging in the back of his processor. Every sound, every twitch, set his instincts aflame.
The door opened. Starscream swept inside. The door closed behind him, beeping a cheerful triple tone as it locked. The panel glowed a baleful red. If there was one thing Blurr could trust, Starscream would make sure his apartment was secure. Starscream was more paranoid than Red Alert.
Somehow, that didn’t help him relax.
“Welcome back,” Blurr ground out.
Starscream blinked at him. “That sounded like you’d rather I throw myself out the window.”
Blurr’s hands twitched. He forced himself to ventilate. He smiled, but it felt more a grimace. “You’re late.”
Starscream arched an orbital ridge. “Did I miss an appointment I don’t remember making?”
“Frag you.” Blurr threw up his hands and limped out of the main room.
Starscream, and everything about him, made Blurr twitchy. This apartment. That plush berth. The fully-stocked room with Seeker coolant and Racer coolant all nestled together like some kind of happy family, cubes of energon crowded around them in approval.
Starscream followed him. Of course Starscream did.
Blurr avoided the berth at the last minute and started pacing again. Only here in the berthroom, there was less room to do so. His limp became more pronounced as his hip flared fire and screeched at him. He ignored the alerts.
“Blurr,” Starscream said in a condescending tone, one usually reserved for sparklings and misbehaving soldiers. “Is something wrong?” He tilted his helm, optics narrowed in consideration. “Are you out of pain patches?”
Blurr barely kept from snarling at him. “I still have the same handful you put in my hands this morning,” he retorted. “Thank you for that, by the way, doling them out to me like treats. All but patting me on the head and telling me to be good.”
Starscream’s frown deepened.
He lowered himself down to the chair near the desk, though not before Blurr caught his wings twitching. First one, and then the other.
“I thought we were past this,” Starscream said slowly, carefully. “Are you still angry?”
“Of course I am!” He dragged to a halt and whipped a finger in the vague direction of the platform built just outside this tower. “I am not your primus-bedamned puppet, Starscream! Don’t think I don’t know what that act out there was.”
Starscream steepled his fingers together. “Act,” he repeated in a mild tone. “We are allies. They already know we share a berth as well. I fail to see where I overstepped.”
Blurr’s engine snarled. He resisted the urge to stomp his pede like a sparkling. “We’re fragging, not sharing a berth,” he snarled.
“There’s only one in this apartment. We’ll be sharing it eventually,” Starscream remarked.
“Don’t you fragging argue semantics with me.” Blurr’s ventilations whooshed out in a huff. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Starscream lowered his hands and tilted his helm. “I’m afraid I don’t, Blurr. You’re going to have to clarify for me.” His optics narrowed. “And perhaps take a seat. You’ll overstress your joint at this rate, and another surgery will only slow how fast you heal.”
Blurr ground his denta so hard he tasted sparks on his glossa. Starscream’s condescending tone grated in his audials. He balled up his hands into fists, feeling the urge to snarl his irritation and shout to the heavens. The overcharge crawled in his lines, bit at him, like a horde of scraplets beneath his armor.
Starscream didn’t fragging get it. Or maybe he did and this was all some game to him. Maybe this was how he played everyone and Blurr should realize by now that he would always be a pawn and stop thinking he had some kind of edge.
Starscream wanted to play it like this? Wanted to treat Blurr like some kind of doll to be posed, some kind of trophy to display?
Then Blurr was going to get what he wanted out of it, too. He couldn’t run, couldn’t race, couldn’t fight, couldn’t work. But he could break that berth.
“You know what? Forget it.” Blurr ex-vented loudly, purposefully.
He stormed across the floor. He couldn’t think with the pain and the charge, all knotting inside of him like a restless sparkeater.
Starscream had caused this mess. He was going to help fix it in the only method left to Blurr.
He ignored the twinges in his hips and shoved Starscream’s hands aside, freeing room on the Seeker’s lap for him to plop himself down. He straddled Starscream’s thighs, his valve already leaking around his panel. He gripped Starscream’s face in his hands.
Blurr cut off Starscream’s stupid question with a kiss. He shoved their mouths together, lips and denta and glossa demanding. He rolled his hips forward purposefully, grinding against Starscream’s belly and hip. Need surged through his systems like an inferno, his valve cycling and his spike pulsing behind his panel.
He was shaking, he knew he was. He needed to move, damn it.
Starscream’s hands found his hips, but they quickly slid up to his waist, cupping just under the edge of his windshield. He pulled back from the kiss, optics round and bright.
“What are you doing?” he asked, but if he was aiming for outraged, he missed the mark.
Blurr rolled his optics. “What’s it look like I’m doing?” he retorted, and pulled Starscream back into another kiss, plunging his glossa into Starscream’s mouth.
He pulled out the tiniest of moans from the Seeker. He ignored the twinges of his hip as he dug his pedes into the floor and ground his frame forward, heat blooming throughout his frame like a flash-fire. His valve pulsed at him, and more lubricant seeped out the edges. Charge danced through his lines, making him jitter.
“I’m your toy, aren’t I?” Blurr growled as he nipped at Starscream’s bottom lip, briefly pressing the dermal layer between his denta. He ground down, aft pressed to Starscream’s upper thigh. “So frag me.”
Starscream’s fingers rippled on his torso. “No, that’s not… I’m not going to–”
Blurr tightened his grip on Starscream’s face and his engine roared. “Yes, you are,” he said, grinding harder, leaving thin streaks of lubricant behind. “I can’t run. Can’t spar. Can’t move.” He was panting, he knew he was. “I need it.”
Starscream looked back at him, his expression unreadable. But there was no hiding the desire in his field. He might be trying to play some kind of noble martyr or some slag, but the panel beneath Blurr’s aft was hot and Starscream’s wings were in a state of constant motion. He wanted Blurr just as much.
“It’s your fault,” Blurr added on a murmur, and he bit Starscream’s lip again, sucking it briefly into his mouth. “So fix it.”
Crimson optics flashed. Starscream’s hands tightened briefly before they slid to Blurr’s aft, hooking around it.
“Fine,” he bit out, and abruptly shoved to his pedes, lifting Blurr with seeming ease.
Blurr tightened his thighs around Starscream’s waist, his processor spinning. It was only four steps to the berth, and he gasped as his back hit the plush surface, having forgotten that he didn’t have his boosters. There was nothing to stop him from sinking into the berth itself.
He shoved his elbows into the berth and clawed his way backward, leaving room for Starscream to join him. His array panels juttered, need yawing through him. He left a streak of lubricant behind and couldn’t be bothered to care. The overcharge was dizzying, but no more so than the look on Starscream’s face as he followed Blurr onto the berth.
He knelt between Blurr’s drawn up knees and a single taloned finger scraped up the cover of Blurr’s array.
“Open,” Starscream demanded.
Was there static in his vocals or was Blurr imagining it?
No. It didn’t matter. His panels snapped open between one sparkbeat and the next, a sigh of relief hissing from his vents. His spike jutted free, already dribbling with pre-fluid. His valve pulsed longing, lubricant dampening the berth beneath his aft. He clenched on nothing and moaned.
Starscream’s finger traced around the edge of his array, touching neither of his components. “Spike or valve?” he asked.
Blurr forced himself to focus on Starscream through the surge of need, his hips pushing into the air. “Huh?” What did it matter?
Starscream’s hands cupped his hips. He curved forward, expression intent.
“Spike,” he purred before sucking the head of Blurr’s spike into his mouth, glossa swirling around the sensor-laden tip.
Blurr moaned and fisted the berth covers. A rattle started at the crest of his spinal strut and worked its way down, pooling into his groin.
Starscream let him slip free with a pop. “Or valve?” he asked, and dipped his helm, glossa extending to lick a long, wet stripe up the center of Blurr’s valve. His lips brushed Blurr’s exterior node before he drew it into his mouth and gave it a deep suckle.
Blurr’s hips bucked. “I don’t care,” he all but whimpered. “Either. Both. Just do something.”
“As you wish,” Starscream murmured, and his mouth returned to Blurr’s spike, sucking him deep in the space of a vent.
Blurr let free a choked sound. He shoved a fist against his mouth, unwilling to let the embarrassing noises free. His engine screeched as his spike was engulfed, the tip rubbing against the back of Starscream’s intake, while a willing glossa sought out and explored every sensitive receptor.
His hips bucked, but Starscream’s hands were there, pinning him gently against the berth. He worked his intake, the flexible protomesh squeezing and rippling around Blurr’s spike. His denta scraped ever so gently around the base of his spike. Blurr groaned around his fist, pleasure sparking through his lines in a flash-fire.
He twitched and trembled in Starscream’s grip, wanting to thrust, to buck, to roll, to move. His plating flared, heat billowing out from beneath it, his engine revving so hard as to vibrate the berth.
Starscream hummed around his spike, and Blurr lost it.
He choked a sound in his intake, tossed his helm back, and overloaded, pulsing wave after wave of transfluid down Starscream’s throat. His heelstruts shoved into the berth, his frame thrashing within Starscream’s grip. His cooling fans spun madly, sucking in desperately cooler air. His spark throbbed.
He was enrobed in pleasure, shattered from the force of it.
Starscream hummed again, softer this time, and lapped at Blurr’s spike as he drew free. He had the audacity to lick his lips as he looked up at Blurr, and pressed a kiss to the tip of Blurr’s spike.
“One,” he murmured.
Blurr, dazed and throbbing with want, couldn’t seem to focus. His entire frame still hummed with overcharge. It’d been building for hours. One measly spike release wasn’t going to cut it.
“What?” he asked.
Starscream didn’t answer. Instead, he lowered himself down, and ex-vented heat over Blurr’s soaking valve. His valve lips throbbed with need, anterior node flickering rapidly. Blurr whined as he tilted his hips toward Starscream’s mouth, and the berthcover tangled around his fingers at the first delicate press of lips to his throbbing nub.
Starscream nuzzled his array, lips caressing the fold of his valve, the plush rim, the throbbing node. His thumb swept around protective lip. His ex-vents stirred the pleasure.
“Stop teasing me!” Blurr demanded.
Starscream’s answer was to press his mouth against Blurr’s valve and slide his glossa inside, curling it to nudge the tip against the cluster of nodes on the inside of Blurr’s rim, near the apex. His nasal ridge bumped Blurr’s anterior nub, sending fire licking through his lines.
He shivered and clutched at the berth. He rolled his hips toward Starscream’s mouth, the sounds of a glossa working over his swollen rim only ramping up his charge. Starscream was slow, methodical, as he licked into Blurr’s valve, nibbled on his lips, and suckled on his anterior node. Each flick of his glossa over Blurr’s nub made his hips jerk.
His ventilations stuttered. The fire in his array built into a slow crescendo. His armor rattled. He lost all sense of focus on anything but the mouth between his thighs, licking him open, licking him to overload.
Charge crackled in his lines, seared through his sensory net. His spark throbbed until he felt like it matched the rhythm of Starscream’s glossa, licking, licking, lapping, suckling. Denta got involved, nipping at Blurr’s nub, pressing it between and bearing down just to the point of pain.
Blurr hissed air through his intake, backstrut bowing as his processor briefly whited out from ecstasy. He shook, moaning, thighs trembling around Starscream’s helm. His hips moved of their own accord, riding the motions of Starscream’s mouth, his calipers twitching restlessly. The need for something to fill him clawed through his array, but the inferno focused around his node built and built.
It was so much. It was too good.
He released the berth and threw his arms over his face, hiding his desperation. He couldn’t let Starscream know how much he needed it, how much he craved it. How he’d do anything so long as Starscream never stopped, so long as he kept suckling on Blurr’s node, sucking on the bottom curve of Blurr’s rim, and lapping at his outer lips and licking inward, licking deep, so deep.
Blurr’s engine roared. Something ignited deep within him, a roar of pleasure that drowned out all else. He bucked in Starscream’s hold as overload snatched him up, shook him senseless, and left him muffling his cries into the concealment of his arms. He twisted and writhed, kept pinned by Starscream’s grip alone, pulsing wave after wave of lubricant from his valve.
Starscream slurped it all, nuzzling Blurr’s array with nothing short of care, until he drew back with a parting kiss. Blurr’s valve throbbed, his calipers click-click-clicking in a restless request for more.
His thighs shook. He moaned piteously, arms sliding away from his face, vision dim and distorted. He felt the berth shift, felt Starscream pull away, and conscious thought abandoned him.
“Two,” Starscream said, distantly, through the static in Blurr’s audials.
He pawed at Starscream, and his backstrut arched as two fingers slid into his valve, finally giving him the sensation he craved. His hips bucked – free now – and his calipers cycled down tightly on the digits. They rippled, trying to urge Starscream’s fingers deeper, and he all but sobbed as a third finger slid in beside them.
They pushed deep, curved and twisted, rubbing against every internal sensor within reach. Blurr’s pedes dug into the berth as he worked his hips, riding the motion of Starscream’s fingers, and another sharp cry escaped him when Starscream’s palm pressed against his exterior node.
He clutched at Starscream’s shoulders, entire frame trembling, pleasure pulsing hard through him. The last vestiges of his second overload screeched from a cycle down and did an about face, surging back toward ecstasy again.
He didn’t realize he was wailing until Starscream’s mouth fell over his, lips and denta and glossa muffling his cries. He gave himself to the kiss, the sweet buzz in his backstrut stripping away his senses. He tasted himself on Starscream’s glossa and writhed beneath Starscream, thighs snapping together, trapping Starscream’s wrist and arm between them.
Starscream had no choice but to frag Blurr with his fingers, palm rubbing a steady pressure on Blurr’s anterior node. Heat blazed in his array, narrowing down to that point of rapture. He panted into the kiss, making needy noises, his optics shuttered tight. His engine roared.
His hips bucked again.
Starscream pushed deep, his middle fingertip just barely brushing Blurr’s ceiling node. Blurr’s helm tossed back, heelstruts slamming into the berth as he shattered again, his spike spurting a second time without touch as his valve spiraled down tight, milking Starscream’s fingers for the receptor nodes he didn’t have.
Sound rushed out. His vents roared. Lubricant soaked his aft, the berth, and still his valve spasmed. Still overload rushed through his lines, crackling out from his substructure in a bright release of charge. His cooling fans whirred madly. His engine reached a high pitch, until he fell back to the berth, limp and sated.
Blurr panted, every vent open, condensation painting his lower half. His thoughts spun, his sensory suites struggling to reboot. He made low noises in his intake, his hands trembling where they gripped Starscream’s shoulders. He shook as Starscream’s fingers gently stroked the inside of his valve, easing him through the last ripples of overload.
He realized, dimly, that Starscream had pressed his face into the side of Blurr’s helm and was nibbling on his upper vents.
Blurr’s hands peeled free of Starscream’s shoulders and gripped Starscream’s helm. He pulled Starscream’s mouth to his, humming into the kiss as it turned slow and savoring, the gentle tangle of glossa together. His thighs eased, freeing Starscream’s hand, which removed itself to rest damply on Blurr’s thigh.
Starscream pulled back from the kiss, his lips slightly curved. “Better?” he asked.
It took Blurr two tries to reboot his vocalizer. “The charge is gone,” he rasped. “So yeah. Better.”
“Good.” Starscream’s hand patted his thigh. His optics were bright, his field warm as it pulsed against Blurr’s own.
Blurr dropped his hands from Starscream’s helm, returning them to Starscream’s shoulders. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Starscream’s hand stroked down Blurr’s thigh, to his knee, before it removed itself. “You need to recharge.”
Starscream kissed him again, slow and savoring. A low sound rose in Starscream’s intake, one of pleasure, as he kissed Blurr like a lover might. Soft and sweet.
Well. All right then.
Blurr sighed into the kiss, and refused to admit he was disappointed when Starscream drew back. Instead, he curled onto his side, his good hip, the low throb of satisfaction pulsing through his lines. He had Starscream at his back, and there was something about the warmth of him that was comforting.
Blurr was too pleasure-drunk to pick apart why.
He was a mess. They both were. But Blurr didn’t want to move. Satisfaction hummed in his lines. Except for his hip. It still throbbed. Primus be damned.
“You need a pain patch,” Starscream murmured.
“Don’t want one,” Blurr replied.
Starscream hissed a sigh and then the berth shifted. Fingers enclosed Blurr’s right wrist, two tapping at his medical data port.
“Open,” Starscream demanded.
His fingers pressed harder. “Open, Blurr. You won’t get any recharge if you hurt, and your self-repair won’t function properly if you don’t recharge.” There was a beat, a moment where Starscream waited, only for him to add, “Please.”
Blurr pressed his lips together and sent the command. His port cover slid aside, and Starscream was already ready. A flick of his fingertip popped out the expended pain chip, and he slid a new one into place. Within moments, the pain eased and Blurr ex-vented a tension he didn’t realize he carried.
“I hate you,” he grumbled as the fog came with the relief.
Starscream let go of his wrist, his hand moving to rest on Blurr’s hip. “I know. Go to recharge anyway.”
Blurr grumbled subvocally, but the pull of the chip was too strong. That coupled with the multiple overloads, and he drifted off to recharge.