[fic]: Reaction
Bored, so have some fic written for no reason.
Title: Reaction
Series: Moveiverse
Rating: R
Prompt: Thundercracker/Flatline - Fire and Ice
Summary: Thundercracker wants to relieve some tension, but Flatline has other plans.
Warnings: Dubcon, and Decepticons not Playing Nice.
Notes: I have no idea where this came from. I also don't think Flatline could really get away with this, but he did it anyway. Takes place sometime before Arcee's Tales of the Fallen issue. Written for tf_rare_pairing .
“You mistake me,” Flatline said blandly, even as Thundercracker pushed his face into his neck chords. “For someone else.”
“No,” Thundercracker's voice floated up, muffled. “My wingmates are absent, and you are not.”
How convenient, Flatline thought, simply turning his head when his commander sank his teeth into the cables. Not hard enough to rupture them - not yet.
“You are delaying important research,” Flatline tried again. His gaze fell to the Autobot that Thundercracker had butchered, pieces and gore spread across the table. Perhaps not quite as visceral, but Flatline could relate. Thundercracker's hips were locked against his, the heavier air frame bearing down on him, pinning him against the console.
He supposed it ought to be considered kinky, interfacing at one's work station. Flatline found it unnecessary and distracting. If the Autobot's spark guttered out while this was going on, he'd never hear the end of it. Oh, of course it wouldn't be Thundercracker's fault. He'd already let him know how irritating it was that he'd gone through so many protoforms -
Flatline's intakes hissed when Thundercracker's bite drew vital fluids, and his claws dug in under his shoulders. Despite himself, he squirmed under the Seeker, hating the growl that came from Thundercracker's throat. His hands became more aggressive, raking down Flatline's side hard enough to raise sparks. Primus, how long was this going to take?
Any physical reaction he had only inspired Thundercracker, and Flatline found his hands scrambling over the console he was pushed into. He wasn't looking for something to hold onto, rather, something to either speed this up or end it. Not that assaulting Thundercracker would end well, but perhaps his dear commander would finally realize he had work to do.
Finally, his hand closed around a jet injector, one containing a stimulant designed to boost the subject's reaction time. Probably overkill, but it would have to do, and he wasn't - “Oh!” The back of Flatline's head connected with the console, the injector nearly slipping from his grasp. Well, Thundercracker had certainly found his interface panel in a hurry. He could feel the Seeker pawing at the circuitry, probably fumbling for his own connectors.
Touching him would perhaps be the best way to move this along. Thundercracker certainly didn't expect Flatline's secondary surgical claws to hook into his chassis, one of them going for the jet's own interface panel. The little claws were designed for precision, not gentleness, and he didn't envy how it might feel when one pinched an interface cable.
Thundercracker seized up as the cable twisted in the surgical claw, and Flatline used the opportunity to jam the injector into the juncture between his neck and wing. The weight suddenly lifted off of him as Thundercracker reared back, but a moment later his head was snapped to the side courtesy of a backhand from Thundercracker.
“The frag was that!?” Thundercracker snarled, ripping the injector out of his cables and throwing it to the floor, shattering it. Flatline sneered - perfectly good equipment, ruined. He put one hand to his injured neck chord, but found it wasn't bleeding out too badly. “What - what did you do?”
The blue jet sank to his knees, optics unfocused, vents cycling scalding hot air. The reaction was to be expected. Thundercracker's systems had already been fired up, and the stimulant would pull him along further, faster, until the overload hit. The best part about it was that Flatline would have to do nothing. Perfect.
“You fragging...!” Thundercracker gasped, frame shuddering hard enough to make him topple backwards. Flatline frowned as he convulsed, and then lashed out with his claws and legs, howling. Now that was not supposed to happen. He winced as the jet's flailing knocked several instruments off of the work station, one of them shattering along with the pieces of the jet injector. This would not do.
“Be still,” Flatline growled, grabbing Thundercracker's wrists before he did any more damage. He had a surprising amount of leverage over the jet, but he put it down to his systems being far too inflamed to react accordingly. The thrashing, unfortunately, did not cease.
Irritated beyond belief, Flatline held Thundercracker's wrists together, pushing them up over his head. He crouched down over the blue frame, straddling his waist and containing the movement by closing his thighs around him. The Seeker still writhed beneath him, but at least he wasn't wrecking things anymore.
Thundercracker's frame was a veritable inferno, the stimulant in his fuel lines igniting his core temperature. Compared to that, Flatline was a slab of ice, cool and indifferent to the shuddering Seeker. Riding out the jet's heated squirming and moaning, Flatline fixed his optics on the nearest console. It wasn't the one he wanted to look at it, but it would help get him back on track.
Now, the three protoforms were inherently weak, and splitting a spark among them wasn't exactly guaranteed to make for a strong warrior. Which worked out - he had them designed for scouting, as well as speed and heightened reaction times. They had enough brainless frontline warriors. What he was creating would be more efficient, more -
Flatline's musing were cut short as Thundercracker's loud 'nnnuuugghh!' pulled him back into reality, the Seeker bucking under him. Oh, good, he had overloaded, and this whole thing could finally end. Flatline loosened his hold on the commander's wrists, thighs still tight as the shuddering hadn't quite died down.
Eventually, Thundercracker's frame began to relax, though his exvents were still sharp and hot. Perfectly normal. It would take some time before the stimulant diluted or was filtered out of his vital fluids.
Flatline snapped his claws in front of Thundercracker's face. The only response was a brief shutter from the optic shields. Good enough. Grasping either side of Thundercracker's face, he pulled his head forward, so they were face to face.
“You may experience some localized numbness,” he said, leaning down over the twitching Seeker, tilting his head. “That is normal, and will pass. However, extended periods of nausea are indicative of a severe reaction. You would do well to report it to me immediately.”
If Thundercracker had heard a word he'd said, he didn't show it. Flatline pushed himself up and off of the prone commander, self consciously brushing off his thighs. As if that would sweep away the sensory input from the jet's writhing.
Flatline gingerly stepped over the blue form, making his way back to the console. Ah, good, the Autobot's spark was still strong, and the protoforms were still reacting well. The experiment could continue unhindered.
Title: Reaction
Series: Moveiverse
Rating: R
Prompt: Thundercracker/Flatline - Fire and Ice
Summary: Thundercracker wants to relieve some tension, but Flatline has other plans.
Warnings: Dubcon, and Decepticons not Playing Nice.
Notes: I have no idea where this came from. I also don't think Flatline could really get away with this, but he did it anyway. Takes place sometime before Arcee's Tales of the Fallen issue. Written for tf_rare_pairing .
“You mistake me,” Flatline said blandly, even as Thundercracker pushed his face into his neck chords. “For someone else.”
“No,” Thundercracker's voice floated up, muffled. “My wingmates are absent, and you are not.”
How convenient, Flatline thought, simply turning his head when his commander sank his teeth into the cables. Not hard enough to rupture them - not yet.
“You are delaying important research,” Flatline tried again. His gaze fell to the Autobot that Thundercracker had butchered, pieces and gore spread across the table. Perhaps not quite as visceral, but Flatline could relate. Thundercracker's hips were locked against his, the heavier air frame bearing down on him, pinning him against the console.
He supposed it ought to be considered kinky, interfacing at one's work station. Flatline found it unnecessary and distracting. If the Autobot's spark guttered out while this was going on, he'd never hear the end of it. Oh, of course it wouldn't be Thundercracker's fault. He'd already let him know how irritating it was that he'd gone through so many protoforms -
Flatline's intakes hissed when Thundercracker's bite drew vital fluids, and his claws dug in under his shoulders. Despite himself, he squirmed under the Seeker, hating the growl that came from Thundercracker's throat. His hands became more aggressive, raking down Flatline's side hard enough to raise sparks. Primus, how long was this going to take?
Any physical reaction he had only inspired Thundercracker, and Flatline found his hands scrambling over the console he was pushed into. He wasn't looking for something to hold onto, rather, something to either speed this up or end it. Not that assaulting Thundercracker would end well, but perhaps his dear commander would finally realize he had work to do.
Finally, his hand closed around a jet injector, one containing a stimulant designed to boost the subject's reaction time. Probably overkill, but it would have to do, and he wasn't - “Oh!” The back of Flatline's head connected with the console, the injector nearly slipping from his grasp. Well, Thundercracker had certainly found his interface panel in a hurry. He could feel the Seeker pawing at the circuitry, probably fumbling for his own connectors.
Touching him would perhaps be the best way to move this along. Thundercracker certainly didn't expect Flatline's secondary surgical claws to hook into his chassis, one of them going for the jet's own interface panel. The little claws were designed for precision, not gentleness, and he didn't envy how it might feel when one pinched an interface cable.
Thundercracker seized up as the cable twisted in the surgical claw, and Flatline used the opportunity to jam the injector into the juncture between his neck and wing. The weight suddenly lifted off of him as Thundercracker reared back, but a moment later his head was snapped to the side courtesy of a backhand from Thundercracker.
“The frag was that!?” Thundercracker snarled, ripping the injector out of his cables and throwing it to the floor, shattering it. Flatline sneered - perfectly good equipment, ruined. He put one hand to his injured neck chord, but found it wasn't bleeding out too badly. “What - what did you do?”
The blue jet sank to his knees, optics unfocused, vents cycling scalding hot air. The reaction was to be expected. Thundercracker's systems had already been fired up, and the stimulant would pull him along further, faster, until the overload hit. The best part about it was that Flatline would have to do nothing. Perfect.
“You fragging...!” Thundercracker gasped, frame shuddering hard enough to make him topple backwards. Flatline frowned as he convulsed, and then lashed out with his claws and legs, howling. Now that was not supposed to happen. He winced as the jet's flailing knocked several instruments off of the work station, one of them shattering along with the pieces of the jet injector. This would not do.
“Be still,” Flatline growled, grabbing Thundercracker's wrists before he did any more damage. He had a surprising amount of leverage over the jet, but he put it down to his systems being far too inflamed to react accordingly. The thrashing, unfortunately, did not cease.
Irritated beyond belief, Flatline held Thundercracker's wrists together, pushing them up over his head. He crouched down over the blue frame, straddling his waist and containing the movement by closing his thighs around him. The Seeker still writhed beneath him, but at least he wasn't wrecking things anymore.
Thundercracker's frame was a veritable inferno, the stimulant in his fuel lines igniting his core temperature. Compared to that, Flatline was a slab of ice, cool and indifferent to the shuddering Seeker. Riding out the jet's heated squirming and moaning, Flatline fixed his optics on the nearest console. It wasn't the one he wanted to look at it, but it would help get him back on track.
Now, the three protoforms were inherently weak, and splitting a spark among them wasn't exactly guaranteed to make for a strong warrior. Which worked out - he had them designed for scouting, as well as speed and heightened reaction times. They had enough brainless frontline warriors. What he was creating would be more efficient, more -
Flatline's musing were cut short as Thundercracker's loud 'nnnuuugghh!' pulled him back into reality, the Seeker bucking under him. Oh, good, he had overloaded, and this whole thing could finally end. Flatline loosened his hold on the commander's wrists, thighs still tight as the shuddering hadn't quite died down.
Eventually, Thundercracker's frame began to relax, though his exvents were still sharp and hot. Perfectly normal. It would take some time before the stimulant diluted or was filtered out of his vital fluids.
Flatline snapped his claws in front of Thundercracker's face. The only response was a brief shutter from the optic shields. Good enough. Grasping either side of Thundercracker's face, he pulled his head forward, so they were face to face.
“You may experience some localized numbness,” he said, leaning down over the twitching Seeker, tilting his head. “That is normal, and will pass. However, extended periods of nausea are indicative of a severe reaction. You would do well to report it to me immediately.”
If Thundercracker had heard a word he'd said, he didn't show it. Flatline pushed himself up and off of the prone commander, self consciously brushing off his thighs. As if that would sweep away the sensory input from the jet's writhing.
Flatline gingerly stepped over the blue form, making his way back to the console. Ah, good, the Autobot's spark was still strong, and the protoforms were still reacting well. The experiment could continue unhindered.