Flash Fiction Fills (Take 37) Part One
Nov. 25th, 2012 06:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: We're in the fast slide to the end of NaNoWriMo and as I pull words out of nowhere (struggling, oh so struggling), I thought I'd go ahead and post two of the flash fiction I've finished. Enjoy!
OH yeah. This stuff is NSFW.
For fuzipenguin
Prompt: Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, hate sex
Universe: Transformers G1. Warnings: Rough sex, sticky, dub-con if you squint, twincest
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Frost/Sleet, “I think you've been spending too much time with that woman”
Universe: War of the Animum. Warnings: bondage, dom/sub
a/n: Three more to go, all but one of them finished. I do hope you enjoyed. :)
Current word count: 45, 609. Almost there!
OH yeah. This stuff is NSFW.
For fuzipenguin
Prompt: Sideswipe/Sunstreaker, hate sex
Universe: Transformers G1. Warnings: Rough sex, sticky, dub-con if you squint, twincest
The battle against the Decepticons was run of the mill, nothing spectacular, nothing special. Just the usual ride out to meet them, pound them into scrap, and watch Megatron and Starscream fly away with their proverbial tails between their legs. It was nothing to write home about.
The fight afterward, however, well that was stuff for the recordbooks. Sideswipe gleefully threw himself into it with all faculties intact, not caring that his right knee was scrap and he had a few choice bullet-holes in his plating. Mesh wounds, really.
Ratchet was going to blow a fuse once he figured out that his favorite patients hadn't gone straight to medbay as they'd been ordered. Heh. That could be fun, too.
Later though.
Right now, it was this fight. Danger spliced with fury mixed with searing, spark-throbbing need.
Sunstreaker threw him to the ground, Sideswipe sliding across it and leaving a strip of red paint behind. His processor jarred, ventilations wide open to suck in desperate, cooling breaths. Sunstreaker stalking toward him, optics bleeding rage, hands drawn into fists, and Sideswipe laughing, near-maniacal, dragging himself upward, launching at his twin.
They traded blows, no holds barred, Sunstreaker's fist pounding into Sideswipe's mid-section, buckling his abdominal armor. He gasped out, ventilations thrown off-rhythm, and jerked a knee upward, barely missing Sunsreaker's faceplate. His twin jerked back in enough time to avoid the painful blow, conscious as always of his own appearance.
They grappled, energy fields crashing together with no subtlety. Fierce with emotion, a twisted tangle that no mech would ever understand. Thank Primus they'd locked their quarters. Otherwise some well-meaning Autobot might invite himself inside to investigate the ruckus. Oh, Jazz might still do it.
Heh. Jazz. Maybe next time.
Sideswipe smirked, energon dribbling from the cut in his lipplate, and rammed his shoulder into Sunstreaker's chassis. His brother skidded across the ground, slamming backward into an end table, knocking down a lamp. It crashed to the floor, shattering. Frag it, there went another one.
“Fragging glitch!” Sunstreaker snarled, his vocalizer emitting bursts of static.
Sideswipe's answer was to laugh again, a laugh that died when Sunstreaker's fist slammed into his faceplate again. His processor spun. He barely felt Sunstreaker grab him, whirl him around, and his impact with the wall jarred him out of the half-numb state. Sideswipe's vision briefly fuzzed and he fought to refresh his optics, even as Sunstreaker's frame crashed into his, pinning him to the wall. Fingers locked around his throat, pushing him against the wall, just tight enough to put pressure on the cables in Sideswipe's neck, constricting the main energon line running to his helm.
He locked his fingers around Sunstreaker's wrist but didn't try to pull away, not when Sunstreaker's hold tightened in warning. His pedes barely touched the ground and sometimes, he really did forget how strong his twin could be. Sunstreaker's had himself modified over the years, adding stabilizers to his frame, strengthening his hydraulics, to the point where he rivaled Ironhide for sturdiness.
“You're not going to kill me,” Sideswipe forced out, energon dribbling from his lip, stretched wide with a smile. His free hand wobbled in the air, trying for Sunstreaker's shoulder only to be batted away.
“I'm strongly considering it,” Sunstreaker snarled, leaning closer, their faceplates inches apart. “Though you seem to be doing a fine job attempting it yourself.”
Sideswipe's engine gave a pathetic rumble. “Oh, come on. That shot was at least three feet away. Didn't even sear the paint.”
Sunstreaker's optics narrowed down. His free hand balled into a fist, slamming into Sideswipe's side where his armor was noticeably scorched, and ow, that wasn't comfortable at all.
Sideswipe winced and his free hand dropped to his side, tucking his elbow closer to his frame, defending the vulnerable zone.
“Barely a scratch?” Sunstreaker sneered.
“It stings a little,” Sideswipe conceded.
A growl reverberated in Sunstreaker's engine. His optics narrowed to thin slits, his free hand groping between Sideswipe's legs, palming his interface panel. His fingers traced the edges of it.
“Open,” he demanded.
Sideswipe gave his twin a lop-sided smile. “Another time maybe. When you're not so... volatile? In fact, I think Ratchet's pinging me right now-- Sunny!” The fragger had pinched one of the cables at his hip and not nicely either.
“Open or I rip it off,” Sunstreaker growled.
He'd do it, too.
Sideswipe obliged, panel snapping open, three of Sunstreaker's fingers immediately plunging into his valve, already slick and dripping lubricant. Sideswipe moaned, the calipers in his valve clamping down on his brother's fingers, his frame bucking toward Sunstreaker with a slide of metal on metal.
“I can't tell what gets you off more,” Sunstreaker said, his tone low and measured, a clear indication of the simmering fury beneath the surface. “The close calls, the violence, or the punishment.” He slammed his fingers into Sideswipe, scraping across sensitive nodes, and a downright shriek escaped Sideswipe's audials. “Maybe it's all three.”
Sideswipe's free hand scrabbled at Sunstreaker's chestplate, trying to hook on a loose piece of plating, drag his twin closer, but Sunstreaker's clamped his armor down tight. There was nowhere to get a grip.
He shifted his balance and one leg curled around Sunstreaker's hip, heel pressed to his brother's backplate. “Please,” Sideswipe begged, not even sure it was what he wanted but definitely what he needed.
Sunstreaker jerked his fingers free and a whine of loss escaped Sideswipe, but he didn't have to complain for long. Almost as quickly, Sunstreaker replaced his fingers with his spike, pushing up into him in one long, deep thrust, his lubricant-damp hand grabbing Sideswipe's hip and pulling him completely onto Sunstreaker's spike.
Sideswipe moaned, the vibrations buzzing against Sunstreaker's hand, the grip on his throat flexing as though teasing him with the inherent danger. He brought up his other leg, clasping both around Sunstreaker's hips, sinking fully onto Sunstreaker's spike until the head bumped against the ceiling node with a sharp burst of circuit-sizzling pleasure.
Sideswipe worked his intake, feeling the pressure of Sunstreaker's fingers on his throat cabling. “Don't break me,” he gasped.
“Don't tempt me,” Sunstreaker retorted and brought their mouths together in a stinging kiss, his glossa flicking over the cuts on Sideswipe's lip.
Sunstreaker's grip on his hip tightened, Sideswipe's only warning before his twin pulled out and shoved back into him, sparking sensory nodes with electric fire. Any noises he made were drowned by the kiss as Sunstreaker set a brutal pace, hard and quick, his spike raking over the sensor rings lining Sideswipe's valve, pushing through the eager clenching of the calipers.
Charge danced across Sideswipe's plating, building faster and faster, to the rhythm of Sunstreaker's hips clanging against his. He moaned, squeezing Sunstreaker's wrist, heat lashing through his systems. His cooling fans whined desperately, pleasure streaking through his sensory net and Sunstreaker's mouth remained on his, hot and needy.
When overload came, it seemed pulled from the depths of Sideswipe's being. He all but shrieked, writhing against the wall, thighs clamping on Sunstreaker's hips as his frame bucked, lubricant gushing from his valve.
His spark pulsed, one long, heavy throb and Sunstreaker tore his mouth away, burying it in Sideswipe's shoulder, denta clamping down as a violent shudder tore through his frame. Overload whipped through Sunstreaker's energy field, crashing into Sideswipe and pulling an over-sensitive shudder from him.
Sunstreaker sagged, leaning against Sideswipe, his hold laxing on the red twin's throat. His helm fell to Sideswipe's shoulder as he lowered Sideswipe so that his pedes could rest on the ground.
“One of these days,” Sunstreaker said tiredly, cooling fans purring at max. “I really am going to kill you.”
Sideswipe patted his brother on the back, the other massaging his sore throat. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Love you, too.”
The fight afterward, however, well that was stuff for the recordbooks. Sideswipe gleefully threw himself into it with all faculties intact, not caring that his right knee was scrap and he had a few choice bullet-holes in his plating. Mesh wounds, really.
Ratchet was going to blow a fuse once he figured out that his favorite patients hadn't gone straight to medbay as they'd been ordered. Heh. That could be fun, too.
Later though.
Right now, it was this fight. Danger spliced with fury mixed with searing, spark-throbbing need.
Sunstreaker threw him to the ground, Sideswipe sliding across it and leaving a strip of red paint behind. His processor jarred, ventilations wide open to suck in desperate, cooling breaths. Sunstreaker stalking toward him, optics bleeding rage, hands drawn into fists, and Sideswipe laughing, near-maniacal, dragging himself upward, launching at his twin.
They traded blows, no holds barred, Sunstreaker's fist pounding into Sideswipe's mid-section, buckling his abdominal armor. He gasped out, ventilations thrown off-rhythm, and jerked a knee upward, barely missing Sunsreaker's faceplate. His twin jerked back in enough time to avoid the painful blow, conscious as always of his own appearance.
They grappled, energy fields crashing together with no subtlety. Fierce with emotion, a twisted tangle that no mech would ever understand. Thank Primus they'd locked their quarters. Otherwise some well-meaning Autobot might invite himself inside to investigate the ruckus. Oh, Jazz might still do it.
Heh. Jazz. Maybe next time.
Sideswipe smirked, energon dribbling from the cut in his lipplate, and rammed his shoulder into Sunstreaker's chassis. His brother skidded across the ground, slamming backward into an end table, knocking down a lamp. It crashed to the floor, shattering. Frag it, there went another one.
“Fragging glitch!” Sunstreaker snarled, his vocalizer emitting bursts of static.
Sideswipe's answer was to laugh again, a laugh that died when Sunstreaker's fist slammed into his faceplate again. His processor spun. He barely felt Sunstreaker grab him, whirl him around, and his impact with the wall jarred him out of the half-numb state. Sideswipe's vision briefly fuzzed and he fought to refresh his optics, even as Sunstreaker's frame crashed into his, pinning him to the wall. Fingers locked around his throat, pushing him against the wall, just tight enough to put pressure on the cables in Sideswipe's neck, constricting the main energon line running to his helm.
He locked his fingers around Sunstreaker's wrist but didn't try to pull away, not when Sunstreaker's hold tightened in warning. His pedes barely touched the ground and sometimes, he really did forget how strong his twin could be. Sunstreaker's had himself modified over the years, adding stabilizers to his frame, strengthening his hydraulics, to the point where he rivaled Ironhide for sturdiness.
“You're not going to kill me,” Sideswipe forced out, energon dribbling from his lip, stretched wide with a smile. His free hand wobbled in the air, trying for Sunstreaker's shoulder only to be batted away.
“I'm strongly considering it,” Sunstreaker snarled, leaning closer, their faceplates inches apart. “Though you seem to be doing a fine job attempting it yourself.”
Sideswipe's engine gave a pathetic rumble. “Oh, come on. That shot was at least three feet away. Didn't even sear the paint.”
Sunstreaker's optics narrowed down. His free hand balled into a fist, slamming into Sideswipe's side where his armor was noticeably scorched, and ow, that wasn't comfortable at all.
Sideswipe winced and his free hand dropped to his side, tucking his elbow closer to his frame, defending the vulnerable zone.
“Barely a scratch?” Sunstreaker sneered.
“It stings a little,” Sideswipe conceded.
A growl reverberated in Sunstreaker's engine. His optics narrowed to thin slits, his free hand groping between Sideswipe's legs, palming his interface panel. His fingers traced the edges of it.
“Open,” he demanded.
Sideswipe gave his twin a lop-sided smile. “Another time maybe. When you're not so... volatile? In fact, I think Ratchet's pinging me right now-- Sunny!” The fragger had pinched one of the cables at his hip and not nicely either.
“Open or I rip it off,” Sunstreaker growled.
He'd do it, too.
Sideswipe obliged, panel snapping open, three of Sunstreaker's fingers immediately plunging into his valve, already slick and dripping lubricant. Sideswipe moaned, the calipers in his valve clamping down on his brother's fingers, his frame bucking toward Sunstreaker with a slide of metal on metal.
“I can't tell what gets you off more,” Sunstreaker said, his tone low and measured, a clear indication of the simmering fury beneath the surface. “The close calls, the violence, or the punishment.” He slammed his fingers into Sideswipe, scraping across sensitive nodes, and a downright shriek escaped Sideswipe's audials. “Maybe it's all three.”
Sideswipe's free hand scrabbled at Sunstreaker's chestplate, trying to hook on a loose piece of plating, drag his twin closer, but Sunstreaker's clamped his armor down tight. There was nowhere to get a grip.
He shifted his balance and one leg curled around Sunstreaker's hip, heel pressed to his brother's backplate. “Please,” Sideswipe begged, not even sure it was what he wanted but definitely what he needed.
Sunstreaker jerked his fingers free and a whine of loss escaped Sideswipe, but he didn't have to complain for long. Almost as quickly, Sunstreaker replaced his fingers with his spike, pushing up into him in one long, deep thrust, his lubricant-damp hand grabbing Sideswipe's hip and pulling him completely onto Sunstreaker's spike.
Sideswipe moaned, the vibrations buzzing against Sunstreaker's hand, the grip on his throat flexing as though teasing him with the inherent danger. He brought up his other leg, clasping both around Sunstreaker's hips, sinking fully onto Sunstreaker's spike until the head bumped against the ceiling node with a sharp burst of circuit-sizzling pleasure.
Sideswipe worked his intake, feeling the pressure of Sunstreaker's fingers on his throat cabling. “Don't break me,” he gasped.
“Don't tempt me,” Sunstreaker retorted and brought their mouths together in a stinging kiss, his glossa flicking over the cuts on Sideswipe's lip.
Sunstreaker's grip on his hip tightened, Sideswipe's only warning before his twin pulled out and shoved back into him, sparking sensory nodes with electric fire. Any noises he made were drowned by the kiss as Sunstreaker set a brutal pace, hard and quick, his spike raking over the sensor rings lining Sideswipe's valve, pushing through the eager clenching of the calipers.
Charge danced across Sideswipe's plating, building faster and faster, to the rhythm of Sunstreaker's hips clanging against his. He moaned, squeezing Sunstreaker's wrist, heat lashing through his systems. His cooling fans whined desperately, pleasure streaking through his sensory net and Sunstreaker's mouth remained on his, hot and needy.
When overload came, it seemed pulled from the depths of Sideswipe's being. He all but shrieked, writhing against the wall, thighs clamping on Sunstreaker's hips as his frame bucked, lubricant gushing from his valve.
His spark pulsed, one long, heavy throb and Sunstreaker tore his mouth away, burying it in Sideswipe's shoulder, denta clamping down as a violent shudder tore through his frame. Overload whipped through Sunstreaker's energy field, crashing into Sideswipe and pulling an over-sensitive shudder from him.
Sunstreaker sagged, leaning against Sideswipe, his hold laxing on the red twin's throat. His helm fell to Sideswipe's shoulder as he lowered Sideswipe so that his pedes could rest on the ground.
“One of these days,” Sunstreaker said tiredly, cooling fans purring at max. “I really am going to kill you.”
Sideswipe patted his brother on the back, the other massaging his sore throat. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Love you, too.”
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Frost/Sleet, “I think you've been spending too much time with that woman”
Universe: War of the Animum. Warnings: bondage, dom/sub
“I thought that we had an understanding,” Frost says as he drags his hands down the bare back in front of him, arched due to awkward positioning but attractive all the same. “I thought that my ownership was clear.”
Sleet makes a muffled noise of protest, indignant to the last, even with the thick sailcloth stuffed in his mouth.
Frost clucks his tongue, hands dragging down the stretched length of Sleet's arms, ghosting over his shoulders, and palms sliding down the thin man's back. Sleet twitches, goosebumps prickling over his pale skin. You'd think he never got out in the sun.
“And yet, every time I leave town or so much as turn my back, you are warming the bed of someone else,” Frost chastises, admiring the warmth of Sleet's skin, the way it flushes as the younger thief gets more and more aroused.
Frost rises to his knees, covering Sleet's body with his own, enjoying the smooth slide of skin against skin, the way his cock nestles between Sleet's buttocks teasingly. He can feel Sleet trembling beneath him, heat pouring off Sleet's body in waves.
“And worse,” Frost says, his voice vibrating through his chest and against Sleet's back. “Worse that it is a woman. You told me you didn't like women. Or did you lie?”
He curls an arm around Sleet's waist, hand dragging down, lightly cupping the rigid length hanging heavy between Sleet's legs. He gives it a squeeze and a muffled whimper escapes Sleet. He makes other noises, too. Probably denial of Frost's accusations, but he also bucks up against Frost, begging for more. Eager as always. Desperate, too.
No wonder he had gone to the Woman in Frost's absence.
“No,” Frost all but purrs, his mouth tasting the back of Sleet's neck, biting the ridge of bone and mouthing his way down Sleet's spine with hot exhalations. “I suspect her femininely wiles were the least of your interest. Did she give you what you need?”
His free hand drags down Sleet's back, palms a pert buttock, thumb sliding between and circling the oil-damp bud.
“She is a poor substitute,” Frost continues, thumb pushing into clenching heat and Sleet squirms and bucks beneath him, breathing coming in sharp, eager pants.
He pulls back, releasing his hold on Sleet's cock, much to the other thief's protest, and sits on his heels. He pushes his thumb in and out, his other hand gripping Sleet's hip firmly. He watches his thumb disappear into Sleet's body, his own arousal hot and eager.
“And I think,” Frost says, “you have spending far too much time and coin on that Woman.” He refuses to speak her name. Call it a professional courtesy.
Sleet makes a noise, a whimper, pushing his ass back toward Frost eagerly. Begging to be taken, to be used.
Frost withdraws his thumb, placing both hands on Sleet's hips, pulling the younger thief toward him and stretching the bindings wrapped around Sleet's arms to their limits.
“It is time, I think, to re-establish my claim,” Frost purrs, fingers squeezing, to the edge of pain as he guides Sleet over his length, sliding into him with one smooth thrust.
A long moan escapes Sleet, muffled by the cloth, and Frost closes his eyes, struggling to control himself as ripples of heat grip his cock. So tight. So hot. Yes, this is the reason he has staked a claim. No man has ever given himself as fully as Sleet.
It is a trait of Sleet's that Frost hoards jealously. And he will not share it with anyone else, especially not that Woman.
“You are mine,” Frost says, barely above a murmur, fingers flexing on Sleet's hips. And then, he sets out to prove it.
As many times as it takes.
Sleet makes a muffled noise of protest, indignant to the last, even with the thick sailcloth stuffed in his mouth.
Frost clucks his tongue, hands dragging down the stretched length of Sleet's arms, ghosting over his shoulders, and palms sliding down the thin man's back. Sleet twitches, goosebumps prickling over his pale skin. You'd think he never got out in the sun.
“And yet, every time I leave town or so much as turn my back, you are warming the bed of someone else,” Frost chastises, admiring the warmth of Sleet's skin, the way it flushes as the younger thief gets more and more aroused.
Frost rises to his knees, covering Sleet's body with his own, enjoying the smooth slide of skin against skin, the way his cock nestles between Sleet's buttocks teasingly. He can feel Sleet trembling beneath him, heat pouring off Sleet's body in waves.
“And worse,” Frost says, his voice vibrating through his chest and against Sleet's back. “Worse that it is a woman. You told me you didn't like women. Or did you lie?”
He curls an arm around Sleet's waist, hand dragging down, lightly cupping the rigid length hanging heavy between Sleet's legs. He gives it a squeeze and a muffled whimper escapes Sleet. He makes other noises, too. Probably denial of Frost's accusations, but he also bucks up against Frost, begging for more. Eager as always. Desperate, too.
No wonder he had gone to the Woman in Frost's absence.
“No,” Frost all but purrs, his mouth tasting the back of Sleet's neck, biting the ridge of bone and mouthing his way down Sleet's spine with hot exhalations. “I suspect her femininely wiles were the least of your interest. Did she give you what you need?”
His free hand drags down Sleet's back, palms a pert buttock, thumb sliding between and circling the oil-damp bud.
“She is a poor substitute,” Frost continues, thumb pushing into clenching heat and Sleet squirms and bucks beneath him, breathing coming in sharp, eager pants.
He pulls back, releasing his hold on Sleet's cock, much to the other thief's protest, and sits on his heels. He pushes his thumb in and out, his other hand gripping Sleet's hip firmly. He watches his thumb disappear into Sleet's body, his own arousal hot and eager.
“And I think,” Frost says, “you have spending far too much time and coin on that Woman.” He refuses to speak her name. Call it a professional courtesy.
Sleet makes a noise, a whimper, pushing his ass back toward Frost eagerly. Begging to be taken, to be used.
Frost withdraws his thumb, placing both hands on Sleet's hips, pulling the younger thief toward him and stretching the bindings wrapped around Sleet's arms to their limits.
“It is time, I think, to re-establish my claim,” Frost purrs, fingers squeezing, to the edge of pain as he guides Sleet over his length, sliding into him with one smooth thrust.
A long moan escapes Sleet, muffled by the cloth, and Frost closes his eyes, struggling to control himself as ripples of heat grip his cock. So tight. So hot. Yes, this is the reason he has staked a claim. No man has ever given himself as fully as Sleet.
It is a trait of Sleet's that Frost hoards jealously. And he will not share it with anyone else, especially not that Woman.
“You are mine,” Frost says, barely above a murmur, fingers flexing on Sleet's hips. And then, he sets out to prove it.
As many times as it takes.
a/n: Three more to go, all but one of them finished. I do hope you enjoyed. :)
Current word count: 45, 609. Almost there!
