Flash Fiction Fills Take 39 Part One
Jan. 24th, 2013 09:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: First two of six fills, actually finished in a reasonably timely manner. *gasp* These both are pretty NSFW so be warned. ;)
For dellessa
Prompt: G1, Thundercracker/Prowl, captivity
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: post-war, bondage, angst, dark-fic
For boreal_forest
Prompt: FF7, Tseng/Seph, “control, d/s”
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII. Warnings: bondage, D/s, oral
a/n: One of these days I'm going to write fic. One will be Autobots win, Decepticons lose, what happens next? The other will have circumstances flip around. And I can only hope said fics will be as intriguing as those that already exist. :)
I am so rusty at writing FF7 and Tseng/Seph it's pathetic. Hopefully, finally playing Crisis Core will fix that.
Four more flash fics to come!
For dellessa
Prompt: G1, Thundercracker/Prowl, captivity
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: post-war, bondage, angst, dark-fic
In captivity, Praxians were nearly as feral as Seekers. Prowl hadn't stopped glaring since the moment he onlined. His optics were like blue lasers, as cold and hard as the ice in the Arctic Circle.
It was more emotion than Thundercracker had ever seen the Autobot tactician produce and there was something thrilling in that knowledge.
Was it the chains keeping his wrists shackled to the wall? Was it the bolts punched through his sensory panels, pinning them also? Was it the way his knees were awkwardly bent beneath him, legs splayed as though offering his interface?
Or maybe it was the knowledge of the Autobots' defeat that had broken Prowl. Optimus Prime was dead. His forces had tried to rally, but this was where it got them. Bound. Captive. Defeated. Broken.
In Decepticon chains.
Thundercracker didn't know what Megatron had planned for the survivors. Torture, perhaps. Humiliation. Death.
Prowl had probably already guessed. Had calculated the likely outcomes in that magic processor of his. So maybe that was the reason for his behavior.
A low rumble filled the cell, gears churning and grinding against one another. The Autobot's engine growled, like that of a dying organic, the last throes of a trapped beast.
It was, in retrospect, rather unsettling.
“Thundercracker! Stop staring at the Autobot. You're freaking me out.”
He cycled his optics, backing away a step. He was, to quote Skywarp, freaking himself out honestly. “I'm not staring.”
“Were, too.” Skywarp punched him on the shoulder, only to lean upon it as he stared past Thundercracker and into the cell. “He's not even one of the prettier ones. You have terrible taste. You know that gold menace is just a few cells down.”
Thundercracker didn't miss the way Prowl flinched, or how his lipplates curled back over his denta. Yeah, Prowl had his suspicions. And now Thundercracker did, too.
“Don't be ridiculous.” Thundercracker shrugged off his fellow Seeker, turning away with a rustle of his wingtips. “That's disgusting.”
“Suit yourself.” Skywarp threw an arm back over his shoulders, striding in step with him. “Primus, you're boring.”
Thundercracker ignored him, pausing to glance once more into Prowl's cell. Those icy optics glared back at him, flat and merciless.
A shiver clawed down Thundercracker's backstrut.
Not for all the energon in the world.
It was more emotion than Thundercracker had ever seen the Autobot tactician produce and there was something thrilling in that knowledge.
Was it the chains keeping his wrists shackled to the wall? Was it the bolts punched through his sensory panels, pinning them also? Was it the way his knees were awkwardly bent beneath him, legs splayed as though offering his interface?
Or maybe it was the knowledge of the Autobots' defeat that had broken Prowl. Optimus Prime was dead. His forces had tried to rally, but this was where it got them. Bound. Captive. Defeated. Broken.
In Decepticon chains.
Thundercracker didn't know what Megatron had planned for the survivors. Torture, perhaps. Humiliation. Death.
Prowl had probably already guessed. Had calculated the likely outcomes in that magic processor of his. So maybe that was the reason for his behavior.
A low rumble filled the cell, gears churning and grinding against one another. The Autobot's engine growled, like that of a dying organic, the last throes of a trapped beast.
It was, in retrospect, rather unsettling.
“Thundercracker! Stop staring at the Autobot. You're freaking me out.”
He cycled his optics, backing away a step. He was, to quote Skywarp, freaking himself out honestly. “I'm not staring.”
“Were, too.” Skywarp punched him on the shoulder, only to lean upon it as he stared past Thundercracker and into the cell. “He's not even one of the prettier ones. You have terrible taste. You know that gold menace is just a few cells down.”
Thundercracker didn't miss the way Prowl flinched, or how his lipplates curled back over his denta. Yeah, Prowl had his suspicions. And now Thundercracker did, too.
“Don't be ridiculous.” Thundercracker shrugged off his fellow Seeker, turning away with a rustle of his wingtips. “That's disgusting.”
“Suit yourself.” Skywarp threw an arm back over his shoulders, striding in step with him. “Primus, you're boring.”
Thundercracker ignored him, pausing to glance once more into Prowl's cell. Those icy optics glared back at him, flat and merciless.
A shiver clawed down Thundercracker's backstrut.
Not for all the energon in the world.
For boreal_forest
Prompt: FF7, Tseng/Seph, “control, d/s”
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII. Warnings: bondage, D/s, oral
Leather had been the right choice. It wasn't as strong as metal or steel, but strength wasn't the point here. Rather, it was the submission.
Tseng's decision to use black leather had been perfect. It contrasted Sephiroth's pale skin nicely, near-ivory cross-crossed by thick, dark lines in elegantly spaced strips. Sephiroth was so pale in all aspects that it seemed almost blasphemous to drape him in so much darkness.
But Tseng couldn't deny the arousing sight his lover made. The rigid nature of his cock only proved his point.
The leather creaked as Sephiroth tested the strength of his bonds. Lean muscle visibly shifted. Tseng licked his lips, his breath hitching.
Sephiroth could break the leather straps if he truly tried. But then the game would be up and neither of them wanted that.
“Well,” Sephiroth said, his rich voice rolling into the room and making Tseng shiver. “You've taken me. Now what do you intend to do with me?”
Tseng pulled his hair back with an elastic, noticing that Sephiroth's bright eyes watched his every movement.
“Whatever I desire,” Tseng replied. “Was that not the point?”
Sephiroth chuckled, lips pulling into a smirk that never failed to make Tseng's insides squirm with arousal. “I'm still waiting.”
Defiant to the last. Tseng felt his own lips curl into a smirk.
He dragged his fingers lightly across his length, watching Sephiroth watching him, fighting off his own aroused shivers. He wanted nothing more than to pump himself to completion, splatter his release on Sephiroth's face. But more than that, he wanted to feel Sephiroth's mouth over him first.
“You look thirsty,” Tseng murmured, feeling himself slipping into that state of mind at last. He pitched his voice purposefully low. “Am I wrong?”
The leather creaked louder, Sephiroth's tongue briefly wetting his lips. “You intend to tease me?”
“Only for as long as it amuses me.”
Tseng's heart pounded in his chest, his eyes locked on the man kneeling before him. Sephiroth, the soon to be General, the great SOLDIER who bent his knee for no man. No man except Tseng.
He stepped closer, close enough to feel Sephiroth's exhalations on the damp tip of his arousal.
“Just your tongue to start,” Tseng ordered, near-breathless, desire thrumming a heavy beat through the veins. “We will worry about the rest later.”
Sephiroth's eyelids shuttered to half-mast, but his lips parted in willing obedience. Which, really, had been the plan all along.
Tseng's decision to use black leather had been perfect. It contrasted Sephiroth's pale skin nicely, near-ivory cross-crossed by thick, dark lines in elegantly spaced strips. Sephiroth was so pale in all aspects that it seemed almost blasphemous to drape him in so much darkness.
But Tseng couldn't deny the arousing sight his lover made. The rigid nature of his cock only proved his point.
The leather creaked as Sephiroth tested the strength of his bonds. Lean muscle visibly shifted. Tseng licked his lips, his breath hitching.
Sephiroth could break the leather straps if he truly tried. But then the game would be up and neither of them wanted that.
“Well,” Sephiroth said, his rich voice rolling into the room and making Tseng shiver. “You've taken me. Now what do you intend to do with me?”
Tseng pulled his hair back with an elastic, noticing that Sephiroth's bright eyes watched his every movement.
“Whatever I desire,” Tseng replied. “Was that not the point?”
Sephiroth chuckled, lips pulling into a smirk that never failed to make Tseng's insides squirm with arousal. “I'm still waiting.”
Defiant to the last. Tseng felt his own lips curl into a smirk.
He dragged his fingers lightly across his length, watching Sephiroth watching him, fighting off his own aroused shivers. He wanted nothing more than to pump himself to completion, splatter his release on Sephiroth's face. But more than that, he wanted to feel Sephiroth's mouth over him first.
“You look thirsty,” Tseng murmured, feeling himself slipping into that state of mind at last. He pitched his voice purposefully low. “Am I wrong?”
The leather creaked louder, Sephiroth's tongue briefly wetting his lips. “You intend to tease me?”
“Only for as long as it amuses me.”
Tseng's heart pounded in his chest, his eyes locked on the man kneeling before him. Sephiroth, the soon to be General, the great SOLDIER who bent his knee for no man. No man except Tseng.
He stepped closer, close enough to feel Sephiroth's exhalations on the damp tip of his arousal.
“Just your tongue to start,” Tseng ordered, near-breathless, desire thrumming a heavy beat through the veins. “We will worry about the rest later.”
Sephiroth's eyelids shuttered to half-mast, but his lips parted in willing obedience. Which, really, had been the plan all along.
a/n: One of these days I'm going to write fic. One will be Autobots win, Decepticons lose, what happens next? The other will have circumstances flip around. And I can only hope said fics will be as intriguing as those that already exist. :)
I am so rusty at writing FF7 and Tseng/Seph it's pathetic. Hopefully, finally playing Crisis Core will fix that.
Four more flash fics to come!
