Flash Fiction Fills Take 63 Part Two

[dracoqueen22]

a/n: Three more down, eighteen to go. Phew. Busy, busy. These are mostly SFW and barely edited. Enjoy!

For Fulcrumisthebomb
Prompt: Drift/Perceptor, discovering a new kink

Fandom: Transformers IDW. Warnings: hints of kink

“Drift, don’t touch that,” Perceptor said absently as he caught movement from the edge of his peripheral vision.

White armor was a little hard to miss.

“Oh. Sorry.” Drift ducked his helm a little sheepishly and moved on.

Satisfied, Perceptor returned to his calculations, though he made a mental note to keep one optic on the swordsmech. Sometimes, Drift couldn’t help himself. He had this urge to touch, no matter how many times Perceptor warned him that objects in his laboratory could be dangerous.

Like that beaker of armor-eating acid clearly labeled “danger, do not touch!”

“Drift!” Perceptor hissed as his partner’s fingers jerked back and he tucked his hands at the base of his spinal strut, like a chastised sparkling.

The tips of his helm spars wiggled. “No touching. Got it,” he said and flashed Perceptor one of those ever so charming smiles.

Perceptor’s optics narrowed, an inkling growing at the back of his processor. “I’m almost done,” he said. “Five more minutes. Surely you can be patient for that long.” He’d seen Drift meditate for five hours in complete silence after all.

Drift beamed at him. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Good enough.

Perceptor gave him a longer look of warning, but Drift’s grin never wavered. Perceptor returned to his calculations, though sadly he would have to start over because he lost his focus. It wasn’t so much that this project needed to be completed at once, but that he didn’t want to leave before he followed it through.

Besides, Drift needed to learn to be patient.

He deleted his progress, patiently copied down the original results one more time, and readied himself to begin again. On a whim, he glanced at Drift, who had wandered over near the titration table.

And was reaching out to touch the carefully balanced scale.

Perceptor was up and off his stool in a flash, reacting without thinking. He snatched up Drift’s wrist and put himself between Drift and the table before the swordsmech could so much as cycle a ventilation.

“What part of Do Not Touch was unclear to you?” Perceptor snapped with a carefully measured squeeze to Drift’s wrist. “Honestly, it’s like watching over a youngling. I feel as though I should take you over my knee!”

Drift’s optics cycled wide. He went stiff beside Perceptor, but not rigid enough to keep his fans from clicking on with a sudden and quite noticeable whirr.

“You…” Drift’s intake bobbed. “You… uh… wouldn’t do that, would you, Perceptor?”

Perceptor tilted his helm, experimentally squeezing Drift’s wrists a smidgen harder, until he felt the delicate armor twitch. Drift’s ventilations hitched. His optics darkened.

Perceptor’s lips pulled into a smirk.

“I think I should,” he purred as Drift produced a full-frame shiver. “I think you are in need of some discipline, don’t you?”

Drift’s glossa flicked over his lips. “If you think I do,” he said and his field pulsed, pushing against Perceptor’s and thick with lust.

Well, Perceptor decided, he could always finish that calculation later. It seemed he had a more important task to handle.

One he would enjoy quite a bit.

 

For PirateAnon
Prompt: G1 Optimus/Starscream, pirates

Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: slightly nsfw

“I should have known better than to let you choose the movie,” Starscream grumbled as the third movie in the series started to play. And there was still a fourth one after this? Really?

Optimus chuckled and nuzzled against the back of his helm. His field pressed flush to Starscream’s, ripe with affection. “It was my turn, Starscream.”

“So?” He refused to let himself be mollified by the warmth and comfort of Optimus snuggling with him. No matter how much he enjoyed it.

Strong arms tightened around his waist. “Fair is only fair, right?” Optimus murmured with a well-placed kiss to the top edge of Starscream’s right wing.

“Harrumph.” Starscream shivered. “Not when it means over eight hours of pirate-themed human films.”

One wandering hand moved up, tracing the seam of Starscream’s chestplate. “Last week I endured ten hours of Japanese monster movies,” Optimus reminded him.

Starscream leaned back into the Prime’s embrace with a haughty sniff. “Those are cinematic classics that deserve to be preserved.”

“To each his own.” Optimus laughed as his other hand stroked at Starscream’s hip. “Perhaps I might interest you in a distraction then?”

Starscream cycled a ventilation as pleasure began to wind through his circuits. “If you think you are up to the challenge.”

Clever lips nibbled at his audial. “I’ll do my best,” Optimus purred with a heated ex-vent that tickled at Starscream’s plating and excited his sensor nodes.

Starscream tilted his helm to give Optimus better access, his optics dimming until he could no longer see the movie. Such a pity.

“You’re definitely off to a good start,” Starscream moaned as Optimus’ fingers dipped into his seams and caressed the heated cables beneath.

Optimus hummed his appreciation. He rocked against Starscream’s back, his field filling with desire.

Well, this was certainly better than some dumb pirate movie.

Starscream approved.

 

For Bias is not Obvious Anon
Prompt: Universes collide and all the Megatrons are hitting on TFP Optimus

Fandom: Transformers Prime. Warnings: Crack. So much crack.

Optimus was in the middle of a casual drive across the open roads of the mid-western United States. Ratchet had bridged him out here, to the middle of nowhere, so Optimus could have some time to think and be alone.

His only clue that something wasn’t right with the universe was when the Matrix gave a weird shuddery tingle. He paused and pulled over. It hadn’t hurt, but it was definitely an odd sensation.

That was when he saw it. A jet passing by overhead that was alien in design, but clearly, not the Megatron that Optimus knew. For one, he wasn’t transmitting the spark signal that Optimus had memorized and would know to the depths of his own spark.

While Optimus watched, the jet circled around him, then came back for another pass. Optimus braced himself, ready for an attack, but instead, the jet descended and transformed within feet of the roadway, only to become a tank of all things.

“Identify yourself,” Optimus demanded as he popped out of alt-mode and leveled his blasters at the unidentified Cybertronian triple-changer.

“You are not my brother,” the mech growled as his cannon swung Optimus’ direction. He didn’t fire, however. “Who are you?”

Optimus inclined his helm. “Optimus Prime. And I believe I asked you a question, stranger.”

Rumbling laughter echoed from the mech before he suddenly transformed to alt-mode, looming over Optimus. He was a mech constructed of sharp angles and spikes, far more dangerous looking than Megatron. He stormed closer, so many gaps in his plating as to be unsafe, but still clearly Cybertronian.

“I am Lord High Protector Megatron,” he snarled as he stalked closer, every step filled with menace. “And while you resemble him in theory, you are not Optimus Prime. For he is my brother, and my spark does not recognize yours.”

The Matrix gave another pulse. Optimus was no fool. If Unicron could rest at the core of Earth, then it stood to reason, this mech was exactly as he claimed. Optimus had seen stranger things.

“You do not belong here,” Optimus said. “Return to wherever it is you came.”

“Not until I find the Allspark. Where have you hidden it, false Prime?” the Lord High Protector Megatron demanded and he took a swipe at Optimus, one Optimus was quick to avoid.

He sent an urgent request for backup to Ratchet in the next ventilation. His communicator spat silence. He was being jammed.

The Matrix tingled, lurching in his chassis.

“Get away from him!”

Optimus’ optics cycled wide as another grey mech appeared out of nowhere, tackling the Protector Megatron. His spark throbbed and of course, Optimus recognized this mech. He would recognize his Megatron anywhere.

The two went tumbling across the highway, a clatter of metal on metal that was alarmingly loud.

“Pretender!” Optimus’ Megatron roared.

“Foolish child!” the Protector snarled in return.

Optimus stared at both of them, until it occurred to him that he should flee until he was out from under the comm blackout. He needed to contact Ratchet. He needed assistance. He needed answers.

The Matrix buzzed and tingled, like an electric shock only with a tint of pleasure in the aftermath. It startled Optimus, nearly causing him to stumble as he turned to flee.

There was another silver mech behind him. He was broad and blocky with what appeared to be a cannon barrel poking up from behind his left shoulder. Treads suggested a tank alt-mode. He had looping decorations on his chestplate. But most curious was the Autobot symbol set between them. An Autobot symbol below Decepticon red optics.

“Who are you?” Optimus demanded, uncertain if he should lift his weapons or not. The mech’s appearance suggested he was a Megatron, but the Autobot symbol suggested he was a friend.

“Megatron of Tarn,” he said with a tilt of his helm. He looked down at his hands and then back up. “You… resemble Optimus Prime. But you are not he. Where am I…? How did I…?” He paused, anger taking over the confusion. “If this is one of Rodimus’ pranks, I will not be so easy to forgive again.”

Optimus shook his helm and cringed as the crashing sounds behind him grew louder. “This, I am afraid, is something beyond either of our control. Or your friend, Rodimus.”

He chanced a glance over his shoulder. The Protector Megatron was larger, obviously older, but he was holding his own against Optimus’ Megatron. They were both dripping energon to the ground: pink and purple respectively. Neither had noticed that Optimus wasn’t paying them a bit of attention anymore.

“What is going on here?” Megatron of Tarn demanded.

Optimus sighed and resigned himself to remaining. Perhaps it was only a weird dream. “I do not know,” he said and pointed over his shoulder. “The large one is Lord High Protector Megatron. The smaller one is Megatron of Kaon, the Megatron of this universe.”

Megatron of Tarn smacked himself in the face. “Not another universe escapade!” he moaned aloud. “Maybe I should be blaming Brainstorm.”

Optimus stared at him. First a Rodimus and now a Brainstorm. What kind of mech did this Megatron travel around with?

“Why of all the planets in all the universe do I find myself here?” the disdained and disgusted tone rose up from Optimus’ right and when he shifted, he saw yet another grey mech, this time accented in purple, with a cannon on his forearm, much like Optimus’ own Megatron.

His lips were twisted in a scowl, fangs visible behind them. His helm came to a point not unlike Optimus’ Megatron.

Optimus sighed and rubbed his forehelm. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re Megatron.”

“And so am I,” Megatron of Tarn said with a wave of his hand and a tilt of his helm toward the two Megatrons still posturing at each other. “And so are they.”

The new Megatron blinked at both of them and lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am afraid to know what is going on here,” he said. “Though it is a significant improvement over imprisonment beneath the Autobot citadel.”

“The Autobots are ruthless, immortal beings. There is no hope to save them.” Optimus heard the click of a blaster being engaged behind him. “Turn around, villain, so that you might die with honor.”

He held up his hands and turned slowly. “I am not the Optimus you think I am, Megatron,” he said, assuming, and careful to keep from making any sudden movements. “Surely you have noticed that there is something strange going on.”

The Megatron behind him was different from all the rest. He was mostly dark grey and white with a red Decepticon brand on the front and twin cannons on his shoulder. His optics were also a bright, Autobot blue.

“Put your weapon down, you fool,” the once imprisoned Megatron said from behind Optimus. “There are other matters at stake here than the war from whence you came.”

Blue optics flicked back and forth, from Optimus to Megatron of Tarn to the once imprisoned Megatron and then the still fighting Megatrons off to the side.

“I do not understand. What is this madness?” Blue-opticked Megatron lowered his gun, absolutely bewildered. “One moment I am aberth and another, I am here.”

Optimus lowered his arms. “That is what we are all trying to figure out.”

He gasped as the Matrix pulsed again, harder this time, and nearly doubled over. He clutched at his chestplate, stars dancing behind his optics.

“I am MEGATRON!”

The roar echoed across the landscape. The ground was peppered with blaster fire and if not for the blue-opticked Megatron tackling him down, Optimus would have been hit. Optimus’ thoughts spun. The Matrix settled, with an almost self-satisfied hum.

“Great,” he heard Megatron of Tarn grumble. “Another one.”

“You all will bow before my might!” the flying Megatron cackled and more blasterfire peppered the air.

Optimus managed to roll out from under blue-opticked Megatron and look up to see a blocky, grey Megatron flying through the air above them on anti-gravs. His raspy vocals accompanied each new strafing run from his arm-mounted fusion cannon.

“Oh Primus,” Optimus groaned. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Should we… do something about him?” Blue-optic Megatron asked.

Former prisoner Megatron harrumphed. “In the category of things that are not my problem, I do believe that lunatic counts as one.”

“I am the only Megatron who matters!” Flying Megatron continued.

Six. Six Megatrons.

Surely that was against some kind of cosmic law?

What was he supposed to do now?

Within his chassis, the Matrix stirred again, and Optimus swore the cursed thing cackled at him.

There can be only one, it whispered.

And then it fell silent again.

Doomed. Optimus was, no hyperbole intended, doomed.

a/n: Lots more ficcage to come! Stay tuned!

And as always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.