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ajremixTitle: You and I Collide: As Deep as You Go
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: NC-17 for porn
Word Count: 6578
Characters: Sandstorm, Fireflight
Summary: Repost co-write with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ianam1983. The night that would eventually change everything.
It wasn’t a long walk from the entrance to the Aerialbots’ squadbay to their quarters and Sandstorm could feel the distrusting glares from the other jets as he went from one door to another. That is, he probably could feel them. If he cared. Sandstorm was too caught up in painting out a scene to Fireflight he barely even noticed that the rest of the Aerialbots were suspiciously absent.
“-one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Between the river and the locals they carved the ice into this grand palace with an entire city inside the walls. The way it glittered in the sun was blinding and at night they had lights inside that made it look like a glowing crystal. One of the others should have an image of it- I know we took a capture to go along with our report.” Sandstorm said, hands spreading and weaving as he spoke. His optics kept flickering back to Fireflight’s expression. He liked the way it would light up at some of the amazing places he talked about.
Right now he was positively aglow -- his optics fixed on Sandstorm, so full of the images the Wrecker described that he had to be gently steered from bumping into one of the doorways. "That's amazing," he finally breathed when Sandstorm paused in his description. "Did you get to go inside it?"
Sandstorm’s hand stayed on Fireflight’s arm, guiding him until they reached the doors to his quarters. “No, I was too big. Springer wouldn’t let us go in, anyway. He didn’t want to risk our weight compromising anything.” He brought them to a halt at the door but didn’t let go. His thumb ran idle circles on Fireflight’s arm. “Guess this is our last stop, huh?”
"Hmm." For some reason -- which made Sandstorm kind of hopeful -- Fireflight didn't seem too happy about that. He stood staring at the door a moment in a kind of indecision. Then, in a low, almost hesitant voice, he said, "I'd kind of like to talk a little more. If... if you want to, umm..."
Which was exactly what he was hoping for in the beginning. “I’d like that.” He said, optic band glowing softly. Even if that was Sandstorm’s aim, having just talked to Fireflight for that passed… he wasn’t even keeping track of how long he would’ve been surprised to find he wouldn’t have minded all that much if the invitation wasn’t extended. He squeezed lightly at Fireflight’s arm.
The Aerialbot glanced up quickly, gratefully, then looked down again to hide the smile spreading across his face. "Okay. Um... I guess I'll let us in, then." He keyed in the code for the door, his hand trembling just slightly, almost imperceptibly, from what he wasn't sure. Excitement? Trepidation? He drew air slowly into his vents to calm down and focused on that reassuring squeeze, but it only made his innards flutter more. He was quite grateful when he managed to get the code in and the door opened, making him feel a little less trapped.
The door shut almost silently behind them and Sandstorm looked around, pictures and models all around the place. It kind of reminded him of Scoop’s quarters, really, though where the digger kept image captures of monuments from different cultures and planets, Fireflight’s had more natural land and skyscapes. A couple of them caught Sandstorm’s attention and he went over to look at them. Belatedly he recalled he didn’t much like others looking in on his quarters (in fact he rarely invited outsiders to his place) and asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”
Fireflight gave a soft, slightly nervous chuckle. "Well no, they're just pictures. I didn't take 'em myself. In fact I haven't even seen most of these places... I'd like to though," he added a little wistfully, gazing at one particularly remarkable mountainscape.
Sandstorm stood just behind him, leaning so he looked over Fireflight’s shoulder, edges of their helmets just barely scraping together. “Do you know where these places are?” His voice was a low rumble, more felt in that small space between them than heard. “I wouldn’t mind seeing some of these, myself.”
Fireflight shivered -- he couldn't help it -- and tried hard to concentrate on the question with the Wrecker so close. "Um... I'm not sure of all of them, but some of the pictures have... explanations on the back." My back, he's right up against it, he's almost brushing my nosecone, Primus...
"I'd like to see more of this planet," he added hastily to avoid falling into awkward silence, "but we don't get much chance to sightsee, what with the war and all, so mostly we only go out on missions and then I get in trouble for... getting distracted." His optics wandered slowly, inexorably to peer at Sandstorm from under his helm, without trying to look directly at him.
That trembling, ever so slightly, doesn’t go unnoticed and Sandstorm’s lips pulled into satisfied grin beneath his battlemask. It’s not that he doubted his ability to charm anyone, but it was always nice to see that moment when reserves were on the verge of breaking down. Instead of acknowledging Fireflight’s gaze on him the triplechanger leaned in more to trace at a breaking-dawn. His armor gave the barest touch to Fireflight’s back. “I don’t blame you. Such mountainous terrain makes for some very… breathtaking views.”
His optics slid over to the jet, intent and bright through the visor. “I could take some captures for you next time.” Their helmets bumped together gently. “Unless you’d like to see them with me.”
Is he serious? Flight was floored. No one ever offered to fly with him if they could help it. Even his own team -- well, aside from Air Raid, but then he had weird ideas of fun. The others regarded it as more of a chore than a joy to be next to him in the air, even though they tried to be nice about it.
"Do... do you mean it?" He wondered if his voice sounded that hopeful and pleading to Sandstorm, or just to him.
“Don’t see why not.” The purr of Sandstorm’s engine lowered half an octave, spinning a little faster at Fireflight’s so incredibly hopeful expression. “I could watch over your flight path and warn you if anything comes up and you can look around all you want.” He couldn’t help it, his hand going up to thumb against the trailing edge of Fireflight’s wing.
"Powerglide said the same thing.”
Fireflight's voice had changed, it was now like ice compared to what he sounded like usually. But even still there was hurt detectable in it. He did turn to look straight at Sandstorm now, because he wanted to see, to really see if Sandstorm meant it... or if he was just telling him what he wanted to hear.
If the change in attitude didn’t make Sandstorm draw back a bit the blatant accusation of the statement would’ve. Fragging mini-bot. If there was anyone that he hadn’t want to follow up a conquest on, it was Powerglide. Not because Sandstorm minded getting his seconds, but because Powerglide’s tendency of ruining a break-up (arguably only slightly better than Sandstorm could), it usually meant Sandstorm had to work that much harder for just a fling.
He took a step back from Fireflight, holding his hands out to his sides slightly, as if to indicate that he was unarmed. “I don’t know what all Powerglide did to you, but I’m not him. Would I like a one-night stand- yes. Will I force you- no. I could make all sorts of promises to you that I wouldn’t fulfill, I could make all sorts of promises that I’d work my aft off to keep. If you want to believe me, then do. If you don’t, then don’t. I don’t know the sorts of things Powerglide fed you or how much I’m following his lead but that time we spent together, did that not want you to at least see where this goes?”
A little bewildered, Fireflight shook his head and turned so that he was facing away from Sandstorm, arms folding in a defensive posture, giving himself a minute to think. "I... I really don't... okay, I do, yeah. You say all the right things... I just don't know."
Feeling heavy with uncertainty and confusion, he sat down on the edge of his bunk. "I'm not very good at this... thing. You're a talker, you're good at that. I can see that. Me, I can't always put into words what I see in my head, you know?" He paused for a moment, gathered his thoughts, then slowly and clearly stated, "I don't want you to tell me things you don't mean. So, if you don't want to do something... don't just say you will, not if it's a lie. I can't tell if you're lying, like I can with the others and I'm too stupid not to believe you." He finally summoned the nerve to look up at Sandstorm again. "So please don't tell me you'll go flying with me, unless you really mean it. And I won't ask you to. Okay?"
Sandstorm’s posture deflated a little. He was a player and he knew it- just as much as everyone knew Powerglide was and he felt a little bad pulling the guilt card on someone as naïve as Fireflight. He didn’t believe the Aerialbot to be sheltered, exactly, but he doubted he had any of the hard lessons Sandstorm had. Especially when it came to trust. This sort of open innocence was almost impossible to find anywhere in the war and even less in the Wrecker’s roster. They all had their emotional knocks and scars and even Scoop- the most trusting of them all –took every promise with a grain of cynicism. This openness of Fireflight’s was new to Sandstorm and he couldn’t bring himself to even think about breaking one of the few instances of purity he’s seen.
He ducked his head for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, finding and disregarding dozens of lines. Finally he looked up at Fireflight and said, “I’m not in the business where I can keep every promise I make regardless of intent. But I can tell you I really have no problems flying with you if you want me to.”
Slowly, a very real smile spread across the Aerialbot's faceplate. A shadow of doubt still lingered, but it just wasn't in his nature to hold on to that. Everything could lead to something good, and he wanted to try it, even if it was a little foolish. Just finding someone who was willing to fly with him was a rare gift, let alone one who'd take an interest in his sightseeing.
Abruptly, he stood up and crossed the room and threw his arms around Sandstorm in a somewhat awkward, but very heartfelt hug. "Thanks. That means a lot."
Thrown off by this sudden move Sandstorm just kind of stands there for a moment before he puts his hands on Fireflight’s hip components. “Yeah, sure.” He says a little awkwardly. Sandstorm shifts a little, all his experience failing him in what to do in this situation so he just waits until Fireflight decides to pull back. His fingers, of their own volition, moves ever so slightly over Fireflight’s hips, tracing seams and rubbing in small circles.
Against Sandstorm's shoulder, Fireflight's mouth curled in a little grin. He deliberately tightened his hold and let his fingertips move up and down a little, just enough to alert pressure sensors. Naïve or no, he was an Aerialbot and not without his own tricks.
The sudden alerts going off made Sandstorm arch momentarily, caught off guard by this sudden switch. A couple choice locations made his optics dim slightly, causing shivers to run through him. Being a triplechanger certain plates were lined with extra sensors, some to discern wind patterns for flight, others for ground travel and all over them went off under the dance of Fireflight’s fingertips. His engine rumbled back up and Sandstorm let his hand travel upward, cupping the curve of Fireflight’s fuselage.
A soft giggle gusted against his shoulder armor, the jet already enjoying himself far too much. He'd sensed that Sandstorm was uncomfortable with the hug and now he was seeing what it took to make him unwind and drop his guard. Hands played a little more boldly, easily remembering what particular square inch elicited a gasp or a shiver and experimenting on that. Even as his own optics dimmed, he could see in his mind the surfaces his hands were gliding over, mapping them out, memorizing.
Right there- that one small spot just below the rear hinge was one of Sandstorm’s most sensitive panels, one so few managed to get their hands on. He trembled under Fireflight’s touch, air cycling a little unevenly out of his vents. His own hands swept lightly across the Aerialbot’s back, encouraging even as they lightly sought out little weak points of their own to play with. A particularly delicious flicker made Sandstorm moaned low, almost lost in the revving of his engine.
Fireflight clung tighter, pressed into him as the vibrations shook both of their frames and resonated with the rising hum of his own turbines. A little cry escaped him, and his hands slipped, fingers digging into panels as the sensations overwhelmed internal buffers and sent random waves of heat and energy spiking through his systems.
"Sandstorm," he gasped. "Sandy, wait... I... think we better sit down."
There was a faint growl, though if it was from the nickname or the way Fireflight clutched at him was hard to decide. The feel of fingers digging in a little sharp, a little sweet, had a hot hunger twisting along Sandstorm’s internals. He dipped down briefly- just enough to wrap his arms around Fireflight’s smaller waist and lifting him off the ground. He carried the jet to his berth, sitting him down so as Sandstorm braced his arms on either side of him his optic band grinned right next to his face. “Better?” He purred.
"Much!" Fireflight had managed to get some of his senses back while Sandstorm was carrying him and quickly moved his hands up to the triplechanger's shoulders, sliding his fingers under the big armor panels to trace the joint itself, temporarily immobilizing the Wrecker's arms to prevent him from retaliating.
Or so he thought. Sandstorm ducked his head in, pressing against the junction of Fireflight’s neck, pushing the jet backwards until the triplechanger was straddling him, weight spread across the length of Fireflight’s hips. He grinned through his battlemask, letting his engine rev until the sound and vibrations echoed through the smaller ‘bot’s chassis. He shifted a leg, knee rubbing over the side of Fireflight’s thigh as he looked down on him, bared under him and waiting for every wire and synapse to be lit up in pleasure.
Oh yes. Much, much better.
Fireflight's startled "Oh!" was almost immediately drowned by an indescribable cry as his turbines howled, body at once straining instinctively to escape and pressing into the touch as hard as he could. The vibrations set his sensors screaming and his ailerons flexed until it felt like they would snap off. Somehow he maintained some control over his hands, which slid in a feeble way from Sandstorm's shoulders up his neck and settled on either side of his battle mask, freezing there as if transfixed.
With his arms free Sandstorm let them dance over Fireflight, following little seams and tracing the length of wires and cables. He bent down, until his cockpit was pressed against Fireflight’s chestplate and let his ramjet engine spin up, just enough for a little extra vibration to rock through the Aerialbot. He memorized every arc and cry, liking the uninhibited way Fireflight writhed. A hand snaked around behind Fireflight, smoothing over the nosecone lightly, wondering what else could make him cry out.
"S...Sand... wait..." The words tumbled frantically from Flight's vocalizer as his vents strained for air. "I... I can't..." He couldn't even speak, the sensations were so overwhelming. He wasn't used to such strong vibrations, to being held down and put into such a helpless state, and he liked it, oh yes, but it was rendering him almost incapable -- and he wanted to be able to touch back, to map out the rest of Sandstorm's body, before he was thrown into overload. But it seemed to be too late... the vibration was what did it; his whole sensor network felt like a sheet of crackling fire and one last touch was just too much and all he could see was light and little flashing shapes and...
When next he was aware, his fans were working furiously and the weight on top of him was still. His optics came back online and saw the battle mask looking down at him expressionlessly. "Whoa," he squeaked. "Heh... oops."
That earned him a soft smile as Sandstorm canted his head, only one engine still spinning but at a soft, aroused purr. Extensive use of vibrations was something he picked up from Broadside since his size made it difficult in indulging physically with someone that wasn’t in his size class and Whirl who had issues with most tactile intimacy. It was something he’d grown rather fond of and, with his dual engines as a triplechanger, worked to his great advantage.
He opened his vents and cycled cool air over Fireflight’s overheated body. His scans picked up the Aerialbot’s heat and pressure levels, electrical signals and pulse rate, measuring each one and Sandstorm easily recognized the readouts as Fireflight coming down from a very pleasant overload, thank you very much. Sandstorm moved a black hand over the changing angle of Fireflight’s wing, carefully watching for another rise, fairly certain there was more than one round in him. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, “was that a bit much?”
Fireflight giggled in a dreamy sort of way. "Well, I'm not really complaining..." He gave a surprised little gasp as his wing quivered under Sandstorm's touch. "Heeey! Gimme a minute. Geez, you're almost as bad as Air Raid."
The red optic band narrowed teasingly. “Why do you say that? Does he like doing this?” His hand flattened on the wing, scraping over the myriad of sensors slowly. Sandstorm shifted slightly, letting the air from his vents blow over the sensors his touch had awakened.
The Aerialbot couldn't help but wiggle, despite his determination to rest a minute and let his systems return to something resembling normal. "It's hard... to do anything... for you when... you keep doing... things like this," he murmured confusedly between caresses.
“Maybe I like doing things like this.” He purred. “I could get to be rather fond of watching you writhe. But tell me,” Sandstorm leaned down close, reveling in the desperate expression below him, “what would you like to do to me?”
Blue optics met his visor, and as the haze of bliss and lust faded there came a startlingly clear expression. Curious, and a little timid. Once again Fireflight's hands came up to either side of his mask, tracing it in a wondering sort of way, while his mouth formed into a thoughtful frown. "I'd like to see your face," he whispered at last.
Abruptly Sandstorm’s engine and fans cut off.
“You… my face?” He pulled back from Fireflight’s hands, sitting up right with a closed-off expression as if Fireflight’s request was borderline absurd. No one ever asked Sandstorm to retract his battlemask and it was an idea… he wasn’t comfortable with.
Fireflight sat up too, immediately sensing he'd done something wrong. "What-- What is it? Sandstorm?"
He shifted until most of his weight was across Fireflight’s thighs, apprehension hidden by his visor and mask. “Why do you want to see my face?” He asked as normally as he could.
Fireflight suddenly found it very hard to meet that visor, and lowered his head. "I just... well, it's kind of hard not being able to see your optics. I mean, I'm an Aerialbot, we can't hide anything from each other so I'm used to... Did I make you mad?" The thought created a sudden chill in him; the thought of Sandstorm getting disappointed and walking out made his spark twist in a very unpleasant and frightening way.
“I’m not… mad.” He said slowly, trying to figure out exactly what Fireflight was getting at. There were very specific reasons Sandstorm got a battlemask and even more on top of that on why he never retracted it. As it stood the only ones that have seen him without it were the other Wreckers and those were on very rare occasions. Not that it bothered them- most had their own battlemasks or, in Whirl’s case, non-traditional faceplates and never thought it odd that they kept their faces covered more often than not.
Sandstorm’s hands itched to make Fireflight look at him- he wasn’t even certain why –and he kept them firmly on his knees. “I don’t understand why it matters.”
"It doesn't. I mean, not to me, much, because obviously it really matters to you." Primus, he felt like such an idiot. "I only wear mine during battle... I guess you don't usually take yours off at all. I didn't know. I just saw you looking at me and I... wondered if you were smiling... I wanted to see if you were. But you're right, it's not important," he finished with a slightly desperate air, looking up and reaching out as if to hold on to Sandstorm. "Forget I said anything. Please."
That… left Sandstorm speechless. Fireflight’s honest and so spark-felt admission left him reeling a little, even more confused now.
He asked just to see if Sandstorm was smiling? It boggled his logic circuits and it… it made an uncomfortable twitch in his internals to see that almost frightened, almost panicked look on Fireflight. He shifted back a bit more, just out of Fireflight’s reach, unable to look at the Aerialbot as he tried to make sense of things.
Despairing, Fireflight wrapped his arms around himself, in need of some kind of contact. Part of his mind tugged at him to go find the other Aerials... this was getting too hard to do alone. But the other part of him really didn't want to leave. Was there any way he couldn't screw this up?
"I'm sorry," he said at last, softly. "I didn't mean to make you upset. Sandstorm? Can... can we at least talk some more?"
He hesitated for a long moment, still trying to fit this into a context he understood, still trying to think of what to say. When he finally decided he had the right words in his processor Sandstorm put a hand to the cross of Fireflight’s arms, let air cycle through his system once. And then he let the bottom half of his battlemask slide back.
“This is… a personal thing for me.” Sandstorm said softly, a little disconcerted at the feel of open air against his mouth component. He felt… very vulnerable, still unable to meet Fireflight’s optics. “It’s not something I like doing around other Wreckers.”
For a moment the Aerialbot just stared. Then his hand started to reach for Sandstorm's face, but at the last moment drifted sideways to settle on his shoulder instead. Gently, almost as if trying not to startle him.
Sandstorm’s hidden optics tracked the hand as it came at him, steeled himself from backing away and felt something foolishly like relief when it moved away from his face. His spark was pounding in his chest cavity and he didn’t know what it was that was making it pulse so heavily. Almost like he was afraid but it made no sense, there was nothing for him to logically fear.
He looked at the hand, traced the length of the arm with his gaze before finally settling on Fireflight’s optics. His mouth component parted just slightly and the jet could read the words so clear on the curve of his lips ‘please don’t ask for anything more’.
"I'm sorry," Fireflight whispered, so embarrassed and appalled he could barely speak. "I... I didn't want to upset you... please... put it back on if it makes you uncomfortable... I didn't, I didn't know." He squeezed the shoulder lightly. "Sorry."
He would’ve slid it back- with gratitude at that –but Sandstorm couldn’t bring himself to do it somehow. He was lost in Fireflight’s guilty expression and the triplechanger found he not only couldn’t look at him when he looked like that, he didn’t want it to stay there. Sandstorm leaned forward, hands braced against the surface of the berth and he pressed his head against the cables of Fireflight’s neck.
“It’s okay.” His words blew softly against the surface of gleaming armor. “It’s okay.”
Still shaking, Fireflight forced himself to calm down. It's okay. He said so. He's not angry. You didn't screw up. He took the closeness as opportunity to wrap his arms around Sandstorm and hug him tightly, still trying to apologize even without the words.
An insistent pressure pushed against Fireflight’s chest, one hand low on his back as Sandstorm quietly lowered them down. He didn’t pull back himself- instead nuzzling closer and a part of Sandstorm berated himself. Even if he wasn’t hiding behind his battlemask, he was still hiding from Fireflight’s optics. He tried to dismiss the thought by running his hands over the jet’s sides, trying to bring back that purr of engines and lose himself in that.
Optics dimmed, Flight felt his hands start to wander of their own accord, up and down Sandstorm's back as if nothing had happened. Confused, he tried to make sense of the evening and failed... not that he tried very hard. Those pleasant sensations were coming back very fast now that Sandstorm was teasing his flanks. He shivered, engines starting up in a low hum that occasionally revved louder when the triplechanger brushed a ticklish spot.
That familiar vibration broke through Sandstorm’s hesitance, bringing back his confidence and boldness. Even as his own engines thrummed quietly and his fingers brushed that ticklish spot again, he arched against Fireflight’s hands, making little noises of encouragement.
It wasn't long before Fireflight's fingers were doing what they were good at in this instance -- mapping out the places he couldn't see, until he could describe them perfectly in his head. They lingered particularly on the seams of armor, like the faults found between continental plates, dancing up and down experimentally creating little quakes of their own. Gradually they worked their way down to Sandstorm's sides, following the Wrecker's lead more unconsciously than anything, until both had their hands resting just above the other's hipjoints, Sandstorm's face was practically crushing Fireflight's shoulder and the Aerialbot was writhing ever so slightly on his berth.
Sandstorm strained against the seeking touches, rocking against the hands as his little noises turned into low moans and whimpers heard just under the growing growl of his engine. His own black hands danced experimentally back towards Fireflight’s fuselage and he whispered quiet ‘please’s against the underside of the smaller’s mech’s jaw.
Moaning a little himself now, mouthing silent exclamations at the air, Fireflight nuzzled his jaw against the Wrecker's faceplate, strangely thrilled by the touch of something Sandstorm had had difficulty even showing him. He wanted to trace that mouth with his hands but forced them to remain where they were, even working them lower, to the very limit of his reach in that position, his fingertips sliding between the seam of hip and thigh armor where the tender cables lay.
He should let Fireflight do things at his own pace, let him discover things on his own but Sandstorm couldn’t help it. The shock of touch against that gap of armor- as delicious as it is –wasn’t enough and he grabbed Fireflight’s hand, guiding it up along his side and back, quietly coaxing him to explore the panel that would twist and move to reveal a tire when he transformed. He slid down Fireflight’s body, just enough to give the jet the best access to that so wonderfully sensitive seam and so Sandstorm could nuzzle the sensor lining Fireflight’s chestplate.
Rather surprised by the sudden guidance, the jet accepted it eagerly, finding the seam again with little difficulty and promptly setting to work on figuring out just what was so sensitive about it that made Sandstorm's engine vibrate like that... meanwhile, his own wings were quivering from lack of attention, and he nudged Sandstorm's helmet and mouthed in his audio, "Wings. Flight sensors... touch there."
If you wanted to make a jet's engines scream, that was the way to do it. Either that or the nosecone... but he'd let Sandstorm figure that out on his own.
At Fireflight’s urging the triplechanger moved his hands outward, following the sweep angle to run over the curves of the wings, the slight rises of the wing fences, and the little slats and flaps along the edges. But as the curious touch against his side deepened, Sandstorm gasped and flexed, unable to focus as sensors sang all down his body. His fans stuttered and optics flared and dimmed in pleasured pulses. He twitched and groaned and rubbed against Fireflight’s body and his hand. His hand flexed and clutched and pressed against wings randomly as sensations flowed sharply through his body and whenever Sandstorm had the ability to speak it was always a breathy ‘yes, Primus, right there’ against the angles of Fireflight’s armor.
As if to oblige him, the searching fingers plunged deeper, though in truth it was more an involuntary response by Fireflight to the manhandling of his wings. His head tipped back, mouth open and optics flickering erratically as his body began to move of its own accord, twitching and jerking from his main servos down to the little flaps that lined his wings. His hands and body ground against every possible surface of Sandstorm's, no longer in any kind of thinking way but just an instinctive, all-powering drive to maximize contact and friction.
Their engines spin together in a loud, high roar as they drove together, fans cycling air harshly through overheating systems. With their bodies pressing and sliding against each other- trying to light every sensor on fire, build it into a blinding heat in their processors –the two mechs grabbed tight at one another until their panting was lost under the thrum of their pleasure. They pressed and slide and ground and touched and gripped and Sandstorm stretched and flexed, mouth moving silently against Fireflight’s shoulder as he overloaded, everything sparking off at once.
Servos and joints and levers all seized up and he crashed heavily onto Fireflight, limbs unable to support him. The Wrecker twitched and shuddered, system slowly coming back online. He purred softly, low and sated, and he nuzzled Fireflight’s shoulder lazily.
What seemed like the age of a solar system later, a muffled voice croaked from underneath him. "Sandstorm?"
“Hmm?” Came just as slowly and- after a few false starts –Sandstorm managed to get on his elbows to give the Aerialbot an utterly content grin. “Thanks.” He said, leaning in just enough to press gratefully on the edge of Fireflight’s helmet. “I needed that.”
The flier blushed. "Um... you're welcome?" Judging by the dimmed light of his optics and erratic vibrations of his systems, he'd enjoyed that last overload at least as much as the Wrecker had. Small wonder he was having trouble speaking coherently. Still, he made the effort.
"I really, uh, enjoyed that... Glad I asked you to come in. Thank you. I mean, not just for... I mean everything, for complimenting me and talking to me and... no one's ever really... I just, it means a lot. Thanks." His processor finally realized his vocalizer was babbling and put a stop to it, as he continued to gasp for breath.
His grin grew and softened into a small smile, optic band glowing with understanding. “My pleasure.” With slow, experimental movements, Sandstorm balanced himself on slightly trembling hands and knees. “And I really mean that.”
Fireflight watched the grin, completely unaware that he was mirroring it with a warm, dazzling smile of his own. I like seeing him smile, was the thought that suddenly occurred to him. Then he wondered if Sandstorm even realized the mask was still off. Tentatively he reached up, his hand just short of tracing the triplechanger's jawline, grazing the side of his helm and falling to his shoulder. He didn't speak, but his optics were questioning.
For a brief moment Sandstorm was lost in that smile, his internal temperature flushing in response. But the movement of Fireflight’s hand reminded him his face was partially exposed and his smile faded. He tilted his almost imperceptibly away and he could feel his pumps beating faster than they should. Sandstorm managed to keep from snapping the mask closed- just barely –reached up to grab the jet’s hand. His black fingers caressed over them, thumb slipping to briefly touch the gap between palm and wrist. Then he pulled Fireflight’s hand from his shoulder and set it down on the red chestplate. “I should probably get going.” The triplechanger said, even as he ignored the reluctance welling inside of him.
Fireflight looked up at him sadly, the smile fading away. What was it that made Sandstorm so afraid to even show his face, let alone have it touched? He surely wasn't afraid of Fireflight... was he? With a bit of shock the Aerialbot realized he'd dragged the triplechanger into his affections, something he hadn't intended to do -- Sandstorm made it clear this was just a one-night stand -- and now, even though they'd done what they came to do... he still felt a panic well up inside him at the thought of Sandstorm leaving.
Heaving a sigh, he rolled over onto his side, unable to look up at the partially hidden face any longer. "I guess... I mean, I don't mind, but you probably have stuff to do so... yeah." Don't get upset now, he chided himself. You're not supposed to be all clingy. He's just a fling, right?
That should’ve made it easier but as Sandstorm moved off Fireflight and off the berth having the jet’s back to him somehow made it harder. He should just go, he really, really should. Things always got messed up whenever he stuck around- had plenty of experiences doing and not doing it and just leaving always seemed to end things better.
But he couldn’t find it in his spark to do that, not with Fireflight obviously upset about something. Because, unintentionally as it was, Sandstorm genuinely came to like the smaller mech. He was fun and amusing and he liked teasing the guy. So while experience told Sandstorm to leave that small, somewhat decent part of him had him turning to look down at the form on the berth. “You look like you do mind something.”
The Aerialbot thought for a minute, then slowly sat up. He still didn't look at Sandstorm, but stared down at his hands as he tried to organize what he was trying to say in his head.
"I was going to say, you don't have to go yet. If that's all you wanted to do, then yeah, fine, but if you want to stay a little longer... talk or something... that'd be nice, too." Frag it, I'm still not letting go of him! He continued quickly, "I'm not asking you to spend the night or anything. Just saying, there's no hurry... unless there is, in which case I guess you'd better get going... but otherwise..." He trailed off, tired of feeling like an idiot.
And that led right back to Sandstorm’s dilemma. It came back to the thought that he should just leave and save the both of them the trouble. And yet he knew, even if Fireflight said otherwise, his leaving would bother him. Sandstorm could make an excuse, could just not care and yet…
Yet he couldn’t make himself do it.
So he shifted a little uncertainly. “Not really.” He said lowly, not quite able to look at the jet, either. “I got a mission later on, but that’s not for a while. I’m pretty much off until then.” He let that hang there, waited to see what Fireflight wanted to make of it.
"... Oh." Tentatively, hope wriggled back into his mind again -- he hasn't left yet, he seems to want something else -- found its familiar niche and curled up peacefully. The Aerialbot sat up. He was still looking away from Sandstorm, but thoughtfully now, making a decision. Finally he turned and gave him a slightly shy, but irresistibly encouraging look over his shoulder. "I'd really like to hear some more stories."
That had Sandstorm’s head coming up to meet his gaze. “Yeah?” He asked, vocalizer feeling oddly dry. The Wrecker’s processor was blank of ideas or courses of action and Sandstorm- smooth talking, slag-spewing, utterly charming Sandstorm –couldn’t think of anything to say, even after all the other stories he told.
“Um, alright.” To mask this he sat back on the berth, right by Fireflight’s feet and just barely not touching him. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”
Still looking thoughtful, the jet scooted himself around so that he could lie comfortably against Sandstorm, almost in his lap. He pretended to be casual, but watched the exposed mouth carefully for any sign that the contact wasn't wanted; seeing none, he snuggled slightly into place. "Well, you've given me a pretty good idea what you guys do on missions and where you've been... so... what about when you haven't got a mission? What do you like to do, if you're not, uh... wrecking?"
The move wasn’t exactly surprising but it still took Sandstorm a moment to settle the two of them in a comfortable position, his arm wrapped around Fireflight just above his wings. He dwelled over the question, even as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly. “Hmm… we don’t take a lot of leave if that’s what you mean. We tend to consider the time spent going from one place to another as our vacation. We don’t like being idle.” His fans whirled slightly- almost like a thoughtful sigh –as he let his head tilt just enough to rest against the top of the jet’s helmet. “We just… mess around, really. Playing pranks on each other or practicing maneuvers, coming up with new battle plans, training.” Red optics brightened slightly. “We spend a lot of time in the washracks, actually. You should come by and see it- no one else has ‘racks like Xantium does. The pools are huge and always heated and the supports are adjustable so you can get them to fit any size and configuration…”
Sandstorms hands gesticulated as he spoke, words making the image so vivid in Fireflight’s imagination. The Aerialbot listened just as much as he watched the way Sandstorm’s face- what he could see –transformed, so strangely open compared to his facemask. He curled tight under the triplechanger’s arm and occasionally asking questions. But mostly he listened and imaged as they spoke far into the night.
Fandom: Transformers
Rating: NC-17 for porn
Word Count: 6578
Characters: Sandstorm, Fireflight
Summary: Repost co-write with
ianam1983. The night that would eventually change everything.It wasn’t a long walk from the entrance to the Aerialbots’ squadbay to their quarters and Sandstorm could feel the distrusting glares from the other jets as he went from one door to another. That is, he probably could feel them. If he cared. Sandstorm was too caught up in painting out a scene to Fireflight he barely even noticed that the rest of the Aerialbots were suspiciously absent.
“-one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Between the river and the locals they carved the ice into this grand palace with an entire city inside the walls. The way it glittered in the sun was blinding and at night they had lights inside that made it look like a glowing crystal. One of the others should have an image of it- I know we took a capture to go along with our report.” Sandstorm said, hands spreading and weaving as he spoke. His optics kept flickering back to Fireflight’s expression. He liked the way it would light up at some of the amazing places he talked about.
Right now he was positively aglow -- his optics fixed on Sandstorm, so full of the images the Wrecker described that he had to be gently steered from bumping into one of the doorways. "That's amazing," he finally breathed when Sandstorm paused in his description. "Did you get to go inside it?"
Sandstorm’s hand stayed on Fireflight’s arm, guiding him until they reached the doors to his quarters. “No, I was too big. Springer wouldn’t let us go in, anyway. He didn’t want to risk our weight compromising anything.” He brought them to a halt at the door but didn’t let go. His thumb ran idle circles on Fireflight’s arm. “Guess this is our last stop, huh?”
"Hmm." For some reason -- which made Sandstorm kind of hopeful -- Fireflight didn't seem too happy about that. He stood staring at the door a moment in a kind of indecision. Then, in a low, almost hesitant voice, he said, "I'd kind of like to talk a little more. If... if you want to, umm..."
Which was exactly what he was hoping for in the beginning. “I’d like that.” He said, optic band glowing softly. Even if that was Sandstorm’s aim, having just talked to Fireflight for that passed… he wasn’t even keeping track of how long he would’ve been surprised to find he wouldn’t have minded all that much if the invitation wasn’t extended. He squeezed lightly at Fireflight’s arm.
The Aerialbot glanced up quickly, gratefully, then looked down again to hide the smile spreading across his face. "Okay. Um... I guess I'll let us in, then." He keyed in the code for the door, his hand trembling just slightly, almost imperceptibly, from what he wasn't sure. Excitement? Trepidation? He drew air slowly into his vents to calm down and focused on that reassuring squeeze, but it only made his innards flutter more. He was quite grateful when he managed to get the code in and the door opened, making him feel a little less trapped.
The door shut almost silently behind them and Sandstorm looked around, pictures and models all around the place. It kind of reminded him of Scoop’s quarters, really, though where the digger kept image captures of monuments from different cultures and planets, Fireflight’s had more natural land and skyscapes. A couple of them caught Sandstorm’s attention and he went over to look at them. Belatedly he recalled he didn’t much like others looking in on his quarters (in fact he rarely invited outsiders to his place) and asked, “You don’t mind, do you?”
Fireflight gave a soft, slightly nervous chuckle. "Well no, they're just pictures. I didn't take 'em myself. In fact I haven't even seen most of these places... I'd like to though," he added a little wistfully, gazing at one particularly remarkable mountainscape.
Sandstorm stood just behind him, leaning so he looked over Fireflight’s shoulder, edges of their helmets just barely scraping together. “Do you know where these places are?” His voice was a low rumble, more felt in that small space between them than heard. “I wouldn’t mind seeing some of these, myself.”
Fireflight shivered -- he couldn't help it -- and tried hard to concentrate on the question with the Wrecker so close. "Um... I'm not sure of all of them, but some of the pictures have... explanations on the back." My back, he's right up against it, he's almost brushing my nosecone, Primus...
"I'd like to see more of this planet," he added hastily to avoid falling into awkward silence, "but we don't get much chance to sightsee, what with the war and all, so mostly we only go out on missions and then I get in trouble for... getting distracted." His optics wandered slowly, inexorably to peer at Sandstorm from under his helm, without trying to look directly at him.
That trembling, ever so slightly, doesn’t go unnoticed and Sandstorm’s lips pulled into satisfied grin beneath his battlemask. It’s not that he doubted his ability to charm anyone, but it was always nice to see that moment when reserves were on the verge of breaking down. Instead of acknowledging Fireflight’s gaze on him the triplechanger leaned in more to trace at a breaking-dawn. His armor gave the barest touch to Fireflight’s back. “I don’t blame you. Such mountainous terrain makes for some very… breathtaking views.”
His optics slid over to the jet, intent and bright through the visor. “I could take some captures for you next time.” Their helmets bumped together gently. “Unless you’d like to see them with me.”
Is he serious? Flight was floored. No one ever offered to fly with him if they could help it. Even his own team -- well, aside from Air Raid, but then he had weird ideas of fun. The others regarded it as more of a chore than a joy to be next to him in the air, even though they tried to be nice about it.
"Do... do you mean it?" He wondered if his voice sounded that hopeful and pleading to Sandstorm, or just to him.
“Don’t see why not.” The purr of Sandstorm’s engine lowered half an octave, spinning a little faster at Fireflight’s so incredibly hopeful expression. “I could watch over your flight path and warn you if anything comes up and you can look around all you want.” He couldn’t help it, his hand going up to thumb against the trailing edge of Fireflight’s wing.
"Powerglide said the same thing.”
Fireflight's voice had changed, it was now like ice compared to what he sounded like usually. But even still there was hurt detectable in it. He did turn to look straight at Sandstorm now, because he wanted to see, to really see if Sandstorm meant it... or if he was just telling him what he wanted to hear.
If the change in attitude didn’t make Sandstorm draw back a bit the blatant accusation of the statement would’ve. Fragging mini-bot. If there was anyone that he hadn’t want to follow up a conquest on, it was Powerglide. Not because Sandstorm minded getting his seconds, but because Powerglide’s tendency of ruining a break-up (arguably only slightly better than Sandstorm could), it usually meant Sandstorm had to work that much harder for just a fling.
He took a step back from Fireflight, holding his hands out to his sides slightly, as if to indicate that he was unarmed. “I don’t know what all Powerglide did to you, but I’m not him. Would I like a one-night stand- yes. Will I force you- no. I could make all sorts of promises to you that I wouldn’t fulfill, I could make all sorts of promises that I’d work my aft off to keep. If you want to believe me, then do. If you don’t, then don’t. I don’t know the sorts of things Powerglide fed you or how much I’m following his lead but that time we spent together, did that not want you to at least see where this goes?”
A little bewildered, Fireflight shook his head and turned so that he was facing away from Sandstorm, arms folding in a defensive posture, giving himself a minute to think. "I... I really don't... okay, I do, yeah. You say all the right things... I just don't know."
Feeling heavy with uncertainty and confusion, he sat down on the edge of his bunk. "I'm not very good at this... thing. You're a talker, you're good at that. I can see that. Me, I can't always put into words what I see in my head, you know?" He paused for a moment, gathered his thoughts, then slowly and clearly stated, "I don't want you to tell me things you don't mean. So, if you don't want to do something... don't just say you will, not if it's a lie. I can't tell if you're lying, like I can with the others and I'm too stupid not to believe you." He finally summoned the nerve to look up at Sandstorm again. "So please don't tell me you'll go flying with me, unless you really mean it. And I won't ask you to. Okay?"
Sandstorm’s posture deflated a little. He was a player and he knew it- just as much as everyone knew Powerglide was and he felt a little bad pulling the guilt card on someone as naïve as Fireflight. He didn’t believe the Aerialbot to be sheltered, exactly, but he doubted he had any of the hard lessons Sandstorm had. Especially when it came to trust. This sort of open innocence was almost impossible to find anywhere in the war and even less in the Wrecker’s roster. They all had their emotional knocks and scars and even Scoop- the most trusting of them all –took every promise with a grain of cynicism. This openness of Fireflight’s was new to Sandstorm and he couldn’t bring himself to even think about breaking one of the few instances of purity he’s seen.
He ducked his head for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts, finding and disregarding dozens of lines. Finally he looked up at Fireflight and said, “I’m not in the business where I can keep every promise I make regardless of intent. But I can tell you I really have no problems flying with you if you want me to.”
Slowly, a very real smile spread across the Aerialbot's faceplate. A shadow of doubt still lingered, but it just wasn't in his nature to hold on to that. Everything could lead to something good, and he wanted to try it, even if it was a little foolish. Just finding someone who was willing to fly with him was a rare gift, let alone one who'd take an interest in his sightseeing.
Abruptly, he stood up and crossed the room and threw his arms around Sandstorm in a somewhat awkward, but very heartfelt hug. "Thanks. That means a lot."
Thrown off by this sudden move Sandstorm just kind of stands there for a moment before he puts his hands on Fireflight’s hip components. “Yeah, sure.” He says a little awkwardly. Sandstorm shifts a little, all his experience failing him in what to do in this situation so he just waits until Fireflight decides to pull back. His fingers, of their own volition, moves ever so slightly over Fireflight’s hips, tracing seams and rubbing in small circles.
Against Sandstorm's shoulder, Fireflight's mouth curled in a little grin. He deliberately tightened his hold and let his fingertips move up and down a little, just enough to alert pressure sensors. Naïve or no, he was an Aerialbot and not without his own tricks.
The sudden alerts going off made Sandstorm arch momentarily, caught off guard by this sudden switch. A couple choice locations made his optics dim slightly, causing shivers to run through him. Being a triplechanger certain plates were lined with extra sensors, some to discern wind patterns for flight, others for ground travel and all over them went off under the dance of Fireflight’s fingertips. His engine rumbled back up and Sandstorm let his hand travel upward, cupping the curve of Fireflight’s fuselage.
A soft giggle gusted against his shoulder armor, the jet already enjoying himself far too much. He'd sensed that Sandstorm was uncomfortable with the hug and now he was seeing what it took to make him unwind and drop his guard. Hands played a little more boldly, easily remembering what particular square inch elicited a gasp or a shiver and experimenting on that. Even as his own optics dimmed, he could see in his mind the surfaces his hands were gliding over, mapping them out, memorizing.
Right there- that one small spot just below the rear hinge was one of Sandstorm’s most sensitive panels, one so few managed to get their hands on. He trembled under Fireflight’s touch, air cycling a little unevenly out of his vents. His own hands swept lightly across the Aerialbot’s back, encouraging even as they lightly sought out little weak points of their own to play with. A particularly delicious flicker made Sandstorm moaned low, almost lost in the revving of his engine.
Fireflight clung tighter, pressed into him as the vibrations shook both of their frames and resonated with the rising hum of his own turbines. A little cry escaped him, and his hands slipped, fingers digging into panels as the sensations overwhelmed internal buffers and sent random waves of heat and energy spiking through his systems.
"Sandstorm," he gasped. "Sandy, wait... I... think we better sit down."
There was a faint growl, though if it was from the nickname or the way Fireflight clutched at him was hard to decide. The feel of fingers digging in a little sharp, a little sweet, had a hot hunger twisting along Sandstorm’s internals. He dipped down briefly- just enough to wrap his arms around Fireflight’s smaller waist and lifting him off the ground. He carried the jet to his berth, sitting him down so as Sandstorm braced his arms on either side of him his optic band grinned right next to his face. “Better?” He purred.
"Much!" Fireflight had managed to get some of his senses back while Sandstorm was carrying him and quickly moved his hands up to the triplechanger's shoulders, sliding his fingers under the big armor panels to trace the joint itself, temporarily immobilizing the Wrecker's arms to prevent him from retaliating.
Or so he thought. Sandstorm ducked his head in, pressing against the junction of Fireflight’s neck, pushing the jet backwards until the triplechanger was straddling him, weight spread across the length of Fireflight’s hips. He grinned through his battlemask, letting his engine rev until the sound and vibrations echoed through the smaller ‘bot’s chassis. He shifted a leg, knee rubbing over the side of Fireflight’s thigh as he looked down on him, bared under him and waiting for every wire and synapse to be lit up in pleasure.
Oh yes. Much, much better.
Fireflight's startled "Oh!" was almost immediately drowned by an indescribable cry as his turbines howled, body at once straining instinctively to escape and pressing into the touch as hard as he could. The vibrations set his sensors screaming and his ailerons flexed until it felt like they would snap off. Somehow he maintained some control over his hands, which slid in a feeble way from Sandstorm's shoulders up his neck and settled on either side of his battle mask, freezing there as if transfixed.
With his arms free Sandstorm let them dance over Fireflight, following little seams and tracing the length of wires and cables. He bent down, until his cockpit was pressed against Fireflight’s chestplate and let his ramjet engine spin up, just enough for a little extra vibration to rock through the Aerialbot. He memorized every arc and cry, liking the uninhibited way Fireflight writhed. A hand snaked around behind Fireflight, smoothing over the nosecone lightly, wondering what else could make him cry out.
"S...Sand... wait..." The words tumbled frantically from Flight's vocalizer as his vents strained for air. "I... I can't..." He couldn't even speak, the sensations were so overwhelming. He wasn't used to such strong vibrations, to being held down and put into such a helpless state, and he liked it, oh yes, but it was rendering him almost incapable -- and he wanted to be able to touch back, to map out the rest of Sandstorm's body, before he was thrown into overload. But it seemed to be too late... the vibration was what did it; his whole sensor network felt like a sheet of crackling fire and one last touch was just too much and all he could see was light and little flashing shapes and...
When next he was aware, his fans were working furiously and the weight on top of him was still. His optics came back online and saw the battle mask looking down at him expressionlessly. "Whoa," he squeaked. "Heh... oops."
That earned him a soft smile as Sandstorm canted his head, only one engine still spinning but at a soft, aroused purr. Extensive use of vibrations was something he picked up from Broadside since his size made it difficult in indulging physically with someone that wasn’t in his size class and Whirl who had issues with most tactile intimacy. It was something he’d grown rather fond of and, with his dual engines as a triplechanger, worked to his great advantage.
He opened his vents and cycled cool air over Fireflight’s overheated body. His scans picked up the Aerialbot’s heat and pressure levels, electrical signals and pulse rate, measuring each one and Sandstorm easily recognized the readouts as Fireflight coming down from a very pleasant overload, thank you very much. Sandstorm moved a black hand over the changing angle of Fireflight’s wing, carefully watching for another rise, fairly certain there was more than one round in him. “Sorry,” he didn’t sound the least bit apologetic, “was that a bit much?”
Fireflight giggled in a dreamy sort of way. "Well, I'm not really complaining..." He gave a surprised little gasp as his wing quivered under Sandstorm's touch. "Heeey! Gimme a minute. Geez, you're almost as bad as Air Raid."
The red optic band narrowed teasingly. “Why do you say that? Does he like doing this?” His hand flattened on the wing, scraping over the myriad of sensors slowly. Sandstorm shifted slightly, letting the air from his vents blow over the sensors his touch had awakened.
The Aerialbot couldn't help but wiggle, despite his determination to rest a minute and let his systems return to something resembling normal. "It's hard... to do anything... for you when... you keep doing... things like this," he murmured confusedly between caresses.
“Maybe I like doing things like this.” He purred. “I could get to be rather fond of watching you writhe. But tell me,” Sandstorm leaned down close, reveling in the desperate expression below him, “what would you like to do to me?”
Blue optics met his visor, and as the haze of bliss and lust faded there came a startlingly clear expression. Curious, and a little timid. Once again Fireflight's hands came up to either side of his mask, tracing it in a wondering sort of way, while his mouth formed into a thoughtful frown. "I'd like to see your face," he whispered at last.
Abruptly Sandstorm’s engine and fans cut off.
“You… my face?” He pulled back from Fireflight’s hands, sitting up right with a closed-off expression as if Fireflight’s request was borderline absurd. No one ever asked Sandstorm to retract his battlemask and it was an idea… he wasn’t comfortable with.
Fireflight sat up too, immediately sensing he'd done something wrong. "What-- What is it? Sandstorm?"
He shifted until most of his weight was across Fireflight’s thighs, apprehension hidden by his visor and mask. “Why do you want to see my face?” He asked as normally as he could.
Fireflight suddenly found it very hard to meet that visor, and lowered his head. "I just... well, it's kind of hard not being able to see your optics. I mean, I'm an Aerialbot, we can't hide anything from each other so I'm used to... Did I make you mad?" The thought created a sudden chill in him; the thought of Sandstorm getting disappointed and walking out made his spark twist in a very unpleasant and frightening way.
“I’m not… mad.” He said slowly, trying to figure out exactly what Fireflight was getting at. There were very specific reasons Sandstorm got a battlemask and even more on top of that on why he never retracted it. As it stood the only ones that have seen him without it were the other Wreckers and those were on very rare occasions. Not that it bothered them- most had their own battlemasks or, in Whirl’s case, non-traditional faceplates and never thought it odd that they kept their faces covered more often than not.
Sandstorm’s hands itched to make Fireflight look at him- he wasn’t even certain why –and he kept them firmly on his knees. “I don’t understand why it matters.”
"It doesn't. I mean, not to me, much, because obviously it really matters to you." Primus, he felt like such an idiot. "I only wear mine during battle... I guess you don't usually take yours off at all. I didn't know. I just saw you looking at me and I... wondered if you were smiling... I wanted to see if you were. But you're right, it's not important," he finished with a slightly desperate air, looking up and reaching out as if to hold on to Sandstorm. "Forget I said anything. Please."
That… left Sandstorm speechless. Fireflight’s honest and so spark-felt admission left him reeling a little, even more confused now.
He asked just to see if Sandstorm was smiling? It boggled his logic circuits and it… it made an uncomfortable twitch in his internals to see that almost frightened, almost panicked look on Fireflight. He shifted back a bit more, just out of Fireflight’s reach, unable to look at the Aerialbot as he tried to make sense of things.
Despairing, Fireflight wrapped his arms around himself, in need of some kind of contact. Part of his mind tugged at him to go find the other Aerials... this was getting too hard to do alone. But the other part of him really didn't want to leave. Was there any way he couldn't screw this up?
"I'm sorry," he said at last, softly. "I didn't mean to make you upset. Sandstorm? Can... can we at least talk some more?"
He hesitated for a long moment, still trying to fit this into a context he understood, still trying to think of what to say. When he finally decided he had the right words in his processor Sandstorm put a hand to the cross of Fireflight’s arms, let air cycle through his system once. And then he let the bottom half of his battlemask slide back.
“This is… a personal thing for me.” Sandstorm said softly, a little disconcerted at the feel of open air against his mouth component. He felt… very vulnerable, still unable to meet Fireflight’s optics. “It’s not something I like doing around other Wreckers.”
For a moment the Aerialbot just stared. Then his hand started to reach for Sandstorm's face, but at the last moment drifted sideways to settle on his shoulder instead. Gently, almost as if trying not to startle him.
Sandstorm’s hidden optics tracked the hand as it came at him, steeled himself from backing away and felt something foolishly like relief when it moved away from his face. His spark was pounding in his chest cavity and he didn’t know what it was that was making it pulse so heavily. Almost like he was afraid but it made no sense, there was nothing for him to logically fear.
He looked at the hand, traced the length of the arm with his gaze before finally settling on Fireflight’s optics. His mouth component parted just slightly and the jet could read the words so clear on the curve of his lips ‘please don’t ask for anything more’.
"I'm sorry," Fireflight whispered, so embarrassed and appalled he could barely speak. "I... I didn't want to upset you... please... put it back on if it makes you uncomfortable... I didn't, I didn't know." He squeezed the shoulder lightly. "Sorry."
He would’ve slid it back- with gratitude at that –but Sandstorm couldn’t bring himself to do it somehow. He was lost in Fireflight’s guilty expression and the triplechanger found he not only couldn’t look at him when he looked like that, he didn’t want it to stay there. Sandstorm leaned forward, hands braced against the surface of the berth and he pressed his head against the cables of Fireflight’s neck.
“It’s okay.” His words blew softly against the surface of gleaming armor. “It’s okay.”
Still shaking, Fireflight forced himself to calm down. It's okay. He said so. He's not angry. You didn't screw up. He took the closeness as opportunity to wrap his arms around Sandstorm and hug him tightly, still trying to apologize even without the words.
An insistent pressure pushed against Fireflight’s chest, one hand low on his back as Sandstorm quietly lowered them down. He didn’t pull back himself- instead nuzzling closer and a part of Sandstorm berated himself. Even if he wasn’t hiding behind his battlemask, he was still hiding from Fireflight’s optics. He tried to dismiss the thought by running his hands over the jet’s sides, trying to bring back that purr of engines and lose himself in that.
Optics dimmed, Flight felt his hands start to wander of their own accord, up and down Sandstorm's back as if nothing had happened. Confused, he tried to make sense of the evening and failed... not that he tried very hard. Those pleasant sensations were coming back very fast now that Sandstorm was teasing his flanks. He shivered, engines starting up in a low hum that occasionally revved louder when the triplechanger brushed a ticklish spot.
That familiar vibration broke through Sandstorm’s hesitance, bringing back his confidence and boldness. Even as his own engines thrummed quietly and his fingers brushed that ticklish spot again, he arched against Fireflight’s hands, making little noises of encouragement.
It wasn't long before Fireflight's fingers were doing what they were good at in this instance -- mapping out the places he couldn't see, until he could describe them perfectly in his head. They lingered particularly on the seams of armor, like the faults found between continental plates, dancing up and down experimentally creating little quakes of their own. Gradually they worked their way down to Sandstorm's sides, following the Wrecker's lead more unconsciously than anything, until both had their hands resting just above the other's hipjoints, Sandstorm's face was practically crushing Fireflight's shoulder and the Aerialbot was writhing ever so slightly on his berth.
Sandstorm strained against the seeking touches, rocking against the hands as his little noises turned into low moans and whimpers heard just under the growing growl of his engine. His own black hands danced experimentally back towards Fireflight’s fuselage and he whispered quiet ‘please’s against the underside of the smaller’s mech’s jaw.
Moaning a little himself now, mouthing silent exclamations at the air, Fireflight nuzzled his jaw against the Wrecker's faceplate, strangely thrilled by the touch of something Sandstorm had had difficulty even showing him. He wanted to trace that mouth with his hands but forced them to remain where they were, even working them lower, to the very limit of his reach in that position, his fingertips sliding between the seam of hip and thigh armor where the tender cables lay.
He should let Fireflight do things at his own pace, let him discover things on his own but Sandstorm couldn’t help it. The shock of touch against that gap of armor- as delicious as it is –wasn’t enough and he grabbed Fireflight’s hand, guiding it up along his side and back, quietly coaxing him to explore the panel that would twist and move to reveal a tire when he transformed. He slid down Fireflight’s body, just enough to give the jet the best access to that so wonderfully sensitive seam and so Sandstorm could nuzzle the sensor lining Fireflight’s chestplate.
Rather surprised by the sudden guidance, the jet accepted it eagerly, finding the seam again with little difficulty and promptly setting to work on figuring out just what was so sensitive about it that made Sandstorm's engine vibrate like that... meanwhile, his own wings were quivering from lack of attention, and he nudged Sandstorm's helmet and mouthed in his audio, "Wings. Flight sensors... touch there."
If you wanted to make a jet's engines scream, that was the way to do it. Either that or the nosecone... but he'd let Sandstorm figure that out on his own.
At Fireflight’s urging the triplechanger moved his hands outward, following the sweep angle to run over the curves of the wings, the slight rises of the wing fences, and the little slats and flaps along the edges. But as the curious touch against his side deepened, Sandstorm gasped and flexed, unable to focus as sensors sang all down his body. His fans stuttered and optics flared and dimmed in pleasured pulses. He twitched and groaned and rubbed against Fireflight’s body and his hand. His hand flexed and clutched and pressed against wings randomly as sensations flowed sharply through his body and whenever Sandstorm had the ability to speak it was always a breathy ‘yes, Primus, right there’ against the angles of Fireflight’s armor.
As if to oblige him, the searching fingers plunged deeper, though in truth it was more an involuntary response by Fireflight to the manhandling of his wings. His head tipped back, mouth open and optics flickering erratically as his body began to move of its own accord, twitching and jerking from his main servos down to the little flaps that lined his wings. His hands and body ground against every possible surface of Sandstorm's, no longer in any kind of thinking way but just an instinctive, all-powering drive to maximize contact and friction.
Their engines spin together in a loud, high roar as they drove together, fans cycling air harshly through overheating systems. With their bodies pressing and sliding against each other- trying to light every sensor on fire, build it into a blinding heat in their processors –the two mechs grabbed tight at one another until their panting was lost under the thrum of their pleasure. They pressed and slide and ground and touched and gripped and Sandstorm stretched and flexed, mouth moving silently against Fireflight’s shoulder as he overloaded, everything sparking off at once.
Servos and joints and levers all seized up and he crashed heavily onto Fireflight, limbs unable to support him. The Wrecker twitched and shuddered, system slowly coming back online. He purred softly, low and sated, and he nuzzled Fireflight’s shoulder lazily.
What seemed like the age of a solar system later, a muffled voice croaked from underneath him. "Sandstorm?"
“Hmm?” Came just as slowly and- after a few false starts –Sandstorm managed to get on his elbows to give the Aerialbot an utterly content grin. “Thanks.” He said, leaning in just enough to press gratefully on the edge of Fireflight’s helmet. “I needed that.”
The flier blushed. "Um... you're welcome?" Judging by the dimmed light of his optics and erratic vibrations of his systems, he'd enjoyed that last overload at least as much as the Wrecker had. Small wonder he was having trouble speaking coherently. Still, he made the effort.
"I really, uh, enjoyed that... Glad I asked you to come in. Thank you. I mean, not just for... I mean everything, for complimenting me and talking to me and... no one's ever really... I just, it means a lot. Thanks." His processor finally realized his vocalizer was babbling and put a stop to it, as he continued to gasp for breath.
His grin grew and softened into a small smile, optic band glowing with understanding. “My pleasure.” With slow, experimental movements, Sandstorm balanced himself on slightly trembling hands and knees. “And I really mean that.”
Fireflight watched the grin, completely unaware that he was mirroring it with a warm, dazzling smile of his own. I like seeing him smile, was the thought that suddenly occurred to him. Then he wondered if Sandstorm even realized the mask was still off. Tentatively he reached up, his hand just short of tracing the triplechanger's jawline, grazing the side of his helm and falling to his shoulder. He didn't speak, but his optics were questioning.
For a brief moment Sandstorm was lost in that smile, his internal temperature flushing in response. But the movement of Fireflight’s hand reminded him his face was partially exposed and his smile faded. He tilted his almost imperceptibly away and he could feel his pumps beating faster than they should. Sandstorm managed to keep from snapping the mask closed- just barely –reached up to grab the jet’s hand. His black fingers caressed over them, thumb slipping to briefly touch the gap between palm and wrist. Then he pulled Fireflight’s hand from his shoulder and set it down on the red chestplate. “I should probably get going.” The triplechanger said, even as he ignored the reluctance welling inside of him.
Fireflight looked up at him sadly, the smile fading away. What was it that made Sandstorm so afraid to even show his face, let alone have it touched? He surely wasn't afraid of Fireflight... was he? With a bit of shock the Aerialbot realized he'd dragged the triplechanger into his affections, something he hadn't intended to do -- Sandstorm made it clear this was just a one-night stand -- and now, even though they'd done what they came to do... he still felt a panic well up inside him at the thought of Sandstorm leaving.
Heaving a sigh, he rolled over onto his side, unable to look up at the partially hidden face any longer. "I guess... I mean, I don't mind, but you probably have stuff to do so... yeah." Don't get upset now, he chided himself. You're not supposed to be all clingy. He's just a fling, right?
That should’ve made it easier but as Sandstorm moved off Fireflight and off the berth having the jet’s back to him somehow made it harder. He should just go, he really, really should. Things always got messed up whenever he stuck around- had plenty of experiences doing and not doing it and just leaving always seemed to end things better.
But he couldn’t find it in his spark to do that, not with Fireflight obviously upset about something. Because, unintentionally as it was, Sandstorm genuinely came to like the smaller mech. He was fun and amusing and he liked teasing the guy. So while experience told Sandstorm to leave that small, somewhat decent part of him had him turning to look down at the form on the berth. “You look like you do mind something.”
The Aerialbot thought for a minute, then slowly sat up. He still didn't look at Sandstorm, but stared down at his hands as he tried to organize what he was trying to say in his head.
"I was going to say, you don't have to go yet. If that's all you wanted to do, then yeah, fine, but if you want to stay a little longer... talk or something... that'd be nice, too." Frag it, I'm still not letting go of him! He continued quickly, "I'm not asking you to spend the night or anything. Just saying, there's no hurry... unless there is, in which case I guess you'd better get going... but otherwise..." He trailed off, tired of feeling like an idiot.
And that led right back to Sandstorm’s dilemma. It came back to the thought that he should just leave and save the both of them the trouble. And yet he knew, even if Fireflight said otherwise, his leaving would bother him. Sandstorm could make an excuse, could just not care and yet…
Yet he couldn’t make himself do it.
So he shifted a little uncertainly. “Not really.” He said lowly, not quite able to look at the jet, either. “I got a mission later on, but that’s not for a while. I’m pretty much off until then.” He let that hang there, waited to see what Fireflight wanted to make of it.
"... Oh." Tentatively, hope wriggled back into his mind again -- he hasn't left yet, he seems to want something else -- found its familiar niche and curled up peacefully. The Aerialbot sat up. He was still looking away from Sandstorm, but thoughtfully now, making a decision. Finally he turned and gave him a slightly shy, but irresistibly encouraging look over his shoulder. "I'd really like to hear some more stories."
That had Sandstorm’s head coming up to meet his gaze. “Yeah?” He asked, vocalizer feeling oddly dry. The Wrecker’s processor was blank of ideas or courses of action and Sandstorm- smooth talking, slag-spewing, utterly charming Sandstorm –couldn’t think of anything to say, even after all the other stories he told.
“Um, alright.” To mask this he sat back on the berth, right by Fireflight’s feet and just barely not touching him. “What kind of story do you want to hear?”
Still looking thoughtful, the jet scooted himself around so that he could lie comfortably against Sandstorm, almost in his lap. He pretended to be casual, but watched the exposed mouth carefully for any sign that the contact wasn't wanted; seeing none, he snuggled slightly into place. "Well, you've given me a pretty good idea what you guys do on missions and where you've been... so... what about when you haven't got a mission? What do you like to do, if you're not, uh... wrecking?"
The move wasn’t exactly surprising but it still took Sandstorm a moment to settle the two of them in a comfortable position, his arm wrapped around Fireflight just above his wings. He dwelled over the question, even as the corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly. “Hmm… we don’t take a lot of leave if that’s what you mean. We tend to consider the time spent going from one place to another as our vacation. We don’t like being idle.” His fans whirled slightly- almost like a thoughtful sigh –as he let his head tilt just enough to rest against the top of the jet’s helmet. “We just… mess around, really. Playing pranks on each other or practicing maneuvers, coming up with new battle plans, training.” Red optics brightened slightly. “We spend a lot of time in the washracks, actually. You should come by and see it- no one else has ‘racks like Xantium does. The pools are huge and always heated and the supports are adjustable so you can get them to fit any size and configuration…”
Sandstorms hands gesticulated as he spoke, words making the image so vivid in Fireflight’s imagination. The Aerialbot listened just as much as he watched the way Sandstorm’s face- what he could see –transformed, so strangely open compared to his facemask. He curled tight under the triplechanger’s arm and occasionally asking questions. But mostly he listened and imaged as they spoke far into the night.
