Xeno

A/N Part of this story refers to a fic someone wrote as a gift fic for me, which I don't have the rights to and wouldn't dare post here because of that. Basically, Blackout gets hooked up with a hot xeno named Rachel who introduces him to anal sex.

***

Barricade’s motor purred happily as he chivalrously opened his rear passenger-side door for June to drop her teaching bag. She was done with this unholy ‘grading’, and according to her calendar, had nothing better to do for the next 21 solar cycles than…well, Barricade. He intended to get done. Repeatedly.

“Uuuuuungh,” she said, slumping herself in his front passenger seat. “Shouldn’t call it ‘Rocks for Jocks.’ More like ‘Rocks for Rocks’.” She threw a hand over her face, melodramatically. She’d been doing this horrible grading thing it seemed non-stop for a full deca-solar.

“Are you talking about this grading thing, still? You are no longer authorized to talk about it.” He rolled away from the curb, back to her little suburban house. Tiny, barely twice the size of the garage she let him stay in.

She peeked at his hologram from between her fingers. She’d taken a liking to him using his holo to project a smaller version of himself. It was weird, and a little creepy to picture, but it kind of turned him on that she wanted to look at him…looking like him. “So,” she said, “What am I authorized to talk about?”

“You are authorized to talk about ME,” he said, smugly.

She laughed. She still sounded tired, but it was a decent, honest laugh. “What about you in particular?”

“Well, you could go over my devastatingly good looks, but your ‘Winter Break’ thing simply isn’t long enough.” His hologram grinned. He knew he was ugly. By human or mech standards, he was pretty hideous. The fact that June didn’t think so made her either crazy or amazing. He was hoping for somewhere down the middle: cramazing.

“Oh, don’t remind me how short it really is. I have so much to do!”

“No. You have one thing to do. Me.”

She grinned, leaning over to run one hand over the dash. “You are on the top of the list.”

Emboldened, Barricade said, “I have some ideas, too. It’s cold in your garage and boring. We need to try new things.”

“I am afraid already,” she teased. “What new things?”

“Ha!” he said, gratified at being asked. “For one thing, we have never done it at the end of a runway. It’s amazing. The aircraft take off right over you and the engine vibrations shift into Doppler and….” he shuddered with delight.

“Note to self,” June said, “Bring earplugs.” She squirmed in the seat. “Okay, what else?”

Barricade’s hologram reached to run one talon down her arm. It was all a trick of light, and she couldn’t feel anything beyond—maybe—a mild electrostatic charge, but she made a contented whimper. “You have a lot of bungee cords….”

June burst out laughing, her red curls flying over her face. “So, are you tying me up or am I tying you up?”

“We have to decide?” Damn xenos made everything so…unspontaneous.

“Well we can’t both do it—we’d both be tied up.” She started giggling.

“This grading thing has made you giddy, xeno,” Barricade said, sternly. “I suggest we leave the tying and the tyee open for the moment. A battle of wills. One shall stand, one shall…meet defeat by bungee.”

She wriggled against the seat again. She knew how much it got to him, but that wasn’t why she did it. He could feel the heat between her thighs already. Primus he wanted her. Well, always, but right now it was getting hard to concentrate. Even safely stowed, his interface module pinged him.

“We could always try that thing that Blackout’s xeno did,” he suggested. The copter said it was amazing. He wanted to try it. He wanted to watch June, too.

“No.” The laugh died.

“Come on! He said it was really—“

“I said no.” She moved on the seat, but no longer squirming happily.

“Sure it’s a little weird,” he said, “but I want to try it. I mean, but so’s the whole ‘sex with an alien’ thing—weird--and that’s worked out all right. Don’t you? With me?” His hologram reached for her thigh.

She jerked her leg away, the motion rippling the light of the hologram. “Don’t touch me.” Whoa. What happened?

“June,” he began.

“Stop, please,” she said. She seemed to collapse inward, arms folding over her legs.

“Sure.” He shut up. She’d talk to him when she was ready. He made the turn to go over the railroad tracks to her house. They’d be at her place soon, and he could transform and she’d have some place to look. Some place real—not his stupid hologram. Speaking of, he snapped it off.

“I mean,” she said, “stop.”

He slammed on his brakes. “What?” he said, concerned. “June, wait—“

She kicked the door open before he had come to a stop, stumbling against the door in her hurry to get out. She started walking, fast, in the direction of her house.

“June!” He hated this feeling. He didn’t know what the frag to call it other than The Feeling Barricade Hates. He had no idea what was going on, or how to fix it. He rolled after her. “Come on. It’s cold. Get back in here.”

She picked up her pace. He rolled faster, turning to cut her off with his front quarterpanel.

“Get away from me!” she yelled, slamming her hands against his hood. He recoiled.

“Ju-June?” he said, unsteadily. That…actually kind of hurt. “Come on. This isn’t funny.”

“Goddam right it’s not funny,” she snapped. “You want it so badly that way, you know what? You go get it. Find someone else. Maybe Rachel will let you, but then again maybe she’s got better taste than a goddam car.”

He felt as if his entire energon system had gone cold. “What’s gotten into you?” he asked. “You’re not like this!”

Her head snapped around, her green eyes blazing. “Oh yes, I AM like this. Go. Find. Someone. Else.” She swerved around his front—he saw her legs sweeping the heavy fabric of her skirt stark in the light of his headlamps. “I’m obviously not enough for you, so go,” she threw over her shoulder.

“June, this is ridi—ow!” He winced as she bent down to grab a handful of gravel, which she flung at his windscreen.

“Go!”

“June?” his voice sounded thin. He watched her walk away. Frozen. He didn’t even know what he did wrong. He had no idea how to make it right. He waited until he saw her stomp up to her door, and open it.

He cut his headlights and sat there, his engine trembling with unfamiliar emotion.


***

By morning he had figured it out. He’d been making all of the suggestions, and not letting her have any. Maybe she wanted to suggest that as a surprise for him, and he’d gone and blown her surprise. That’s what it was. He’d just been a little too excited. After a good night’s recharge, she’d see that.

So he parked himself confidently in her driveway, waiting for her to come out. He’d even, he decided, be really cool about it. Just pretend it never happened. No big deal. He wasn’t exactly even-tempered himself: he would be a hypocrite if he held her to a different standard. He rolled through the list of songs she'd sung to before. Once he got her in, he’d just play her happy music. No pressure. Just let her enjoy those songs.

Right. Time to shine.

June was locking her door behind her, and that’s when Barricade noticed the first sign this wasn’t over. She had her car keys. His vision slid to the battered Honda, squatting forlornly, neglected, under a tree off the driveway. She wouldn’t. For THAT thing?

She would. She walked right around him, and bent to unlock the car door.

No. No no no no no. This did not happen. This wasn’t going to happen. Frag disguise. He pushed back into his robot mode, kneeling around the driver’s side door as she got in, taking a moment to pull the spread of her tweed skirt in, giving him an arousing glimpse of her calves.

“Morning, June,” he said, brightly.

“Morning,” she said, blandly. Her eyes stayed on her task. Like he was invisible. He felt a stir of anger.

“I can drive,” he offered.

“So can I, you know.” A little tartness in her voice.

“Yeah, I know. Didn’t mean anything like that,” he said. Well, he was a better driver, the same way she was a better singer. It wasn’t a judgment on her as a person. She turned the ignition. The engine grumbled to life.

“Let it idle a minute,” he muttered, automatically. “Been a while since you drove it.”

“Fine,” she folded her hands in her lap.

“Where are you going?”

“Errands.”

“I like errands.” He hated errands, but he liked spending time with her. He liked the ‘show and tell’ she always did about it. He liked the feel of her warm soft human body against him. The backpanel that formed his passenger seat tingled with memory.

“Nah, I’m good,” she said. Her eyes still hadn’t come to his face.

“June,” he said. “Come on. Talk to me.” I can talk my way out of ANYthing, he figured, confidently.

“Nothing to say, really. Look. I have to go.” Her eyes flicked briefly to his face. Her eyes were red rimmed and weird looking.

His temper flared. “No,” he said. “You do not have to go.” He reared back and sank one hand into a drivetrain tire. “Next one,” he growled, “is the engine block.” Air whined out of the tire as he jerked his hand back.

“You really,” she hissed, “have a lot of balls, don’t you?” She cut the ignition.

“You,” he snapped, “Are talking to me.” He rested one knee on the ground next to the door. “You can send me away, fine. You want me to go; I’ll go. But first, tell me WHY.”

She sighed. “This is just the first. It’ll happen again. So, it’s best to end it now.”

Barricade shifted his weight to one side. His one upraised knee was just about at her eye level in the vehicle. . “No idea what ‘it’ is.”

She dropped her head back against the Honda’s head rest. “The whole anal sex thing. I can’t do it. You want it. In that situation, honey, trust me, curiosity wins out.” She shook her head. “You’ll want to do that and look at me as some sort of uptight prude for not doing it, and, I lose. I just want to be the one to call the shot this time.”

“Frag,” he breathed. “You think I’d do that? Ditch you for another xeno?”

Her eyes met his, her face below her green eyes red and blotchy. “Yes.”

It wasn’t an implausible answer. And the fact that she knew it already—she really saw him. And he realized he didn’t much like what she saw. He had no idea how or why she did. He tried to make himself say he wouldn’t, make some dramatic promise that would get her back. But the words wouldn’t come. He could lie to her, but…his systems for once refused the easy lie. Instead, he said something his processor recognized as truth. “It wouldn’t be worth it.”

She shrugged, looking back out the front windscreen. “It’s a matter of time. I knew all along it would happen. I just…I just thought I’d have you longer."

Something about the raw emotion in her voice drove into him like a rusted blade.

“Get out of the car,” he said, quietly.

“I have…errands.” Right, like she could go anywhere with only one front tire.

“Get out of the fraggin’ car. Or I will get you out.”

She rolled her eyes, but pushed open the door. He shifted his weight so she could exit, but couldn’t go anywhere—trapped by his body. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chassis. She resisted, stiff, for a long moment before leaning her cheek on the top of his hood. “Thought we went over this,” he muttered. “Don’t ever want to hurt you. Did that once already.”

He had a feeling that that still wasn’t enough. That he should be saying something more, something bigger. “It’s you,” he said, finally. “Not just the physical stuff. Physical stuff with you.” He hoped she’d piece enough together to figure out what he was trying to say. He wasn’t sure he could.

“I know, I guess,” she murmured. “But it matters, too, the physical stuff.”

“Speaking of…?”

She pushed away. “You are not serious. You want—now?”

He managed, he hoped, a suitably cheeky grin. “That was our first fight, right? I am eager to try this ‘makeup sex’.”

Despite herself, a few anemic snorts of laughter escaped her control. He pushed her against the side of the car, leaning forward, rubbing his cheek plates along hers. “I hear it’s really good,” he whispered teasingly, one hand trailing down between her thighs.

“A little public,” she mumbled. “And we’re not done arguing yet.”

He growled, but it had a playful edge to it. “Oh no, June. I have had it with your stupid xeno rules. We finish this argument the Decepticon way.” He tightened his arm around her, swinging her off her feet. He blurted a command at the garage door, which obediently rattled open.

“Put me down, you big idiot,” June ordered, squirming to unpin her arms.

“Ha! The first rule,” he said, “of Decepticon argumentation is this: cede no tactical advantage. So, no.” His free hand slid up under her skirt. “You want to know rule two?”

“Probably not.” She struggled again, her legs kicking at his thighs. Her flesh felt almost hot against his talons.

“Too bad. I didn’t want to learn your stupid human style of arguing.” A little bitter sounding, but, well, honest enough. “Rule two: struggling only turns me on.” His hand probed between her thighs. She gave a soft moan. “You can’t deny you want me….”

“Get over yourself,” she snapped. She freed one hand, and pushed against his chassis.

“Rule three: if you can’t say anything nice, you should make sounds like,” he pushed her undergarments aside, slipping one talon into her, causing her to gasp, “that.” He shuttered his optics for a moment, concentrating on the feel of her—her warm softness against his body, her slick access port on his talon. The rhythm of her breathing, the smell of her—everything. This was what he wanted. This was who he wanted. Nothing else mattered. Nothing would be worth losing this. He ducked his head down, touching his mouth briefly to hers. “Want you. Please?”

The struggle went out of her, her hand coming up to stroke the chromed plates of his facial armor. Her eyes watched his—trying to read something in the mechanism. “Yes,” she said, finally. Take what you can, as long as you can, she told herself.

He lowered to his knees again, just enough so that her feet touched the floor. He pushed her shoulders back against the garage wall, while he uncoupled his interface module. They both gasped as he pushed into her: his metal cold from the chill air, her body hot with her human warmth. Her hands clutched at his, splayed across her chest. June tilted her head back, eyes closing, as he released a pulse of his datastream. Then another.

He loved the feel of her, the sounds she made, everything, even above the strange, warm, impossibly arousing sensations of her xeno access port against his. Sooner than he wanted, his datastream slipped his control, its pulses driving harder and harder, unopposed, until it ran into the counterpulse of her physical response. Whatever these xenos called an overload. The counterpulse plunged him into his own overload. His hands clutched at her—one still across her shoulders, pinning her to the wall, the other closed around one of her thighs. His systems sent flurries of desire to his central processor, raw and wild and hot: almost like June herself.

He faded back in from his overload slowly, letting himself cling to that half-awake state, floating on the gentle waves of his sensornet. He released his hands, slowly, from June’s body. “Sorry,” he muttered. He always worried that she felt trapped when he faded out—his joints locking into position until he faded back in.

“Nothing to apologize for,” she said. Sounding like June again. Score one for the Decepticon versus human argumentation strategy. His talons, releasing her thigh, ran over the bumpy scar he had made on her. Nothing to apologize for? Wrong.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked, softly.

She knew what he meant. Primus, she was telepathic or something. “It brings back bad memories. Flashbacks. Guy from grad school, once. For two hours, nothing but…that.” She shuddered.

“Didn’t you fight him?” If she were brave enough to hit him, he couldn’t imagine she’d be afraid of another human.

She shrugged. “I tried. But when you’re weak, well, that’s how it goes.”

Barricade’s spark seemed to flip. Yes, he knew how that went. “I know,” he said, softly. “Believe me, June, I know how that goes.”

She looked up at him, suddenly, remembering. Remembering, as he did, why he’d scarred her in the first place. “Yeah, I guess you would.”

“June.” Barricade shifted, tugging his module out of her gently. “I would never ask you to…do that. Knowing now. ‘M sorry.” More than you know.

She smiled, but it was sad. “It’ll still come between us.”

“No, slag it, it won’t.” He heard a strange confidence in his voice. “I have my damage. We work around that, don’t we? We can work around yours.”

“I don’t want to be a ‘work around.’”

“You think I do?” he said, hotly. “You think I like being the fraggin’ freak? Every time I’m with…anyone I know what they’re thinking. Even if it turns them on, it disgusts them that I have to do it that way. You. With you, I don’t have that.”

“Because we don’t interface the same way.” Logical. But wrong.

“That’s not it at all. You don’t look at me like I’m somehow disgusting because of it. Something that’s not even my fraggin’ fault.” He wiped his module on her skirt. This conversation was getting uncomfortably maudlin. He was not going to spend one more minute of this ‘winter break’ in angstland. “Now, argument over,” he said, definitively. “You lose: you’re stuck with me. Go get a new—whatever this xeno thingie is—and get back out here. We have an airport to scout.”

He watched her walk back into the house, tossing him a hesitant smile over her shoulder, as if she feared he’d leave while she was gone. For as long as I can, he thought to himself. His talons curled into fists. Take what I can, as long as I can.