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Fire in the Sky
folder
S through Z › Transformers (Movie Only)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,444
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Transformers (Movie Only)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
7
Views:
2,444
Reviews:
12
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own Transformers: I make no money doing this.
Spark
Starscream shuddered, a cry escaping his mouth only to be caught by Skyfire’s. His first overload ripped through his sensor net like a beautiful weapon, cold and hard edged and scintillant. He felt Skyfire’s sensor net ripple against his, under him, around him, through him with the special bond that quaternions had.
They lay together for a long while, tangled in each other’s limbs. Skyfire stirred. He brushed one of Starscream’s cheek flares with the back of one talon. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
Starscream smiled, hesitantly. “You have done this with our…?”
“Yes.” Skyfire teased Starscream’s module’s connector cables, making the other jet jump.
“But we’re not allowed to….”
Skyfire frowned. “Now you worry about that? I knew the rules would catch up to you eventually.” He slowly disconnected himself, stretching languorously. “You’re always so uptight, Starscream,” he said, only half teasing. “That’s why neither of the others knew how to approach you.”
“I am not,” Starscream insisted. The overload still raced through his sensor net, like raw electricity, making him reckless. He pulled Skyfire against him, fiercely. “I…I want,” the words froze on his lips, trembled there almost like droplets of melted ice. “I want to….” He ducked his head down, unable to say the words. But one hand traced the armor plating over Skyfire’s spark chamber.
It was Skyfire’s turn to look startled. “You want to spark link? With me?”
“Yes,” he managed. “But we should not. It is not allowed. But after the Navigant, would you?”
Skyfire smiled, the sweetest smile Starscream had ever seen. Normally Skyfire’s smile had a touch of wildness, of wickedness. “Why wait?”
“But we cannot! It is not allowed,” the other jet repeated.
“Another silly superstition, Starscream. I’m surprised you still swallow that nonsense. No one else does.”
“Then you have…with the others?”
Skyfire dropped his eyes. “No. I’ve never. But I want to.” He pulled Starscream closer, into another kiss, his hands racing trails of fire down the other jet’s body. “I want to with you.” He placed his own hand over Starscream’s spark chamber armor. “Do you even think you can retract it?”
Starscream bit his lip, concentrating. He wanted to do this, but he knew he shouldn’t. Couldn’t. It was not allowed. But Skyfire was always right—if he said it was another silly superstition, it was. And if Skyfire wanted to see him retract, he would. He would do anything for Skyfire. He leaned back against the wall, feeling the unusual sensation of those particular plates sliding against each other, and the sudden touch of air against his spark chamber. He gasped. Skyfire knelt over him, grinning his cheeky grin again. “Knew you could do it.”
“And you?” Starscream challenged. His ventilation came in short bursts, the sensation of air against the hypersensitive metal of his spark chamber was intoxicating. Almost painful. Flirting on the edges of pain the way Skyfire flirted on the edges of lawlessness. Skyfire looked down, staring at the plates he had to move. After a moment, they shifted. He looked up, grinning triumphantly.
“Do you want to?” he asked. “Last chance to be the good boy.”
“Yes,” Starscream said, the tease in Skyfire’s word strengthening his resolve. He hated being the ‘good’ one. Skyfire was the smart one, and Skywarp the sweet one and Thundercracker the tough one…it left him being…empty of all character, except the ‘good’ one. The one who had to work just a little bit harder, study a bit more, than the others. He cycled a deep ventilation. Skyfire leaned in closer, cupping Starscream’s jaw with both hands. They both gasped as the chambers released and the fields of their sparks touched each other. He felt Skyfire’s hands on his face, saw Skyfire’s eyes, looking down at him, accepting him. The sparks’ fields blended—Starscream could see the blue and gold of his mix with the more purple shade of Skyfire’s spark, swirling in a faster and faster rush of energy.
The sparks flared up brightly, glowing enough to blind their optics, and they fell, it seemed, into each other. Starscream could feel the slightly different energy of Skyfire’s sensor net, as if he had expanded to inhabit two bodies at once. But more than that, he was in Skyfire’s mind. He could see the world…differently. Not just look at himself through Skyfire’s optics, but see himself as Skyfire saw him. And he…was humbled. He could feel Skyfire’s emotions, a mix of affection, respect and love, pouring out over him almost like a tangible web of colored lights. He could almost weep at the beauty, if it didn’t revolve around him—so small, so unworthy, so always in the shadow of his quaterne-mates.
He wondered what Skyfire was feeling from him, and as soon as he wondered, he felt it, seeing Skyfire more familiarly through his own eyes, the adoration, bordering on worship, the near-envy he felt at Skyfire’s easy success in everything like glittering crystals—not hard and hateful at all, but shiny reflective surfaces, like little mirrors.
He saw—felt—fragments of his life through a sort of double vision: his own memory and Skyfire’s. He saw scenes he’d never seen—Skyfire and Skywarp, chasing each other across the skies, Thundercracker crying over…some loss. He knew, somehow, that if he tried, he could grasp that memory, climb into it, and discover what had upset Thundercracker so much that day. There was…no separation between them. No past differences. No obstacles. Just themselves, with their own stripped bare histories. And acceptance. Complete acceptance.
Starscream came back to himself crying. And alone.
They lay together for a long while, tangled in each other’s limbs. Skyfire stirred. He brushed one of Starscream’s cheek flares with the back of one talon. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
Starscream smiled, hesitantly. “You have done this with our…?”
“Yes.” Skyfire teased Starscream’s module’s connector cables, making the other jet jump.
“But we’re not allowed to….”
Skyfire frowned. “Now you worry about that? I knew the rules would catch up to you eventually.” He slowly disconnected himself, stretching languorously. “You’re always so uptight, Starscream,” he said, only half teasing. “That’s why neither of the others knew how to approach you.”
“I am not,” Starscream insisted. The overload still raced through his sensor net, like raw electricity, making him reckless. He pulled Skyfire against him, fiercely. “I…I want,” the words froze on his lips, trembled there almost like droplets of melted ice. “I want to….” He ducked his head down, unable to say the words. But one hand traced the armor plating over Skyfire’s spark chamber.
It was Skyfire’s turn to look startled. “You want to spark link? With me?”
“Yes,” he managed. “But we should not. It is not allowed. But after the Navigant, would you?”
Skyfire smiled, the sweetest smile Starscream had ever seen. Normally Skyfire’s smile had a touch of wildness, of wickedness. “Why wait?”
“But we cannot! It is not allowed,” the other jet repeated.
“Another silly superstition, Starscream. I’m surprised you still swallow that nonsense. No one else does.”
“Then you have…with the others?”
Skyfire dropped his eyes. “No. I’ve never. But I want to.” He pulled Starscream closer, into another kiss, his hands racing trails of fire down the other jet’s body. “I want to with you.” He placed his own hand over Starscream’s spark chamber armor. “Do you even think you can retract it?”
Starscream bit his lip, concentrating. He wanted to do this, but he knew he shouldn’t. Couldn’t. It was not allowed. But Skyfire was always right—if he said it was another silly superstition, it was. And if Skyfire wanted to see him retract, he would. He would do anything for Skyfire. He leaned back against the wall, feeling the unusual sensation of those particular plates sliding against each other, and the sudden touch of air against his spark chamber. He gasped. Skyfire knelt over him, grinning his cheeky grin again. “Knew you could do it.”
“And you?” Starscream challenged. His ventilation came in short bursts, the sensation of air against the hypersensitive metal of his spark chamber was intoxicating. Almost painful. Flirting on the edges of pain the way Skyfire flirted on the edges of lawlessness. Skyfire looked down, staring at the plates he had to move. After a moment, they shifted. He looked up, grinning triumphantly.
“Do you want to?” he asked. “Last chance to be the good boy.”
“Yes,” Starscream said, the tease in Skyfire’s word strengthening his resolve. He hated being the ‘good’ one. Skyfire was the smart one, and Skywarp the sweet one and Thundercracker the tough one…it left him being…empty of all character, except the ‘good’ one. The one who had to work just a little bit harder, study a bit more, than the others. He cycled a deep ventilation. Skyfire leaned in closer, cupping Starscream’s jaw with both hands. They both gasped as the chambers released and the fields of their sparks touched each other. He felt Skyfire’s hands on his face, saw Skyfire’s eyes, looking down at him, accepting him. The sparks’ fields blended—Starscream could see the blue and gold of his mix with the more purple shade of Skyfire’s spark, swirling in a faster and faster rush of energy.
The sparks flared up brightly, glowing enough to blind their optics, and they fell, it seemed, into each other. Starscream could feel the slightly different energy of Skyfire’s sensor net, as if he had expanded to inhabit two bodies at once. But more than that, he was in Skyfire’s mind. He could see the world…differently. Not just look at himself through Skyfire’s optics, but see himself as Skyfire saw him. And he…was humbled. He could feel Skyfire’s emotions, a mix of affection, respect and love, pouring out over him almost like a tangible web of colored lights. He could almost weep at the beauty, if it didn’t revolve around him—so small, so unworthy, so always in the shadow of his quaterne-mates.
He wondered what Skyfire was feeling from him, and as soon as he wondered, he felt it, seeing Skyfire more familiarly through his own eyes, the adoration, bordering on worship, the near-envy he felt at Skyfire’s easy success in everything like glittering crystals—not hard and hateful at all, but shiny reflective surfaces, like little mirrors.
He saw—felt—fragments of his life through a sort of double vision: his own memory and Skyfire’s. He saw scenes he’d never seen—Skyfire and Skywarp, chasing each other across the skies, Thundercracker crying over…some loss. He knew, somehow, that if he tried, he could grasp that memory, climb into it, and discover what had upset Thundercracker so much that day. There was…no separation between them. No past differences. No obstacles. Just themselves, with their own stripped bare histories. And acceptance. Complete acceptance.
Starscream came back to himself crying. And alone.