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Barricade's alone
folder
S through Z › Transformers (Movie Only)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,805
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Transformers (Movie Only)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,805
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I own nothing: Not Hasbro, not Transformers. Not even police car. I also don't make any money from this.
Barricade's alone
Jeez. It's like masturbation day at the musashi ranchero. (For the bots that is!!)
Let's go back in time before Barricade met June.
Barricade double checked the door locks. No way he wanted to be interrupted now. Just for a few minutes. Just some time by himself. He needed…release. He knew it wouldn’t do anything in the long run, but he couldn’t even think straight. And right now, with everything else going on, he needed to think straight. So, a few minutes, he promised himself. Just a few.
And he’d be able to think straight again.
His hands went to his interface hatch. He hated doing this. But there was no other way. He hated the double connects—too distracting—too much for him. He did them, because to not do them would look…suspicious. But he knew everyone had figured out he didn’t enjoy them. Half the time he couldn’t even bring himself to overload. Not that he had no desire. Not at all.
That’s what was driving him crazy right now.
He pulled his interface module out of its coupling, regarding it in his hands. So small, and it gave him so much trouble. Didn’t work when he wanted it to, worked overtime times like…now, when he couldn’t afford the distraction. It was working now, the ready lights green all the way down. If only.
He let his mind drift to one of his favorite fantasies—access ports deeper than the finger-width of his kind. Access ports that responded. Better yet, creatures that responded to the module, not wanting, not demanding a hook up themselves. He could endure it if he could simply plug into ports of his own kind, even though they struck him as shallow. But he couldn’t endure the other connection. Distracting. Maddening. Painful. But to refuse was also painful to the other bot. Wouldn’t make a lot of friends that way. Probably get forced to anyway. So he just went with it, ground his dental plates together, and let them. And endured their pity when he failed to overload.
But here, he could imagine what he wanted. Oh, something small. Definitely. His datastream pulsed up at the idea. Yes. Something smaller than he was. Soft, where he was hard.
And with an access port. He clicked a finger over his module’s connector, twitching at the response. Yes. That would be perfect. Small, and pliable. And…and…warm. A deep access port. Maybe enough to take the whole module—that might be hoping for too much, but still. In his own mind, he would imagine it.
The module throbbed insistently. It was about ready. Still, he couldn’t help one last look over his shoulder, making sure he was alone. If anyone ever caught him doing this…..
No, alone. It was safe.
He lifted the module to his mouth, wrapping the whole length of it with his flexible glossa. Yes. An access port deep like this. He tightened his glossa’s grip, especially around the module’s tip, where the sealing collar would rest. The datastream pulsed harder. He pulled the module into his mouth, swiftly. When he overloaded, he couldn’t afford to make a mess. Spark forbid he splatter some on his chest plate and not see it. Better this way. Cleaner. Only the connector cables hung from his mouth. He closed his eyes, imagining the module not in his mouth, but in the access port of some warm, perfect, alien. That was his sinful perversion—dear Primus he’d fantasized about sex with aliens ever since he could remember. Ever since his first double-connection had hurt so badly. He longed for…something that would not force him to that. That would let him forget or ignore his inability to be normal.
Strange how his fantasy had made him…even more abnormal. Look at me, here, crouched in the dark, he thought, sucking on my own module. Like a filthy animal. Wanting to fuck other filthy animals. Xeno perv. Even worse than a self-connection. THAT happened mechanically.
He pushed that aside, summoning the fantasy again. Yes. A warm, small, soft thing. Access port only. No interface module. Yes. Oh yes.
His module thrummed in his mouth, against his glossa. And, and, it should want him. It should desire him. Yesssss. His module pulsed hard. It failed him on double connects more often than not; it had never failed him here. In the grip of his fantasies. In his own mouth.
The connector cables jumped against his labial plates, the only warning he had, that brought him back from his fantasy. His overload sprayed into his throat in thick, regular pulses. He swallowed it neatly, with ease, prodding the module’s end node to draw out the last of it with a well-practiced probe of the glossa. One day, he thought. One day I won’t have to do this. One day, it will be real. Even if that means I’m a xeno perv.
Let's go back in time before Barricade met June.
Barricade double checked the door locks. No way he wanted to be interrupted now. Just for a few minutes. Just some time by himself. He needed…release. He knew it wouldn’t do anything in the long run, but he couldn’t even think straight. And right now, with everything else going on, he needed to think straight. So, a few minutes, he promised himself. Just a few.
And he’d be able to think straight again.
His hands went to his interface hatch. He hated doing this. But there was no other way. He hated the double connects—too distracting—too much for him. He did them, because to not do them would look…suspicious. But he knew everyone had figured out he didn’t enjoy them. Half the time he couldn’t even bring himself to overload. Not that he had no desire. Not at all.
That’s what was driving him crazy right now.
He pulled his interface module out of its coupling, regarding it in his hands. So small, and it gave him so much trouble. Didn’t work when he wanted it to, worked overtime times like…now, when he couldn’t afford the distraction. It was working now, the ready lights green all the way down. If only.
He let his mind drift to one of his favorite fantasies—access ports deeper than the finger-width of his kind. Access ports that responded. Better yet, creatures that responded to the module, not wanting, not demanding a hook up themselves. He could endure it if he could simply plug into ports of his own kind, even though they struck him as shallow. But he couldn’t endure the other connection. Distracting. Maddening. Painful. But to refuse was also painful to the other bot. Wouldn’t make a lot of friends that way. Probably get forced to anyway. So he just went with it, ground his dental plates together, and let them. And endured their pity when he failed to overload.
But here, he could imagine what he wanted. Oh, something small. Definitely. His datastream pulsed up at the idea. Yes. Something smaller than he was. Soft, where he was hard.
And with an access port. He clicked a finger over his module’s connector, twitching at the response. Yes. That would be perfect. Small, and pliable. And…and…warm. A deep access port. Maybe enough to take the whole module—that might be hoping for too much, but still. In his own mind, he would imagine it.
The module throbbed insistently. It was about ready. Still, he couldn’t help one last look over his shoulder, making sure he was alone. If anyone ever caught him doing this…..
No, alone. It was safe.
He lifted the module to his mouth, wrapping the whole length of it with his flexible glossa. Yes. An access port deep like this. He tightened his glossa’s grip, especially around the module’s tip, where the sealing collar would rest. The datastream pulsed harder. He pulled the module into his mouth, swiftly. When he overloaded, he couldn’t afford to make a mess. Spark forbid he splatter some on his chest plate and not see it. Better this way. Cleaner. Only the connector cables hung from his mouth. He closed his eyes, imagining the module not in his mouth, but in the access port of some warm, perfect, alien. That was his sinful perversion—dear Primus he’d fantasized about sex with aliens ever since he could remember. Ever since his first double-connection had hurt so badly. He longed for…something that would not force him to that. That would let him forget or ignore his inability to be normal.
Strange how his fantasy had made him…even more abnormal. Look at me, here, crouched in the dark, he thought, sucking on my own module. Like a filthy animal. Wanting to fuck other filthy animals. Xeno perv. Even worse than a self-connection. THAT happened mechanically.
He pushed that aside, summoning the fantasy again. Yes. A warm, small, soft thing. Access port only. No interface module. Yes. Oh yes.
His module thrummed in his mouth, against his glossa. And, and, it should want him. It should desire him. Yesssss. His module pulsed hard. It failed him on double connects more often than not; it had never failed him here. In the grip of his fantasies. In his own mouth.
The connector cables jumped against his labial plates, the only warning he had, that brought him back from his fantasy. His overload sprayed into his throat in thick, regular pulses. He swallowed it neatly, with ease, prodding the module’s end node to draw out the last of it with a well-practiced probe of the glossa. One day, he thought. One day I won’t have to do this. One day, it will be real. Even if that means I’m a xeno perv.