Captive Audience

Optimus just refuses to do kinky for me. I had to bring in some extra help. Even then...

Author GabrielC has written a link story between "Descending" and this one, called "Descending-Consequences". Please check it out! Also, she's just posted "Choices," a follow on from this one. VERY hot!

This story is based on a scenario suggested by GabrielC--Optimus and Mikaela get kidnapped by our favorite xeno pervs. What happens next?


“I’m glad you came over, Optimus, Mikaela said, hopping into the truck’s cab. She tugged her short denim skirt down over her thighs before she buckled the seat belt.

“I was surprised to hear from you,” Optimus said. “But I’m always available to you.” He winced. Did that sound too forward? He wanted to sound sincere, friendly, but not threatening.

“I wanted to see you again,” she said. Was it his imagination, or did Mikaela seem nervous? Was it a good kind of nervous or bad? “About the other night.”

“Oh.” He tried to sound non-committal.

“Let’s go somewhere, okay?”

“Of course. Where would you like to go?”

She rolled her shoulders. “Anywhere. Just outside city limits.” Optimus remembered how she’d railed against being stuck in her hometown again. He rolled forward.

“Out of town, here we come,” he said. He could see a small smile flash across her face.

They drove in silence, Mikaela staring at the road unspooling in front of them, Optimus struggling to figure out what to say or how to read her emotions. He wasn’t good at these finer points of their facial expressions. He wished he’d listened to the linguist they’d had with them on Diego Garcia. She was always going on about body language and expressivity.

Mikaela bolted upright. “Pull over,” she said.

“Why?”

“Police behind you—are you speeding?”

“I always observe local traffic laws,” Optimus said, a bit huffily. But yes, red and blue lights strobed behind him, approaching fast. His capacitor skipped a beat. “Mikaela, hold on.” He gunned his speed.

She clutched the door’s armrest. “What are you doing? It’s the police! Pull over!”

*****

“Got him?” Barricade commed Starscream.

“Yes, I have his signal now. This is another of your psychological operations?”

“It’ll work. It can’t fail.” He paused to swerve around a Volvo hatchback with a mattress tied to the top. “Just get them to the warehouse.”

“I will do my job, Barricade,” Starscream said, tartly. He comm’d off.

“You doing all right?” Barricade asked.

“Are you kidding? This is so exciting!” June sat forward in the driver’s seat, her breasts resting on the steering wheel. “That red and blue deadhead—that’s him?”

“That’s him.”

“He looks big. Is he bigger than you?”

Barricade twitched in the lane, to shake June up. “Size isn’t everything.”

She laughed, running her hands over the dashboard, soothingly. “Poor thing. Feeling insecure?”

“I’ll show you later how insecure I am,” he growled.

“Can’t wait,” she teased. “So, what’s the plan? Why’d you need me along?”

“All in good time,” he said, smugly, slamming on his brakes to startle the Porsche full of college kids who had tried to tailgate him for the last two miles. “Can’t fail.”

“That’s what you told Starscream. What? I don’t get any…privileged information?” she purred, tracing a slow line down his gearshift.

He growled again. “Make you pay for distracting me, you know.” The Porsche honked loudly, and gunned its engine, determined to race up on Barricade’s bumper again.

“Are those kids chasing…a police car?” June craned her neck.

“No respect for authority,” Barricade said. “No matter,” He floored it, the spedometer sticking at the far end as he exceeded its measurements. “Need to catch up to Prime anyway.”

Starscream comm’d. “Next exit looks clear. Get him on the offramp.” He cut comm.

“Yes master,” Barricade said sarcastically to the empty line. “Hold on tight, June.” He raced up behind Prime. When he saw the green sign announcing the exit, he pulled to the left, flaring on his lights and sirens. Prime tried to race ahead, but Barricade beat him to it, and cut him off by nicking the driver’s side front, edging the truck expertly onto the offramp cloverleaf. Prime had no choice, especially with a human passenger. He meekly followed the cloverleaf and got on the untrafficked road.

“Close enough,” Starscream comm’d again. The air filled with the roar of his jet engines as Starscream swooped down, spinning from the sky half-transformed. His long claws snatched the truck by the running boards, lifting him off the road, his wheels spinning helplessly in the air. Prime couldn’t transform, not without crushing Mikaela. One lone truck in the approaching lane, its bed loaded with chicken cages, made a panicked squeal to one side. The driver’s mouth gaped open. Barricade roared into a U-turn, taking the ground route to the warehouse. Stage one complete. From here, it couldn’t go wrong. No matter how wrong it went.

*****
“Prime, what’s happening?” Mikaela tried really hard to keep the panic out of her voice.

The jet flung Prime into the doorway of a steel walled warehouse, landing outside the door on heavy feet. Prime skidded across the floor. Mikaela jumped out, knowing Prime wanted to get out of his vehicle mode. She ran for some small crates in the corner. She could make a dash for the door from here, if Prime engaged the big jet.

Starscream stepped in, straightening up inside the doorway. Mikaela had second thoughts. He was even bigger than Prime. She couldn’t leave him. But what could she do? She looked around desperately. There had to be something she could use as a weapon. Or at least help distract the jet. Help Prime, and they could get out of here. She shouldn’t have called him. If she didn’t, if she’d kept her stupid mouth shut, they’d never have been on the road, Prime wouldn’t have been stuck being forced off the exit ramp.

Tires squealed and a car drifted in, sideways. She could read the word “Police” clearly written on the driver’s side door. Thank god. The police were here. Mikaela jumped up from behind the crate. “Hi! Help!” Her words died on her lips—the door opened, but the person who got out wasn’t a police officer. She saw a red-haired woman, wearing jeans and a black turtleneck sweater almost long enough to be a dress and the kind of jewelry that upper-class settled-down women wore.

“Hi!” the woman said, brightly. “I’m June Trevelyan.”

“Who the hell are you?” Mikaela asked.

“Just told you that.” Behind the red-haired woman, the police car transformed. Now Mikaela recognized him—he had been the one chasing Sam all those years ago. “You’re Mikaela, right?”

“How do you know my name?”

June turned to Barricade. “She’s kind of a dim bulb, isn’t she?”

“No accounting for tastes,” the bot responded, dryly.

“So,” Prime cut in. “What do you want.”

“Good to see you, too, Optimus Prime,” Barricade said. “Manners must be dead among the Autobots.” Starscream snickered, but his chain guns were aimed right at the Autobot. “As to what we want, well, we’re actually here to help.”

“Help?” He sounded dubious.

“You want to help us? Leave,” Mikaela yelled. “Or die.”

“Prime, we do wonder about your selection of xeno,” Starscream said, “But we shall try our best not to judge.”

Prime’s eyes whited in alarm. “Mikaela,” he said, softly. “Get out of here.”

“We can’t help you if she leaves,” June said. She hit the door closure. The door squealed on its rusty metal tracks through a tense silence.

“Help him? Why? Optimus, what’s going on?” Mikaela looked nervously between the bots.

“You are dull, aren’t you? Haven’t figured out yet that the truck here wants to have sex with you?”

“He what?!” Mikaela couldn’t help but turn to stare at Optimus. He kept his eyes on Barricade.

Barricade approached Optimus. “Admit it to yourself yet, Prime?”

“I don’t---“

“Really. Don’t even try that. We can tell. EVEN we can tell,” he corrected.

“Birds of a feather,” Starscream interjected. June crossed over to him, watching Barricade.

“How you doing, Starscream,?” she asked.

“I am optimally functional,” he replied. “Thank you for your inquiry. And you are well?”

“Did you…you know?” She leaned against his foot, looking up at him.

“I did.” His chassis swelled a bit with pride.

“Was she…difficult?”

“She was. But I convinced her otherwise. Of course.”

June laughed again, “Good for you!”

Barricade ran a long silver talon up Optimus’s arm. “We’re right, of course. Aren’t we.”

“No….” Prime said, but he couldn’t get his voice above a whisper.

Barricade stepped back, a grin shifting his face plates. “Going to make us prove it. And in front of her, too. Tsk tsk.” He turned to June. “”Assistance, June.”

June pushed herself up from where she’d propped herself against the jet’s leg. “What’s the magic word?” she sang.

“Assistance, NOW.”

Starscream snorted. June burst out laughing, trotting over. “Get you for that later, honey,” she said.

“Not if I get you first,” Barricade said, evenly. “Now, the Autobot requires a demonstration. Shall we?” He swept down into a crouch, pulling her against him with one arm. He turned so that Optimus had the best view, and kissed June fiercely.

Barricade broke the kiss. “Admit it now?” He turned to Optimus. She melted against his arm, stroking her hands across Barricade’s facial plating, down across his neck.

Optimus’s eyes were glued to June’s face, the raw emotion, the eagerness in her lips and fingers. He said nothing. Mikaela watched, also, her face vaguely sick.

“More? All right.” Barricade lifted the hem of June’s sweater with one finger, exposing the pale skin of her belly. He bent down and traced the line of her ribcage with his glossa. June sighed, arching her back into him. “Not sorry about this,” Barricade whispered, and slit her bra with one talon. He licked her exposed breast, squeezing the soft flesh with his glossa. He looked up at Prime again. “You’re not horrified, Prime,” he said, softly. Starscream shifted uncomfortably. Mikaela edged toward the door, hoping she could get the door open and out of here. Call the others. Get help. Just get away. Starscream caught her movement, and crossed the room—in two of his strides—scooping her up. He held her in the cage of his claws.

“Prime,” she squeaked. Optimus looked at her. His eyes were strange. “Mikaela,” he groaned.

“Why don’t you try it?” Barricade said. “Starscream?”

The jet handed Mikaela over, politely. He stepped back, reaiming his chain guns. “Behave, now, Prime.”

Barricade gestured. “Go ahead. You want to.”

“I don’t.”

Barricade’s smile flickered off for a moment. “Must you be so…resistant, Prime?” He reached forward and popped open Prime’s interface hatch and tugged the module out of its coupling. He held it up for Prime to see. “Green lit, yes? Either you want the xeno,” he lifted up June, still on his arm, “or you want me.” He looked at Prime coyly over the top of the module.

“No,” Prime said, backing away. The connector cables tightened between them.

Barricade flicked his thumb over the end node in a gesture June and Starscream recognized. Optimus’s entire body quivered. “Do it, Prime,” Barricade said, gently, encouragingly. “Or…I will.” He leered at Mikaela, who shrank against Prime’s hand. Barricade leaned in. “Be more than happy to break her in for you.” June slugged him on the arm, hard enough that the plating rang. “That’s your choice. You, or me. Maybe Starscream.”

Starscream cut in. “I prefer my own xeno.”

Mikaela paled. The two Decepticons could not be saying what she thought they were. Had they really—with human women? Beyond gross. Yet she saw the way Barricade looked at June. “Optimus,” she said, fearful.

“Perhaps you’d like some more encouragement,” the jet said. He cycled up his chain gun.

“You wouldn’t,” Optimus said.

“Kill or cure,” Barricade replied. “Now. No more waffling, Prime. You want this.”

“Mikaela,” the Autobot said, his voice rough. “I will be gentle.” She couldn’t pull back far enough—his hands held her several feet above the ground. His labial plate brushed against her lips, his glossa probing gently. His eyes shuttered closed. It felt…not unpleasant. His tongue—or whatever it was—was soft and almost shy, tracing her lips with so light a touch it was almost ticklish. She touched it experimentally with her own tongue. His turn to look surprised at the warmth of her mouth on his. “Mikaela,” he breathed, like a sigh.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Barricade said, squeezing Optimus’s module in his hand. The Autobot shuddered. “Next lesson.” He reached over, and slit off Mikaela’s blouse. “Also nice,” he advised.

Prime couldn’t stop himself—he had to touch her. He could feel where the hard bone and muscle of her shoulder ceded to the soft weight of her breasts. Her whole body was warm, her skin soft and smooth and tasted exotic. Clean and slightly salty organic with the overlay of the sweet flowery perfume she wore, that he’d always associate with her. He breathed the scent of her. His glossa traced a line down from her hair, the back of her neck, down her shoulder. She shivered, her eyes closing. “Optimus,” she said, her voice afraid.

“Mikaela, I am so sorry.” He tore himself away with a groan of effort.

“You want to see the rest?” Barricade said. He placed June onto the floor. “June, if you would?”

June shimmied out of her jeans and sweater. Her body was softer than Mikaela’s, curves where Mikaela was long and straight. Barricade bent down, kissing her again. Mikaela drew her knees against her chest, hoping Optimus would put her down. That this would be over. She wasn’t sure what she felt about this. Her heart beat with fear, but maybe desire. He was so kind, so sweet. Even now, worrying about being gentle with her. And she couldn’t say that it hurt. It tingled. Aroused her. Optimus. So much more considerate than Sam. She was…confused.

“Naked xeno.” Barricade said. He toyed with Optimus’s module again. The green lights were blinking almost angrily along the module’s side. Barricade indicated her pelvis. “Access port.” He held up the module. “Interface module. Do I need to be more explicit?”

Mikaela felt her stomach turn over in fear. Optimus wouldn’t…that…with her, would he? She became suddenly aware that the way she was sitting tugged her tight skirt high on her legs. She shifted until she knelt on one side, ankles demurely crossed.

“You are beautiful,” Barricade murmured, to June. She blushed, her smile taking on a sweeter tone than it had in the past. “I want you.”

She leaned up to him. “You have me,” she said.

“I will have you,” Barricade said. He looked up at Optimus. “You might want to take notes. Or use this.” He handed Optimus his module back, and opened his own hatch. Optimus held the module, weakly, unable to tear his eyes off the pair in front of him. Barricade lay June against his hand, which he rested on the ground. He knelt beside her. trailing his glossa down her body, skirting around her thighs. She whimpered, squirming on his hand. Barricade glanced up at Optimus, but turned his gaze back to June, watching her body heave in response as he inserted the module. She reacted to his datastream immediately.

“Forgot you like an audience,” she gasped. Her fingers pried into his hand, squeezing into his wrist cables and servos.

He tore his eyes away, back to Optimus. The Autobot was ventilating shallow and fast, the same rate as June, his eyes glued to the redhead in Barricade’s hand. Barricade couldn’t blame him. June was captivating, especially mid-interface, twisting and making soft, maddeningly arousing noises. He leaned forward and nipped her shoulder. “Ready?”

“God yes,” she gasped, just as his datastream got the better of him. He overloaded, fading out and in to the smell of her body, the feel of the fine-textured skin of her shoulder against his mandible plates. His whole body shuddered.

He recollected himself. Starscream was staring at them, his turbines cycling up from arousal. Only his ridiculous warrior code kept his chain guns locked on Prime. The Autobot was staring as well, his body quivering like a wire under tension. June was watching him under heavy eyelids, warm and sated. Everyone looking at him. Even Mikaela, though her look was shock and horror. Everything he’d always dreaded—all the hatred and horror packed into the insulting words—xeno, alien fuck, pervert. Primus he wished Prime would take the hateful little bitch. Teach her a lesson. Show her better. Get that look of disgust off her face. Tear her down. Core of iron, that type. What did Optimus see in her?

Barricade rocked back on his heels, suddenly, laughing. He disconnected himself from June, gently. She sat up. “What’s up?”

“He’s a bottom,” Barricade burst out. June rolled off, tugging her long sweater over her head, tilting her head at Prime.

“Really?”

Barricade looked over at Starscream, who ducked his head down to his chest, trying to stifle a chuckle. “He’s a bottom, Starscream,” Barricade repeated. The two bots burst into loud laughter. June looked over at Optimus and shrugged as if to say, ‘Don’t ask me’.

Barricade pulled himself to his feet. “Well, we’ve done all we can do here.” He tossed June’s jeans and shoes to her. Optimus stood, confused, Mikaela held in limp hands. “Ready to go, Starscream?”

“What?” Mikaela asked. “You’re just going to leave? Let us go?”

Barricade shrugged. “Your friend,” he said, “Needs someone to take control. But he wants you. Either you order him to fuck you, or he’s going to suffer this unrequited lust thing for a long time. Can’t really help you with that.”

Starscream hit the door mechanism. “Maybe,” the jet said, as the door rattled open, “A little privacy. It helped me.” He launched himself into the sky.

Mikaela started shaking, all the pent up fear forcing its way through her limbs in tight tremors. “Optimus,” she said, tears glinting in her eyes. “Please don’t.”

He held her against him. “I won’t, Mikaela,” he said, soothingly. But he quivered at the smell of her, the warmth and softness and aliveness of her human body against his cold armor. But…but…he was a leader. Ironhide’s angry words stuck in his head. Pervert. Filth. Unnatural. His central core still ached at Ironhide’s anger, at the hatred and fear behind them. Could he…? And he was the leader. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Even if his core trembled every time he saw Mikaela. He couldn’t let himself let his guard down. He had too much responsibility.

And then there was respect. He couldn’t do anything to undermine his authority. Ironhide had kept his mouth shut—Primus alone knew how—but any other sign, any other crack in his armor, and he wouldn’t be able to keep it secret. And then all he’d been working for—the alliance with the humans, peaceful coexistence—shattered.

Yet….Mikaela lay in his hand, clutching her torn blouse over her bare chest. He could smell her from here, could feel the heat of her body in the palm of his hand, her eyes tilted toward him, large, liquid, trusting…. Alone. He pulled back, and pressed his mouth to hers again. The moan in his throat drowned out the sound she made.

*****

June jumped into the driver’s seat as Barricade transformed, still tugging on her shoes. “So, what’s this all about, anyway? You going to tell me now?”

Barricade revved his engine. “Let’s look at the possibilities. He can take her, in which case he either suddenly has a huge secret to keep from his fellow Autobots, or he faces their disgust. Or he can not take her, and suffer. Or he can try, and get rejected. There is no way that this doesn’t cause a rift among the Autobots.”

“Sneaky!” June said, approvingly, smoothing her hair in the rearview.

“And also, an audience,” his engine rumbled happily.

“You know where your jet friend is going, right?”

Barricade laughed. “Oh yeah.”