Game

Round One:
Sideswipe was in a foul mood. He hated being in a bad mood, and it put him into an even WORSE mood. But from long experience he’d figured out a few cures. Nothing improved a mood like pounding the living coolant out of a Decepticon.

So…when he saw a slightly-too-familiar Saleen rocket by him on the freeway, as heedless of the speedlimit and the rules of the road as the actual police, well, it was like Primus himself had reached down and handed li’l old Sides a ticket to Better Mood Ville. He took off, chasing the ‘police’ car over several miles, not even caring (in fact kinda enjoying) that the ‘con spotted him immediately.

Clinging to him as the ‘con tried every trick in the book to lose or evade him was already lifting Sideswipe’s spirits. Imagining the twitter of fear in the little weakling’s spark helped, too. Let him run: he’d only die tired.

A half-cycle later, the Saleen slued to a halt in the loading lot of an abandoned supermarket, his rear tires skidding in a half-moon of black rubber. “What the frag do you want?” Barricade snapped. He had way better plans for today than playing chasies with some idiot Autobot. Well, really any plans were way better than that, but… And this one—Sideswipe, his database fed him—was getting on his very last nerve. And he NEEDED that damn nerve.

“You know what I want,” Sideswipe pushed back into his robot mode, unsheathing one of his energon blades. No sense, he thought, in making it TOO unfair. Bee’d taken this guy how many times? Even the one blade was probably too much.

“Do I?” Barricade shifted as well, into a low crouch, pulling his spoke weapon. “Sounds like you want ME. That it, silver bells?”

“Want to pound the fluid out of you, ‘con.”

“My, my.” Barricade smiled archly. “Do you, now? All that time staring at my pretty aft finally get to you?”

Sideswipe felt his heat sinks cycle on, as the double meaning of what he’d been saying struck him. “Shut up, ‘con,” he snarled, bounding forward, feinting a swipe at the mech’s head.

“Oooo,” Barricade drawled, ducking easily, “I like it when they get aggressive.”

“Won’t like it when I cut you.”

A raised eyebrow. “Maybe I will, Autobot. Besides, who says you’re going to win?” He ducked another swipe of the energon blade, returning the blow with a swing of his spoke weapon, which only grazed Sideswipe’s armor. Still, enough to piss off the Autobot.

“Stand. Fraggin’. Still!” he yelled, advancing on the ‘con, slashing at him with both blades. Barricade rolled to the ground, coming up on Sideswipe’s other side in his vehicle mode. “NOT SO FAST!”
Sideswipe bellowed, skating at top speed after the black and white car. He plunged his blade into the cracked macadam in front of the car’s path. Barricade slammed on his brakes with such force that he launched into his robot mode. He came up, his spoke weapon whirling.

“Last warning, Autobot, leave me the frag alone.”

“Not til I get my way.”

The spoke weapon’s spin juddered unevenly, the ‘con giving a bark of laughter. “Autobot, you’ve got some serious issues.”

“Stop talking and start fighting, ‘con.”

“I do have a name, you know. But I’m guessing you really want to call me Sunstreaker.” He laughed at the look of white fury that blanched Sideswipe’s face.

“You shut up. You shut up, filthy fucking ‘con. You don’t even deserve to mention his name.” Sideswipe lunged at Barricade, swinging wildly. The ‘con evaded the first swing, but got nailed by the follow-through spinning kick, sprawling on the pavement. He rolled over, catching Sideswipe’s next downward blow in his spoke weapon, the spinning blades grinding against the energon blade.

“Sunstreaker!” Barricade said, defiantly. “Think he’s probably what’s really behind all these Freudian slips, ‘bout you wanting to pound me and have your way with me.” He shoved Sideswipe away with a foot to the ‘bot’s hip. “Think you’re lonely and no one’s giving it to you the way you like. So you come looking for it.” He pushed to his feet, flexing the talons of his free hand. “I’m the natural choice, of course.” There was a bitterness in his voice Sideswipe didn’t know how to interpret.

Sideswipe lunged again, closing the distance, or trying to.

Barricade danced back, parrying the blow weapon-on-weapon. Sideswipe continued his advance, driving the ‘con back across the parking lot. The ‘con retreated, barely able to parry the worst of the blows, but Sideswipe was still frustrated—the only thing he’d scored on the ‘con was a deep scratch across the other’s grille that left Barricade hissing. Well, at least he’d shut up. Sideswipe finally pushed him into a stand of trees. He gloated as the ‘con looked around—the trees were too closely set together for a desperate dash for escape. He was trapped. Sideswipe plunged his blade at the other’s chest.

And cursed as his blade sank deep into the heavy wood of the tree. Barricade had simply dropped his entire weight, landing hard on his aft on the ground, Sideswipe’s blow sailing harmlessly over his head. Sideswipe cursed, struggling, trying to jerk his blade out of the tree, but found it lodged, stuck. Barricade got to his feet, lazily, easily, strolling around to admire the spectacle of Sideswipe with his blade embedded in the trunk of the tree.

“All you have to do,” Barricade drawled, “is turn the damn thing off.”

“SHUT UP!” Not going to leave himself unarmed with this fraggin’ ‘con. Sideswipe jerked harder, feeling some tension lines in his shoulder assembly squeal in protest.

Barricade grinned, stepping in close, his hand hard on Sideswipe’s other wrist. “If I didn’t have some place sooooo much better to be,” he murmured, “I’d stay here and really teach you a few things.” His other hand pulled Sideswipe’s mouth against his, forcing a hard, invasive kiss on him—Barricade’s glossa intruding into Sideswipe’s mouth, his other hand hard on the back of Sideswipe’s helm. Despite himself, Sideswipe heard a soft moan build in his throat, as if all the energy and force of combat had suddenly changed to desire.

“Thought so,” Barricade said, his voice hard, breaking the kiss. “Good luck finding what you need from your Autobot friends.” And with that, he slipped through the trees and was gone.

Round Two
Five days later, Sideswipe was still fuming. Lucky break, that tree thing. That was all. No way that pathetic ‘con could beat him in anything like a fair fight. And bringing up Sunstreaker. Oh, if he saw Barricade again, he’d see who taught who ‘a few things.’

So, he got more than a little excited when, on his daily patrol, he picked up a Decepticon energy signature. Off his route, but not by that much. Optimus’s orders had been not to engage the ‘cons unless they were either engaged first, or the ‘cons were attacking humans. Sideswipe figured he could claim he was investigating. And would anyone really question that a ‘con needed a beatdown?

He rolled to a silent stop behind a building by the local water reservoir. Barricade stood in the shallows, in his robot mode (how Sideswipe had picked up his signal in the first place) scrubbing at the accumulated gunk of several days and several thousand miles of driving that caked his fairings. Whatever he’d been doing, it had been dirty. And he had no place for proper maintenance.

Awwww, poor fraggin’ baby, Sideswipe thought, transforming as quietly as possible, sneaking into position. He watched the mech kneel down in the water to soak the tires on his wrists. Nicely helpless.

Sideswipe launched himself at Barricade, catching him just above the shoulders, and shoving his head hard under the water. The ‘con shoved to his feet, roaring, throwing Sideswipe from his shoulders.

Sideswipe tripped him with his longer legs, sending him splatting back first in the muddy edge of the reservoir. He stepped on the ‘con’s chassis, pushing the other mech down into the thick sucking mud. The ‘con clawed his talons into Sideswipe’s ankle joint. Sideswipe howled, but didn’t back off. He dropped to his knees on top of the other mech, straddling the chassis, pinning Barricade’s arms with his knees.

He slapped the ‘con’s face, a little disgruntled that the water softened the blow. Barricade spat muddy water at him, struggling to get purchase with his feet in the soft muddy bank.

“Ha!” Sideswipe gloated. “Not so full of yourself now, are you?”

Barricade spat more muddy water. “Never was.” His eyes glared malevolence at Sideswipe. “So, you gonna kill me or fuck me?”

Sideswipe plunged one energon blade into the bank beside Barricade’s head. The ‘con barely glanced at it. “Any reason I can’t do both?’
He felt the ‘con wriggle his wrists, trying to free them. “You’re supposed to be the good guys, I thought.”

“Yeah?” Sideswipe laughed, harshly. “Maybe I’m not. No one here to tell on me.”

“How’s Sunstreaker?” the ‘con’s voice oozed glossily false sympathy. “He doing better, you know, after you had to offline him? That what started your death porn fetish?”

Sideswipe howled in rage. “I’ll show you, you filthy con.” He scooped a handful of the thick mud, shoving the brownish-green glop in the ‘con’s face, grinning evilly as the ‘con tried to toss his head to clear his vocalizer. “Not gonna speak Sunstreaker’s name again.”

He kicked one leg back, dropping his weight heavily on Barricade’s frame, laughing as Barricade winced at the impact, blocking the ‘con’s mouth with his other hand. The other mech’s vocalizer was choking on the mud, sending random bursts of static. Sideswipe heard himself laughing, his hand reaching for the ‘con’s interface panel. Barricade’s eyes blazed with fury, and he thrashed, pushing himself only deeper into the thick gunky mud of the bank, trying to swing at Sideswipe’s head, but his blows also hampered by the force of the water they had to push through.

“Show you,” Sideswipe said, again, hiking his hips to release his spike.

“Sideswipe,” a voice cut urgently over his comm. “Location.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

“Not what I asked,” Prowl said. “You are late for your return from patrol. Where are you?”

“Just taking care of some stuff.”

“You don’t have any stuff to take care of. Get back here. Now.”

Slag it. Sideswipe pushed himself off Barricade, pushing against the mech’s frame, hearing him grunt with the strain. “Gotta go,” he said, tossing a handful of muck at the ‘con’s exposed interface equipment. “I’ll keep a memory of you like this, though.” He sloshed through the water into the shallows.

Barricade sat up, spitting muck from his mouth and vocalizer. “Yeah, I’ll keep a memory, too, Autobot.”

Round Three.
Sideswipe should have known better. It was a set up. For Primus’s sake, Barricade had sent the message on a highway message board. “Unfinished business” and a location. Should have known better.

But all he could see at the time was the fraggin’ ‘con gagging on the muck, pinned and helpless in the cold water. And hear his voice mocking Sunstreaker. He was blind with…something. He cut off the nearest exit and headed to the location on the message board.

The location was an abandoned garage, pneumatic lifters, rusted out long trenches in the floor for access to the undercarriages of vehicles: the whole thing stinking of rust and bad oil. He entered, cautiously, flicking out both of his blades. “All right, ‘con,” he muttered, “where the frag are you?”

A crashing clatter from one corner. He whirled. A pile of empty oil jugs tumbled to the floor. He straightened up. Probably rats or somethi—

The cable snapped around his wrists faster than he registered. Appearing almost out of nowhere, tightening around his wrists and jerking them high and hard enough over his head that for a klik, his feet left the ground. He found himself hauled backwards, tires skidding on the grotty surface, dragged back by the whining action of one of the pneumatic lifts.

Barricade stepped away from the control panel, where he’d activated the lift with one pointed talon. “Oh, if only I’d remembered my scrapbook,” he said.

“Liked you better underwater.”

“Shame: I like you better like this.” He smiled, benignly, as Sideswipe tried to turn his blades to cut the cables. “Oh, Sideswipe,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Give me some credit. I did think of that.” He sidled closer.

“Get the frag away from me.”

“Why don’t you call your friends, Sideswipe? To come help you? You need help kicking my ass, do you? You need help trying to get laid, too. Good thing I’m in such a magnanimous fraggin’ mood.”

Sideswipe tried to kick him as he approached, but the move put too much strain on Sideswipe’s shoulder assemblies. He cried out in pain and frustration. By the time he’d recovered, Barricade’s filthy talons were all over his interface hatch. He braced himself for pain, but the ‘con released the spike cover with gentle, teasing, infuriating touches. He felt his spike leap to extension, oozing lubricant onto Barricade’s hand. The mech looked down at his slick hand, and up at Sideswipe, grinning maliciously. “Prove my point, right?” He closed his talon around the Autobot’s spike, stroking it, maddeningly. Despite himself, Sideswipe felt his sensornet blaze desire, his body rock back and forth to Barricade’s touch.

“Get off me, ‘con filth.”

“Why? Being nicer to you than you were to me.” Barricade lifted his hand away. Sideswipe braced again for…whatever the ‘con had planned next. He twisted in the chains. Barricade lifted his lubricant-wet hand to his face, and watched Sideswipe through his fingers as he licked the lubricant off. Sideswipe heard another moan build in his throat, that grew as Barricade leaned forward, kissing him with lubricant-slicked lips.

Hate and desire swirled together in Sideswipe’s sensor net. “Stop,” he gasped, breaking the kiss.

Barricade tilted his head, teasingly. “Huh? Can’t hear you, Autobot. Must be that mud I have in my audio. Thought you said to do this….” The ‘con dropped to his knees, taking Sideswipe’s spike in his mouth. Sideswipe groaned, half of his body wanting to pull away in revulsion, the other to push forward, into the delicious sensation of the warm glossa stroking at the underside of his spike’s sensitive nodes. He tried to summon up something vile to say, something about a ‘con only being good enough to swallow his spike, but the words couldn’t put themselves together around the rising tide of lust. Sunstreaker and he had done that dozens of times with each other, but there was something intoxicating about the hatred he had for this 'con that…drove him crazy. His breath came in ragged pants, hot air cycling out roughly, sucking cool air in as fast as he could in deep hungry gulps, an overload building across his systems.

And just like that, Barricade pulled away, standing up. He wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, grinning at Sideswipe. “That what you wanted me to do, at the lake, huh? Because, yeah, that’s so fucking original.”

Sideswipe thrashed in the chains, half in fury, half in madness at his aborted overload. He froze as he felt the ‘con’s cool hand on his spike again. “Don’t worry, Autobot. Not going to leave you…unsatisfied.” He pulled in closer, their chassis nearly bumping, looking Sideswipe impassively in the eyes as his hand worked up and down the Autobot’s spike.

Sideswipe’s entire frame bucked in overload, feeling the hot sharp rush of transfluid down his spike, warm spatters of it on his chassis, his legs. Barricade finally grinned, holding up his hand, also coated in his silvery fluid. Slowly, deliberately, he scraped his hand along Sideswipe’s cheek, smearing it with the fluid.

“But I will leave you.” Then he turned, slowly, insolently, and walked out.

Leaving Sideswipe bound.

Round Four.
Barricade’s luck, Sideswipe surmised, had definitely run out. He had gotten himself a police scanner and heard reports of a police car from an unknown jurisdiction startling the hell out of motorists—blazing up at top speed behind them, lights and sirens blaring, and then rocketing off as they pulled over in a white panic. That could only be…one police car of unknown jurisdiction. Sideswipe gave a happy growl: he’d get back at the ‘con for the humiliation. AND be a hero.

His thoughts ran back to their last meeting—how he’d shamefully, eventually, called the only mech he could think of who wouldn’t ask questions, because he didn’t want to know the answers. Prowl had been…clearly unhappy about having to cut one of his mechs down with no explanation. Maybe, Sideswipe hoped, Prowl was such an uptight circuit that he didn’t even recognize what the silvery-white fluid was. He hadn’t said a word either way, just cut him down, lectured him about how, ahem, whatever it was that had, cough, happened, it had better not, umm, ahem, happen again.

Sideswipe was only too eager to agree. He didn’t care for a repeat of that.

It didn’t mean he was done with the fraggin’ ‘con, though. In the interim, a thousand proper vile retorts crowded his cortex—things he could have said as the ‘con was busy sucking his spike. He wanted to try some of them out, this time. Only he’d be forcing the ‘con to do it.

There he was: Sideswipe launched himself at the Saleen, rolling down the highway, forcing him off the road and into a ravine, kicking up a cloud of dust and gravel that stung Sideswipe’s optics. He barreled on through, landing on Barricade with a crunch of metal reaching its limit. “Surprised to see me?” he snarled.

“Not really. What took you so long?”

Sideswipe reared up, pounding at Barricade’s shoulder with one hand. “Planning stuff for you.”

Barricade rolled his four optics. “I’m already unimpressed.”

“Bluster all you want now, ‘con. Won’t be talking like this in a klik.”

Barricade yawned, showily. “I suspect I won’t be talking at all because you’ll be shoving your spike down my neck? Yeah, sure that took a lot of planning.” He swung one arm up to clock Sideswipe in the head.

Sideswipe didn’t think he could get any angrier at Barricade, but somehow, the damn ‘con could push buttons he didn’t even know he had. He shook his head to recover from the blow, grabbing the mech’s arm. He found himself once again straddling the mech. “Maybe you’ll like this better, ‘con scum.” He whipped out one of his blade with a flick of his wrist. “Afraid now?”

“Of what?” Barricade met his optics steadily. Under Sideswipe’s pelvic plating, though, he could feel the ‘con struggle to push him off.

He grinned. “This.” He drew the blade down an exposed line, growling with pleasure as Barricade hissed in pain. Bluish energon leaked dully from the long cut. He ducked his head to the line, licking along the cut, sucking the energon into his mouth. He felt Barricade’s capacitor tic up under his straddled thighs. Turned on or terrified: Sideswipe didn’t care which. He licked along the cut again, his optics fixed on Barricade’s, making noises of pure enjoyment. The energon tasted sweet, but even sweeter was Barricade’s reaction.

The mech thrashed underneath him, shoving away at him with his remaining hand. Sideswipe caught that one, too, and sat for a long moment, holding both of the ‘con’s arms by the wrists, squeezing hard enough to dent the thinner plating around his wrist tires. “Wonder if these bleed,” he said, aloud, and drew his blade against the tire surface.

Barricade yowled, his hips thrashing wildly under Sideswipe’s hips, his pelvic plating bumping against Sideswipe’s in a way that unintentionally aroused the Autobot. Sideswipe licked at the pneumatic fluid that oozed from the cut tire. “Oh you taste so good, ‘con. I might just drink all of you. Have to cut you a lot, though.” He made a showy pout. “You wouldn’t like that, would you? Would hurt you, wouldn’t it?”

“Don’t know,” Barricade snarled, his talons clutching at air, trying to grab Sideswipe, “Did it hurt when Sunstreaker used to do it to you?”

Sideswipe gave a cry of rage, throwing the mech’s hands away. He tore at Barricade’s valve cover, furious as his own rage dented it, forcing him to pry it off. Barricade tried to kick him in the head, clutching his injured arm to his chassis, afraid to hit Sideswipe with it. Afraid to try to deploy his spoke weapon through the damaged tire. Sideswipe pinned his other arm down.

“Let’s talk about what fraggin’ hurts, ‘con.” Sideswipe drove his spike hard into the ‘con’s valve, lifting his hips while inside the valve to drive further in. “This hurt?”

Barricade’s eyes had gone flat again as he looked up at Sideswipe. “Can’t say that it does.”

Sideswipe growled and began shoving in, hard enough that their armor plates lost chips of paint, and the ‘con’s body was rocked forward with every thrust. “This. Hurt? Huh?” He kept pounding into the ‘con’s frame.

“No.” The impassive blankness of Barricade’s stare infuriated Sideswipe. Dammit, he should be terrified. Where had the fear gone? Where had the racing capacitor gone? He was as calm now as if they were old friends. Even calmer—a friend would at least be aroused. “This all you got?”

Sideswipe tore himself out of the ‘con’s valve, crying with frustrated rage. Barricade winced, and sat up, but showed no sign of fear. Which only drove Sideswipe crazier. “Too much for you, huh, Autobot? Maybe you’re just not cut out to be the aggressor.” It was the fake sympathy that drove Sideswipe over the edge. He swung his blade wildly at Barricade’s head. It sparked against the audio armor, causing some wild feedback. Barricade slumped, unconscious, to the ground.

Round Five.
Barricade was philosophical. As a small mech, with light armor, and a smart mouth, he had an unfortunate tendency to attract negative attention to himself. Nothing the stupid Autobot had done to him hadn’t been done before. But he wasn’t about to leave it like this. He had orders to head cross country, to help Blackout do some ground recon. But he had time for one last round. A final statement on the whole experience. Give the Autobot a little something to remember him by.

And the ‘bot fell for the same trick twice. Primus bless the predictable idiots, Barricade thought, as he heard the calls go out over the police radio about his…little amusement. Stupid squishies should learn to drive or get off the fraggin’ roads. He doubled back from his last event and waited on an onramp for the inevitable ‘Sideswipe rides in like a hero but really intends on raping the bad guy’ act. Barricade suspected that Sideswipe’s mind was a very wide and open and empty space, otherwise he’d have noticed by now that those two concepts didn’t really hang so well together. Rapist hero. Moron. Autobot. Same-same.

Aaaaaand, right on cue, the silver sports car raced past the onramp, nimbly dodging late afternoon traffic, so bent on pursuit he didn’t even notice his prey was behind him.

Barricade accelerated, pushing past the Autobot, making sure, for good measure, to run a minivan off the road. Why not? Hideous things. He couldn’t think of a self-respecting mech who would take a minivan as his alt mode. He honked at Sideswipe, and lurched across three lanes of traffic to the exit ramp. Just like he’d planned. Sideswipe’s tires shrieked on the pavement as he struggled to follow, without taking out the hospice bus and a car load of teenagers blaring bad commercialized rap music. No great loss that last one, if the Lamborghini had failed.

Barricade snorted as he heard the race of Sideswipe’s engine tearing up behind him. Barricade himself cut his speed to a demure 45, kicking on his hologram as he reached a stoplight and having it wave and smile at an elderly lady eyeballing the road from through her steering wheel. Daring the Autobot to attack him. In front of a sweet little old lady.

Who tore off as if her granny panties were on fire the minute the light turned green. Fraggin’ old people.

Barricade virtuously followed traffic rules, taunting Sideswipe by tapping out messages in Morse code with his brakelights. ‘Stop staring at my ass,’ he said, and ‘You know you want this’. He could hear the Lamborghini growl over his engine. ‘My other car is my bitch,’ he coded, turning off into a sidestreet. Oh, no worry about the Autobot following him now. Just a matter of getting to the gas station before the ‘bot got too hot in his crankshaft.

Barricade kicked up the speed, cutting in and out of the slow traffic clogging up the number two lanes turning into fast food restaurants and dry cleaners. Ruining perfectly good roads with their stupid human errands. Still, they blocked Sideswipe’s progress, too, and bought him time until, at last, he turned into the old gas station. Sideswipe skidded to a halt by the pump. Evening had fallen thickly, but the streetlamps were out in this part of town. They both cycled their vision to lowlight.

“Want some more, huh?” Sideswipe snarled.

“Oh yeah, maybe this time I’ll feel something.” Barricade edged backward, checking to make sure everything was in place.

“You brought me to this nice private place, so I can only assume you want some more.”

“Ah, assume. You do know what humans say about that, don’t you?” Barricade stopped next to one of the disused pumps, the prices still reading $5 a gallon through the dusty, cracked plastic window.

Sideswipe cocked his head. He got only the point that Barricade was mocking him. “Don’t know why you talk so big. Maybe this time I will shut your mouth with my spike.”

“I would love to see you try.” Barricade dropped his arms, as if in surrender. Sideswipe wasn’t expecting that. Was…he serious?

“Fine!” Sideswipe stepped forward, one hand on his interface panel. Barricade didn’t move. He took another step forward, reaching out with his other hand to grab the mech’s head, intent on forcing him down. He could already feel, from memory, the ‘con’s agile glossa on his spike. His spike leaked lubricant.

Barricade’s arm lashed out, suddenly, the sudden change from stillness to motion for a moment disorienting Sideswipe. And before Sideswipe’s processor could catch up, one of the gasoline hoses was wrapped around his neck.

Barricade danced around behind Sideswipe, crossing the hose lines, pulling them tight. The hose dug deeply, and, as Sideswipe tried to struggle, the hose only dug its way further under his armor plating and into the sensitive cabling of his neck. His hands came up desperately, trying to grab the hose, or find a way to cut it with his blades.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Barricade snarled, pulling the hose length wide, tightening the grip on Sideswipe’s throat. The metal mesh inside the hose pressed the rubber hard against the cables, biting in to the main energon lines, and one of the primary data cables that carried signals to Sideswipe’s joints. Sideswipe’s optics faltered as the drop in energon flow caused his processor to reroute systems. He fell to his knees as that same process cut power to his legs to preserve energy for more vital functions. “Better,” Barricade said. He pushed Sideswipe’s shoulders down, twisting the cables together in a tight rope, so he could hold it one handed, like a leash. With his other hand, he released his spike cover, and pushed it against the Autobot’s still covered valve. This he knew from the receiving end.

“Two choices, Autobot,” he said. “Retract the cover, or I go right fraggin’ through it.” To show he was serious, he banged the valve cover hard with his spike. He winced. Hurt more than he thought. Made him feel a little better that those mechs who had done this to him might have felt the same pain.

“Gaaaah!” Sideswipe cried out, his hands scrabbling at his throat.

“THAT,” Barricade said, jerking the cable, “wasn’t one of your options. Retract or get it fraggin’ broken.” He pushed down on the mech’s shoulders, forcing more pressure into the tight garrote. He heard Sideswipe sob, and then the audible click of the valve release. “Right,” he said. He shoved into the valve, glad Sideswipe had seen sense. He hadn’t, more than once. Excruciating. He began moving slowly in the valve, spreading the lubricant thickly.

“See?” he said, his voice strangely gentle. “This is how you do it, Autobot.” He picked up the pace, grinning as he heard the Autobot go from panicked yelps to soft moans in time with his thrusts. His hand was still tight on the cable leash, cutting off just enough energon to give Sideswipe no chance for second thoughts. The Autobot still held one hand to his throat, ineffectually clawing for the cable, but his other dropped to the ground, bracing his weight on one hand as Barricade drove into him.

“I think you like me,” Barricade muttered. “Certainly acting like it. You like me, Autobot? You like taking my spike?” He paused in his thrusts, hauling up so that Sideswipe sat up on his knees. The position gave Sideswipe a little more slack on his throat. “Want me to stop?” Barricade shifted his rhythm, moving from fast to long and slow. Sideswipe managed only a rising moan. “Oh you want me,” Barricade said. “You want someone to do this to you, don’t you? This is how you like it, isn’t it?”

“Shut…up…con,” Sideswipe gasped, between thrusts. He had enough slack to pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t.

“Right. I’ll shut up.” Barricade clamped his hands around the Autobot’s chassis, sinking his dental plating into the back of one of Sideswipe’s arms, under the armor. He began thrusting harder, feeling his own overload building in him. The slick friction of his spike in the Lamborghini’s valve, and the other mech’s heat, and the soft lustful sounds Sideswipe made were setting his sensornet ablaze. He found himself growling into the back of Sideswipe’s arm, then into his neck, licking at the interlocking plates at the back of Sideswipe’s helm, his own desire forcing whimpers from his vocalizer, that Sideswipe drowned out with his loud pants. Barricade felt hot bursts of air from the Lamborghini’s air coolant ventilators at every thrust.

He gave a wild growl, sinking his teeth into the Autobot’s audio receptor, as an overload tore through his body, feeling as if his entire energon system suddenly spiralled within its circulation hoses. He shivered as he felt his transfluid, like a river of heat, rush against the cool of the lubricant in the Autobot’s snug valve. Around him, on him, Sideswipe cried out, arching his back, his valve throbbing into his own release.

Barricade dropped the cable leash, pulling his spike gingerly from the other’s valve. His transfluid dribbled onto the pavement from Sideswipe’s quivering valve. “Leaving now, Autobot,” he murmured, in Sideswipe’s damaged audio. The Autobot’s hands were working to untangle the garrote. “I suspect you’re going to miss me.” He slicked the lubricant off his spike before he tucked it away, and wiped his talons across the Autobot’s lips. “The humans have a saying: Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” he said, watching the Autobot try and shake off the fluids. He reached between the Autobot’s legs, to his still shamefully extended and leaking spike, leaning over Sideswipe’s shoulder. He felt the other’s eyes on him as he licked the Autobot’s lubricant off his talon. “What do you think, Autobot? What’s it do for sparks?”