Archive of Our Own ^beta

The ground is strewn with rubble as you step out of the groundbridge portal. Ruined buildings - collateral from the recent fighting - are all around. This clearly used to be a settlement, but you aren't even sure that enough of the native inhabitants have survived to rebuild. Up ahead, the top of a hill is dominated by a building that the tiny organics who lived here would have called large. For a Cybertronian, it looks like the ceiling will barely be high enough to stand up straight. 

Your HUD shows an energon signature coming from inside, so you make your way up the hill and squeeze through the doorway.

Immediately on the other side is a small ante-chamber. The mech you find there has blue and gray plating, a large crest on his helm, and the thinnest waist you've ever seen. 

He grins. "Go inside if you want," he says, gesturing to the inner set of doors. "Be our guest."

Curious, you open the doors and duck through. 

The smell of spilled energon is overwhelming, and you nearly double over. After the first wave of nausea passes, the scent changes. Underneath all that energon, you can smell ozone and burnt circuitry. You dampen your olfactory sensors and look around.

Your mind refuses to process what you're seeing at first. You force yourself to look, and as you stare, details emerge. The arms of the mech in front of you are broken in several places, digits curling in what was clearly agony. Its chassis is split open, exposing a spray of severed wires. The liquid dripping from the ruined center has a luminous quality to it.

With another lurch in your tank, you recognize it as innermost energon.

You quickly look away, only to have the next mangled frame meet your gaze. Then another. And another after that. The carnage is so all-consuming that you barely register the movement at the edge of your vision, but you finally look up once your audials register the deep, purring growl of an engine.

The mech sitting at the front of the room is so large that you wonder just how he got inside without wrecking the doorway. His frame is mostly dark gray, but is punctuated by sections of rust brown and brilliant scarlet. Six massive spines jut out from his chestplates, and the panels unfurled around his face bizarrely make you think of a picture you saw of the organic flowers that grow everywhere on this planet. The area right above his face is adorned with a small satellite dish.

He's holding the top half of a mech who is either dead or dying. You watch with sick fascination as he cracks open the back of the frame and begins carefully removing the mech's spinal column. Once he has the primary cord, he turns his attention to the back of their helm and cracks it open, too. He winds the spinal cord and stray wires around his wrist before he grasps something and gives it a sharp yank. 

You hear a frizzing pop, and the dying mech's optics flicker off. The large mech lets go, and the lifeless frame falls with a hollow CLANG. His servo is filled with the dead mech's brain module.

As you stare in horror, you realize that he's looking directly at you.

You're covered in heavy armor, but you've never felt so exposed.

You meet his gaze, and a cold dread fills your spark. He beckons you with his free servo, and your pedes carry you forward before you can even think to refuse. You do your best to avoid stepping in the puddles of energon, but as you get closer there's too much.

By the time you reach him, every transformation seam below your knees is glowing with it. 

His optics flash, and a strange feeling blankets your processor. You're sure you were here for a reason. You just can't remember what it was. 

Still holding your gaze, the mech raises the brain module to his intake. His dentae are flat, but still look jagged, somehow. 

You gasp as you realize what he's about to do, but you can't make a move to stop him.

His dentae connect, and you hear the grinding of metal on metal. He pulls his intake back to reveal the outline of a bite in the brain module - a ragged hole of missing circuitry that had once housed hopes, fears, and memories.

He raises it to his intake for another bite, and warmth floods your frame. You're so terrified that you don't recognize the feeling as arousal at first, but as his dentae tear through the layers of metal, you feel the first pings from your array.

Shame courses through your lines as you feel your lubrication protocols switch on, but it's not enough to stop you from getting closer. When you're barely inches away, he reaches down and without a word lifts you to sit on his lap.

"Aren't you a beautiful creature?" His voice is low and raspy, but something about it reverberates through your frame. The pings from your array are becoming more urgent, and you worry that your panels will start leaking soon.

He holds the brain module in front of your face, showing you the hole his dentae tore. As you look, you realize that along with the arousal flooding your frame, you're terribly hungry. 

The metal bauble this strange mech is holding out to you looks tasty. You feel a gnawing sense of doubt - like you've forgotten something vital - but surely if it mattered, you'd have remembered. You lean forward and open your intake.

He presents the bauble, and you give it a slow lick. Your calipers flutter at the look on his face, and you lick it again. The energon beading out and pooling in the bite tastes sweeter than standard, and you want - need - more. 

You eagerly bite into it, and the flavor fills your intake. The metal on the outer layers flakes away under your dentae. Underneath is wonderfully dense and slightly chewy, and the sweet energon infuses the entire bite.

You can't remember ever having a treat this satisfying. You shiver with pleasure and stretch after the bauble as he pulls it away.

"Patience, my dear," he says. He takes another bite, and you whimper with need. Oral lubricant is flooding your intake, and your valve cover is definitely leaking now.

His free servo slides beneath your aft and lifts. The pressure against your valve draws a noise from you that you'd probably be embarrassed about if your processor wasn't swimming with enjoyment. He lifts you until you're level with his face, and then holds out the treat again. 

Eager though you are, you can see that he wants to watch, so you take your time. You open your intake slowly and wrap it around the treat, letting the outer layers flake away slowly before biting down hard. You pull back, and your engine purrs as you chew.

He takes another bite as you finish yours. There's not much left now. He pops it into your intake, but instead of watching you, he pulls your face to his and kisses you.

Your calipers clench down on nothing and your intake opens. His glossa is simultaneously exploring your intake and lapping at the morsel he gave you. He breaks the kiss long enough for you to swallow, and then his intake is pressed against yours again.

You kiss him back eagerly. 

You feel your panels sliding open, but there's no shame. You've never wanted it more than you do right now. 

The sound of his panels answering yours is almost a relief, and you can't help but look. 

His spike is well-sized for his frame, which makes it challenging - but not impossible - for you. He lowers you towards it. You worry for a moment that he's not going to make sure you're ready for him, but then he balances you on his knee.

He holds you steady with one servo, while the other slips between your spread legs. His servos are covered in energon. You know you should be horrified, but you're prioritizing the need in your frame above any objections the back of your processor can muster.

His digits part your folds, and your frame jerks with pleasure when they find your anterior node. He keeps his thumb over it, rubbing back and forth, while his first digit enters your valve. You gasp as he brushes over your internal node clusters, teasing pleasure from you like you've never truly felt it before.

He adds a second digit.

Then a third.

Every wire in your frame has been wound to its max tension. Your plating is too tight. 

There's a wet sucking sound when he pulls his digits free, but your urge to giggle is dampened by the intensity in his optics. He grabs you by the hips and lifts you over his spike, and you want it so bad you're about to start yelling curses at him. He makes you wait, but thankfully it's only long enough to turn you to face the room before he draws you downward.

His spike practically impales you, hitting your ceiling node on the first thrust. Your spinal strut bows, and your entire frame is alight with sensation. He starts moving you on his spike, setting a far more languid pace than you'd have expected.

He stretches your arms in front of you and bends down, pushing you to the floor. Your servos close around the remains of a bot, and you take it with you as he pulls you back up.

You think that you should probably be sickened at the idea of getting fragged while you hold onto a corpse, but it feels too good to matter. Not to mention, you can smell the same sweetened energon from the treat you'd had before. You just have to get to it.

Lucky for you, you have a patient teacher. 

Without changing his rhythm, he guides your servos along the surface of what was once a living mech. He shows you where the seams in the helm lie, how to coax them open with minimal resistance. He shows you the connections that hold your prize captive, and how to free it.

You drop the empty shell and raise the glittering treat to your intake, but he stops you. You'd protest, but his grip on your wrists leaves no room for argument. He draws you up, off his spike, and the combined emptiness in your valve and your intake is so sharp that you can't help but whine.

With a deep, growling chuckle, he turns you to face him and kisses you again. You kiss him back, but even his glossa is no substitute for what you really want. "You're every bit as delightful as I'd hoped," he purrs.

Still chuckling, he lowers you back onto his spike. Your vents hiss as your fans try to keep your temperature under control. The pace is faster this time, and you raise your dripping servos, desperate to have that exquisite flavor in your intake while he's inside you.

This time you don't bother trying to entice him. You sink your dentae into the treat you pulled from the mech at your pedes. The sweetness fills your intake, and you abandon any sense of decorum you'd still been clinging to. You take bite after bite, barely bothering to chew, and moaning at the combined pleasures of this taste and his spike.

As soon as you've swallowed the last bite, his icy blue optics brighten and he grabs your waist with both his servos. You have a moment to in-vent, and then he's fragging you harder than any mech you've ever been with. Each thrust collides with your ceiling node, filling your vision with artifacts and turning your voice to static. You worry that he's going to dent your internals, but as you try to say something, he slightly changes his angle.

You aren't worried about getting dented anymore. You aren't worried about anything. As the overload races through your frame, you arch backwards and squeeze his hips tight with your pedes. He overloads barely a second later, filling your valve and groaning.

You aren't sure if you made noise or not.

You are sure that you're hungry again.

He pulls you free and sets you on the floor. Without even bothering to close your panels, you follow the sweet scent to its nearest source. You haul the mech's remains into your lap and tease apart the seams, just like he showed you.

When more mech's appear at the door, you're hunched over your fifth corpse. You look up, startled by the noise. They all have the same stricken looks on their faces. You open your intake to explain that you just wanted a snack, but they all start drawing weapons. You see them edging into the room, taking up attack positions.

Fine. If they're determined to attack, you'll just have to fight your way out. You can smell more of the sweetened energon coming from them, and know that winning will leave you with more than just your life.

You draw your combat knife and advance.