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Starscream liked to think he had an interesting life. He’d visited thousands of planets, he was a genius scientist, he was one of the foremost Decepticons, and… now he was sitting in a cell on a planet millions of megamiles from home, imprisoned by tiny creatures made of meat. As interesting as that sounded, it was, more than anything else, boring.
As far as he knew, Soundwave was somewhere down the hall in some other cell, planning his machinations of revenge or whatever. Starscream didn't particularly care; being in squishy meat prison wasn't so bad. He was cramped and his wings got twitchy, but the energon was free and he could sit in his little box and make his schemes. Schemes, which were more important than plans. (There was a difference.)
However, he was struggling to formulate one.
It was hard to come up with the creative energy for a good scheme when he was surrounded by boring gray walls and not much else. Doubly so as his heat began to creep in. Seeker heats were always such aggressive things. They were flash fires, flareups of the spark that seared across the frame, demanding attention, nesting time, affection, and release.
Back on Cybertron, they’d been somewhat regular, but now that he sat alone in a tiny cube on some floating mudball farther from Vos than ever, they were sudden and abrupt, without warning. Despite the fact that he was just sitting around, he didn’t have time for a heat right now!
He had… schemes to… scheme!
What? He’s in heat, you expect him to be eloquent?
Starscream stood and paced the tiny room in a circle, before sitting back down on the edge of the berth. His ports were starting to charge up, bits of static jumping from one side to the next, warm with charge. Even fully spooled, his cables ached to be unwound, warm and needful…
No, he was busy! Busy, and alone! He couldn’t just call Skywarp and Thundercracker and nest with them for the next few solar cycles. Rubbing his thighs together failed to sate his charge, only building it further. He almost considered popping his panels and curling a claw into some of his interfacing ports, but he refrained. Instead, he dragged the edges of his claws along his thighs in frustration.
His spark was throbbing, further reminding him how charged up he was. How he should be at home on Cybertron, in some high tower with his trine, wrapped up in their cables. He should be full of delicious charge, dripping conductive fluid, ready to stuff himself full of minerals to prepare for their eventual eggs. He chased the thought away, reminding himself to focus on his plans. He had better things to do!
…Didn’t he?
Ugh, who was he fooling? He didn’t have anything better to do than sit here in the dark and shove his own claws and cables in his ports, letting his charge surge until his spark burned so bright he might collapse from the overcharge. This was awful. He deserved the attention and affection of a god, yet he was trapped in this stupid cement box.
Fine. He’d wait it out.
But as the joors passed, desire crackled into his field, and his fans kicked on against his will. Starscream’s cables were pulsing with need in time with his spark, every bit of them desperate for attention and sensation. Being spooled up like this was terrible, and his interfacing ports were warm, stoked by the heat in his tanks.
He lay back on the slab that currently served as his resting berth, staring at the ceiling. He tried not to think of the way his core was heating up, ports desperate for something to fill them, for additional friction and charge. He huffed, trying to wrestle his processor down through sheer willpower. He didn’t need to nest right now, didn’t his frame understand that it was incredibly inconvenient? This was the least opportune time to be desperate to frag (and be fragged) silly, because he had lots of un-silly, very serious things to be considering instead!
Okay, so maybe he couldn’t wait it out.
Groaning to himself, Starscream scrolled through his list of comm codes. No matter who he called, he’d be instigating something, which suited him just fine. He had far too much pride to ask Soundwave for help, even though he was probably the closest bot worth fragging. He knew Soundwave was busy with his cassettes and those plans of his, and far too focused on getting revenge on Megatron. Megatron, who wasn’t even worth Starscream’s time.
So not Soundwave. Not Megatron, either. Megatron was readily accessible, sure: he could probably lure the mech down here with his wings lowered and lip quivering. He could get his fix from Megatron, certainly, but he also respected himself. He deserved better than that. He was far too sexy for Megatron, with his tall thrusters and cute aft. His perky turbines were far too attractive to waste on a mech like Megatron! Even if Megatron did have great tanks.
Anyway! Megatron was off of the table.
He could worry about his own revenge later. Revenge was for when he wasn’t in heat and distracted by how badly he missed being filled by big, thick cables…
Again. Megatron was NOT an option!
Continuing down the list, Starscream tried to focus on his other options. Skywarp was busy being on the run. Thundercracker hadn’t answered him in ages. Same with Novastorm. Not Strika, nor Bumblebee…
There was one name left. One bot he hadn’t seen since the supposed “ceasefire.”
It was worth a shot.
He wrote up a quick message, uploaded his coordinates (as well as the codes to break into the facility and Megatron’s spec signature, just to show off), and sent it off. Reclining on his makeshift berth, Starscream tried to relax enough to successfully plug in and get some recharge.
What he didn’t expect was a reply.
~☆~
Skyfire was busy analyzing some mineral samples when he received a ping from Starscream. Like many of the survivors of the war, he was mostly in hiding. Only mostly. Though he’d left the Decepticons and been on mostly good terms with the Autobots, his lack of affiliation allowed him to carry out his research however he wished. Still, being a giant shuttleformer in a human city was a recipe for disaster, so he relegated himself to the wilderness of Colorado.
Well, as wilderness as a planet this small could get. Wilderness enough to slightly dampen comm reception, though not by much.
Starscream was one of the last mecha he expected to contact him. Their split had been tense at best: Starscream proudly announced that he was happier being a warrior than a scientist, and Skyfire wanted as little to do with the war as possible. Perhaps this was a figurative peace offering, but Skyfire didn’t have time to dwell on that.
By the sound of his message, Starscream must have been in trouble.
There was no time to waste. He packed up his samples, and headed toward the coordinates Starscream sent.
The location Starscream led him to was a human-constructed underground facility. It seemed to be military of some sort—likely owned by another local agency. But Skyfire had a good rapport with the local men in black suits, so he hoped a charming smile, a powerful attention deflector, and mentions of a mission would keep him out of trouble. The access codes worked, and Skyfire just… strode in. He got the sense that any infiltration operation should have been done with a bit more tact, but he was far too big to be sneaking around, in his own opinion.
He kept his wings tucked against his back, following the landmarks leading to the coordinates Starscream included in his transmission. Starscream’s energy signature was somewhere in here.
Starscream was sitting in some sort of containment cell, locked by a electric force shield. He was sitting on the edge of what must have been a shelf (it couldn’t possibly be a berth), curled up. The electromagnetic energy was rolling off of his frame in waves, both distress and arousal, in curling static.
Truly, he looked nothing short of miserable. Like a dying scraplet.
However, as Skyfire approached, Starscream perked up, realizing someone was coming. His optics cycled in surprise as he recognized Skyfire. Almost scrambling as he rearranged himself, Starscream lay back on the…shelf-thing, slowly curling a claw into one of his turbines, his other arm extended invitingly beneath his cockpit, drawing the optics towards his panels. He made an extra show of lifting his knees slightly, showing off his thrusters.
“Oh, Skyfire, so you’ve come! You actually showed up. I know, I know, I’m irresistible.”
Okay, so Starscream was actually completely fine. He was just being… Starscream.
Skyfire glanced up at the obvious camera in the hall, and reached up with two digits, tilting it away from the containment cell and down the hall.
“Of course I came! I thought you were in trouble! Let’s get you out of here…”
But just as Skyfire began to reach for the control panel, Starscream held up his hands. “No! No, don’t do that!”
Skyfire paused, glancing down at the seeker incredulously. “Don’t… open the field…?”
“Yes, open the field!”
“But you said—”
“Just open the field and get in here!”
“Get in there? Now, Star—”
“Don’t you ‘now, Star’ me!”
Skyfire stopped, letting out a long, slow sigh. “You do know that I can just leave you here, right?”
“Wait, wait, waitwaitwait,” Starscream jumped up from the berth, sliding forward to the force field. “Please, just. Just get in here and show me your cables, please.”
The sudden switch in demeanor took Skyfire by surprise, and he sighed. He unspooled a cable from his torso, and transformed it until the tip fit into the panel for the electrical lock. Overriding it was almost instant, and the field vanished.
Starscream was upon him, all claws and electricity, climbing up Skyfire’s frame until he could draw the shuttle into a hot, crackling kiss. Their kiss was long and slow, and Skyfire looped an arm beneath Starscream’s aft to hold him up while he unplugged himself from the control panel.
They couldn’t just stand here in the hallway and make out! There were human guards around! And the attention deflector only meant that the humans wouldn’t notice him. The possibility that they could still see Starscream was very real. There was some level of irony around someone the size of Skyfire having attention deflectors; his presence somehow overshadowed by someone as small as Starscream. It was only natural— of course Starscream commanded all the attention in a room. Or Prison, for that matter.
Also, Starscream was all over him. Starscream’s digits were curling around his joints, trying to pluck at his wires until they sang, teasing his tacnet, endlessly working at revving the shuttle up. He ducked inside the cell, taking careful note of where cameras could see, as well as their blind spots. Not that Starscream hadn’t just kissed him in the hall long and hard enough that it would be difficult to explain away if some human found him.
Even as they stepped fully into the cell, Skyfire wasn’t sure if he should protest. Starscream was definitely revved up, and they’d been separated for so long. Normally, Skyfire would be happy to ravish him, but it just didn’t feel like the appropriate place for interfacing.
Then again, the prospect of breaking a very-in-heat Starscream out of this human facility against his will also didn’t seem very appealing. There was a high probability that Starscream would complain the whole time if they attempted to escape.
Starscream wasted no time at Skyfire’s continuing hesitation.
His servos were already against Skyfire’s chassis, his cables extending of their own volition, needy and pulsing. Skyfire could feel the way they rubbed along his transformation seams, a shudder of static searing through him. Starscream was merciless, claws working him over with an enthusiastic fervor and prying at every panel.
“Yes, yes, Star, hold on—” Skyfire began to protest, and Starscream only stopped briefly, optics flicking up to Skyfire’s.
“You answered my ping. You do want to frag, right?”
“Yes, of course, but right here?”
“I don’t really want to go anywhere, I’m charged up, and you’re here right now!”
Skyfire didn’t have the spark to protest. Truth be told, Starscream’s claws on his chassis felt wonderful, he was just a bit… concerned about the location. It was hard to focus on these concerns with his very in heat, very highly-charged conjunx scaling his frame like a cybermonkey and rubbing all over him, dumping surplus electricity into Skyfire’s systems until he shuddered. Starscream’s digits prodded at either side of his chest, accompanied by prying wires that played along the transformation seams, teasing the edges of his tacnet until they triggered his transformation reflex—
“Star, wait—”
Skyfire’s chest armor prickled from the teasing and excess static that danced across it, and his chest armor transformed, tucking back into his sides to reveal his tanks.
No longer compressed by sturdy space-grade armor, Skyfire’s tanks practically bounced free.
They were massive.
Skyfire had two large fuel tanks, padded with thick silver protoform for insulation, topped with heavy-duty nozzles. There were seams in the protoform trailing up the sides of each tank, drawing Starscream’s optic towards the center. Skyfire had several interfacing ports nestled between his tanks, and girthy cables that unspooled on either side of them, outlined in bright blue biolights.
Skyfire stared at Starscream.
Starscream stared at Skyfire’s tanks.
In the following seconds, Starscream opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again, somehow shocked into mild composure by the sight before him. “Where have you been hiding those?”
“In my chassis? I am a long-range flight shuttle, they’re standard for my frametype—I—Star, I thought you were in a rush?”
Starscream’s servos traced along the edges of Skyfire’s tanks, outlining them with his digits. There was a slight squish to them, just enough give that Starscream found endlessly satisfying. As he rubbed his thumbs against the undersides, he weighed the heft of each tank in his digits, savoring the way Skyfire leaned into his touch.
His own panels were aching with need, and just the act of touching Skyfire’s tanks was enough to have his ports lubricating. They were so plump, and so warm with the fuel inside, that he couldn’t resist leaning his helm between them, savoring the closeness to Skyfire’s spark.
“I am,” Starscream confirmed, voice muffled by the huge energon jugs on either side of his helm. The massive armor warmers. Skyfire’s big bazookas. Those full fuel kegs. Ginormous chassis canisters. The—they were nice, okay?! Wonderful, even! He slid his cables along beneath them, drinking in the sensation of smooth protoform against his wires.
What else was Starscream supposed to do? NOT bury his face between them, basking in the warmth of two massive tanks on either side of his helm?
He rubbed his thighs together enthusiastically, static charge still pulsing throughout his frame, and he could feel the steady rhythm of Skyfire’s spark, far larger and slower than his own.
“Here, let me help you,” Skyfire’s voice was calm and more collected than his own, despite the cables snaking around his tanks to greedily rub against his nozzles.
Skyfire’s arm lifted Starscream easily, supporting him with a hand cupping his aft. He rubbed his knuckles against Starscream’s panels, and Starscream obliged, revealing the row of ports that trailed from the front of his pelvic plating down to his aft.
Starscream’s ports were already significantly charged up, throbbing with need and lubricating enough conductive fluid that it was almost enough to spill over onto Skyfire’s white hands. Starscream couldn’t stop himself from letting out a low moan as a knuckle brushed against the outer rim of one of his ports.
“Hm, I see why you called me,” Skyfire remarked, his voice deep and smooth in Starscream’s audials. “I’m glad we could reunite. Your frame is so beautiful, especially when you’re charged up.”
“Of course,” Starscream answered with a smirk, struggling to keep his vocalizer from skipping in arousal. “I’m gorgeous. Far too good for the likes of everyone here. Only you understand my needs.” He was quite proud of himself for getting that much out of his vocalizer, as Skyfire’s digits were rubbing against his port and his cables were rubbing against his plating. Powerful cables curled around Starscream’s frame, caressing his abdominal plating, brushing against his own cables. Thick, bulky wires coiled around his wires, but sparks didn’t jump between them due to Skyfire’s insulation.
“Is this your dirty talk, Star?” Skyfire teased, keeping his voice just barely above a whisper.
“Nngh,” came Starscream’s staticky reply, eloquent as ever. His cables were practically yanking at Skyfire’s now, begging him to plug in. He transformed his ports open wide for Skyfire’s thick plugs, which clicked into him one by one. He shuddered from the difference in charge.
Every rub and caress of his cables against Skyfire’s sent a powerful shiver up his struts, reducing Starscream to wantonly moaning into Skyfire’s tanks, his helm still pressed between them. The ends of the seeker’s cables were throbbing, needfully searched for Skyfire’s, movements jerky at best.
Luckily, Skyfire was more composed. Starscream’s fans kicked on, urgently trying to dispel some of the heat that was rapidly building in his systems. Even if Starscream tried to downplay it, the hot air was blowing from his vents, flowing over their frames. Skyfire’s auxiliary cables intertwined with his own, the tips transforming to welcome Starscream’s cables. The plugs had rings of latches that opened with a soft hiss, and latched onto the end of Starscream’s cables, completely engulfing his needful wires.
It was enough for Starscream to arch his back, the charge from Skyfire’s girthy cables was popping with energy, reaching all the way to the tips of Starscream’s stabilizers.
The first overload washed over him in a veritable maelstrom of charge, shaking his entire frame. At some point as he was coming down from it, his cables latched tightly to Skyfire’s, and his ports throbbed, the apertures tightening around Skyfire’s cables as they tried to squeeze every bit of electricity out of them.
He was half-delirious with pleasure, but he still heard the footsteps of humans in the hallway, followed by Megatron’s name. Skyfire answered, but Starscream was too blissed out from the overload to fully process the audio properly. Something, something… medical assistance?
Starscream dismissed the thoughts as his charge level rose once more, his wires craving more attention, more charge. He reached his hand up to Skyfire’s tank lazily, rubbing his digits across the cap of his nozzle. It only had the barest wobble, but a firm squeeze made the whole tank shift in his grasp.
This was a brilliant idea, if Starscream did say so himself.
His ministrations were rewarded by Skyfire’s engines humming louder in response. He rolled his cables, trying to milk every bit of charge from the lines, filling his entire frame with a pleasant buzz.
He rubbed Skyfire’s nozzles between his clawtips, and rubbed the palms of his servos against the undersides of Skyfire’s tanks, basking in every erratic vent and muffled sound of arousal that escaped the larger mech.
Their joined frames were not so much a circuit, as Skyfire was pumping more and more energy into Starscream, enough that his vision blurred with static, claws curling in arousal. His cables were practically sore from the heat of the exchange, and he could taste popping sparks on his glossa. His field was rapidly devolving from heat-fueled need to incoherent fritzing and gibberish.
With hot wires and rapid pulses, they built to a crescendo, and Skyfire’s overload was powerful enough to shake Starscream’s entire frame, writhing against the larger mech in wanton desire. Starscream could practically feel Skyfire’s spark surging with energy so close to his own, filling him with power.
Maybe his own spark could burst, pumped so full of raw energy that it would split and spark.
Of course, that was impossible in a place like this, but just the thought of sparking, of satisfying his heat, of being filled to the brim in the arms of such a sexy, gentle shuttle—perhaps it was enough. Something uncoiled in Starscream, and he whined into Skyfire’s tanks.
The pulses of power didn’t cease; rather than flowing through Starscream’s cables, they balled at the tips, brushing against his prongs and prying him open. It didn’t abate, but it also didn’t pour into him. Starscream felt like his very fibers were coming unwound.
“What—what is this?” he managed through a gasp that was very dignified and not at all filled with static.
“Ah, apologies,” murmured Skyfire.
“For what?”
“That’s my latching system. It’s designed as a failsafe, so I don’t completely incapacitate the power systems of a smaller mech if we interface.”
Starscream groaned. He didn’t want to be locked onto Skyfire, as good as it felt! He wasn’t used to spending his time after interfacing… cuddling. Soundwave wasn’t a cuddler. Neither was Megatron. Nuzzling against those big tanks for awhile was plenty appealing, but it was more fun in the throes of interface. Not while being lightly buzzed by the constantly building ball of charge bombarding the tips of his cables.
“I didn’t realize we were going to have mandatory get-along time,” grumbled Starscream.
“Get-along? But I was under the impression that we already got along. Aside from circumstances that separated us…”
"Oh no, no no no, we are not talking about it! About you, me…" he gestured vaguely in the air in front of him with his hand, despite the fact that both his vision and coordination were mediocre at best in the post-overload fuzz.
Skyfire sighed. "About… us?"
"Nope. No. Not the 'U' word."
"Star…"
"Your tanks are fantastic, and despite the impossibility of it, you satiated my heat—for the most part—in two overloads. Very sexy, thank you very much. Do we really need to ruin the mood with this?"
But Skyfire just smiled and shook his helm. "Actually, what I really wanted to ask was if you were certain you didn't want to leave with me. You gave me the codes to walk right in here, I hadn't actually expected to find you here in this condition. I thought you were asking me to rescue you."
Starscream raised his wings, then groaned, flopping back so he could rest his helm against Skyfire’s chest once more. "I sent you those to help you break in here, but also to impress you! That I'm a genius, I stole everything you could possibly need from Megatron, I basically did all of the hard work infiltrating for you, be impressed…?"
“Oh! Well, thank you. I’ll be impressed if that’s what you’d like, Star.”
This earned a huff from Starscream. “It doesn’t mean as much if I have to tell you to be impressed! But no, that’s—that’s not the point! The point is that I needed help with my heat! Which yes, very good work, thank you. That’s it.”
“That’s… it?”
“Well, yes? I’m biding my time here. You really think this feeble prison can hold me, the mighty Starscream? Things are easy here. I get to relax, look at this lovely… blank wall, I get plenty of energon without having to scavenge like a feral scraplet, and preen myself until Soundwave enacts his grand plan for revenge on Megatron and picks me to lead the revival of the Decepticon cause and all of that.”
Starscream made an effort to look cool and composed as he spoke, looking at his own claws and definitely not Skyfire’s still-exposed chassis canisters. He hauled himself upright, shuddering from the tiny jolt of energy that burst through his lines as the power at the tips of his cables faded to a simmer. He was almost disappointed when he felt Skyfire’s latches disengage, his cables and tubes unplugging from Starscream one at a time with heavy clicks.
Maybe he was a little disappointed when Skyfire respooled his cables and closed up his chest armor. Just a smidge. He told himself his disappointment was assuaged by the way Skyfire leaned forward and kissed his helm.
“Just biding your time. In prison?” Skyfire asked.
“Yes.”
“Very well. In that case, I’ll leave you be, but I was glad we were able to reconnect.”
Skyfire could be so infuriatingly formal, and a mixture of feelings that Starscream was completely unwilling to address bubbled up in his spark. “Okay, fine. But I want you to return later and stuff me full of charge next time I call. It’s far superior to nesting with my trine.”
The shuttle paused as he began to leave, and turned back to Starscream. “Come back here? To this prison?”
“No! No, after I leave! Revival of the Decepticons, getting back at Megatron, all of that? You’re welcome to join up with us. At that point. You know. For the additional insult to injury for Megatron. Not that I care much about revenge. It’s about the principle of the thing. You know.” Why was he struggling so hard to explain himself to Skyfire? Why did he feel the need to explain himself to Skyfire at all?
But Skyfire just offered him a gentle smile and shook his head. “I don’t know, but that’s all right, Star. I’m happy to continue my research on this planet away from whatever last vestiges of the war might exist. When you’re ready, you can give me another call.”
Starscream stood, retracting his cables and trying to look as dignified as possible, as though the shuttle hadn’t just blown his circuits. There was something about Skyfire that always made Starscream want to be… a better self than he was. It was troublesome, really. He scrambled for something to say, some clever comeback to win Skyfire over and get the last word in the conversation.
But the shuttle was already gone.
Something unknown swirled in Starscream’s spark, and he told himself it was just the last flickers of static from the intense overloads. It certainly wasn’t a complex blend of feelings. Absolutely not.
…Maybe he’d have to call Skyfire again sooner than later.
Just to be sure.