A little gift
Jan. 1st, 2008 08:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lyricalityYes, it's been forever since I posted anything at all. Yes, I am still working on Seven Days. Please don't squish me? ^o.o^ *tries to look cute and productive*
But this wouldn't let me rest, so here is a drabble I've written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nkfloofiepoof, set in her marvelous Hate the Dark AU Transformer-verse. The concepts are hers, and I mean this only as an appreciative gift. ♥ Definitely rated M, or NC-17 if you like, for giant robot p0rnz. Optimus/Starscream.
Optimus suffered dreams of his own.
They recurred, after his upgrade and during the period before Starscream’s successful restoration into his improved body. In his favorite, they were together in the cavern, draped in all the different shades of darkness with Starscream’s disembodied spark casting a pale glow over his components. Optimus could hold that slender chamber in one hand and caress it with the other, gradual strokes of his fingers along the edges and into the seams, until the spark within fluctuated with pleasure and sent searing pulses of energy in return. Opening his chest, he pressed them together, tighter and harder until a wave of shared satisfaction blazed through them both. The trembling of the spark between his hands had mirrored the real vibration he felt shaking through Starscream’s wings, the first time they had interfaced in the wake of the seeker’s return.
In his nightmares, Starscream fell apart in his hands, spark snuffed like the flame of a candle, and no matter what he tried or how he strained to save what mattered most, he failed time and again.
Just dreams. But Optimus gravitated too willingly toward the salvaged remains of the Ark, even before Starscream’s rebirth. Too often he found himself in the same room as the machinery that kept Starscream’s spark functioning, one finger lightly tracing the transparent plates that protected it, that separated them. Though unnerved, First Aid allowed it, and Optimus took advantage of the medic’s relative inexperience until Ratchet firmly—but gently—forced him to abandon his unspoken vigil.
Fourteen orns, he had waited for Starscream to make contact after his reactivation. He had interpreted his failure to do so as unsurprising rejection, but duty had required him to ensure a truce between the factions. Starscream’s willingness to touch and be touched again had been an astonishing joy.
They never stayed together long enough for security.
Formality pushed between them, and Starscream always required distance. Optimus fancied that he needed the privacy of open air. When duty forced them apart, he felt a certain relief mixed deep in his reluctance, a gratitude that he needn’t stretch the truth to find better, more plausible, less emotional reasons to keep Starscream draped over his chest or curled into his lap. He liked the sensation, he liked the weight and the cool heat of the seeker’s slender frame vibrating against his own, and he wished that could be reason enough.
So often he had Starscream fully at his mercy, body still and optics dark, offlined after a powerful overload. Then he could wrap both arms close around him, stroking his wings with fingers and palms, murmuring words he never meant the seeker to hear. “What could frighten you now?” Galvatron was dead, the dark retreated, and Starscream had only memories to haunt him. He could never share Optimus’ worry—that the world had moved on without him, that while he remained rooted to the earth, what he loved would slip through his fingers and leave him far behind.
Sometimes he purposefully seated himself near the windows in Autobot City, his meetings or his research or his concentration occasionally interrupted by the distant roar of jet engines. Starscream made so clean a shape in the sky, razor edged, curved where Thundercracker and Skywarp still had angles. Their formation was less than perfect at first, but Starscream still moved in the air as he moved on the earth, with a liquid grace that made Optimus want to catch him in both arms and touch him until he shook apart. So much unexpected beauty in those brief glimpses that something in Optimus ached, and Jazz had to ask him questions twice, and when nothing but jet trails lingered against the sky, he had to work to remember what he’d been doing, and why it had seemed so important.
Sometimes everything ceased to matter, when he had both hands buried deep in Starscream’s chest, and heard his name on a thin, choked whimper that filled his body with electrical fervor.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured afterward, when Starscream was beyond hearing him, when shouting out his pleasure had left his vocal components raw. His spark thrummed out the request he could never speak aloud, a steady rhythm of desire that deepened with every touch. Stay. Stay. The sky was wide, and space was vast, and there was always the danger of so much distance between them.
“Stay with me.”
Hate the Dark and its companion piece, Humans Call Them Dreams, can be found here.
But this wouldn't let me rest, so here is a drabble I've written for
nkfloofiepoof, set in her marvelous Hate the Dark AU Transformer-verse. The concepts are hers, and I mean this only as an appreciative gift. ♥ Definitely rated M, or NC-17 if you like, for giant robot p0rnz. Optimus/Starscream.Optimus suffered dreams of his own.
They recurred, after his upgrade and during the period before Starscream’s successful restoration into his improved body. In his favorite, they were together in the cavern, draped in all the different shades of darkness with Starscream’s disembodied spark casting a pale glow over his components. Optimus could hold that slender chamber in one hand and caress it with the other, gradual strokes of his fingers along the edges and into the seams, until the spark within fluctuated with pleasure and sent searing pulses of energy in return. Opening his chest, he pressed them together, tighter and harder until a wave of shared satisfaction blazed through them both. The trembling of the spark between his hands had mirrored the real vibration he felt shaking through Starscream’s wings, the first time they had interfaced in the wake of the seeker’s return.
In his nightmares, Starscream fell apart in his hands, spark snuffed like the flame of a candle, and no matter what he tried or how he strained to save what mattered most, he failed time and again.
Just dreams. But Optimus gravitated too willingly toward the salvaged remains of the Ark, even before Starscream’s rebirth. Too often he found himself in the same room as the machinery that kept Starscream’s spark functioning, one finger lightly tracing the transparent plates that protected it, that separated them. Though unnerved, First Aid allowed it, and Optimus took advantage of the medic’s relative inexperience until Ratchet firmly—but gently—forced him to abandon his unspoken vigil.
Fourteen orns, he had waited for Starscream to make contact after his reactivation. He had interpreted his failure to do so as unsurprising rejection, but duty had required him to ensure a truce between the factions. Starscream’s willingness to touch and be touched again had been an astonishing joy.
They never stayed together long enough for security.
Formality pushed between them, and Starscream always required distance. Optimus fancied that he needed the privacy of open air. When duty forced them apart, he felt a certain relief mixed deep in his reluctance, a gratitude that he needn’t stretch the truth to find better, more plausible, less emotional reasons to keep Starscream draped over his chest or curled into his lap. He liked the sensation, he liked the weight and the cool heat of the seeker’s slender frame vibrating against his own, and he wished that could be reason enough.
So often he had Starscream fully at his mercy, body still and optics dark, offlined after a powerful overload. Then he could wrap both arms close around him, stroking his wings with fingers and palms, murmuring words he never meant the seeker to hear. “What could frighten you now?” Galvatron was dead, the dark retreated, and Starscream had only memories to haunt him. He could never share Optimus’ worry—that the world had moved on without him, that while he remained rooted to the earth, what he loved would slip through his fingers and leave him far behind.
Sometimes he purposefully seated himself near the windows in Autobot City, his meetings or his research or his concentration occasionally interrupted by the distant roar of jet engines. Starscream made so clean a shape in the sky, razor edged, curved where Thundercracker and Skywarp still had angles. Their formation was less than perfect at first, but Starscream still moved in the air as he moved on the earth, with a liquid grace that made Optimus want to catch him in both arms and touch him until he shook apart. So much unexpected beauty in those brief glimpses that something in Optimus ached, and Jazz had to ask him questions twice, and when nothing but jet trails lingered against the sky, he had to work to remember what he’d been doing, and why it had seemed so important.
Sometimes everything ceased to matter, when he had both hands buried deep in Starscream’s chest, and heard his name on a thin, choked whimper that filled his body with electrical fervor.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured afterward, when Starscream was beyond hearing him, when shouting out his pleasure had left his vocal components raw. His spark thrummed out the request he could never speak aloud, a steady rhythm of desire that deepened with every touch. Stay. Stay. The sky was wide, and space was vast, and there was always the danger of so much distance between them.
“Stay with me.”
Hate the Dark and its companion piece, Humans Call Them Dreams, can be found here.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-03 04:46 pm (UTC)I must admit this pairing is not my taste, but I did read "Hate The Dark" when it was first posted purely out of curiosity. I liked it sheerly for its near-horror aspect and the hopelessness of OP and Starscream's situation. The picture in that fic was very well drawn, and at points gave me the genuine creeps.
As always, your writing is wonderful here, and the pain and longing Optimus feels is very tangible. It's a very sad fic, and it's always a good fic when I feel what the characters feel.
Again, nice to see you back, and hope your Holidays were happy!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-05 03:46 pm (UTC)This piece is one of the most gorgeous things I've ever read. I adore "Hate the Dark", and its sequel, adore Starscream, adore even more the pairing Optimus/Starscream.
And so you have officially made me an awfully happy person today! :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-01-06 06:32 am (UTC)I'm sorry, I'm usually a great deal less fussy-sounding. It's been a long night.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-03-14 01:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-04-14 11:28 pm (UTC)