It was bad enough, Skywarp thought, being prisoner of the disgusting Autobots. Worse to be stuck in this ridiculous prison, not only without the dignity as he, a Seeker and a high level captive, deserved, but completely without privacy. But WORST absolutely, was the realization that he was going into heat. In prison, surrounded by Autobots. And no privacy.
At first, he thought he masked it pretty well. No one expected a prisoner to be happy. Especially not a Decepticon prisoner. And his decacycle long captivity, without seeing so much as a flash of sky, was bound to irritate a flyer. He probably could have gotten away with it indefinitely, if…if his arms were longer.
Skywarp crouched in the darkest corner of his little cell. His lust was becoming unendurable even to him. His spike was half extended almost all the time. And his valve…. It didn’t bear thinking about. He was trying to scrape dried and half-gummed lubricant off his spike without driving himself crazy with arousal. And failing miserably. His harsh scrapes with the edges of his fingers became softer strokes and even softer caresses, as his mind drifted over to what should be going on right now, were he not consigned to this Autobot sinkhole of a prison.
Right now…right now, he daydreamed, it would be his turn to be in the middle. Let’s see…. Thundercracker would be behind him, kissing his audio pickup, his spike thrusting in and out of Skywarp’s valve slowly. Right. He’d be leaning back against Thundercracker. On top of him, riding his own spike, would be Starscream, leaning back, just a littlle, letting Thundercracker’s thrusts set the rhythm. Oh he could almost feel it: his spike pushing into Starscream’s valve, his lubricant running down his spike and onto Thundercracker’s own glossy-wet spike, someone’s hands skittering across his sensitive wings. Primus, he could almost hear the soft grunts Thundercracker would be making in his audio, rising in tempo with each thrust as he got closer and closer to his own overload. And then…and then Starscream would lean forward, his hips still rising and falling to Thundercracker’s rhythm, and kiss him, his mouth hot on Skywarp’s…and then their combined attention would push Skywarp over into overload and he’d spasm against Thundercracker’s chest, and Thundercracker would lean over his shoulder and kiss Starscream as Skywarp cried out in overload and….
No. That noise was here. And himself. Skywarp bit down upon that cry as his hands gave one final jerk at his spike, transfluid spurting silvery white against the wall in front of him. He stared at the wall, horrified. This is what the Autobots had driven him to. Primus. He watched it slowly start to drip down the blank grey surface of the wall. Worse than the mortification, though, was the burning awareness that it had done nothing—NOTHING—to alleviate his desire. In fact, his valve now outright ACHED.
And…his hands were still sticky with lubricant.
Skywarp cast a quick look over his shoulder. Still no one. The one benefit of the plain tungsten alloy bars the marked the front of his cell was that he could hear anyone coming. He unscrewed his valve cover, with another furtive glance. Still no one. Slowly, almost fearfully, he brushed his slick fingers across the edges of the valve.
He shivered. The fantasy of Thundercracker’s spike in him still lingered on the edges of his awareness. Thundercracker’s spike, slick with lubricant, sliding in and out of Skywarp’s valve…. His fingers pushed further in, feeling the roller grips of his valve tighten around his fingers, pulling at them, trying to pull them further in. Ohhhhhhhhhh. He lay back on the floor. He rocked his hand against his pelvic frame, pushing two of his fingers in and out of his valve, fingers of his other hand slowly ringing the valve’s rim. His hips curved up gently, trying to push his fingers further up into his valve. He moaned softly, pushing faster and faster with his fingers, thrusting into his valve. He closed his eyes, summoning up the image of his Trinemates again. Starscream this time, his spike pushing gently into Skywarp’s valve, his eyes staring adoringly into his Trinemate’s.
He felt an overload skitter at the edge of his grasp. No matter how hard or how fast he thrust his fingers into his valve, he couldn’t…get…off. He couldn’t. His fingers couldn’t reach the end of his valve, where the most sensitive sensor node was. Oh if he could just hit it…ONCE. His whole body shuddered in frustration. He groaned with frustration. His spike had re-extended itself, stabbing the air, more lubricant trickling down its sides.
Maybe he could get off this way. His other hand seized his spike, jerking it hard, to the same rhythm that he thrust his fingers into his valve. Buttery warm shivers ran through his body, and….another jerking spasm, shooting transfluid against another patch of the wall as he cried out again, closing his eyes. But his valve was still trembling. Oh Primus he needed it that way. Jerking his spike wasn’t going to be enough. He needed a spike. Or anything. Just anything longer than his fingers.
“What the---“ He heard a voice above his head. His eyes snapped open and he saw, upside down because of his position, the feet and then the body of one of his Autobot guards. He saw the guard take in his position, the silvery spatters on the wall, and Skywarp’s hands, one still gripping his spike, the other rammed in his valve.
Skywarp snarled. “What are you looking at, Autobot?”
“I—I’m not sure. What am I looking at?” Prowl. He placed the name. The uptight one. Great.
“You are invading my privacy.”
“You don’t have any privacy here.”
“I am well aware of that,” he snapped. “That’s why I’m forced to do this.” He held up his spike-hand, coated with transfluid and lubricant, and held it up to the Autobot, who looked almost disturbed. Yet Prowl couldn’t take his eyes away. The Autobot’s disgust irritated Skywarp. Who was he that he thought he could look down on Skywarp. Like he never masturbated.
“Oh, does that bother you?” Skywarp revolved, turning to expose his valve to Prowl. “Pretty sure you have one of these yourself. Ever use it?” Prowl looked white, but he shifted his stare from Skywarp’s slick fingers to the Seeker’s valve, shiny with lubricant. “Even know how to?”
“What’s gotten into you?”
What’s gotten into me? It’s what HASN’T gotten into me that’s driving me crazy, Skywarp thought. “I,” he growled, “Want to fuck.” Prowl backed off a step. Skywarp stood up, lubricant leaking down his thighs—Prowl’s eyes followed the track of that, and one long slow droplet of transfluid falling from his spike. “Come on, Autobot, fuck me.” He leaned against the bars. “I want you, I know you’re turned on. Let’s see your spike.” He licked his lips lasciviously, running his fingers over his valve again. “I bet you’ve never had a Seeker valve on you.”
Prowl’s eyes flickered back to the silvery streaks of fluid on the wall, back to Skywarp. He shook his head, and dashed off, hands clutching his processor. Skywarp growled in frustration. Freaking out the Autobot was fun, but part of him certainly wouldn’t have minded even taking the Autobot’s spike. Anything. Anything to get his valve off.
Two daycycles later, Skywarp still had no relief. More spatters of silver now marked the wall. He’d been trying desperately to siphon his desire through his spike, hoping it would relieve some of the pressure of his lust from his valve’s incessant need. He’d also scoured his cell for anything, ANYTHING to shove in his valve that might hit the sensitive node. His Autobot captors had been thorough—not even a sliver of metal.
“Come here,” he whispered, to the guard. His spike was getting exhausted, the lubricant drying up. He could barely get enough from it to coat his fingers to try, fruitlessly, again, to fuck his own valve into release. He was getting desperate.
“What?” The guard crossed over.
“Closer,” he said, dropping his voice. The guard stepped within reach. Skywarp’s hands snatched out, grabbing the Autobot by the codpiece. “Got a deal for you, guard.”
The guard twitched, but Skywarp’s fingers were hard against some pretty sensitive wiring. “What’s the deal? I ain’t lettin’ you out of here.”
“Not even on my mind right now,” Skywarp admitted. “Fuck me.”
Was he stupid? “You, spike, my valve. Primus I need it. You have no idea how bad I need it.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Uhhhh, getting off by a Seeker?” Had they heard of Seeker valves here?
“Not good enough. You’ll enjoy it too much.”
“So you’re saying no?”
“M saying one fuck isn’t good enough.”
“What do you want?”
The guard stepped back, grinning. “Want you to suck it, first. Wanna watch you suck my spike. You do that, and I’ll ram my spike so hard in your valve you’ll feel it in your cockpit.”
The guard looked a little surprised the Skywarp had given in so easily. As if he should have held out for more. Skywarp dropped to his knees, reaching for the spike’s cover. The guard revealed his spike, which sprang upright, almost in the Seeker’s face. Skywarp fastened his mouth over the spike, working his glossa over it eagerly. Imagining it wasn’t some filthy Autobot spike but Thundercracker’s, that Thundercracker’s hands were cupping his audio, Thundercracker’s lubricant coating his mouth. He moaned. The Autobot began thrusting into Skywarp’s mouth, the vibration from Skywarp’s voice pushing him to greater urgency.
The guard, for his part, was in ecstasy more than physical. Oh the ‘con knew what he was doing, his tongue skipping over the sensitive nodes, changing the pressure suction in his mouth, lips forming a firm seal. He suspected the ‘cons, all of them, sucked a lot of spike, And these Seekers—so high and mighty, huh? Not any more. The Seeker’s eyes were closed, his proud face shaped around the spike he was taking, that Ironhide was thrusting into him. On his knees, sucking at Ironhide’s spike as if his life depended on it. Huh, maybe it did. Primus but it felt so good, and so wrong to be sucked by a damn ‘con. “Gonna swallow,” he hissed at the con. “Swallow or the deal’s off.” Skywarp made some sound in his throat of assent, and the vibration from that set Ironhide over the edge—he felt his transfluid gush from his spike in a series of spasms, shooting hard into the back of the Seeker’s throat. He made a groan as the Seeker’s swallowing rubbed against his nodes again, the Seeker’s cool mouth swallowing his hot overload.
The Seeker wasn’t ready to quit—he continued to tease the spike, preventing it from retracting. Damn, thought Ironhide, he WANTED this fuck. He was certainly working to earn it. Ironhide pushed the ‘con’s face away. “Ready?”
The con pushed himself to his feet, bending over. Ironhide looked at the valve—looked small. Still, a deal was a deal, and the Seeker had certainly just had a chance to evaluate what he was getting. He pushed his spike into the valve. Skywarp cried out in pleasure; Ironhide shuddered as he felt the valve clamp against his spike. Primus, what was it with these Seekers? “Gonna take me a while, ‘cause I just came,” he muttered,
“Fine with me,” Skywarp said, wrapping his hands around the bars to brace his hips against the front of the cell.
Ironhide was about to begin thrusting when a loud voice caused him to jump. “Soldier!” Ironhide jerked away, yanking his spike rudely out of Skywarp’s valve. Skywarp howled in protest, turning to see Prowl at the end of the corridor, face enraged. “Stop abusing the prisoner.”
Abusing the prisoner? “I need it!” Skywarp yelled. “Dammit. Just let him fuck me!” Just five kliks later, couldn’t he have? Just five kliks? He’d’ve gotten his valve off at least once. Right now, the few pokes his node had gotten from Ironhide’s spike had set him on fire. He was almost insane with need. He lunged at Ironhide again, who jumped back, his spike already retracted. Skywarp slumped against the floor, cursing.
Finally, when they caught him breaking apart his berth to try to find something he could jam in his valve, they brought him to a medic, his hands immobilized behind him. By this time, it hurt to walk. He didn’t think his spike would yield a drop of lubricant, even if he could touch it.
“Lay back,” the medic said, directing his two guards to rechain his arms to the sides of the examination berth. Skywarp didn’t have a choice and didn’t really care at this point. He was fairly sure he was insane by this point, fantasizing wistfully about his trine. Hell, he’d even been having lust filled thoughts about Ravage. He bet the cassetticon’s glossa could get where he needed it.
“What’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem. I just need someone TO FUCK ME!” he yelled. Primus these Autobots were stupid.
First Aid looked a little alarmed, but recovered his composure. “I’ll just check down there, okay?”
He snapped open Skywarp’s hatch. The spike was half-extended. “Everything functional?”
“Define functional. I’m out of lubricant.”
That got a look of surprise. “OUT…of lubricant?” First Aid opened the reservoir. Empty The ‘con was telling the truth. “How’d you use that much?”
“Yankin’ spike,” said one of the guards. “Should see his cell. Just about fraggin’ repainted it with transfluid.”
Skywarp glared at the guard, but his gaze frankly dared the medic to say something.
“He’s in heat.” Skywarp’s shoulders relaxed. Finally. Someone got it.
“They run a really high sex drive, this sort. That’s why they come in multiples.”
“Oooh,” said the other guard, “That’s a pervy idea.”
It was still, to Skywarp, an arousing idea. His valve ached again. “Look,” he said to the medic, who seemed moderately reasonable, “I need to get off. From the valve. I need it. It’s been driving me fucking crazy. I’ve tried…everything.”
The medic grunted, and turned to his tools. He squirted lubricant on one hand and, keeping his eyes carefully on Skywarp’s face, as if he were afraid it would embarrass Skywarp to have him looking at his valve, slipped two fingers into the Seeker. Skywarp hissed at the cold lubricant, squirming as the medic worked his fingers further up into the valve. “Farther,” Skywarp gasped. First Aid worked his fingers to the end of the valve gently. “No,” Skywarp growled impatiently, “Harder. Primus please, do it!” The medic frowned, but began thrusting his fingers in and out of the valve.
“YES!” Skywarp yelled. “That! FINALLY!” His spike rose gamely. Skywarp didn’t even have the energy to even think of a fantasy. Just lying here, the medic’s dispassionate fingers driving in and out of his valve, under the harsh light and the bemused eyes of the guards—he didn’t fucking care any more. Something…was…finally…fucking his valve.
He shrieked into overload, his body rising off the berth with force enough to dent it when he fell back down, the medic’s hand rising and falling carefully, as if afraid of hurting him. Frag it: if Skywarp could ignore all of this, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t even notice anything like pain. The overload shot through him like a river of fire. He felt his valve squeeze down on the medic’s fingers with force enough to crack a joint, as his own fluid gushed from his valve and onto the berth. He lay gasping, his entire body focused on his overload, for minutes.
“Again,” he croaked. “Primus I need it again.” First Aid withdrew his hand, shaking his head, holding up his injured hand. “Little dangerous, ‘con.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose. Please! I need it. Again!” He struggled to sit up, snatching a tool from the medic’s tray. He turned it handle first and thrust it in his valve, shoving it up to the end. Primus if only he’d had one of these…flat head screwdrivers…in his cell, he’d have been saved a lot of embarrassment. He thrust the screwdriver’s handle in again and again until a guard seized his arm and pinned him back to the berth. He roared in frustration.
The other guard looked over at the medic. “We can do it with that, right?”
“I can do it myself!”
“Not giving you a weapon, ‘con.”
“It’s not a weapon. Primus I just want… nnnngggaaah!” One of the guards began moving the screwdriver in his valve. “Yeeeesssss,” he moaned, writhing on the berth. The guard seemed intrigued, shoving the screwdriver in again and again and again, bringing Skywarp to another overload, another rush of fluid.
His whole body was trembling, but…his valve needed another.
“How does this work, anyway, Seeker,” First Aid said, bandaging his finger. “How long does this heat thing last for you?”
“It doesn’t go by time. Goes by overloads,” he gasped. He whined as the guard withdrew the screwdriver from his valve. He raised his hips off the berth, as if he could snatch the screwdriver back into his greedy valve.
“Just about done with the spike,” he said. “Kind of lost count.”
“And there’s a separate number for the valve?”
“Ninety eight to go.”
The guard snapped open his hatch—watching all of this had given him a raging spike---even as he unveiled it, lubricant dripped off the codpiece cover. He jerked Skywarp’s hips to the edge of the berth, thrusting his spike hard into the valve. “Ninety-seven,” he said, gruffly.