Fandom: Transformers Bayverse
Author: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ
Pairing: Bluestreak/Starscream, Jazz/Bluestreak
Rating: NC-17 for mech/mech sticky
WARNINGS: AU, Slash, Dub-con, Sticky, Torture
Summary: When Starscream led the assault that destroyed Praxus, Bluestreak made a promise to himself that he would be there for him, waiting to take his revenge. The question is, what will he do with the Seeker now that he has him?
Notes: Written for community .livejournal .com/tf_rare_ - Prompt: I'll be there for you
~text~ bond or hardline talk
::text:: comm chatter

This story is also posted on my co-author Gatekat's ff . net account because we have a different reader-set subscribed. It is far more adult than most of the stories posted here. Please read the warnings. If you enjoy our collaborative work, most of it is published under the author name sockets on ff . net, or on our livejournal archive tf_socket_fics. Reviews feed our muses sugar and get us to write more.

I'll Be There For You 1: Bluesteak/Starscream

Starscream cursed under his breath yet again. Frag it all to the pit, how did he end up captured this time? Sometimes he swore Megatron simply set him up, sending him on these doomed to fail, asinine missions that made as much sense as expecting Wheeljack not to blow himself up in the process of creating the ridiculous weapon he, the Winglord, the Air Commander, the most perfect example of Seeker-kind was supposed to steal from a well-protected convoy. It was so below him that it was hardly worth the effort.

"Welcome to the Pit," a soft, low voice snagged his attention away from his own musing and onto his newly arrived guard. "I've been waiting a long time for this, you know. A very, very long time, Lord Starscream."

Starscream quickly made the id and cycled his optics in exasperation."Oh, shut your vocal processors, mechling. It's bad enough being here without having to listen to some glitched sniper who can't even make it to the battle half the time without blowing a relay and being taken to talk to his counselor again," Starscream sneered.

"Though I get there often enough for you to remember me," Bluestreak chuckled, sounding more like a Decepticon interrogator than an Autobot anything.

Starscream heard the bars powering down, a moment and then they powered back up. The Seeker scowled, even if the expression didn't reach his paralyzed features.

"I'll be here for you for an entire double shift," the young Praxian came into view. "I hope you enjoy what you created."

Starscream gave a rude snort. "I'm sure I will, I always enjoy my handiwork."

There was a small nod from the gray mech. He stepped close and unlocked the Seeker's chest plates, then unsubspaced a vial of dark green liquid.

Starscream continued to sneer even as he felt a burst of panic. His guard was not behaving like an Autobot, and certainly not the babbling, emotionally disturbed yet sparkling-sweet Autobot this particular one was known as among Decepticon intelligence. Dangerous in battle ... when he could get there without breaking down, but not the ice cold, deadly serious and quiet mech who now had access to his spark.

"Prime is not going to like this," Starscream commented, feigning nonchalance.

"No, he won't," Bluestreak agreed as he tipped the vial to let a single drop of strong acid fall on the exposed spark chamber. "I doubt he'll let me out of the brig once finds out. Murder is still a serious charge. Taking a double shift to finally let you extinguish will likely get me executed."

The screech of agony temporarily shorted out Starscream's vocal processors as his optics went white with panic. There was no movement on his paralyzed frame to disclose the pain.

When he finally was able to speak again, his tone was different.

"It won't bring them back, you know. Nothing will. Nothing will bring back Vos either, or any other city destroyed by this insanity we call a war," Starscream said with a static-laced tone.

"It won't bring back my sanity either," Bluestreak told him calmly as he carefully set up the vial down and ran his hands down the Seeker's much larger frame. "You know I fooled them all, your side and mine. Everyone thinks I can't stand violence, can't deal with the war and the death. Mmm, well, truth be told, I couldn't, but I snapped less than a decaorn after Praxus," he explained as he unlatched the hardline interface covers in the Seeker's hip. "But the act, pretending I was still that broken mech, got me here. Two full shifts alone with you and no supervision. They don't think I'm a threat to you."

"And what do you hope to accomplish by murdering me, Praxian?" Starscream replied with a suddenly sane intensity. "I didn't order the attack on your city. If anything, you should thank me. You have no idea how many things I've prevented Megatron from doing, simply by having my Seekers willfully botch up missions or creating dissent in the ranks. I know who really destroyed Vos. I know what he is capable of. Without me there to temper his insanity, the war will be over and your friends will be dead in less than a vorn. I, for one, wish to see our species survive. Megatron is the disciple of the Unmaker. He only desires our destruction. You destroy me, you destroy the only thing holding Unicron back."

"Just why should I believe you?" the sniper asked with that same calm intensity he normally only displayed between target lock and seeing the target go down. "You didn't have to join him in the first place. Your Seekers are still what wins his victories."

"You have no idea just how much more decisively we could win those battles. Haven't you noticed how many of you survive encounters where none of you should? We have to be convincing to play our part, but you are alive because of us," Starscream emphatically claimed.

"You know what is in our coding, how fiercely we Seekers protect our own?" he continued. "Initially, I joined because I didn't believe the Autobots stood a chance. I still don't. I wanted to survive. I wanted the Seekers to survive. That is my duty as Winglord. Megatron knew he couldn't trust me, so he ordered mods on every single one of us. At any sign that we are defecting, truly defecting, not just behaving as snide, stubborn, prideful Seekers, he will destroy every last one of us with a single order. My duty is to see that my own survive this, survive Megatron. Even Prime knows this. Why do think he lets me go every time I am captured? Look at my spark, Praxian. See the truth in what I say. You really want to be responsible for the end of our entire species so you can have revenge for something that every single one of us has faced? The destruction of our cities and kin?" The Winglord sounded tired ... so very tired. There wasn't a trace of a sneer left in his voice.

It didn't take knowing Bluestreak to know he'd lost his place in his internal script for the orn. He'd had this planned out, extracting all his vorns of pain and loss in a single double shift and then quietly wait with his kill for the next guard to arrive so he could surrender. He was ready for screaming, begging, cursing. He was ready to feel a dry valve around his spike, to know the pain as he took the Seeker's spark and forced him to suffer all that he had experienced.

He wasn't ready for a sane sounding Seeker to offer his spark before things had even begun.

"Talk to me, Bluestreak," Starscream continued softly, in a voice that did not sound like any the sniper had ever heard from Megatron's Air Commander. "Tell me what you saw when Praxus fell. Show me what you have suffered. Let me feel it. I will understand. My spark is still in agony over Vos." The Seeker's red optics seemed to reach for the sensor-winged mech as his hands were not able to. Compassion, understanding, grief and desire in a single look.

"Why'd you let him do it?" Bluestreak's voice sounded more normal, for him at least, with a slight tremble. "Why'd he destroy Vos with you already on his side? I get other cities, we'd destroy Kaon if it would do any good, but the city his Air Commander ruled?"

Starscream shuttered his optics, and then began to speak in a quiet, flat tone.

"Megatron's agents became aware of the game we were playing. I tried to convince him that it was not me, but a minority of Seekers whose goal was to depose me as Winglord and turn to the Autobots. I hadn't even realized that his agents had already rigged the entire city as a guarantee. Megatron forced me to lauch the missiles that would trigger the rest of the explosives, to prove my loyalty, but I was able to warn nearly everyone through my Winglord bond. Most survived, even though the city fell. Survival has always been the goal."

"That's insane!" Bluestreak objected, his sensor wings flaring angrily. "What kind of glitched nut-jobs follow a leader that does that? Either of you!"

Starscream was quiet, but continued to look directly into Bluestreaks optics with and expression that was far more sane than any would have guessed.

"What would you be willing to do, if you went back, in order to ensure the survival of your kin. What is more important, their sparks, or the city? It was a horrible choice. I will go to the pit with it. But what other choice did I have once I knew that the city would be destroyed with or without me? At lease I ensured that most of the sparks of Vos were not extinguished."

The gray mech scowled, his spark twisting at the question, and the answer he came to without hesitation. With only a bit of hesitation he climbed on top of the bronze Seeker, a mech nearly twice his size and looked directly down into his optics. He could feel Starscream's spark beating under his, the echo of his original plan of burning that spark with his pain before extinguishing it with his hands. Only now he wanted to touch that spark to share in a mutual understanding, and perhaps come away with a way to end the nightmares.

"Why haven't you destroyed him?" Bluestreak asked quietly.

Starscream's optics dimmed and he vented. "I wish it were that easy. He owns me. As surely as if he had forced me to bond with him. I destroy him, every Seeker will immediately find their spark chamber explode. He has every Seekerling who survived Vos in stasis and under his direct control. I am doing all I can against him, slowly weakening him and his faction, passing on information when I am able. If I didn't have the Primus-given task of keeping them alive, protecting them, I would be releived you wanted to kill me, to end this for me."

Bluestreak went still and silent, his processors and spark having a debate that occasionally flickered across his features in the full spectrum of emotions. What was normal from many mechs became decidedly disconcerting from this one that barely knew the concept of silence or stillness when he wasn't looking through a scope.

"What about Jazz?" he finally asked with an indescribable expression on still youthful features.

"If anyone could do it, he could," Starscream replied thoughtfully. "I honestly have no idea why Prime hasn't ordered an assassination. Ask him. I can only imagine it is because Megatron must have something on Jazz as well, something that makes it too dangerous for them to send him in. I loath to think it is out of some misplaced sense of compassion, but I wouldn't put it past him now that he is an Autobot."

Bluestreak felt himself chuckle weakly. "More likely that no one's ... paid enough." He slipped a hand between them and traced around the iris of Starscream's spark chamber. "Or convinced Prowl. Convince him and Jazz'll do it."

Starscream would have arched into the touch if he had not been immobilized. His optics spoke volumes even if his ailerons could not. "You would be doing all of us a favor, trust me," Starscream replied earnestly even as his fans kicked in, completely outside of his conscious control.

"I have nothing to pay him with, and even less to convince him with," Bluestreak replied with another curious circle of the iris before sliding his fingers out to close lightly around the egg-shaped chamber, then back up its rounded sides. "You, however, have both."

Starscream could not tremble, could not shiver as jolts of pleasure washed through his system through every connection to his spark chamber. He could only moan, which he did.

"Deliver a message to him for me, when your shift is over," Starscream managed to hiss, the charge of an overload building making it difficult to think.

"All right," Bluestreak agreed, watching the features under him contort and shift with his touch in unabashed fascination. "I never thought your voice could be nice to listen to."

"You've never had me at your mercy, unable to move, and close to overload before, either. Of course, I could make you feel amazing as well. Have you ever faced with a Seeker, Bluestreak?"

His fingers stilled, then trembled faintly before continuing the slow exploration of the chamber. "N-no," he mumbled, a shock of arousal flashing through his system at the thought.

Starscream gasped again, giving a high moan of pleasure that was boarding on keening. "Do you prefer to spike or be spiked?" He gasped, optics begging to be set free so he could show the grounder just how good it could be.

Blue optics suddenly flicked up to meet red, the question making the next step suddenly all too real for the younger mech, too real and too intimate. Yet he knew the uncertainty born of limited experience was what showed on his faceplates.

"I won't hurt you," Starscream crooned, staring gently into those timid blue optics. "If you don't want to give me mobility, I fully understand. Do whatever you wish to my frame. Forget pain and loss for a time. You have no idea how rarely I have the luxury or time to simply enjoy a mech's company." Starscream's glossa licked his own lips in a manner that could be suggestive, but just as easily an unconscious habit. "Megatron keeps me separated from my trine as much as possible," he added mournfully.

"Even I know that's a fast way to drive a Seeker insane," he whispered, turning his focus once more on the spark casing even as he reached back with his other hand to plug an interface cable into the port he's uncovered earlier.

"Tell me about it," Starscream laughed easily before gasping again at the exquisite sensations from his chamber radiating outward on his frame.

Their systems synced, and Bluestreak touched for the first time the powerful mind of a Seeker, of one born to rule the skies and destined to lead. He could feel the fierce pride of the creature underneath him.

~I wish I could touch your sensor wings,~ Starscream crooned from within, giving him a mental taste of his skilled talons. ~I know what to do with sensitive wings, more so than those in your faction.~

"Maybe," Bluestreak said, reveling not so much in the power he had over the other, but the mixture of pleasure seeping into his systems and seeing how what felt good when he touched himself worked on another without the distraction of their efforts to please him.

"Maybe?" Starscream growled in mock frustration. "Oh, alright then, I'll just lie back and enjoy, since that is all I can do anyhow."

He let out a whine of frustration as the Praxian went to work on his wide wings, his spike clearly was one of his systems that were disabled, because otherwise it would be straining against his panel. Bluestreak paused as that information trickled to his awareness. He sent a quick command to the control software that locked the Seeker down, enabling his full interface panel and fifty percent mobility to his wings.

The Decepticon sighed, his panel opening and wings quivering. Through the cable Starscream seemed an open book of pure need for touch, a lover's claws on his frame, a spike in his valve. There was so much open need in the Seeker, and the Praxian's touches were like rain after a drought on some organic world.

It was all presented in a way that Bluestreak found it difficult not to give exactly what was wanted. He was barely aware of his move to kneel between the Seeker's pedes, spreading them and thrusting forward to drive his spike in all the way to the housing plate in a single rough motion. The pleasure that shot through him focused him, and he began to thrust quickly, one hand bracing against the berth, the other closed around the large spike in front of him.

The Seeker could do so little in return, but his valve tightened on the Praxian's spike, bearing down on it each time is drove into him to maximize both of their stimulation, a small smile on his faceplates as the sniper began to drive into him even harder. ~So good,~ Starscream purred, ~does your faction know how good you are?~

~Don't...won't. Can't let them close,~ Bluestreak's mind whimpered as he gasped air desperately to cool his systems.

~A pity, little mech. They are missing out. Of course, all grounders miss out on so much,~ Starscream added, flooding the Autobot with memories of soaring through the skies, impossible spinning ascents followed by plummeting dives from above, nearly brushing the surface of the planet only to swoop back upward again with a throbbing roar of engines. ~My mating flight, when I claimed my trine,~ he purred in pride.

Bluestreak's coherency slipped away with the pleasure shared in both of their sensor nets and the intensity of memory, focussing him only on the movement of his spike into the slick, clenching valve as single mindedly as he focussed on his target lock in a battle. "Ohhh," his helm fell back with a throaty moan, his systems charging all too quickly. He didn't want it to end this soon. The flying, the wing under his wings. It was dizzying and exhilarating all at once.

Starscream laughed in pleasure, continuing the memory of claiming his wingmates' valves and sparks as his own; Action and Vision to his Order. "Let go," his voice caressed. "Don't hold back. We still have the rest of a double shift enjoy."

It was all Bluestreak could take and his keen warbled as the spike overload crashed through him, the unfamiliarity of it written brightly in his frame and sensor net, an unlocked datapad for the Seeker to read. The Praxian didn't feel the viral code slither into his processors even as the shared sensations took Starscream over the edge.

While Bluestreak went briefly offline, the Winglord used his captor/lover's own processors to unlock his motor functions. When the sniper rebooted, he was the one who could not move and Starscream gently laid him on the berth and sat up.

Blue optics looked up at him in absolute panic, systems revved higher than even overload could make them. Across the hardline connection still in place Starscream was assaulted with a full-fledged flashback of a half-mature mechling's memories of the attack on Praxus. The fire, explosions, sound of Seeker engines, dead friends ... these were all things the Seeker expected and was ready for the moment he realized what was happening.

But they weren't what was the central focus. That was reserved for the sensation of immobility, of the weight of his creator gradually cooling on top of him, and the darkness.

Starscream's central focus soon became his aching audio receptors from the wordless screaming at a decibel no vocalizer should be able to sustain.

Bluestreak's vocal processors were disabled without ceremony but the Seeker remained remained connected by hardline.

~I'm not going to kill you or hurt you.~ Starscream crooned into his mind, attempting to bring him back from the hell of his memories. ~I just can't take the risk that you will change your mind.~

Without a bit of hesitation the terrified mechling latched on to the other mind near him, memories of the comfort of a soot-covered Praxian adult flickering up as Bluestreak fought to put the memories back where they belonged.

~Change ... about what?~ he whimpered, still shaking terribly on the inside but gradually calming with the presence of another.

Starscream sat on the berth and lifted the disabled sniper to rest against his chest, calmly stroking his sensor wings and back as he would a Seeerling. ~Change your mind about killing me,~ the arrogant voice replied, tinged with pity.

A sense of understanding drifted back, acceptance, even appreciation of the comforting touch.

~What will you do until the next shift comes?~ Bluestreak asked after a moment, relaxing more fully into the touch, a low hum being sent to a vocalizer even though it was off line.

Sensing that the screaming was past, Starscream reactivated them.

~Harming you is of no benefit to me since I can't leave the cell. However, giving you something to distract you from your memories would be a enjoyable way to pass the orn.~

"Okay," Bluestreak murmured, letting his inherent tendency to trust overrule the fact that this was Starscream. If the Decepticon was offering pleasure, he'd take it. It wasn't as if he could have this kind of intimacy within his own faction, and at this moment, he was missing the pleasure he'd experimented with in his prior life.

The Winglord smiled at the trust, and sat on the berth with his wings against a wall, pulling the young mech up against him and enabling a few more motor functions. He ran his talons along the Praxian's sensor wings with well practiced hands, leaning in to kiss the gray mech, his glossa delving deep into his mouth. He was greeted with a moan and welcoming slide of Bluestreak's glossa against his own, though no real contest for dominance, and sensor wings pressing eagerly into his talons.

Despite the intent when he'd first walked in, Bluestreak had surrendered any interest in harming the Seeker, at least today.

Starscream bit down on the cabling of the sniper's neck while putting his hands under his aft to lift him up and onto his ready spike, bringing him down slowly and gently. "Yesss" the Seeker hissed as the tight, rarely used valve slowly enveloped him. Across the hardline connection he could feel the pleasure he was causing and how much his mostly-paralyzed lover wanted to grab on and hold him in, but was more than willing to let the Seeker have control.

"Now I enjoy a free show as much as the next mech, but this was not what I agreed to turn a blind optic to," Jazz's distinctive voice held none of the cheerfulness that most Autobots associated with him.

Starscream looked up and gave a predatory leer and did not bother to remove the gunner from his spike. "I was just convincing your sniper that there were far more enjoyable things to do with me than murder," Starscream sneered, pulling Bluestreak closer to himself possessively.

"Of that, I have no doubt," Jazz smirked back and leaned against the wall opposing Starscream's cell. "Killing is almost never as pleasurable as 'facing."

"It's okay Jazz, really. Not what I had in mind but maybe not a bad thing. Oh, since he's here, tell him what you were going to have me say, whatever it was, since you hadn't told me yet." Bluestreak clicked back to himself rather abruptly, giving Starscream a very insightful look into the young mech's processors and how he'd coped with loss and panic.

"Bluestreak here would like for me to pay you to assassinate Megatron," Starscream explained, stroking the Praxin's sensor wings as though he were a prized pet.

"Mmm, so what is the offer for my services, and what, precisely, would you have me do to him?" Jazz focused on the Seeker. Even though he knew there was next to no chance he'd actually take the job, at least not while Prowl still functioned, it was a worthy conversation.

"I want you to make him pay for what he did to Bluestreak here, to Praxus, Vos, and every other city he destroyed. But most of all, I simply want him extinguished." After all, Megatron as a martyr was a far better rallying cry for the Decepticons than Megatron insane and alive, Starscream thought behind a firewall where Bluestreak, still connected by hardline, wouldn't hear it. "As to what I offer, you can be my second in command when I lead our people to a new future. But if that isn't appealing, you know my resources. Name your price."

"Tsk, tsk, Screamer," Jazz flicked his armor in a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "You really should have made that offer while I was still a Con. I would have enjoyed it a great deal. But I'm obliged to put Prime back in control if I do anything so dramatic."

"Well, take him out for the faction that owns you, then. It doesn't matter to me. Take him out for Bluestreak here," he gestured with his helm toward the suddenly silent Autobot that was still on his spike. He gave a little thrust just to see if the Praxian was still paying attention and was rewarded with a low moan as the valve squeezed. No one should be daydreaming with with the Winglord's spike inside them.

Jazz growled softly, but didn't outright deny the statement. "I would, if Prowl'd let me. Some yammering about making him a martyr and his successors being worse," he grumbled.

"Couldn't you take them all out?" Bluestreak was in the conversation again, though his voice quivered with pleasure. He wanted to hold on to his lover, pit take it! "I mean, I heard you can do anything. Seen whole bases go up after you visit."

"All four at once?" Jazz smiled at the sniper. "They'd all have to be on the same base to start with, and they make a point of not doing so. Megatron does know my capabilities fairly well, and so do Soundwave and Shockwave. You want him to finish, or would you rather a spike you can have more often?"

Starscream said nothing in response, but gave Bluestreak back his motor functions, lifted him off of himself only to position him on his hands and pedes. He thrust in again, deep and hard, one hand supporting his weight, the other caressing the sensor-laden winglets. He was not going to have his pet taken away this close to overload.

There was no hesitation as the smaller mech pressed into the touch, matching the thrusts as he moaned and shivered, happy to be the center of attention and the processor-numbing effect of each powerful thrust. "Oh yes, please more, that's so good, so very good," he babbled, willing to say just about anything as long as it meant the glorious quiet in his processors continued.

"Yes, do keep it up," Jazz's engine revved sharply, his gaze locked on the scene that he found exceedingly hot.

Starscream was more than happy to comply, taking the Praxian fast and rough until with a final slam into him, he catapulted both into overload.

He smirked as he disengaged the hardline connection and put himself to rights.

"You Autobots do give good service to your prisoners. I can't imagine someone getting this kind of attention in one of our brigs ... though they certainly do get attention of a different sort." He looked at Jazz expectantly to remove the gray mech now that their rough play was over.

"Somehow I expect the standard has gone down since I left," Jazz smirked. "Oh, Blue ... he's good for at least another dozen rounds, or you can come out and actually guard him."

Bluestreak cycled his optics a few times and then launched into an answer. "I ... I think I should go now, not that I wouldn't enjoy staying because I would and it felt really good, but it wouldn't be good for me to get in trouble now that I'm not going to kill him, right Jazz? Are you going to tell Prowl what I was doing? Oh, I suppose you have to, don't you, since you are bonded and all."

"Only if he digs around where he doesn't normally," Jazz shrugged his armor and stepped aside to pick up the stun-blaster that was kept in the brig for prisoner control. "Now, Screamer, be a good POW and relax on the berth. You'll only be down a few kliks."

"Think what I said, little Autobot," Starscream said conspiratorially to Bluestreak as he traded places with him on the berth, well aware of what was about to happen. "Someday, when I am leader of all of Cybertron, your city will be rebuilt better than ever. Our people will flourish again. Then, the Autobots who have any intelligence in them will thank me for the choices I made rather than cursing my name."

Bluestreak looked at the Seeker with a mixture of suspicion and trust. "It all certainly makes sense now that I think about it and you explained how everything happened, but I still believe Lord Prime is the rightful leader of Cybertron. I would follow him anywhere. But maybe he will make you the Lord High Protector if you take Megatron out and end the war. But then again, you are already Winglord and I'm not sure that you could be."

Jazz didn't wait for any more rambling before he fired, temporarily shutting down Starscream's voluntary motor control. He wasted no time in powering down the bars and all but hauled Bluestreak out by the tip of a sensor wing and reactivating the bars.

While the gray mech was still finding his balance from the sudden change of location, Jazz pulled him around, pressed him against the wall next to Starscream's cell and kissed him hard, demanding the larger mech surrender.

Bluestreak melted into him with a groan. It had been so long since anyone had touched him this way, and Starscream's attention, no matter how manipulative, had him aching for more.

The kiss broke, but Jazz didn't back off any further. "When you're done with your shift, I want to see you in my office," he nipped at Bluestreak's lower lip component. "I want to hear everything he's told you," another kiss. "I'll tell you what the truth is," another bruising contact that left Bluestreak weak in the pedes. "Then I'll see about showing you what a real lover can do."

"Y-yes, sir," Bluestreak gasped out, his frame trembling, struggling to keep him upright when Jazz stepped back.

Starscream, finding his motor controls had returned, smirked at the the stuttering Autobot. Before the sniper could launch into one of his processor-numbing monologs, he opted to shut off his audio receptors, darken his optics, and feign recharge.