FIC: Bonding Night
Jul. 17th, 2014 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sunnysidesofblueTitle: Bonding Night
Chapter: 1/1
Universe: G1-ish AU
Characters: Bluestreak, Alpha Trion, Prowl
Summary: Bluestreak discovers just what kind of mech he's been bonded off to. Bonus chapter/side story to A Royal Arrangement by BlackAndTanDogs and Dellessa
Rating: M
Warnings: noncon, sadism, age difference/borderline underage
Disclaimer: Still do not own Transformers. This AU belongs to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dellessa and blkntandogs and has been borrowed with permission
Notes: On reading chapter 10 of Dellessa’s and BlackAndTanDog’s Prowl-and-Jazz-centric fic A Royal Arrangement (read it here) my muse latched on to a hinted flashback scene with a side pairing, and kind souls that they are the writers allowed me to play around in their AU for a bit and write this “bonus chapter”. While it’s possible to read this story as plain PWP without having read A Royal Arrangement, it’ll have a deeper impact in its proper context so I do recommend you to read the original story as well, or at least the aforementioned chapter 10.
Also, the original story is an AU, which is why some characters (including Alpha Trion here) are very far from their classic G1 personas.
***
Bluestreak glanced around the crowded hall, trying very hard not to fidget. His plating was itching from the temporarily painted symbols all over his frame and he found himself wondering briefly if this was really normal or if there may be some element in the paint that his plating didn’t agree with. Most of all he wanted to sneak away from there but he knew he wouldn’t be able, or allowed, to. This was after all his own bonding party, and when he finally left if would be with the mech he was now legally bonded to.
The thought sent another nervous shiver through the young mech’s frame as he located the rather colourful shape of Alpha Trion in a small group of nobles across the room. He knew next to nothing about the mech, having only met him once before, but the few rumours that he had picked up in spite of his creators’ best efforts did little to ease his mind. Although quite a bit older even than Bluestreak’s own creators the mech had a reputation for being a player with “exotic tastes,” whatever that meant, and the pitying looks some of the guests gave Bluestreak had not been lost on the young mech. He hoped he wouldn’t end up as one of those mechs and femmes everybot laughed at behind their backs because of the blatant and incessant infidelity of their bondmate, but in truth there was little he could do about it. He knew he was supposed to be the subordinate part in this bond, both because of his youth and the social and political rank of his family compared to that of Alpha Trion, and the importance of compliance had been drilled into him rather firmly at an early age. And so he kept telling himself that all was going to be okay and that his uneasiness was nothing more than the nervousness that always accompanied big changes in life.
Still, he really wished there was someone he could talk to. Scanning the crowd again he spotted his elder brother in another corner and gave him a pleading look, but Prowl just returned his glance with a discrete and sad shake of his helm. The mech standing with the black and white Praxian was not quite cornering him but Bluestreak still got the distinct feeling that he was very deliberately keeping Prowl away from his brother.
The young mech sighed and let his optics wander again, only to almost stumble backwards as he suddenly found himself face to face – or, more truthfully, face to chest plates – with Alpha Trion.
“So, my bonded,” the older mech said with a smile that made the young Praxian shudder, and not in a good way, “I think it’s time for us to excuse ourselves for the night now, don’t you agree?”
It was not really a question and Bluestreak had no chance to answer anyway before Alpha Trion took him by the arm to lead him across the room. The youngling fought not to wince at the strength of the grip around his arm but he could actually feel his plating dent and he wondered if he had accidentally done something to displease the older mech.
Once in the middle of the room Alpha Trion stopped and said something to the guests, but Bluestreak’s processor didn’t register the words. He was once more looking around with something close to panic in his spark, seeking some source of comfort and reassurance that things were going to be okay. He saw his creators who were both sporting polite smiles that didn’t reach their optics, as they never did where he was concerned, but half-swallowed by the crowd of larger bots as he was he could no longer spot his brother. In his nervousness he couldn’t stop himself from breaking tradition and using his comm.
::Prowl? Please answer, I know I’m not supposed to use comms today but I’m scared. Where are you?::
There was a short moment of silence before his brother replied.
::I’m here, Blue, just beside the podium by the exit.”
Bluestreak turned to look in the indicated direction and finally spotted his brother.
::Please Prowl, I’m scared. Did I do something wrong? His field feels all strange and he’s holding my arm so tight. Do you think he’s angry with me?::
::No, Blue, you did nothing wrong, your behaviour has been excellent all evening and you look so handsome. I’m very proud of you.::
In spite of the situation the compliment warmed the younger Praxian’s spark.
::You think so? Really?::
::Really::
A small smile reached Bluestreak’s lips, only to die almost instantly.
::Prowl… I am still going to see you now and then, right? You’ll still be there for me even if I don’t live at home anymore, won’t you?::
This time the silence was longer and it was not until Alpha Trion started to lead him towards the exit that Bluestreak heard his brother’s voice again.
::I’ll always love you, Bluestreak. Always, no matter what.::
For a short moment their optics met as the newly bonded pair reached the door leading from the great hall to the rest of the residence.
Then he was on his own.
Bluestreak had expected to be led to the more private areas further back in the residence and was just about to ask if he could possibly visit a washrack first and get rid of the paint that was now not only itching but almost burning against his plating when he was unexpectedly and quite roughly pushed through another door. Stumbling into the room he barely had time to get his bearings before he was grabbed again and shoved against the wall. A cry of surprise and pain left him as the force from the impact registered in his sensitive doorwings.
“Finally alone,” he heard Alpha Trion say as he was pushed even more firmly against the wall by the larger mech’s chassis. “I though the accursed function was never going to end. You won’t believe how much I’ve been looking forward to this, my bonded.”
Bluestreak was too shocked to say something and his next uttering was another yelp of pain as strong hands gripped the edges of his doorwings and dentae bit down on his chevron without the slightest warning. Instinctively he placed his hands on the larger mech’s chest and tried to push him away but it was less than useless. The mech was half again his height and easily four times his own mass if not more.
“Please, stop, you’re hurting me!”
Bluestreak’s spark shrivelled in its chamber as the response he got to his protest was a dark chuckle and a sudden tightening of the grip on his doorwings.
“I know,” Alpha Trion said, bending down so he was face to face with the young Praxian. Then he kissed him.
Bluestreak had once seen his brother share a kiss with a lover and had thought it looked very gentle and soft. The mouth that was crushed against his own right now was nothing of the kind, though. Rough and demanding lips, biting dentae and a slithering glossa that tried to force its way into his oral cavity – all of it sent powerful signals of wrong! to Bluestreak’s processor but there was nothing he could do to stop them.
Then he felt a new level of panic as the older mech began to dig his fingers into the centre seam of his chest.
No. Nonononono. Surely Alpha Trion couldn’t be intending to… Not like…
But he was. A muffled scream left the Praxian’s vocaliser as the locking mechanism of his chest plates gave, exposing his spark chamber to the harsh, groping hands.
“Please, stop!” he cried as soon as Alpha Trion finally ended the kiss to re-direct his complete focus to the younger mech’s core armour. “Please!”
Neither his protests nor his struggles seemed to have any effect on the older mech. The feeling of someone actually rummaging around inside his chest was awful enough on its own, but knowing that the mech was trying to break into his spark chamber was beyond terrifying. He knew of course that the two of them were supposed to merge sparks tonight, and if Alpha Trion had asked and been a little patient Bluestreak would have been prepared - albeit not enthusiastically or even truly willingly – to follow his lead, trusting the experienced mech to know what to do. The violent behaviour had shredded every molecule of that already feeble trust, though, and now the only thing Bluestreak could think of was escape.
A sickening groan of bending metal accompanied another burst of pain from within his chest and Bluestreak felt his spark chamber begin to crack open.
“Stop it, please, stop!” he screamed again. He tried to access his comm link to call for help, only to discover that he was blocked from the entire communications grid.
“Help! Please, someone, help! Prowl!” he cried out as loud as he could, hoping against hope that maybe someone in the great hall nearby would hear him.
The first blow hit him directly over the left audial and left his whole helm ringing and spinning. Shocked and partly stunned, he barely registered the fingers digging into his face plates until his helm was slammed into the wall three times in rapid succession. Badly disoriented he collapsed on the floor and before he could gather himself he was shoved down on his back, doorwing sensors once again screeching in protest.
“No…” he groaned as he felt the larger mech straddle him. Hands were back inside his chest, finally prying his spark chamber completely open, and no matter how hard he tried he could not push them away. He heard another, much smoother sound of shifting plates and even though his vision was still slightly blurry after the blows to his helm he could not fail to see Alpha Trion’s chest and spark chamber armour folding back, revealing a bright orange spark.
“Please… please, don’t hurt me,” he pleaded, still squirming and pushing, desperate to get away. “I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want but please, please stop hurting me!”
A keening sob escaped him as a large hand came to rest against his throat, not quite squeezing but demonstrating with terrifying clarity just how easily the older mech would be able to block the flow of Bluestreak’s main energon line by just applying the tiniest amount of pressure. Stilling at once, now actually fearing for his life, the young mech stared wide-opticed at the grinning face above him.
“You already are doing what I want, youngling,” Alpha Trion said, his voice deceptively soft and almost purring. Then he leaned forward, lowering his upper frame onto the pinned Praxian, and brought their sparks together.
Bluestreak gasped as he felt the orb of foreign energy push against his own. He tried to shy away from its touch but neither his spark nor his frame had anywhere to go. Again his hands found Alpha Trion’s shoulders, pushing, hammering and scratching for all he was worth but he simply didn’t have the strength to cause any damage, probably not even pain, on the older mech’s thicker armour.
The pressure against his spark kept increasing, slowly but relentlessly, until the young Praxian felt as if an omega guardian was standing on top of him. The horrible tension in his spark spread to his torso and limbs until he couldn’t even move anymore and was certain that he would spring into pieces any moment.
Then suddenly the pressure was gone, and for a brief nanoklik Bluestreak relaxed in relief. Then came a hard pulse of focused energy and the young mech’s last defences shattered into what felt like a million shards of sharp crystal splinters. Energy burned right into his very core and it felt as if his entire chest had just been filled with molten steel. The pain soon took on a throbbing character and Bluestreak dimly realised that the mech on top of him was throwing pulse after pulse of spark energy into him.
He screamed, random words and sounds of pleading gushing from his vocaliser, but they were as ineffectual as before. The burning feeling intensified and with it came a looming presence unlike anything Bluestreak had ever experienced, something that looked right through him and left even his innermost being exposed and vulnerable.
“You are mine now, little Praxian,” a voice suddenly spoke in his mind, and Bluestreak could feel the excitement behind it, along with a sense of smug anticipation.
“Please… stop,” he weakly pushed back. “It hurts… hurts so bad.”
The only reply he got was a quiet chuckle, then the pulses intensified again until something exploded within him, sending a burning sensation through his entire frame like an electric shock. He screamed again, the sound leaving his vocaliser garbled with static, before suddenly slumping down, feeling as if every grain of energy had been drained from his frame.
He didn’t know for how long he lay there, trying to shut out the pain, the fear, everything. He felt so terribly alone, locked up inside a prison with a mech who seemed to wish only to bring him harm.
Please, Prowl, help me. Save me, I need you!
“Your brother isn’t here and he won’t come for you. You are mine now, remember?”
The voice of Alpha Trion inside his mind felt like the lock that finally sealed his fate. There was no escape now, not ever.
His already strained vents began to hitch in quiet sobs.
Feeling the weight on top of him ease and then disappear he laboriously pushed himself up just enough to be able to sweep his aching doorwings aside, then curled up on his side with his knees tight against his chest and arms around his helm. He wished he could just disappear, go into stasis, dissolve and sink through the floor, anything but staying here with this monster he now had to call his bondmate.
A chuckle from said mech – a sound he already hated bitterly – sparked a new rush of fear and Bluestreak forced himself to online his optics and shoot a quick glance at his tormentor. Seeing a wide smile brought a whimper to his vocaliser and he instinctively began pushing himself away as far and as fast as he possibly could. His chest was aching abominably and the rest of his frame wasn’t much better off, but for the moment his fear of the older mech overrode even the pain.
“Where do you think you are going, my bonded?” that awful voice in his helm said. “We’re not done yet. In case you’d forgotten, you still have a seal that’s my property.”
The young Praxian’s sobbed whimpers turned into a wail as Alpha Trion approached him and he pressed himself as far into the corner of the wall as physically possible, but it did him little good. He felt a hand grab his left doorwing and pull, and he had no choice but to follow unless he wanted a dislocated sensory panel on top of everything.
“Please, stop. Please!” he kept begging, unable to stop himself even though he knew it was useless. He was dragged across the room and then spun around and pushed against a large desk. For a short moment the sharp edges of the table top scraped uncomfortably against the small of his back, then he was lifted onto the flat surface and once more pushed down onto his back.
“No! No, stop!” he cried, out loud this time, as Alpha Trion began groping him. Finding new strength from Primus knows where he clawed at the wandering hands and tried to kick the larger mech in the chest to force him to back off. He managed to get one knee up but couldn’t get any real strength behind it and the older mech just caught it and pushed it aside.
“I like your spirit, my sweet little Praxian,” Alpha Trion said as he began prying at Bluestreak’s interface panel in earnest. “I can’t wait to feel you around my spike.”
“Please, please-don’t-please-stop-it-I-don’t-want-to-please-leave-me-alone-get-away-from-me!”
For a moment the digging at his panel stopped and Bluestreak almost dared to hope that he had somehow managed to reach some little ember of empathy in his bondmate’s spark. Then the mech bent forwards, looming over him like a storm cloud and the malicious grin took away the last sliver of hope in Bluestreak’s spark.
“So, you don’t want me, you say,” the older mech whispered over the bond, somehow managing to sound both amused and threatening. “Then I guess I’ll have to teach you to appreciate me. Starting now.”
Bluestreak felt the other mech shift positions slightly, making sure that the Praxian’s legs were trapped and unable to move.
Then the blows began to fall.
Again and again Alpha Trions fists rained down on him, hitting his chest, doorwings, helm and face. The young mech desperately tried to protect himself with his arms but the other was so much stronger and easily broke through his defenses.
“Well, do you love me?” came the demanding voice over the bond, the question accentuated by another punch to the young mech’s helm.
“Yes, yes!” Bluestreak screamed, desperate for anything to stop the beating. Inside, however, the scream was different.
Please, Prowl, help me!
“Say it.” Alpha Trion insisted.
“I love you!”
“Tell me that you want me.”
“I want you!”
Prowl, save me!
That horrible, satisfied chuckle was heard again and a final blow to the helm left Bluestreak half stunned. His vision was blurred and he felt energon seep from a crack in his cheek, and when Alpha Trion spoke again it was as if the words came through a long tunnel.
“Good, then you’ll have me.”
Too weak to fight anymore, Bluestreak felt how his legs were pushed apart and his panel forced open. Fingers danced around his opening, only to quickly be replaced by something much larger that edged around the rim of his valve. Then it jerked forward.
He barely had time to register the pain from the forced, unlubricated entry. Unable to take any further abuse his overstressed sensory net flung him into merciful darkness.
His last conscious thought was another plea to his brother, his protector.
Please, Prowl, save me.
It would be three vorns before his prayer was answered.
Chapter: 1/1
Universe: G1-ish AU
Characters: Bluestreak, Alpha Trion, Prowl
Summary: Bluestreak discovers just what kind of mech he's been bonded off to. Bonus chapter/side story to A Royal Arrangement by BlackAndTanDogs and Dellessa
Rating: M
Warnings: noncon, sadism, age difference/borderline underage
Disclaimer: Still do not own Transformers. This AU belongs to
dellessa and blkntandogs and has been borrowed with permissionNotes: On reading chapter 10 of Dellessa’s and BlackAndTanDog’s Prowl-and-Jazz-centric fic A Royal Arrangement (read it here) my muse latched on to a hinted flashback scene with a side pairing, and kind souls that they are the writers allowed me to play around in their AU for a bit and write this “bonus chapter”. While it’s possible to read this story as plain PWP without having read A Royal Arrangement, it’ll have a deeper impact in its proper context so I do recommend you to read the original story as well, or at least the aforementioned chapter 10.
Also, the original story is an AU, which is why some characters (including Alpha Trion here) are very far from their classic G1 personas.
***
Bluestreak glanced around the crowded hall, trying very hard not to fidget. His plating was itching from the temporarily painted symbols all over his frame and he found himself wondering briefly if this was really normal or if there may be some element in the paint that his plating didn’t agree with. Most of all he wanted to sneak away from there but he knew he wouldn’t be able, or allowed, to. This was after all his own bonding party, and when he finally left if would be with the mech he was now legally bonded to.
The thought sent another nervous shiver through the young mech’s frame as he located the rather colourful shape of Alpha Trion in a small group of nobles across the room. He knew next to nothing about the mech, having only met him once before, but the few rumours that he had picked up in spite of his creators’ best efforts did little to ease his mind. Although quite a bit older even than Bluestreak’s own creators the mech had a reputation for being a player with “exotic tastes,” whatever that meant, and the pitying looks some of the guests gave Bluestreak had not been lost on the young mech. He hoped he wouldn’t end up as one of those mechs and femmes everybot laughed at behind their backs because of the blatant and incessant infidelity of their bondmate, but in truth there was little he could do about it. He knew he was supposed to be the subordinate part in this bond, both because of his youth and the social and political rank of his family compared to that of Alpha Trion, and the importance of compliance had been drilled into him rather firmly at an early age. And so he kept telling himself that all was going to be okay and that his uneasiness was nothing more than the nervousness that always accompanied big changes in life.
Still, he really wished there was someone he could talk to. Scanning the crowd again he spotted his elder brother in another corner and gave him a pleading look, but Prowl just returned his glance with a discrete and sad shake of his helm. The mech standing with the black and white Praxian was not quite cornering him but Bluestreak still got the distinct feeling that he was very deliberately keeping Prowl away from his brother.
The young mech sighed and let his optics wander again, only to almost stumble backwards as he suddenly found himself face to face – or, more truthfully, face to chest plates – with Alpha Trion.
“So, my bonded,” the older mech said with a smile that made the young Praxian shudder, and not in a good way, “I think it’s time for us to excuse ourselves for the night now, don’t you agree?”
It was not really a question and Bluestreak had no chance to answer anyway before Alpha Trion took him by the arm to lead him across the room. The youngling fought not to wince at the strength of the grip around his arm but he could actually feel his plating dent and he wondered if he had accidentally done something to displease the older mech.
Once in the middle of the room Alpha Trion stopped and said something to the guests, but Bluestreak’s processor didn’t register the words. He was once more looking around with something close to panic in his spark, seeking some source of comfort and reassurance that things were going to be okay. He saw his creators who were both sporting polite smiles that didn’t reach their optics, as they never did where he was concerned, but half-swallowed by the crowd of larger bots as he was he could no longer spot his brother. In his nervousness he couldn’t stop himself from breaking tradition and using his comm.
::Prowl? Please answer, I know I’m not supposed to use comms today but I’m scared. Where are you?::
There was a short moment of silence before his brother replied.
::I’m here, Blue, just beside the podium by the exit.”
Bluestreak turned to look in the indicated direction and finally spotted his brother.
::Please Prowl, I’m scared. Did I do something wrong? His field feels all strange and he’s holding my arm so tight. Do you think he’s angry with me?::
::No, Blue, you did nothing wrong, your behaviour has been excellent all evening and you look so handsome. I’m very proud of you.::
In spite of the situation the compliment warmed the younger Praxian’s spark.
::You think so? Really?::
::Really::
A small smile reached Bluestreak’s lips, only to die almost instantly.
::Prowl… I am still going to see you now and then, right? You’ll still be there for me even if I don’t live at home anymore, won’t you?::
This time the silence was longer and it was not until Alpha Trion started to lead him towards the exit that Bluestreak heard his brother’s voice again.
::I’ll always love you, Bluestreak. Always, no matter what.::
For a short moment their optics met as the newly bonded pair reached the door leading from the great hall to the rest of the residence.
Then he was on his own.
Bluestreak had expected to be led to the more private areas further back in the residence and was just about to ask if he could possibly visit a washrack first and get rid of the paint that was now not only itching but almost burning against his plating when he was unexpectedly and quite roughly pushed through another door. Stumbling into the room he barely had time to get his bearings before he was grabbed again and shoved against the wall. A cry of surprise and pain left him as the force from the impact registered in his sensitive doorwings.
“Finally alone,” he heard Alpha Trion say as he was pushed even more firmly against the wall by the larger mech’s chassis. “I though the accursed function was never going to end. You won’t believe how much I’ve been looking forward to this, my bonded.”
Bluestreak was too shocked to say something and his next uttering was another yelp of pain as strong hands gripped the edges of his doorwings and dentae bit down on his chevron without the slightest warning. Instinctively he placed his hands on the larger mech’s chest and tried to push him away but it was less than useless. The mech was half again his height and easily four times his own mass if not more.
“Please, stop, you’re hurting me!”
Bluestreak’s spark shrivelled in its chamber as the response he got to his protest was a dark chuckle and a sudden tightening of the grip on his doorwings.
“I know,” Alpha Trion said, bending down so he was face to face with the young Praxian. Then he kissed him.
Bluestreak had once seen his brother share a kiss with a lover and had thought it looked very gentle and soft. The mouth that was crushed against his own right now was nothing of the kind, though. Rough and demanding lips, biting dentae and a slithering glossa that tried to force its way into his oral cavity – all of it sent powerful signals of wrong! to Bluestreak’s processor but there was nothing he could do to stop them.
Then he felt a new level of panic as the older mech began to dig his fingers into the centre seam of his chest.
No. Nonononono. Surely Alpha Trion couldn’t be intending to… Not like…
But he was. A muffled scream left the Praxian’s vocaliser as the locking mechanism of his chest plates gave, exposing his spark chamber to the harsh, groping hands.
“Please, stop!” he cried as soon as Alpha Trion finally ended the kiss to re-direct his complete focus to the younger mech’s core armour. “Please!”
Neither his protests nor his struggles seemed to have any effect on the older mech. The feeling of someone actually rummaging around inside his chest was awful enough on its own, but knowing that the mech was trying to break into his spark chamber was beyond terrifying. He knew of course that the two of them were supposed to merge sparks tonight, and if Alpha Trion had asked and been a little patient Bluestreak would have been prepared - albeit not enthusiastically or even truly willingly – to follow his lead, trusting the experienced mech to know what to do. The violent behaviour had shredded every molecule of that already feeble trust, though, and now the only thing Bluestreak could think of was escape.
A sickening groan of bending metal accompanied another burst of pain from within his chest and Bluestreak felt his spark chamber begin to crack open.
“Stop it, please, stop!” he screamed again. He tried to access his comm link to call for help, only to discover that he was blocked from the entire communications grid.
“Help! Please, someone, help! Prowl!” he cried out as loud as he could, hoping against hope that maybe someone in the great hall nearby would hear him.
The first blow hit him directly over the left audial and left his whole helm ringing and spinning. Shocked and partly stunned, he barely registered the fingers digging into his face plates until his helm was slammed into the wall three times in rapid succession. Badly disoriented he collapsed on the floor and before he could gather himself he was shoved down on his back, doorwing sensors once again screeching in protest.
“No…” he groaned as he felt the larger mech straddle him. Hands were back inside his chest, finally prying his spark chamber completely open, and no matter how hard he tried he could not push them away. He heard another, much smoother sound of shifting plates and even though his vision was still slightly blurry after the blows to his helm he could not fail to see Alpha Trion’s chest and spark chamber armour folding back, revealing a bright orange spark.
“Please… please, don’t hurt me,” he pleaded, still squirming and pushing, desperate to get away. “I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want but please, please stop hurting me!”
A keening sob escaped him as a large hand came to rest against his throat, not quite squeezing but demonstrating with terrifying clarity just how easily the older mech would be able to block the flow of Bluestreak’s main energon line by just applying the tiniest amount of pressure. Stilling at once, now actually fearing for his life, the young mech stared wide-opticed at the grinning face above him.
“You already are doing what I want, youngling,” Alpha Trion said, his voice deceptively soft and almost purring. Then he leaned forward, lowering his upper frame onto the pinned Praxian, and brought their sparks together.
Bluestreak gasped as he felt the orb of foreign energy push against his own. He tried to shy away from its touch but neither his spark nor his frame had anywhere to go. Again his hands found Alpha Trion’s shoulders, pushing, hammering and scratching for all he was worth but he simply didn’t have the strength to cause any damage, probably not even pain, on the older mech’s thicker armour.
The pressure against his spark kept increasing, slowly but relentlessly, until the young Praxian felt as if an omega guardian was standing on top of him. The horrible tension in his spark spread to his torso and limbs until he couldn’t even move anymore and was certain that he would spring into pieces any moment.
Then suddenly the pressure was gone, and for a brief nanoklik Bluestreak relaxed in relief. Then came a hard pulse of focused energy and the young mech’s last defences shattered into what felt like a million shards of sharp crystal splinters. Energy burned right into his very core and it felt as if his entire chest had just been filled with molten steel. The pain soon took on a throbbing character and Bluestreak dimly realised that the mech on top of him was throwing pulse after pulse of spark energy into him.
He screamed, random words and sounds of pleading gushing from his vocaliser, but they were as ineffectual as before. The burning feeling intensified and with it came a looming presence unlike anything Bluestreak had ever experienced, something that looked right through him and left even his innermost being exposed and vulnerable.
“You are mine now, little Praxian,” a voice suddenly spoke in his mind, and Bluestreak could feel the excitement behind it, along with a sense of smug anticipation.
“Please… stop,” he weakly pushed back. “It hurts… hurts so bad.”
The only reply he got was a quiet chuckle, then the pulses intensified again until something exploded within him, sending a burning sensation through his entire frame like an electric shock. He screamed again, the sound leaving his vocaliser garbled with static, before suddenly slumping down, feeling as if every grain of energy had been drained from his frame.
He didn’t know for how long he lay there, trying to shut out the pain, the fear, everything. He felt so terribly alone, locked up inside a prison with a mech who seemed to wish only to bring him harm.
Please, Prowl, help me. Save me, I need you!
“Your brother isn’t here and he won’t come for you. You are mine now, remember?”
The voice of Alpha Trion inside his mind felt like the lock that finally sealed his fate. There was no escape now, not ever.
His already strained vents began to hitch in quiet sobs.
Feeling the weight on top of him ease and then disappear he laboriously pushed himself up just enough to be able to sweep his aching doorwings aside, then curled up on his side with his knees tight against his chest and arms around his helm. He wished he could just disappear, go into stasis, dissolve and sink through the floor, anything but staying here with this monster he now had to call his bondmate.
A chuckle from said mech – a sound he already hated bitterly – sparked a new rush of fear and Bluestreak forced himself to online his optics and shoot a quick glance at his tormentor. Seeing a wide smile brought a whimper to his vocaliser and he instinctively began pushing himself away as far and as fast as he possibly could. His chest was aching abominably and the rest of his frame wasn’t much better off, but for the moment his fear of the older mech overrode even the pain.
“Where do you think you are going, my bonded?” that awful voice in his helm said. “We’re not done yet. In case you’d forgotten, you still have a seal that’s my property.”
The young Praxian’s sobbed whimpers turned into a wail as Alpha Trion approached him and he pressed himself as far into the corner of the wall as physically possible, but it did him little good. He felt a hand grab his left doorwing and pull, and he had no choice but to follow unless he wanted a dislocated sensory panel on top of everything.
“Please, stop. Please!” he kept begging, unable to stop himself even though he knew it was useless. He was dragged across the room and then spun around and pushed against a large desk. For a short moment the sharp edges of the table top scraped uncomfortably against the small of his back, then he was lifted onto the flat surface and once more pushed down onto his back.
“No! No, stop!” he cried, out loud this time, as Alpha Trion began groping him. Finding new strength from Primus knows where he clawed at the wandering hands and tried to kick the larger mech in the chest to force him to back off. He managed to get one knee up but couldn’t get any real strength behind it and the older mech just caught it and pushed it aside.
“I like your spirit, my sweet little Praxian,” Alpha Trion said as he began prying at Bluestreak’s interface panel in earnest. “I can’t wait to feel you around my spike.”
“Please, please-don’t-please-stop-it-I-don’t-want-to-please-leave-me-alone-get-away-from-me!”
For a moment the digging at his panel stopped and Bluestreak almost dared to hope that he had somehow managed to reach some little ember of empathy in his bondmate’s spark. Then the mech bent forwards, looming over him like a storm cloud and the malicious grin took away the last sliver of hope in Bluestreak’s spark.
“So, you don’t want me, you say,” the older mech whispered over the bond, somehow managing to sound both amused and threatening. “Then I guess I’ll have to teach you to appreciate me. Starting now.”
Bluestreak felt the other mech shift positions slightly, making sure that the Praxian’s legs were trapped and unable to move.
Then the blows began to fall.
Again and again Alpha Trions fists rained down on him, hitting his chest, doorwings, helm and face. The young mech desperately tried to protect himself with his arms but the other was so much stronger and easily broke through his defenses.
“Well, do you love me?” came the demanding voice over the bond, the question accentuated by another punch to the young mech’s helm.
“Yes, yes!” Bluestreak screamed, desperate for anything to stop the beating. Inside, however, the scream was different.
Please, Prowl, help me!
“Say it.” Alpha Trion insisted.
“I love you!”
“Tell me that you want me.”
“I want you!”
Prowl, save me!
That horrible, satisfied chuckle was heard again and a final blow to the helm left Bluestreak half stunned. His vision was blurred and he felt energon seep from a crack in his cheek, and when Alpha Trion spoke again it was as if the words came through a long tunnel.
“Good, then you’ll have me.”
Too weak to fight anymore, Bluestreak felt how his legs were pushed apart and his panel forced open. Fingers danced around his opening, only to quickly be replaced by something much larger that edged around the rim of his valve. Then it jerked forward.
He barely had time to register the pain from the forced, unlubricated entry. Unable to take any further abuse his overstressed sensory net flung him into merciful darkness.
His last conscious thought was another plea to his brother, his protector.
Please, Prowl, save me.
It would be three vorns before his prayer was answered.
