Happy Dead End

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Warning: slash, semi-non-con. Direct follow-on to "Jealous Dead End", which is a follow-on from Rebecca Hb.'s "Jealous Breakdown", which is a sequel to my own story, "Get Well Soon".

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Amidst the ruins of the break room tables, Wildrider nuzzled Dead End. Black and red sprawled across red and black; his fingers trailed down Dead End's arm, teasing the joints where doors met chassis.

"Mmmph?" Dead End mumbled, pleasantly incoherent post-overload.

"You know, you're much cheerier when you're like this," Wildrider said. "We should do this more often."

"Mmmm. I suppose. It does divert one's mind from the pointlessness of existance--a short, fleeting delight before final oblivion," Dead End replied.

Wildrider chuckled. "Whatever would we do without your morale-boosting gloom? I mean, if I didn't have you to tell me how everything could go pear-shaped and kill us, I might start worrying about things." He gave Dead End a friendly slap to the head. "But after you've explained how we're all going to die and how pointless it is, I know things can only go uphill!"

Dead End chuckled. "Glad to be of service."

Wildrider fidgeted. "We need a decent sound system in here. It's too quiet. If only Motormaster hadn't trashed the last one..."

"Why not make your own music? Just load some sound files into your aux data store and play them back whenever," Dead End said.

Wildrider's optics brightened. "Like your e-books? Huh! Never thought of that!" He sat up and scowled. "Where am I going to find some good loud music files, though? Can't exactly access Earth's Internet from here, and Cybertronian music is a bunch of artsy crap."

"Remind me to introduce you to some of my art connections. There are actually some lunatics that collect Earth music and literature--Euphony for instance--and they have contacts. Not to mention Swindle, who can import just about anything for a price--"

Wildrider lifted his head. "Someone's coming!"

Dead End flicked on his combat radar. "It's Breakdown," he said flatly.

Wildrider glanced at the dark red Stunticon. "I've got a idea! You just sit there as bait, and I'll ambush him!" He jumped up and flattened himself against the wall beside the door.

"I'm not sure--" Dead End murmured.

"You're not sure of what?" Breakdown said as he staggered into the break room. His optics were dim with fatigue, and great streaks of gray paint smudged his own cream and blue coat--

CRASH!

Wildrider tackled Breakdown, pitching him to the floor near Dead End.

"What the--?" Breakdown shrieked as Wildrider swarmed over him, pinning him to the floor.

"Help me hold him down," Wildrider yelled.

Dead End's optics blinked; then he suddenly rolled and flung himself atop Breakdown and Wildrider. "What do we do now?" he asked.

"Well, if I thought one of us could hold him, I'd go get the manacles and chains from my quarters," Wildrider said, chuckling evilly. "As it is, we'll just have to hold him down."

Breakdown's optics brightened sharply. "Wh-what are you doing?" His voice rose to a near-shriek.

Dead End's optics also brightened. "Manacles and chains? Wildrider, there's something I obviously don't know about you." A low chuckle thrummed through his engines, vibrating the others where they pressed against him.

"I've got whips, too," Wildrider said, running his hands along Breakdown's arms, testing the joints and seams. He leaned close and whispered, "I've also got cameras. I could set them up and record this in 3-D..."

Breakdown writhed frantically, his optics very bright. "No! You wouldn't!" His engine started to keen, harsh vibrations that ground through both Dead End and Wildrider. Wildrider's engine raced in answer, and Dead End's thrummed a bit faster.

"But since you're so hard to hold onto, I just can't," Wildrider said regretfully.

"Ah, but you're forgetting Soundwave's spy cams," Dead End murmured softly, catching onto the game. "Watching us, watching you--"

"Seeing you writhe beneath us," Wildrider said as Breakdown trembled violently. "Must get pretty boring, watching so many Cons do pretty much nothing. Then comes something like us, like you..."

"Just imagine Rumble and Frenzy watching us, wishing they were us--" Dead End continued the thread, stroking the shivering Lamborghini around his front-end joints.

Breakdown whimpered and shuddered with fear... and something else. "Please... don't! Let me go!"

Wildrider slipped one hand into a door hinge and squeezed. "Really? You want me to stop? And disappoint everyone's who's watching? If they're still watching--" Wildrider grinned. "They might be doing something else now, holding each other, feeling fields entertwine..." His engine revved as he leaned hard against Breakdown, feeling Breakdown's mad vibrations tear through him.

Breakdown bucked and writhed violently, directionlessly--less an attempt to escape the other two Stunticons than a reaction to the sensations racing through him. Engine vibrations intertwined with his own, every circuit jangled, heightened to the keenest by his own rising terror, tormented by the attentions of his brothers.

"Breakdown..." Dead End whispered as he stroked short mewls of ecstasy from the cream and blue Lamborghini, "...you never told me you enjoyed being watched so much."

"But I don't!" he said with odd little gasps that shivered in Dead End's audials.

"Then why are you wiggling so prettily?" said Dead End in his dark, low voice.

"Because--mmph!" Breakdown's answer was cut off as Wildrider closed his mouth with a kiss, nibbling and nuzzling the living metal with his own.

"Whoa--hey!" Drag Strip's loud voice washed over them. "Looks like I got off watch just in time--and since you're in the break room, it ain't a private party!"

"Mmmph? Mmm!" said Wildrider, still locked in a kiss with Breakdown.

"Well, if you're not just passing through, my shoulder wheels could use some attention," Dead End said, amused.

CRASH!

Drag Strip threw himself atop Dead End and Breakdown. His own race car engine raced as he pressed himself against Dead End, grinding against the dark red Stunticon's hips, feeling the mixed vibrations of his brother's engines. Breakdown's engine howled its dissonance--the destructive vibrations absorbed and altered as they intermeshed with the other Stunticons' engine vibrations. All forcefields were down; fields and sensations intermingled and heightened each other. Fingers found sensitive joints and seams; Dead End's battle mask hit the floor and he found himself exchanging long kisses and bites with each of his brothers in turn---

A certain invisible presence drifted through the room. That looks like fun, thought the dead Air Commander. He shook his head intangibly. No, I'm not getting involved this time!

The door to the underground garage crashed open. "What in the Pit?" growled Motormaster. "I didn't start this! Break--"

Yes I am! Motormaster, you are not spoiling this! Starscream smoothly took possession of the big gray Stunticon and flung himself into the middle of the pack.

"--but I'll finish it," Motormaster growled, wrapping his arms around the topmost Stunticon, Drag Strip. "Mine!"

Somewhere near the bottom, Dead End and Breakdown both had very dopey smiles on their faces.

-- FIN --