2. Breaking Roles
by Cydney "Quite-Write" (originally posted on Tumblr)
Strongarm lazily buffed her armoured leg with her polishing cloth, ignorant of the sun beating off her frame. Out of all the metallic miscellanea that made up Denny's "Treasure Trove," the femme was by far the shiniest and the cleanest.
Unsurprising, since she had suddenly been gifted with so much spare time. Sixty seven point two Earth hours approximately.
Not that she had been counting.
Since arriving on Earth, Strongarm would often think of just how productive she would be if she were not so… encumbered by her current company. If Grimlock didn't spend so much time sleeping in plain view, or if Fixit didn't take three attempts to say what he meant. Or Primus forbid, if Sideswipe just stopped.
Grimlock continued to snore, and Fixit's twitch had yet to correct itself. But it had been almost three days since she had caught Sideswipe's familiar swagger in the compound. If the speedster was coming in from a patrol she hadn't seen it, or at most she would glimpse his taillights as he cruised out of the main gate once more. It seemed that after their little… tryst? She wasn't sure what to call it, really – not an admission or a confession. Of course not. More of a conversation.
While she had pinned his hands above his head and aggressively rode his spike, but still. A conversation.
She dabbed her cloth with more polish and buffed the plating on her opposite leg.
Since their little conversation, Strongarm had been virtually Sideswipe free. In fact, the closest thing she had to deal with was tripping over one of Denny's wrecked vehicles, which somehow made her whirl around and threaten it with a regulation violation.
A moment later, Strongarm realised that she was addressing the junked chassis that Sideswipe had actually scanned to obtain his Earth based form. She felt silly to say the least. So, the cadet threw herself into her work. If Primus had chosen to bless her with time away from her – from that punk, well, she'd take it. It would be a load off her wheels to catch up on the backlog of regulation reports that every member of Cybertron's law enforcement was expected to undertake.
Then she went and reorganised her makeshift "quarters," cleaning off her bunk and squaring everything away in accordance with regulation seven-six-two-five.
Then she took up a polishing rag and went to work, bringing her armour up to a fine finish.
When Strongarm came online the next day, she mused on how peaceful it had been. She wondered if it would last much longer, because of course Sideswipe was sure to have discovered some new form of breakdancing. Or a newer, louder type of house music. After all – her first thoughts of a morning were of him, and how he was going to make her life more difficult.
The day crawled by. Strongarm's armour shone to the nth degree. Her reports were short and concise, because nothing happened. Grimlock dozed. The Commander practiced his "roll out" speech. And the junked red cruiser didn't trip her up.
When she came online the following day, bitter thoughts swirled in her mind. They didn't jump to how Sideswipe would make her life harder - they just picked up from the night before, and how he had already fragged her up. Because when there was no reports to write or broken regulations to document, she found herself sitting down and buffing the red bar light underneath her arm. And replaying the events of that night again and again and again.
"You'd be bored without me," he had hissed up at her, optics flaring while she sunk her valve on top of him, hard. There was a bite in his voice that pushed her. It fuelled something inside to burn hotter, to be better. He was challenging her – every single fragging thing he did challenged her. And she responded by tightening the grip on his hands, her legs around his hips, and rolling herself against his pulsing tool.
Strongarm's face reflected in the red plastic of her light, but she didn't see it. She just kept cleaning, thinking about it all over again. The thrust of his hips to meet her and the groan she coaxed from him from that first decent. But most of all, she thought about how horribly, tragically, truthfully… he was right.
Sixty seven point three Earth hours approximately, and the entire time she had been bored – and lonely - without him.
She was returning from a recon - slash - "stretching the wheels" excursion when she heard the familiar rev, the squealing tyres, and Strongarm let her axels carry her towards the sound. Fresh dust caked her undercarriage as she went off-road, her SUV disguise more suitable to the trek than any sports car. She surprised even herself by just how fast she could imagine Sideswipe transforming to make the journey, and just which regulations he would have broken at the same time.
For the first time in days she felt like she was actually working, and it was under the assumption that he had once again broken the rules. She was sure that said something about her but she didn't care to dwell on it. Not when the screeching tyres were louder and her polished bumper was brushing aside bushes here and there.
There was a keen sense of déjà vu when she broke through, entering an abandoned mining clearing in time to see a red sports car careening off of a rocky wall, landing with a dusty heap on all four wheels and spinning around.
How many innocent parks had she saved from destruction by handcuffing herself to him the day before they left?
"You're uh… you're a bit too clean for this rodeo, officer," his voice hummed from beneath the hood, and something inside her flared to life. Some flicker deep in her spark that made her circuits thrum.
"And you look like you're ready for the scrapyard," she replied, driving up to him. His normally glossy paint was covered in a layer of dust, chipped here and there to reveal the steel beneath. "Speaking of, you've been gone awhile."
"It's my time," he said, as if he was excused from all mischief. "I find it soothing."
"Oh really?" Slag off, she thought.
"Oh sure." Sideswipe revved his engine. "Reminds me of the 'old days,' racing through the streets of Kaon and blasting 'cons."
Strongarm didn't give him a chance to continue, certain that even if it were true, he'd exaggerate it to the point of utter fiction. Her cog bit and she converted, landing with a thump that kicked up a puff of dust.
"So this is what… running away?" She didn't know why she said it – it just came out, but she sure as slag meant it. Sideswipe rolled backwards a few feet as if struck, before she heard his own cog spin and he was a dusty, fuming mech in front of her.
"Hey, 'scuse me for taking a holiday," he grumbled. "But this is at least familiar for me. Once upon a time you could have your arm shot off and it was still easy going."
She could have punched him. She wanted to punch him, for making her fret and agonize over the last few days while he was having a temper tantrum.
"Life isn't meant to be easy," she snapped. "Especially if you're too stupid to know the difference between fight or flight, Sideswipe."
"Tell me, is it anything like cops who dream of lives without 'punks?'"
She balked at that, only for a moment. Only until she saw him smirk at her reaction, proud of how he had thrown her words back at her and threw her off balance. The flickering inside her spark flared, hot and bright and she struck him, shoving him hard in his shoulder and making him spill backwards into the dust.
"What the slag was that for?!" he yelled up, ignoring the glare on her features.
"If you're going to act like a brat, I'll treat you like one," Strongarm announced, watching his plating shift with defiance. Sideswipe didn't know the real meaning of defence – just different shades of offence. It would be almost admirable if the Commander hadn't divulged just how often Sideswipe really had lost an arm during the original exodus of Cybertron.
"I swear to Primus, there really is no pleasing you." He growled more than spoke and she had the almighty urge to hit him again. To swing a heavy foot into his side and order him to grow the frag up, because she could forgive him for being him, but not after spending a day polishing herself and agonizing over the vacuum his absence left in her life.
"You were pretty sure of yourself three nights ago," she snapped. Strongarm wasn't sure what was pushing her into goading him, now. She had spent too long dwelling over their last evening together. She was tense. She was annoyed. But most of all she was actually, surprisingly offended, because the dusty little punk sassing up at her was not the Sideswipe she knew.
"I was pretty sure of a lot of things back then," he shot back. She wasn't impressed – this wasn't his usual calibre for comebacks.
"Let me clue you in. That was preferable to the dirty little scraplet I see now."
"Oh, frag you."
He leapt off the ground, glowering, hissing, his dusty, crimson chest inches away from her sparkling armour. Strongarm wasn't sure who's engine was suddenly humming with an extra kick of life.
"What, you trying to say the silver super cop missed having a punk beneath her?"
Thoughts of him helpless under her came rushing to the forefront of her mind, raw and unbidden. She was sure now that the hum was from her own engine, because Solus Prime help her, she actually missed that damned challenge he always presented.
"Sorry to disappoint." Her optics narrowed, staring him down. She was bigger, stronger, easily more imposing if she wanted to be. "But I'd be scared of breaking you."
"I'd leave you in my dust."
"You seem to have a surplus."
Neither of them was sure who struck first. There was a shove that turned into a tackle and Strongarm's reinforced frame giving her momentum. She caught him by the arms, certain that she actually would, accidentally, hurt him. But Sideswipe was quicker, slicker, and she found herself pinned beneath him. His features were creased with annoyance and dirt, weariness showing. She wasn't sure where this anger of hers was coming from. This wasn't her. She was better than this. She was above this, above his stupid games.
But there was something about the way he looked, dusty and tired, and she threw him off with the intent to pin him down again. He wasn't useful to anyone if he was becoming some distracted wreck. It surprised her again just how angry, how offended it made her.
So Strongarm grabbed him again, ready to pin him, because she saw a flicker of what he once was as he rolled them over and left her polished armour in the dirt. She wasn't disappointed when he did it again, his aggression turning sly, his eyes glowing with the challenge she was providing him.
"Give. It. Up." Dirty, dented, but almost resembling her familiar punk, Sideswipe kneeled over her. He wore that damned smirk and she wasn't surprised when that light awoke inside her, licking at the edges of her spark. "You're not gonna match me for speed, Strongarm."
Her joints rolled, flexing and humming.
"Still not impressed, Sideswipe…"
Her fingers clawed into the ground, raking deep scars in the hard earth. Her once polished armour was caked in dust and dirt, and she was even kicking up little puffs of it as she writhed.
Strongarm noticed all of this through heavy, lazy optics as Sideswipe fragged her from behind. His hands, she noticed, fit perfectly on her hips, gripping her tightly while he bucked against her. And Primus, every hard, heavy, deep drive of his spike left her shaking beneath him.
She was sure she was a sight for him. She felt her once clean knees pressing into the ground, kicking up more dirt. Her valve was mess. She was so excited and so wet that Strongarm could actually picture her own fluids dripping out of her. Her thighs were already slippery, but whenever he drew back and her valve tightened…
Strongarm's fist stamped the ground as Sideswipe buried himself inside her again. She felt her body opening, spreading around his girth, her core filling up. And that flare inside her burned. It flickered and spread through her chest as the mech slid his arm around her and grabbed her. She felt him stroke her armour before moving straight to the humming node between her legs, sliding his digits over it.
It surprised her – not how he touched her, but how much she was reacting all over from it. Her valve twitched around him as he toyed with her, but she felt him flatten her door wings with his body and she shuddered. His helm brushed the back of hers and she clenched in response.
Strongarm thought back to their last time, full of aggression and tension. She had found herself above him, and was finally addressing just how much of a chronic headache he gave her. She had some power over him and she took it. Took him, all of him, all while whispering just how she would love to throw him in a small, plain jail cell one day.
She never would have said it, but inside she found it so very, sinfully delicious.
But now things were different. Strongarm was on her hands and knees in the dust, Sideswipe's tyre tracks all around her. Her legs whirred and scratched the ground and she arched her back, parting her thighs more as he thrust inside her. Sideswipe wasn't aggressive – not even as much as she herself was with him. But he was hard and deep and definitely in charge of her here, holding her frame here and there while he fragged her.
She felt his spike leave her entirely and her shoulders sagged, hands splaying in the dirt. Strongarm felt her flare begin to ebb, disappointment sinking into her joints.
He was back a second later, his slick tool teasing her entrance. She felt herself lean down, wiggling her rear at him in invitation.
Sideswipe thrust inside her valve, harder and deeper than before. Her mouth opened and she wailed, a peal of raw emotion that echoed in the quarry around them. The femme arched and leaned back, her filthy hand reaching behind her to paw at the air, eager to find some purchase on him. He grabbed it, tight and familiar, hoisting her back until her door wings were flat and his spike was plugging her fully.
Strongarm shook and shivered, her optics blinking shut while her azure lips clamped together, worried she would scream out again. Her climax rocked through her core while the flare in her spark danced and ignited inside. She hadn't felt so dizzy and excited and satisfied in days.
And she had never felt it like this.
She didn't answer him right away, lying sprawled out on her back in the dust, exhaustion creeping into her joints. She hadn't even bothered to cover herself yet, but she wasn't surprised when she saw just how right she had been. She didn't even know she was capable of making such a mess of herself – even her node was slippery. But of course, she had help.
"Maybe," she conceded, unprepared for his usual brand of ego if she confessed that she was. Not until she had taken a car wash or two. "Mind telling me what you were doing out here first?"
She still didn't have the strength just yet to roll over and look, but she felt him stiffen up next to her.
"… I think better when I'm in motion," he mumbled, and she was struck by how serious he actually sounded. She was sure that, if she really tried, she could recall a time when he would have called thinking "a loser's sport."
"It's like… I can be a pain in your spoiler. And it comes real easy to me."
Strongarm rolled her optics, but said nothing.
"An' then, all of a sudden, I'm thinking hey. I'm not sure if I can be more than that. But… maybe I'd wanna."
He trailed off, taking a sudden interest in a dead tree a distance away, leaving an awkward silence between them. Strongarm didn't know what to say to that, not right away. Sure, she had… well, questions. A lot of them. But it seemed like they all wanted to jump out at him at once, and that'd probably scare him.
And then a horrible thought occurred to her. How, three days ago, she had gone ahead and made a similar confession, blurted out as she raced towards an orgasm on top of his lap. One that probably left him thinking "well, what in the jolly slagging pits do we do now?" But instead she was content to relax and sit and shine herself, while this poor mech… her punk, went off and wrestled with it all.
Three minutes of inactivity was a nightmare for Sideswipe. But three days? Primus.
"Okay," she hummed, breaking the awkward silence between them. "Well… first off, don't vanish for three days. Just… come and talk. I don't really bite."
Sideswipe snickered and she rolled her optics again.
"Oh, you heard that, huh?"
"Grimlock challenged me to a 'biting cars' contest – thanks for that."
His frame shook with silent laughter for a moment before he stilled.
"See, it's real easy for me to do that stuff," he counted. "So, even then, you'd… wanna talk?"
Strongarm shook her helm. From a birds eye perspective, the pair of them were lying in the scratched and clawed dirt, both of them dirty and wet and utterly messy after their rough fragging. If he still wasn't sure, he really didn't know much about this stuff.
But then, she was content to sit and shine her armour for three days. Who was she to judge?
"Yeah," she nodded. "Let's… work out what we've got going on here." Sideswipe hummed, his helm whirring softly as he nodded.