An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Transformers - All Media Types, The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod
Characters: Hot Rod (Transformers), Drift | Deadlock
Additional Tags: Dubious Consent, as the author i say they all enjoyed it but no verbal consent is uttered, biting but not much, Swindle Being Swindle (Transformers), he appears briefly and is only mentioned but he's always a dear, Valve Oral (Transformers), Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers), Self-Bondage, Sex Toys, Stasis Cuffs (Transformers), mentioned sex shop, Sexual Overstimulation, False Spike (Transformers), Masturbation, Gags, Autobot/Decepticon Cross-Faction Sexual Interfacing, Spike Oral (Transformers), Rough Oral Sex, Rough Kissing, Hot Rod-centric (Transformers), Semi-Public Sex, Vibrators
Summary:
"Self-bondage couldn't be that hard, Hot Rod had told himself."
How wrong he was, of course things got even worse when a certain Decepticon found him in a very compromising state.
It had been daunting to see the timer tick down and he had been prepared to grieve for someone he had never known. Wait- why did the timer reset to a completely different number?
Moving silently from his place hidden in the trees to cover behind a rock tall enough to hide Lord Megatron itself, Deadlock kept a keen optic on the battle happening not far from him. Autobots and Decepticons alike were locked in battle, and so far none had spotted him. Something not very surprising considering he had trained specifically to be a hidden danger, only noticed if it was already too late for his victims to react properly.
It was what had earned him his reputation and had served him well over the decacycles. On more than one occasion, he let assumptions and fear do the work for him, and it not only worked in his favor against the Autobots but in his own faction as well. Solemnly another Decepticon dared to question him, and his status as part of the highest elite of the Decepticons had to allow him a certain leeway as well.
He was loyal to the cause; there was never a question there, but he still appreciated a couple things the Autobots had to offer. For example, the blurr of red and yellow as the shape of a quite familiar bot sped towards one of his comrades.
If there was one guilty pleasure he'd have to admit, it was his fascination with the red speedster of the Autobots, Hot Rod.
Cocky, a charming smile, an exciting display of speed and flexibility—truly, Deadlock was quite happy to stare at the other mech as often and long as possible.
Hot Rod sent the other Decepticon, Deadlock, did not remember his name, running, and then, with a mischievous smirk, turned to face Deadlock's hiding spot and gave a very clearly flirtatious wink as he stared back.
To Deadlocks, charging Hot Rod had become very aware of the Decepticons' attention on him and, in return, had started to throw flirtatious winks and looks into his direction whenever possible. One memorable occasion ended with them pressed together in a stalemate embrace that had left Deadlock's processor reeling for cycles afterwards, the phantom touch of hot plating against his own.
The assassin was quite aware of the risk their little interactions held, but none the less, he simply found himself unable to stop them when they occurred. Instead, he found himself subconsciously yearning for more, closer, and longer than each one before. A very risky yearning in all aspects. A yearning he could not allow to grow and fester within his processor without his control. Thus, he had decided to get rid of the problem before it could grow even more.
In the coming cycle, he would be transferred to another front and use his skills there to secure the victory of his leader there. He still found himself weak to the draw the Autobot had on him, however, and thus he had ended up hidden from the battle and everyone in it to catch a last glimpse of Hot Rod. He had not expected the Autobot to catch him so quickly.
Truly, if he hadn't been so distracted committing every detail of the other mech's appearance into his memory, he might have even been concerned as to how his position had been revealed so quickly, a mishap that should not have happened to an assassin on his level, but alas, his mind was completely elsewhere.
It was then that the arrival of a new COM message pulled him from his thoughts and informed him that his presence was immediately as fast as possible requested. With little hesitation he turned to sneak his way back onto the ship he was currently stationed on, only to throw a last look over his shoulder catching Hot Rod with an odd look on his face.
Unable to fully identify the meaning of Hot Rods expression, he used his own confusion to tear himself away from the others gaze and started his trek back to the ship. It was for the best neither of them ever saw each other again.
It was shortly after leaving the current planet's atmosphere that he noticed the timer on his wrist had reached less than three decacycles, and his vents stalled in shock as he simply stared at his wrist.
The timer was the only constant throughout his entire life and a beacon of hope for a possible life with his promised soulmate. A glimmer of hope that quickly ran out as he continued to watch the timer tick down with every step he took. He had not even met them and would probably not do so before their lives were ultimately and forever gone. a thought that sent pain pulsing through his spark even as he didn't know his soulmate in that current moment.
Worry and dread continued to nag at the back of his processor for the entirety of his travel, up to the point he was finally thrust into battle almost immediately upon landing on the new planet. Soon the battle took over every part of his processor, and he found himself momentarily forgetting his troubles.
An injury sustained in the battle led to him being dragged into an improvised medbay, where he continued to be treated for the next three breems. Only after the stressed medic gave the all-clear was he allowed to leave and quickly made his way into his habsuit.
It was only then that he remembered with a cold dread running down his body that his time had been running out. Frantically, he made sure his wrist was free and stared down at the timer. Dead it proclaimed and dead it should be, however, instead he found himself starring at a timer reset to an amount higher than ever before.
