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Title: Like Moth's Wings
Continuity: IDW/AU
Word Count: 1870
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sticky
Characters: Perceptor, Drift
Notes: Set in AHM, no beta. Grammar abuse ahead.
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ravynfyre. Hope it cheers her up a little...
“Whose side are you on?
What side is this anyway?
Put down your sword and crown
Come lay with me on the ground
You come beating like moth's wings
Spastic and violently
Whipping me into a storm
Shaking me down to the core
But you run away from me
And you left me shimmering
Like diamond wedding rings
Spinning dizzily down on the floor”
‘Moth’s wings’ by Passion Pit
______
In search of the missing mech from their team, Perceptor climbed the stairs of the abandoned building they were currently occupying to the rooftop for a better view. Moving to the edge, he clicked out the small kickstand to hold up the end of the rifle on the ledge of the rooftop, and then lifted the site up to his specialized optic.
He scanned the distance through the site, searching. He moved along a mentally created grid of the area, moving in small increments as he tried to find the missing mech. No one else on the team was all that concerned, since Drift was known to take off and reappear later. But Perceptor couldn't help himself. Drift was far more than a teammate to him. He was more than his savior. More than a lover. He was a force that had come into Perceptor's world and shifted everything sideways.
At first it had been terrifying. Already reeling from his near death, Perceptor silently struggled with his inner demons and doubts, trying to use his logic as tool to cope. He shed his scientific mindset, honing those tendencies into that of a sniper. Drift stayed on the edges at first, only speaking to him on occasion, then one evening Drift appeared at his quarter's door and invited himself in. They talked, or more accurately, Drift questioned and Perceptor answered. His questions moved from the mundane to deeper questions about the reasoning behind the war, revealing a side Perceptor had never imagined Drift had. He was passionate, smart, and philosophical.
They'd connected on a level he'd never experienced with another mech in his entire life. Still, Drift felt only within his reach sometimes, fluttering into his world then disappearing. Perceptor wished there was a way to capture him, keep him, but at the same time, he knew that would go against who Drift was. So he settled for the moments they shared, and spent the remainder of his time doing his best to look after him in his own way.
Swarm moved in the corner of his mental grid, and he adjusted his scope to zoom in closer. As he suspected, Drift was in the midst of a tangle of Swarm about a half klik from the building, swords moving in a flurry as they cut down the Swarm around him. It was dangerous to be out alone, but it seemed Drift was fearless. Something Perceptor desperately envied.
Smooth, practiced motions, like that of a human dancer, Drift swiftly dispatched the Swarm monsters around him. The guts of his kills splattered his white plating, as he moved with nothing less than pure grace. It was both gory and beautiful. Perceptor frowned, wishing he could zoom in closer to see Drift's face better. He loved the look of determination and pleasure he had when he was in the middle of fighting.
One of the Swarm swung around behind Drift, catching his shoulder with its claw and trying to drag him down. Perceptor wasted no time, quickly calculating and adjusting his rifle into position. He squeezed the trigger, and his round hit the monster in the head. It dropped to the ground in a heap, dead. Drift looked up in the direction Perceptor sat, flashing a smile before he spun, swords out, at the next Swarm monster that dared to come at him.
The group of monsters was soon disbursed, and Perceptor followed Drift's leisurely walk back, watching through the scope. He seemed so calm now, so at peace after his furious fight. Drift embodied so many contradictions, two sides of the war all in one being. Perceptor frowned as he watched Drift disappear behind a building.
Lifting his head from the scope, he stared out at the broken world before him. Toppled, burnt out husks of what had once been a thriving city. A city Drift had once been homeless in. A city Perceptor had worked as a research scientist in. Each unaware of the brewing war about to shatter the social walls between them.
He reached out, clicking the kickstand back in place and pulling his rifle close to his chest for a moment. He ran his one hand down its length, tracing its shapes he'd built. He felt like it was a piece of him now, a part of him as indispensible as his microscope mount, or optics. He never imagined he'd choose this path, but it was how he had regained his personal power and avoided giving in the despair and the mind-set of a victim.
"Am I interrupting a intimate moment?" Perceptor's gaze shot in the direction of the familiar voice. Drift stood at the top of the stairs, covered helm to pede in dark purple splatters with a small smile on his lips. "I can come back later, if you rather."
Perceptor canted his head at Drift. "I'd prefer you stay."
With a nod, Drift crossed the space between them and came to a stop in front of Perceptor. “Nice shot.”
“Thank you.” Perceptor’s grip on his rifle tightened. “Is your shoulder badly injured?”
Drift shook his head. “You got him before he cracked the plating.”
Perceptor nodded.
Reaching out, Drift lightly ran his fingers down the barrel of the rifle. To anyone else, it would look like an odd thing to do, but Drift understood how much a part of Perceptor it had become, perhaps because Drift’s swords held the same reverence to him. Touching the rifle was a way to touch Perceptor, too. The petting of the rifle, while not physically connected to him with sensor nodes, caused him to shiver none-the-less as he watched Drift’s black fingers slide over it.
Drift stepped closer, and pressed his lips to the stock, lightly mouthing it as he kept his gaze pinned on Perceptor.
Heat rippled through Perceptor at the visual. Drift was sensual without regret. Another thing he envied about the beautiful fighter. He wished he could be so free with his desire.
Flicking his glossa out, Drift licked up the barrel and dimmed his optics.
Perceptor’s fingers twitched against his rifle as arousal deep and expansive engulfed him. Drift reached out, gently prying one of Perceptor’s hands from the rifle and moving it to his sword hilt. Knowing what he wanted, Perceptor gently slid his fingers over it. It was still warm from being held. He traced the ridges of it, meant to give a better grip in Drift’s hands as he swung it around. His mind wandered to memories of watching Drift fighting, moving with such purpose and precision.
“Percy…?”
Perceptor glanced up from the sword hilt at Drift.
“Take it off?” Drift had both his hands curled around Perceptor’s rifle as he turned his hip closer to Perceptor.
To remove the sword sheath, Perceptor would need to let Drift hold his rifle. He nodded and let go, allowing Drift to hold it as he reached down and unhooked the sword from Drift’s plating. In an unspoken request, Drift shifted his other hip closer to Perceptor and he unhooked that one as well. They stood for a moment, each holding the other’s weapons.
Drift warmly smiled as he squatted down and set the rifle down on the rooftop. Perceptor stooped down and set the swords down beside it. Drift then reached behind and unhooked the greatsword from his back and set it down on the roof, too. Perceptor knew that was something he was not allowed to touch and simply stared at it and it’s ancient design and beauty as it was laid down beside the other items.
“Come here,” Drift gently commanded as he got back to his feet.
Perceptor rounded their small pile of weapons and joined Drift a couple paces away. Drift dropped down to a knee and wrapped his black and white hands around Perceptor’s thighs. He leaned forward, nuzzling the edges of his interface cover. Desire instantly clouded Perceptor’s otherwise logic driven mind. No one had ever treated him like this. To be desired, touched, wanted, it was something only Drift had ever offered him.
Drift looked up at Perceptor, seeking admittance.
“It’s not entirely private here,” Perceptor said, his vocalizer crackling a little.
Canting his head, he replied. “They’re busy getting drunk and listening to Kup tell stories downstairs.” Drift then licked the cover, his warm glossa trailing up the black plating.
Unable to help himself, Perceptor allowed the cover to snap back. Drift smiled, faced with the already erect spike. Fingers curled around it and gently squeezed while he leaned forward, glossa swirling around the head. Perceptor shivered and let a small whine escape his vocalizer. He then reached down and lightly ran his fingers over one of Drift’s helm finials in a reverent manner. He was so pretty, even covered in Swarm guts. So out of Perceptor’s league.
Drift parted his lips and wrapped his mouth over Perceptor’s spike, taking in almost the entirety of it into his mouth. His glossa danced around it from underneath, setting off the sensor nodes. Perceptor wasn’t sure what was driving his arousal more, the physical sensations or the visual of his spike buried in Drift’s mouth. Lightly bobbing his head, Drift sucked and swirled his glossa with the same precise and measured action as he did wielding his swords.
Trembling, Perceptor felt his spike grow more rigid. He gently swayed his hips in time with Drift’s motion, chasing after the overload he felt building. One of Drift’s hands splayed over Perceptor’s thigh and the other moved between his legs, fingers ringing around the valve edges below before dipping inside. The duel sensations proved too much and Perceptor tried to bite back a moan as his body stiffened and he pushed his hips forward, his spike exploding inside Drift’s mouth.
Heat, pleasure and desire swirled inside him as his whole frame felt wobbly and unsteady in the aftermath of overloading, but Drift grabbed hold of his hips, supporting him from toppling.
Pulling back, Drift licked his lips and glanced up at Perceptor. “Pretty good for an opening.”
Perceptor sheepishly smiled. “There’s more, hm?”
Drift nodded, pulling on Perceptor.
Complying, Perceptor shakily lowered himself to the rooftop and laid back. Drift crawled up over top of him, and leaned down, his mouth crushing against Perceptor’s a heated kiss. Lips parted and Perceptor was hit with the taste of his own overload as their glossa twinned. Perceptor wrapped his arms around Drift’s waist and hugged him close.
No other mech could do this him. Make him lose his tight-lidded control. But Perceptor trusted no other mech as much as he did Drift. For the moment, this lovely mech over him was his to enjoy. Living in the moment was another thing he wasn’t practiced at, but Drift had the amazing ability to help him do. Remind him the here and now could be incredible feeling as long as he let it be.
Continuity: IDW/AU
Word Count: 1870
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sticky
Characters: Perceptor, Drift
Notes: Set in AHM, no beta. Grammar abuse ahead.
Written for
ravynfyre. Hope it cheers her up a little...“Whose side are you on?
What side is this anyway?
Put down your sword and crown
Come lay with me on the ground
You come beating like moth's wings
Spastic and violently
Whipping me into a storm
Shaking me down to the core
But you run away from me
And you left me shimmering
Like diamond wedding rings
Spinning dizzily down on the floor”
‘Moth’s wings’ by Passion Pit
______
In search of the missing mech from their team, Perceptor climbed the stairs of the abandoned building they were currently occupying to the rooftop for a better view. Moving to the edge, he clicked out the small kickstand to hold up the end of the rifle on the ledge of the rooftop, and then lifted the site up to his specialized optic.
He scanned the distance through the site, searching. He moved along a mentally created grid of the area, moving in small increments as he tried to find the missing mech. No one else on the team was all that concerned, since Drift was known to take off and reappear later. But Perceptor couldn't help himself. Drift was far more than a teammate to him. He was more than his savior. More than a lover. He was a force that had come into Perceptor's world and shifted everything sideways.
At first it had been terrifying. Already reeling from his near death, Perceptor silently struggled with his inner demons and doubts, trying to use his logic as tool to cope. He shed his scientific mindset, honing those tendencies into that of a sniper. Drift stayed on the edges at first, only speaking to him on occasion, then one evening Drift appeared at his quarter's door and invited himself in. They talked, or more accurately, Drift questioned and Perceptor answered. His questions moved from the mundane to deeper questions about the reasoning behind the war, revealing a side Perceptor had never imagined Drift had. He was passionate, smart, and philosophical.
They'd connected on a level he'd never experienced with another mech in his entire life. Still, Drift felt only within his reach sometimes, fluttering into his world then disappearing. Perceptor wished there was a way to capture him, keep him, but at the same time, he knew that would go against who Drift was. So he settled for the moments they shared, and spent the remainder of his time doing his best to look after him in his own way.
Swarm moved in the corner of his mental grid, and he adjusted his scope to zoom in closer. As he suspected, Drift was in the midst of a tangle of Swarm about a half klik from the building, swords moving in a flurry as they cut down the Swarm around him. It was dangerous to be out alone, but it seemed Drift was fearless. Something Perceptor desperately envied.
Smooth, practiced motions, like that of a human dancer, Drift swiftly dispatched the Swarm monsters around him. The guts of his kills splattered his white plating, as he moved with nothing less than pure grace. It was both gory and beautiful. Perceptor frowned, wishing he could zoom in closer to see Drift's face better. He loved the look of determination and pleasure he had when he was in the middle of fighting.
One of the Swarm swung around behind Drift, catching his shoulder with its claw and trying to drag him down. Perceptor wasted no time, quickly calculating and adjusting his rifle into position. He squeezed the trigger, and his round hit the monster in the head. It dropped to the ground in a heap, dead. Drift looked up in the direction Perceptor sat, flashing a smile before he spun, swords out, at the next Swarm monster that dared to come at him.
The group of monsters was soon disbursed, and Perceptor followed Drift's leisurely walk back, watching through the scope. He seemed so calm now, so at peace after his furious fight. Drift embodied so many contradictions, two sides of the war all in one being. Perceptor frowned as he watched Drift disappear behind a building.
Lifting his head from the scope, he stared out at the broken world before him. Toppled, burnt out husks of what had once been a thriving city. A city Drift had once been homeless in. A city Perceptor had worked as a research scientist in. Each unaware of the brewing war about to shatter the social walls between them.
He reached out, clicking the kickstand back in place and pulling his rifle close to his chest for a moment. He ran his one hand down its length, tracing its shapes he'd built. He felt like it was a piece of him now, a part of him as indispensible as his microscope mount, or optics. He never imagined he'd choose this path, but it was how he had regained his personal power and avoided giving in the despair and the mind-set of a victim.
"Am I interrupting a intimate moment?" Perceptor's gaze shot in the direction of the familiar voice. Drift stood at the top of the stairs, covered helm to pede in dark purple splatters with a small smile on his lips. "I can come back later, if you rather."
Perceptor canted his head at Drift. "I'd prefer you stay."
With a nod, Drift crossed the space between them and came to a stop in front of Perceptor. “Nice shot.”
“Thank you.” Perceptor’s grip on his rifle tightened. “Is your shoulder badly injured?”
Drift shook his head. “You got him before he cracked the plating.”
Perceptor nodded.
Reaching out, Drift lightly ran his fingers down the barrel of the rifle. To anyone else, it would look like an odd thing to do, but Drift understood how much a part of Perceptor it had become, perhaps because Drift’s swords held the same reverence to him. Touching the rifle was a way to touch Perceptor, too. The petting of the rifle, while not physically connected to him with sensor nodes, caused him to shiver none-the-less as he watched Drift’s black fingers slide over it.
Drift stepped closer, and pressed his lips to the stock, lightly mouthing it as he kept his gaze pinned on Perceptor.
Heat rippled through Perceptor at the visual. Drift was sensual without regret. Another thing he envied about the beautiful fighter. He wished he could be so free with his desire.
Flicking his glossa out, Drift licked up the barrel and dimmed his optics.
Perceptor’s fingers twitched against his rifle as arousal deep and expansive engulfed him. Drift reached out, gently prying one of Perceptor’s hands from the rifle and moving it to his sword hilt. Knowing what he wanted, Perceptor gently slid his fingers over it. It was still warm from being held. He traced the ridges of it, meant to give a better grip in Drift’s hands as he swung it around. His mind wandered to memories of watching Drift fighting, moving with such purpose and precision.
“Percy…?”
Perceptor glanced up from the sword hilt at Drift.
“Take it off?” Drift had both his hands curled around Perceptor’s rifle as he turned his hip closer to Perceptor.
To remove the sword sheath, Perceptor would need to let Drift hold his rifle. He nodded and let go, allowing Drift to hold it as he reached down and unhooked the sword from Drift’s plating. In an unspoken request, Drift shifted his other hip closer to Perceptor and he unhooked that one as well. They stood for a moment, each holding the other’s weapons.
Drift warmly smiled as he squatted down and set the rifle down on the rooftop. Perceptor stooped down and set the swords down beside it. Drift then reached behind and unhooked the greatsword from his back and set it down on the roof, too. Perceptor knew that was something he was not allowed to touch and simply stared at it and it’s ancient design and beauty as it was laid down beside the other items.
“Come here,” Drift gently commanded as he got back to his feet.
Perceptor rounded their small pile of weapons and joined Drift a couple paces away. Drift dropped down to a knee and wrapped his black and white hands around Perceptor’s thighs. He leaned forward, nuzzling the edges of his interface cover. Desire instantly clouded Perceptor’s otherwise logic driven mind. No one had ever treated him like this. To be desired, touched, wanted, it was something only Drift had ever offered him.
Drift looked up at Perceptor, seeking admittance.
“It’s not entirely private here,” Perceptor said, his vocalizer crackling a little.
Canting his head, he replied. “They’re busy getting drunk and listening to Kup tell stories downstairs.” Drift then licked the cover, his warm glossa trailing up the black plating.
Unable to help himself, Perceptor allowed the cover to snap back. Drift smiled, faced with the already erect spike. Fingers curled around it and gently squeezed while he leaned forward, glossa swirling around the head. Perceptor shivered and let a small whine escape his vocalizer. He then reached down and lightly ran his fingers over one of Drift’s helm finials in a reverent manner. He was so pretty, even covered in Swarm guts. So out of Perceptor’s league.
Drift parted his lips and wrapped his mouth over Perceptor’s spike, taking in almost the entirety of it into his mouth. His glossa danced around it from underneath, setting off the sensor nodes. Perceptor wasn’t sure what was driving his arousal more, the physical sensations or the visual of his spike buried in Drift’s mouth. Lightly bobbing his head, Drift sucked and swirled his glossa with the same precise and measured action as he did wielding his swords.
Trembling, Perceptor felt his spike grow more rigid. He gently swayed his hips in time with Drift’s motion, chasing after the overload he felt building. One of Drift’s hands splayed over Perceptor’s thigh and the other moved between his legs, fingers ringing around the valve edges below before dipping inside. The duel sensations proved too much and Perceptor tried to bite back a moan as his body stiffened and he pushed his hips forward, his spike exploding inside Drift’s mouth.
Heat, pleasure and desire swirled inside him as his whole frame felt wobbly and unsteady in the aftermath of overloading, but Drift grabbed hold of his hips, supporting him from toppling.
Pulling back, Drift licked his lips and glanced up at Perceptor. “Pretty good for an opening.”
Perceptor sheepishly smiled. “There’s more, hm?”
Drift nodded, pulling on Perceptor.
Complying, Perceptor shakily lowered himself to the rooftop and laid back. Drift crawled up over top of him, and leaned down, his mouth crushing against Perceptor’s a heated kiss. Lips parted and Perceptor was hit with the taste of his own overload as their glossa twinned. Perceptor wrapped his arms around Drift’s waist and hugged him close.
No other mech could do this him. Make him lose his tight-lidded control. But Perceptor trusted no other mech as much as he did Drift. For the moment, this lovely mech over him was his to enjoy. Living in the moment was another thing he wasn’t practiced at, but Drift had the amazing ability to help him do. Remind him the here and now could be incredible feeling as long as he let it be.
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