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In the Brig	By : swordqueen Category: Transformers > G1 > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 2413 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own neither Hasbro nor Transformers. I make no money writing or posting this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-In the Brig
- 1
Another kink: from the old meme. Enjoy!

“You know,” Thundercracker said, heaving himself off the repair bay berth, “I have just about had it with him, haven’t you?” His left wing was scored with black and in a few places, stripped down to expose bare circuitry.

Skywarp remained on his back, staring at the ceiling as Dirge was working to replace one of his thrusters. Skywarp was too busy secretly cursing their luck that the one time they need repair bay, Dirge was the mech on rotation. Nothing like gimping in with an injury and being told you were going to die. Or at the very least never fly again. “Yeah,” he muttered. Fraggin’ Starscream. Yet another of his cunning plans gone stupid.

Skywarp didn’t even know why he’d expected anything different anymore: he spent more time and effort planning his pranks than Starscream put into his missions He winced as Dirge’s hand slipped, driving the screwdriver under an armor plate and against a nerve cluster. Dirge mumbled something about infection and amputation.

“Where is the sniveling wonder?” Skywarp asked, just to get his mind off THAT line of thought.

“Went to report to Megatron, of course.”

“Slag, and we missed out on that?” Skywarp propped himself onto his elbows. “Surprised he isn’t here with us, getting dents hammered out of his aft.”

“He’s in the brig,” Dirge muttered, morosely. “Megatron said something about not even being worth the effort to try to beat some smarts into him.” He stood up, leaning his weight against the thruster to drive it home. Skywarp cursed. Sure, basic mechanics and all, but hadn’t he heard of sensor block?

“I’ve got a few dents I want to hammer into his aft,” Thundercracker said, running a hand over his injured wing.

“I’m so in,” Skywarp said, yanking his foot away from Dirge’s ‘care’.

****

Starscream paced the small cell, his cheek plates still burning from Megatron’s tirade. Sure, he had flown a mission without proper clearance. And sure TC and Warp had gotten a little…roughed up. They would heal! A bold military leader doesn’t make advances without a few losses. Megatron, were he any kind of REAL leader, would know that. Simply proof of his unworthiness to command that he didn’t recognize that. And, moreover, punished Starscream for his initiative.

Outrageous.

He flopped onto the berth. Only a matter of time before Skywarp and Thundercracker came to get him out. In fact, what was taking them so long?

He heard footsteps. Ah, there they were. “About slaggin’ time,” he said, as they rounded the corner. Skywarp was limping and Thundercracker was favoring one wing. Awww, trying to get sympathy for their sacrifices. Starscream would have been in the mood to play along if he weren’t already so done with being in this cell. “Let me out,” he said, as Thundercracker hooked the keybox into the lock. He approached the door in the forcefield, and was a little surprised when Skywarp and TC came in. Had they gotten hit in the head? Had they lost the ability to remember that getting OUT of the brig meant going the other way through the door? Starscream cursed Primus for giving him mentally deficient trine mates.

“What are you doing?” he said, as the forcedoor reformed behind Skywarp.

Thundercracker pushed Starscream back against the berth. “We’ve got a little matter we want cleared up. And we wanted to make sure you don’t wander off before we’re done.”

“Or go sniveling to Megatron,” Skywarp added, folding his arms and moving next to TC.

Starscream opened his mouth to protest, but got it covered by one of Thundercracker’s black hands. TC drove him back against the berth, hand over his mouth. “I think,” the blue jet sneered, “we’ve heard enough from you.” His other hand was rough against Starscream’s pelvic armor, snapping open his codpiece. Starscream heard the hiss of a pressurizing spike and then gasped at the cold presence of lubricant invaded his valve.

“You can’t be serious,” he mumbled, around Thundercracker’s fingers.

“Why not?” the blue jet said, arcing his pelvis to seat his spike completely in the valve, eyes closing as the valve spiraled down to envelop its girth. “You owe us. You fragged us over enough times.”

“You’re lucky,” Skywarp said, leaning over, to get a better view of TC’s spike, “we’re taking it this way and not giving you the beatdown you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve a beatdown!” Starscream protested, spitting TC’s hand away, “I am your leader.”

“The leader who somehow managed to be the only one entirely uninjured by his ‘masterful plan’,” Skywarp snapped. “TC, shut him up.”

“Gladly.” TC withdrew his spike nearly entirely out of the valve, bending his knees so that the underside of the spike dragged against the bottom of the valve and then shoving in fiercely. Starcream gasped. “Primus,” TC muttered, repeating the action, his own vents growing ragged from the stimulation to his spike, “forgot how good your valve is.”

“Because he tries to save it all up for Megatron,” Skywarp said. He was feeling frustrated, aroused, and left out. And his new thruster still hurt to stand on. He shifted to sit on the berth next to Starscream. The view was better here anyway. He could watch TC’s lubricant-glossy spike wink in and out of sight, hear the wet slide of spike against the valve.

Starscream had gathered himself up to retort, but TC’s thrusting had knocked the wind right out of him. The blue jet’s entire concentration was on his spike, on the feel of Starscream’s tight valve grabbing at him on every out-pull, how the cold lubricant was quickly heating from the friction. Below him, Starscream simply gasped and opened and closed his hands almost helplessly against the berth—his sex drive pretty much took him over at times like this, which they were counting on. By the time he remembered to be outraged, he’d’ve been fucked halfway to next decacycle. “Gonna overload,” TC said. “Soon. You gonna like that, are you? You going to come for me, too?”

Starscream’s helm banged against the berth in time to TC’s increasing-tempo’d thrusts. “Primus,” he groaned.

“Come on,” TC muttered. “You gonna come for me or what?” Soon for him. Really soon. He could feel the rise of pressure in his transfluid tank preparing to send its load through his spike. Beside him, he saw Skywarp finally cave in to temptation, and grab his spike, yanking it in long quick tugs, mouth open, eyes glued to the join between TC’s and Starscream’s bodies. “Gah!” TC couldn’t hold back anymore: he jerked his hips back, his spray of silver fluid splattering on Starscream’s amber cockpit. TC fell forward, catching his weight on his hands on either side of Starscream’s head.

Starscream writhed, his optics glassy with lust. “I didn’t finish!” he complained. “How did I end up with such incompetent trine mates? You can’t even interface right!”

TC seethed down at him, his hands balling into fists, until Skywarp pushed him aside. “My turn,” the black jet said, locking his hand behind Starscream’s helm and hauling him over. “Why don’t you show us how it’s done right, then, huh?”

Starscream sneered up at him. “I shall simply show you how incompetent and premature you are as well,” he said, before taking Skywarp’s spike in his mouth. Skywarp closed his eyes, settling on his knees as Starscream settled down to work, running his glossa along the ridged underside of Skywarp’s spike, his lips sliding up and down across the sensor nodes.

Skywarp sighed. One thing Starscream knew was how to suck a spike. Then again, he’d had a lot of practice, hadn’t he? Skywarp’s pelvic frame quivered. He felt his heat sinks kick on in response to the sucking and probing of his trine mate’s mouth. Starscream shifted, one finger prodding at Skywarp’s valve cover. Skywarp pinned the wrist against his thigh. “Nu-hunh. Not cheating.” Starscream grumbled, picking up the intensity of his actions on the spike.

Skywarp looked down at his trine mate’s black helm bobbing against his black thighs, his silver spike a flash of brightness disappearing again and again into Starscream’s mouth.

“Frag, you’re hot sucking spike,” he breathed, his spike releasing another dollop of lubricant, cooling some of the friction in the other’s mouth. He tilted his head back, elbows bumping against his own wings, optics closing. He could feel the warmth of Starscream’s mouth, the little rings of coolness when Starscream pulled back and the cool air of the cell struck the lubricated sensors, the maddeningly fast pokes of Starscream’s glossa against his nodes. He ground his denta together against the rising overload, determined to hold out, to make Starscream work for it.

*****

Megatron tilted back in his chair, bored, as the cassetticons scurried to obey Soundwave’s instructions.

“Surveillance system demonstration: Imminent,” Soundwave droned. Ramjet rolled his eyes until Megatron frowned him down.

“The benefits of this new system…?” Megatron asked, “Other than expense?”

“Monitoring: simplified. Security: enabled.” Soundwave gestured for Rumble to plug the final cord into its jack. “Observe.” The monitor crackled to life, the screen going from blank black to blue.

Rumble crossed over to hand Megatron a control box and a flimsy. “You gotcher numeric codes correllaticated…,” he paused, frowning.

“Correlated,” Soundwave corrected.

“Co-whatevered with the locations both inside and outside the base. Hit the code in the box, and bam—image on the screen.”

Megatron tapped in a number at random, and the image of the ocean on the eastern side of the ship popped on screen, a school of fish sailing by. “Impressive,” he said. He handed the box and flimsy to
Bombshock. “Amuse yourself.”

Bombshock grinned. “How ‘bout we check in with the late-great Starscream?” A round of titters. He consulted the flimsy and punched in a number. The screen blanked for a klik, and then resolved to the image of…

“Is that Skywarp?” Rumble blurted.

“Better: is that Starscream sucking his spike?” The ‘cons leaned forward, craning for a better view.

“Don’t you dare change that channel!” someone cried out. “There’s Thundercracker, too!”

Megatron nodded gruffly at Soundwave, who looked stunned and appalled. Soundwave looked at the box as though this were somehow its fault. But according to Megatron, the device had already just paid for itself.

****

For a long moment, no sound other than Skywarp’s ragged breathing and the hum of his heat sinks and the wet slide of spike in Starscream’s mouth. Skywarp’s hands clutched against Starscream’s back, squeezing the wing panels’ leading edges, hissing his pent up desire, before he could finally hold back no more and the overload rippled through his systems. He felt the sudden heat of his transfluid slam into Starscream’s mouth, his body jerking in response to Starscream’s quick, greedy swallows. Skywarp dropped back onto his heel thrusters, panting.

Starscream sat back, wiping a hand over his mouth. “Demonstration,” he said. “Don’t forget. Starscream leads by example.”

“Got your example,” Thundercracker muttered, flipping the white jet onto his back, pouncing on his spike. Starscream wriggled, moaning, as Thundercracker began aggressively sucking on his spike, swallowing the lubricant, his glossa rough against the nodes.

“Not so—not so hard!” Starscream whimpered. His spike desperately oozed more lubricant. His hips jerked up with every tug.

“Shut up,” Skywarp muttered, bending over him. “You’re being punished.”

“Punished! I am the leader! I do the punish—ohhh!” he squealed as TC scraped his denta along the spike, and stopped.

“You were saying?” TC said, acidly. “You do the punishing? Really?” He thrust a finger in Starscream’s valve, still seeping lubricant and transfluid from earlier. Starscream writhed.

“Please,” Starscream said, weakly, “Let me finish. Once. I have to.”

“Punished,” TC said, firmly. He pulled his finger out of the valve, and rocking back against the berth shoved the slick fingers in his own valve, spreading his legs so Starscream could have a good view. Skywarp licked his lips hungrily, optics darting between

Thundercracker slowly pumping his fingers into his valve, slick with his own fluids, and Starscream, whose own spike leaked at the sight. Skywarp’s spike already repressurized, silver transfluid streaking the lubricant the oozed from the tip. He wanted to crawl over and take TC, with Starscream watching, but he couldn’t stop watching TC’s fingers working his valve, pausing every few kliks to sweep around the valve’s rim. TC shivered deliciously, optics closing.

Starscream’s hands drifted down to his own equipment and it struck Skywarp that Starscream hadn’t overloaded once. Which must be driving him mad. Well, time to drive him madder. Skywarp snatched Starscream’s hands away, pinning them to the ground as he straddled his trine mate and sank Starscream’s erect spike in his valve. Starscream ground his hips upwards.

“Come on,” Skywarp goaded, raising off his trinemate’s body. “You want it? You want to get off? Work for it.” He flattened Starscream’s hands back against his wings. Starscream pushed his thrusters into the berth, driving his hips upward, his spike into Skywarp’s valve. Skywarp continued, “Wanna get off, don’t you? Want to feel your ‘fluid in my valve, don’t you? Hot and running down your spike, leaking out of me all over. Huh? That what you want?”

Starscream groaned, struggling against Skywarp’s pinning hands.

“Gonna screw it up,” TC warned, from his corner of the berth. His hands moved slickly in his valve, pumping harder and harder to the tempo of Starscream’s thrusts.

“Don’t care right now,” Skywarp muttered, panting as his valve began twitching, anticipating each thrust as it came. “Primus, HARDER,” he snarled at Starscream, flattening his thighs out along the berth as Starscream gave one last shove with his hips, heel thrusters bracing on the berth. Skywarp howled, back arching until his wings hit Starscream’s upraised knees. His valve clutched greedily at the spike, at the onrush of transfluid.

“Frag!” TC yelled, jerking his hand out of his valve. “Told you you’d screw it up.” He pushed Skywarp off the white jet. Skywarp collapsed, contentedly, on the berth.

“That’s the problem,” Starscream said, dreamily, “It’s you two not following my genius orders.”

“Will you shut up!” TC snarled. He clambered up to straddle Starscream’s face. If he’d expected Starscream to fight him, his face showed no surprise as Starscream’s hands clamped over his thighs, pulling the valve hard against his mouth. “Frag yes,” TC breathed, as Starscream lapped into his valve with his glossa.

“Leading by example,” Skywarp mumbled, goofily, his eyes glazed, sated. He began lazily stroking his own wing, purring.
TC grunted. He looked down over his chassis at Starscream’s face—the white jet’s eyes were closed in concentration. Even TC had to admit Starscream was hot, and frag but he was good at this. TC was kliks away from overload already, fighting against his thigh servos which wanted to twitch and quiver. Starscream drove his glossa deep into the valve, scraping it against the nodes TC had already stimulated with his fingers. His optics flashed open as TC’s hips bucked forward against his face, fluid gushing from his valve in overload.

TC flopped back over Starscream’s chassis, panting. Starscream licked the fluid off his lips, his face glossy wet. “Have I been punished enough?” Starscream said, slyly.

“Uhhhh, I think we all have,” Skywarp said. They turned to where the purple hand pointed—a blinking red light of a newly installed camera.

TC groaned. “That thing’s on, isn’t it?”

A voice cut over the comm. “Yes,” Megatron said. “Quite an interesting display in, ahem, leadership, Starscream. I admire your subordinates’ desire to share your penalty with you, by the way. Make sure that in the morning, when all three of you are released, that you all report to my quarters for the second portion of your corrective training.”
- 1
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In the Brig