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Ghosts	By : bleedingink Category: Transformers > G1 > Het - M/F Views: 2136 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor am I making a profit by writing this story.

Chapter List
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*blah blah* = comm. speak

Ghosts III

The door opened with ease and the intruder quietly made his way to Moonracer’s bedside, his shadow looming over her sleeping figure. A single hand reached out, bold in caressing the contours of her frame. And the female shifted into the touch, burying her face in folded arms as she rolled onto her belly, giving the unknown mech a lovely view. His optics dimmed; he leaned forward to brush his lips along the back of her neck, sending a pleasant warmth through her circuitry.

“You.”

The trespasser stood immediately at the harsh tone used. Perceptor wasn’t known for his severity, but this was his female. The commotion, unfortunately, woke the slumbering beauty; “Perceptor?” She then looked to the other male; “Hot Rod!?” She felt vulnerable and - ugh, the creep was watching her sleep! With her privacy having been violated, Moonracer jumped off the berth and ran from the room just when the sniper launched himself at the scout.

Moonracer inhaled a deep breath, leveling her systems. “Moonracer?” That voice; she recognized it. “Elita…” She murmured the femme’s name and slipped her arms about that slender torso. “Kup told me his plans to escape the Swarm,” Elita started, bringing her hand to rest upon the youth’s helm, “It looks as though we have no choice but to accept it.” Moonracer peered up at her idol with a questioning gaze. “Those creatures are just as affected by a female as the rest of them, if not more. For us to sacrifice our morality…” She trailed off and pushed the younger female aside.

“Elita?”

“I will stay behind.”

“…you can’t be serious. You‘ll be killed!”

The femme commander hung her head; “If Optimus cannot have me, no one can.” Moonracer recoiled and pressed her back against the wall, feeling a terrible pull at her spark. “My dear, dear Moonracer, you will go on and give life to many strong, intelligent fighters. Maybe even with that nice scientist, hm?” She paused in her words to listen in on the shrill cries of pain emitting from a tortured Hot Rod. Looking to her young gunner, she could see the smile gracing her lips. Of course she knew the femme was completely smitten with the microscope - if her talking about him every waking moment was anything to go by.

“I will always be with you, Moonracer. I have taught my sisters well, my memory will live on. I wish to be with my chosen mate… and I would advise you do the same.” Elita gestured to an energon-covered mech in the hall, his shoulder-mounted scope dented and the lens cracked, but otherwise in good health. She leaned in to place a chaste kiss upon Moonracer’s temple and, with a smile, departed, leaving the two alone.

“Um… How much did you hear?” she asked, keeping her optics locked on her feet. Perceptor moved closer, studying her body language; he cupped her chin, tilting her head back as he swiftly took her lips in a passionate kiss; his mood heightened by his recent encounter with Hot Rod. And Moonracer confirmed that violence was indeed a turn on; the femme practically melted within the mech’s embrace. As he ventured along her neck, her fingers began to trace patterns in the fluid dotting his armor. “Wait,” she wheezed, feeling her spark leap with emotion.

Perceptor emitted a series of aggravated clicks as he was pushed away. The two stared at one another for what felt like an eternity before she began to make her way further down the hall. “I don’t think I’m ready yet…” And it would be her luck to end up reaching her peak in the middle of the night.

-----

Moonracer onlined her optics; her frame was burning, longing for the electrifying sensation of cool, metal hands. She turned to face the empty space where the scientist had been laying. Kup must’ve summoned him, once again leaving her to her own devices. Sighing, she willed herself to sit up, each movement sending a tingling pain throughout the lower half of her body. Looking down, the femme noticed her valve had been exposed, coated with lubricant. There was no way she could confront her male comrades like this.

*Kup.*

*Yes, Moonracer?*

*D-Do you know where Perceptor is?*

*Of course I do! What kind of commander would I be if-*

*Just tell me where he is. Sir.*

*Humph. I have him watching Gate-C10. He’s on rotation.*

*Thank you.*

The young gunner wrapped herself within the makeshift blanket and headed towards the sniper’s location. She actually felt a sense of thrill course through her as she quietly made her way to the tower ruins, her figure masked by the shadows.

“Perceptor?” she whispered, pulling the hood of her cloak around her face. It was dangerous to be out here alone, yet she was confident in finding the elusive microscope. “Oh, please be here, Perceptor…”

What happened next would only serve to aggravate her predicament. Moonracer’s scream was muffled by a hand as she was abruptly pulled into a narrow room. It was dark and cold, save for the body pressed firmly against her back. She trembled as another hand slipped beneath the fabric concealing her beauty from her captor. “Shh,” he said, teasing the rim of her valve lightly with his fingertips, causing her to whimper, her knees growing weaker. Behind her, Perceptor glared at the entrance to their little hideaway, ready to slag anyone or anything that dared to approach them.

Moonracer craned her head to look at him, her gaze softening as she realized who it was. She reached up to remove his hand from her mouth, nuzzling his palm as her hips leaned into his touch, desperate for the divine friction. “Perceptor…” she whispered, “I-I have never done this before… I don’t know what to do.” The sniper took the fabric between his teeth and tore it just enough to get at her neck; “You will.” She winced as the sharp canines dug into the soft metal, leaving indentations, the pain sending a pleasant signal to her interface.

She then forced herself around, capturing his lips, silencing her gasp as he lifted her from the ground, pressing her back against the wall. The femme instinctively wrapped her thighs around his waist, deliberately rubbing her slick valve against his codpiece, coaxing it open. “Be gentle…” she murmured, burying her face against his neck. Perceptor gave a soft purr in compliance, situating her legs to rest in the bends of his elbows, allowing for better access. Moonracer felt another gush of lubricant exit her sweltering interface at the movement, at the anticipation. She could then feel the hardness of his spike against her inner thigh and her optics widened. This is really happening, she mused, It only seems like yesterday I joined their ranks, began training under him - hehe, under him… Primus help me.

Then came the unbearable pain of her seal breaking. She gripped his arms tightly; she attempted to push him away, to have him withdraw, but the more she struggled, the more he settled. Perceptor nuzzled her helm, soothing her with a mixture of mechanical sounds unique to their kind. She soon felt the pain subside as more of the oil-like substance coated the sizable appendage, making it easier for him to bury himself completely. And as he hit every sensor node within her taut orifice, the femme bit down onto his collar strut to suppress her moans.

He gave her a moment to adjust before shifting her legs, spreading them wider; she nearly keened as he made to vacate her valve, only to re-enter with added force, sending her helm crashing into the cold surface behind her as she bit back her scream. It was still somewhat painful, but the pleasure quickly overrode it with each vigorous thrust.

“One day, you’ll see…”

“Eh, I don’t know, Elita; I’m not the most attractive femme… Let’s face it, females are rare; that’s the only reason why they look at me; a potential last minute resort. Besides, I’m too hardcore! No one wants a mate that can outdo them in gunfights.”

“Oh, Moonracer… Will you stop beating yourself up?”

The pale femme glanced to Chromia as she strode through the entrance. “Try kicking your self-confidence in the ass instead!” she added, pumping her fist in the air, “Get it in gear, baby.”

Moonracer clung tightly to the mech, her lips parted in silent gasps as each movement drove her closer to the edge. “…Perceptor,” she mewled. Her muscle cables tightened and pulsed around the phallus, sending ripples of pleasure throughout the mech’s body, as she succumbed to her first overload. She moved her hips against his own, riding out the waves of ecstasy. In turn, the sniper bit down on the armor protecting her audios, releasing transfluid with a subtle grunt. Moonracer felt the heated substance coat her gestational chamber, her body doing well to milk every last drop from the mech.

Her intakes cycled hard to cool her systems. She remained still, curling herself against Perceptor’s broad chest. But when he decided to withdraw, she gave a painful shrill as the phallus’ design made it difficult to remove; her interface stung and the coarse ridges scraped the raw metal like sandpaper. It was an ingenious method to ensure conception, but the reality sucked, in her opinion.

“I won’t mind… if you carry me back.”

Perceptor gave her a blank stare and abandoned the warmth, letting her slide to the floor in a mess of sated goop. “Silence,” he deadpanned, sliding the cover back over his spike housing. Moonracer frowned at the command and glanced to the entrance of their makeshift shelter. She could hear shuffling outside. She peered up at the scientist with worry. Did someone hear them? Was she too loud?

“Go to the back of the corridor.”

The femme did as she was told, ignoring the lingering pain in her abdomen - she would have to question him about it later.

Outside, Blurr paced back and forth, mumbling to himself. Perceptor pursed his lips and approached the other mech; “Blurr.” The speedster paused in his steps and eyed the microscope. “I don’t know what to do, Percy, I don’t want to go through with Kup’s plan, I really don’t, I see no point in getting rid of one problem, which will create more problems in the form of tiny, uncontrollable hatchlings, is that Moonracer I smell?” Perceptor narrowed his optic in a silent threat. Blurr lifted his hands in a defensive manner; “No, no, I don’t want anything to do with your woman, she’s your woman, you have the right to do whatever you want with her, not me.” Behind them, Moonracer peeked through one of the windows, watching the two closely. “You followed her,” said the sniper. Blurr laughed nervously and nodded, “No, I didn‘t!” The crimson mech took hold of the messenger by his collar strut. “Stay away from my femme.”
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Ghosts