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Dance With Me	By : Rockinmuffin Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Het - M/F Views: 1673 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and I make no money by writing this piece of fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Dance With Me
- 1
Why write a Blitzwing x Blackarachnia smut fic? Because I can only make my action figures dry hump each other for so long before I start to get bored.

Always assume that Blitzwing’s personality is set on the last persona I mentioned. While I did decide to write Random’s dialogue in bold text I still find it mildly annoying when each of his personalities gets its own differentiating text. I’m just going to tell you which persona he is and when he switches to another one, a’ight? Though, if you see all-caps then chances are that Hothead’s the one talking at the moment.

Also, try not to take this whole fic too seriously. It’s plot-less,pointless, but hopefully entertaining. Seriously though, why hasn’t anyone else here written about these two? Sure, they talked to each other, like, once… but their interactions were comedy gold! And who doesn’t like to burst into uncontrollable giggles in the middle of a smut-fest, huh?

…Oh, it’s just me then? Oh well. Try to enjoy this anyway.

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Today was going to be an awful day, Blackarachnia could sense it. Maybe her half-organic form gave her some strange, twisted sort of sixth-sense. Perhaps it was her obsessive paranoia. Possibly, it might have just been what the earth creatures referred to as a woman’s intuition.

But most likely it was the fact that Blitzwing was in her room, standing over her recharge berth the moment she activated her optics.

“Sweet holy Primus!” she screeched, releasing a string of organic webbing in her surprise, hitting Blitzwing square in the optic. Good; it served him right.

“VUT VAS ZAT FOR, JOO DISGUSTING INSECT?!” Ah, Hothead. What a wonderful way to start out an equally delightful day. She could offline happily now.

Blackarachnia sighed. “One, I’m not an insect; I’m an arachnid. Hence the name Blackarachnia. If you’re going to insult me, do it properly. Two, you have no right to ask what I’m doing in my chambers. You shouldn’t even be here, three-face.” She stared at him for a moment; if she had an eyebrow she would have raised it. “What are you doing in here anyway?”

“If joo must know,” Icy, “I vas simply-starting off jour morning vith a SMILE!” Random interrupted as he placed his fingers at the corners of Blackarachnia’s lips, pushing them upwards to force a deranged grin over her normally-grim face plate.

She considered lashing out to bite at Blitzwing’s fingers but decided that she would rather not have his grimy little digits inside of her mouth. Primus knows where those things have been. Instead, she settled for slapping his servo away. “Cut that out!” she growled, baring her fangs. “Don’t touch me again unless you plan on losing your servos, you freak.”

Icy smirked. “Joo ov all people have no right to call other people freaks, Blacharachnia, or have joo forgotten ze wretched state ov jour half-organic body, hmm?” His smirk only widened as she hissed in rage. “Now, now, fräulein; such behavior is unbefitting ov a lady, not zat joo vere ever much of a lady to begin vith.”

Both of Blackarachnia’s right optics twitched. “Shove it up your exhaust pipe, slagger. Now get out of my room or, I swear, I’m going to-”

“Spank my fanny until eet’s rosy red?” Random interrupted, his insane grin somehow stretching even wider than usual.

“No! Wait, what? No.”

“You know joo vant to” he said in a sing-song voice, shaking his bottom in a teasing manner.

Blackarachnia somehow managed to resist the urge to rip out her optics and bless herself with the sweet relief that blindness would grant her. “Blitzwing,” she growled, eyes glowing ominously, “If I ever see your bare aft plate, ever, it will be too soon. My optics would probably deactivate permanently at the sight and one thousand Cybertronians would scream out in pain until their vocalizers combust into flames. Now get out of my quarters before I rip off your legs and bludgeon you with them.”

“Vait, vait!” Random screeched, waving his arms frantically. “I came in here because I vas supposed to tell joo some-zing. Some-zing important!”

If it were possible for Blackarachnia to roll her optics, she would have. “What?” she asked, her tone short, deliberate, and no-nonsense.

“…”

Random looked down at his stabilizing servos, twiddled his fingers, and shyly glanced back up at Blackarachnia. He took a deep breath, reached toward her, his right hand inches away from her face…

“Honk, honk!”

…And promptly pinched her nose twice.

He was already out of the room before she had the chance to process what had just happened.

“…I slagging hate mechs.”

~******~

Despite the fact that Blackarachnia was fully recharged and one-hundred-percent operational, an astrohour passed before she left her quarters. After all, while she might’ve been a giant transforming alien robot, she was still a girl and, thus, spent an unnecessary amount of time polishing her armor before deeming herself presentable.

Just because she had to live with a group of dirty slobs didn’t mean that she had to look (or smell, for that matter,) like them too.

“I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence” Starscream commented casually, his gaze focused intently on the newspaper in his hands. Now, where he got the paper from, Blackarachnia hadn’t a clue, but she wasn’t the type to question things she didn’t really care about in the first place so she continued on with her usual routine of ignoring all the idiots that surrounded her and glaring at anyone who dared to look at her as she chugged down her morning ration of energon. Simply splendid.

Perhaps, she thought to herself, today would not be as terrible as she had first imagined.

And the very second that she finished the thought, she instantly regretted it.

“Morning, star-shine!” Blitzwing, his Random personality still dominant, cackled amusedly while rubbing his hands together for no particular reason. At least, Blackarachnia certainly hoped that it was for no particular reason; especially since the alternative was that he was plotting something. Blackarachnia hated when Random plotted; it usually meant something unbelievably stupid was going to happen.

Scratch that; it always meant something unbelievably stupid was about to happen.

“Morning, nuisance” Starscream replied, his tone casual and his optics still focused intently on his morning paper. The Seeker picked up his steaming mug of energon, took a careful sip, then set it back down. “Do everyone a favor and deactivate yourself, would you?”

“HOW ‘BOUT I SHUT JOO DOWN INSTEAD?!” Hothead shouted, stomping his way towards Starscream. “Allow me to-make ze energon-pancakes!” Random butted in. “Nothing like a hot plate ov pancakes to brighten up ze megacycle, ja!”

Starscream continued to stare at his paper, turned the page, and stared at it some more. He eyed Blitzwing for a moment, his lips curling into a scowl, and returned his attention back to his paper.

Blackarachnia frowned. “What’s a pancake?” she thought aloud. Lugnut, who was sitting across from Starscream the entire time and whose sudden appearance was most certainly not a plot-hole, shrugged his shoulder plates. Blackarachnia just sighed and shook her head. “It’s going to be a long stellar cycle.”

Blitzwing, his Icy persona back in control, sat quietly next to Lugnut as he ate his ration of energon. Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful; the silence occasionally interrupted by Starscream’s grumbles and mumbles as he reacted to current events.

However, if her experience as a Decepticon had taught Blackarachnia anything, it was that peace never lasted very long before it was broken.

“I can’t take it any more!”

Starscream nonchalantly picked up his energon cube, taking a small sip just before Lugnut’s fists slammed into the table, reducing the thing to scrap metal.

“I’m sick of waiting around and doing nothing!” Lugnut growled. “Our glorious leader is out there somewhere and we should be spending all our time and resources on retrieving him!”

“And waste precious energon?” Starscream finally pulled his optics away from the paper, staring directly into Lugnut’s own large optic. “It would be pointless. Megatron is offline. If you go out looking for him the most you’ll find is a spare leg. Besides, I think we’re doing just fine without him.”

Blackarachnia decided to add in her own two cents. “…We’re in hiding and on the run from the Autobots and you think that we’re doing just fine?”

“Well, no one asked you, pest.”

Blackarachnia grit her dental plates and bit her glossa to hold back the flow of insults that threatened to burst forth. Normally she was not the type to hold back biting comments but she wasn’t stupid either. Getting in a fight with Starscream would be unwise; Starscream was big and, though she loathed admitting it, he could easily take her out. Not to mention he was stubborn too. Nothing short of a good beating would get that pile of bolts to think otherwise. (Where’s Megatron when you need him?)

So Blackarachnia remained silent. After all, her wounded pride was nothing that a swift kick to the back of Starscream’s head and a tampering of his energon rations couldn’t remedy.

Hope you enjoy your energon with an extra helping of armor polish, Screamer.

“This is unacceptable!” Lugnut’s booming voice was loud enough to cause Blackarachnia’s audio receptors to vibrate. “You have no tangible proof that Megatron is offline and until you give any then we will spend every functioning moment searching for him!”

“Now wait just one astrosecond!” Losing his patience, Starscream tossed his energon cube, smacking Blitzwing in the back of his helm and causing Hothead to throw a bitch-fit that no one bothered to listen to. “I was Megatron’s second in command which means I’m the one in charge so you have to do what I say. We are going to continue as we have been and there’s nothing you can say to make me decide otherwise.”

Starscream stood tall, looking quite smug up until the point Lugnut pinned him to the ground with a single servo clamped around his throat, effectively wiping that smug look off his face with a growl.

“Of course, you do make a strong argument.”

~******~

Blackarachnia scowled as Blitzwing viciously blasted the barren planet’s surface, creating yet another crater. Violent buffoon. As if blowing the surface of a planet to smithereens was an effective way to search for their fallen leader. Meta-less moron.

Why, out of all the mechs, did she have to be partnered up with Blitzwing? Sure, Lugnut was an over-fanatical muscle-bot with a one-track meta, and Starscream was a treacherous piece of scrap with an unhealthily large ego the size of Unicron’s aft, but either of them would be better than Blitzwing the triple-faced terror.

She hated them all, but at least Starscream and Lugnut could be tolerable. Sometimes. Maybe. …As long as she ignored them.

Blitzwing approached her, his Icy persona in control. “Megatron is not here” he spoke calmly, the twitch of his lips the only outward betrayal of his agitation.

Blackarachnia narrowed her optics. “What was your first clue: the lack of any inhabitants other than rocks and craters or the fact that no one screamed after you started blasting the place to scrap?”

Blitzwing frowned. “Zis is pointless. Megatron is offline; ve vould have heard from him ages ago if he vasn’t.”

“Well, would you rather resign yourself to the fate that Starscream is the new leader of the Decepticons?” she snorted. “Even if we found Megatron’s disembodied head it would still make a better leader than Starscream ever could.”

“It is unvise to say such zings about ze current leader.”

“What are you going to do about it? Tattle on me?” Blackarachnia crossed her arms over her chest, her lips set in a grim expression. “Besides, you know you think the exact same thing.”

“Maybe so,” Blitzwing started, blue lips curving into a smirk, “But at least I have ze common sense to keep mein zoughts to myself.”

“Whatever, Blitz-brain.”

She stared at the cold void of space that surrounded her, stars and asteroids and debris as far as her optics could see. It looked so dark, so empty, so unbearably lonely. It was times like these when Blackarachnia wondered how life would have differed if she weren’t so bitter about what happened to her body, if she had returned to the Autobots instead of joining the Decepticons. Would she have been accepted? Would the Autobot scientists have found a cure? Would she have her old body back? Would she and Optimus-

“Are joo ready to leave zis asteroid yet or vould joo prefer to STARE INTO SPACE for ze next million vorns?!”

Blackarachnia glared, wrinkling her nose at the dirty look Blitzwing’s Hothead persona gave her. She just barely resisted the overwhelming urge to punch in his mouth and give him another gap between his dental plates. “Cool your jets, Three-face. This mission is nothing more than an over-glorified cyber goose chase; we can afford to slack off a little. And I don’t know about you, but I could sure use a break from the rest of the Scream Squad.”

“Joo know, I could easily just abandon you on zis barren wasteland und leave you to figure out how to get back to ze base on jour own.”

“Fine by me.” Blackarachnia planted her bottom on the dusty asteroid’s surface. She leaned back on her arms, turning her head just enough to stare back at Blitzwing. Plump, dark lips curled into a smirk, revealing a set of sharp fangs. “So, you leaving or what?”

“Hmph! Maybe I vant some time away from ze others too!” he growled, plopping himself on the ground with a loud thwump as he sat dangerously close to her. “Jou’re not ze only von who has to deal vith imbeciles.”

“Maybe you’re one of the imbeciles that I want a break from.”

“Maybe I don’t give a slag vut joo vant, joo eight-legged freak.”

Blackarachnia snarled. “Oh, real original. Did you come up with that insult all by yourself? I hope you didn’t fry your circuits from thinking too hard.”

“JOO INSOLENT INSECT!” He stood back up, towering over the femme’s form. “JOO ATROCIOUS ARACHNID! Vhy, I have half a mind-”

“If that isn’t the greatest understatement of the millennium-”

“-To squish joo like a bug!”

Enough was enough. Blackarachnia was not going to stand idly by while Blitzwing decided to take cheap shots at her semi-organic state. With a growl, she jumped to her stabilizing servos, snarling in Blitzwing’s face, jabbing a pointed finger against his chest plate. “Blah, blah, blah! You keep talking big but I don’t see you doing anything about it. If you have a problem with me then just shut down your vocalizer and take action.”

Blackarachnia barely managed to dodge the cannon blast in time.

“Did you… did you just attempt to blow my head off my shoulder plates?”

Blitzwing switched to his Icy persona, smirking coolly at her. “Ja, it vould appear so.”

She blinked her optics, shocked, before narrowing them in rage. “You could have killed me!”

“I believe zat vas ze point, ja” he stated nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest plate. “So,” his smirk widened, “Vas zat enough action for joo, fräulein?”

She growled. “I’ll show you action.” Abruptly, Blackarachnia lifted her leg, aiming a swift kick to the side of Blitzwing’s head.

Blizwing stepped back just in time and promptly switched to Random. “Missed me!” Another kick and another step back to avoid it. “Missed me! Now joo’ve got to kiss me! Ahahahahaha!”

The images that the words conjured up were enough to cause Blackarachnia to stop dead in her tracks. She shivered, her expression melting into an ugly grimace. “That,” she started, her nose wrinkling in disgust, “Would be a fate worse than off-lining permanently.”

“Even vorse zan losing jour limbs und swimming in a pool ov boiling magma vith hungry sharkticons?”

“Yes, one thousand times worse.”

“Ooh, oh! How about being stasis-cuffed to a quintesson vith halitosis in every single von ov his mouths?”

Blackarachnia pressed a finger between her optics, carefully rubbing away the beginning signs of a violent processor-ache. She stared out into space longingly and entertained the idea of jumping off the planet’s surface and drifting away to Primus-knows-where but decided against it. Blitzwing could easily fly after her and continue his game of irritating her. Sometimes, surprisingly enough, he could be quite persistent when he managed to set his mind (minds?) on something.

“Or vut if joo vere-”

“Blitwing,” she interrupted; Blackarachnia was not sure how much more idiocy she could handle at the moment; “Just… just take us back to the base to report in to Starscream.”

He watched her, ever-present smile stretched eerily across his face plate.

She sighed. She was hoping she wouldn’t have to resort to such Autobot-like tactics but it appeared she had no other choice. Her vocalizer crackled, straining from the weight of the words she was about to force out. “Blitzwing,” her voice a quiet, painful-sounding rasp, “…Please.”

“Hmm… Nope!”

Well, so much for being nice.

“Slag it all!” What little patience of hers remained instantly crumbled, leaving behind nothing but frustration and pure unadulterated rage. “You glitch-head!” she shrieked, hackles raised, optics shining a dangerous red; the pit hath no fury like a femme PMS-ing… or something like that. Gathering her strength, she tackled Blitzwing, using her body weight to knock him to the ground. She took advantage of his stunned shock, seating herself atop his chest plate while wrapping both servos around his neck as tight as she could without crushing his vocalizer.

Though, the thought of a mute Blitzwing was more than tempting…

She settled for allowing her claws to painfully scrape against the metal of his throat instead.

“I am growing sick and tired of dealing with your constant idiocy.” Her fingers twitched. “Just take us back to the base before I start to get angry. And, while you’re at, why don’t you keep your big mouth closed and stay silent.” She placed a pointed fingertip under his chin for emphasis. “And, I swear to Primus, if you so much as say one more word, one single word, I will rip your vocalizer straight from your throat and make you eat it. Do you understand?”

“Not at all!”

Before Blackarachnia could respond, Blitzwing rolled the two of them over, changing their positions so that she was flat on her back and he was straddling her stomach. The Random persona switched to Icy, blue lips curved in a snarky self-satisfied grin as he watched her struggle beneath his weight. She spat and snarled and tried to shake him off but all her efforts were futile.

“Vut,” he spoke, voice smooth and cold as ice, “Speechless?”

“Not quite,” Blackarachnia gasped, her voice strained, “Just hard to talk… with your fat body crushing me.”

“Vait, vut? I,” he paused a moment before Hothead took control, “I AM NOT FAT!”

“Oh, really now? I suppose next you’re going to tell me that all this weight of yours is actually muscle.”

“No, it’s metal. I’m heavy because I transform into, not just a jet, but a tank too” Blitzwing growled, grinding his dental plates together. “If joo had two heavy duty alt-modes joo vould not be quite so light on jour stabilizing servos either” he grumbled.

“Excuses, excuses.”

“SILENCE!” If Hothead got any angrier, Blackarachnia was certain that steam would pour out of his cannons. “Shut jour horrid little mouth before I shut it for joo!”

She grinned, the corners of her lips lifting enough to reveal sharp, white fangs shining in the starlight. Four red optics narrowed, gleaming eerily as she stared up into his glowing red visor. Her glossa swiped across her lips; the movement was swift and sweet and he couldn’t look away from it; before she whispered three little words:

“Then make me.”

Blitzwing was going to make her eat those words.

He let out a guttural shout before descending upon her, lips crushing lips and glossa viciously invading her mouth.

Blackarachnia’s optics widened. That had not been the response she was expecting at all.

He continued the forceful invasion, his glossa pushing past lips and dental plates to struggle and twine against her own glossa. It was nothing like a kiss should be; there was nothing sweet or tender or romantic about the moment. There were no sparks or fireworks or butterflies fluttering about in her stomach. Instead, it was rough, violent, a battle for dominance, a chance to force her submission.

Blackarachnia was many things; cunning, manipulative, dangerous; but submissive she was not.

She growled deeply, even as Blitzwing’s glossa swirled against her own. If she allowed him to continue, he would win. If she pulled away, he would still win. As long as he overpowered her it would be considered his victory. It wouldn’t matter to him whether he was allowed to continue ravaging her mouth or if she backed down and pulled away from him; either way he would have exerted his power over her. There was only one way to deal with a situation like this: fight back. She could not afford to show any weaknesses.

That was how she justified grabbing a hold of Blitwing’s face plate and pulling him closer.

He paused. Obviously, he was surprised by her course of action. Good, she could take advantage of that.

She bit his lip, nipping harshly with sharp fangs, her own lips curling in a smirk at his grunt of pain. She lapped at the energon as it slowly leaked, nursing the wound with an experienced glossa.

He pulled away from her, switching from Hothead to Icy. His servos caressed her shoulder plates, his optics dim and his lips parted. “Vile femme…” The whispered insult was lacking its usual venom. His lips were upon her again, the contact softer, surprisingly gentle. Digits moved upwards, lightly teasing across her shoulders, her neck, until he was cupping her chin in a grip so careful she might as well have been made of thin sheets of glass. His lips brushed against her lips as his glossa twined together with her own, pulling her into a sensual dance reserved for lovers and bond mates.

Blackarachnia did not fall for his act for even an astrosecond. Blitzwing was still playing the game; he had simply changed the rules.

She could play too. She was familiar with this game, understood it better than Blitzwing ever could. It was all a matter of control and will power. Using one’s body to lower the enemy’s defenses; lulling the enemy with a passionate embrace here and a lingering touch there; making the enemy melt beneath one’s caresses as they lose themselves in the feeling and are unaware as they become slaves to their own desires. All the while, one could trap their enemy within their web, wrapping the enemy with threads of sweet nothings and sugar-coated lies and keeping them under a spell until their usefulness expired.

Blackarachnia lightly fingered his chest plate, feeling the desperate, needy rumble of his spark beneath her servo and against her chassis. She grinned.

This had nothing to do with love or passion or warm and fuzzy feelings. It was all about control.

“I hate you” she whispered, lips pressed against his audio receptors. She watched him shiver, admired her handiwork as his optics fluttered off and on. “I hate you more than any other mech ever to be sparked.”

He chuckled, servos running down her body, pausing over her chest plate before continuing down her curves to rest comfortably over her hips. “Joo don’t really mean zat.”

“Of course I do.” She continued to stroke his chest idly with her finger and was rewarded with the sound of his cooling fans activating, working hard to chill Blitzwing’s overheating body.

His grip on her waist tightened. “Do joo hate me more zan joo hate ze Autobots?”

She paused.

He noticed.

“Yes,” she smirked, “Even more than the Autobots.”

“Really?” The cool blue face plate of Icy switched to Random’s cackling expression so suddenly that Blackarachnia’s head nearly popped off from her shoulder plates. What a way to ruin the mood. And just when she was starting to get into it, too. “Even more zan zose two Autobots who abandoned joo-”

“How do you even know about that?!” she screeched, her vocalizer straining from the volume. Blackarachnia stared at a pair of crazed optics and a Cheshire grin; she could feel the energon circulating throughout her system go cold. Her lips trembled and her voice comes out quieter than she intended, barely a whisper. “Who told you?”

“Amazing vut kind of zings joo can learn from certain bots ven zey are sleeping!” he spoke in a spark-filled sing-song tune, index finger waving back and forth to the rhythm of a song that only he could hear. “Also, joo snore. Loudly.”

She blinked. “…You’ve been watching me sleep? How long has this been going on?!”

Random’s smirk widened.

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know.” Her expression grew stern, two pairs of red optics narrowing in a threatening manner. Fingers that had left gentle caresses and light touches were now digging and scratching violently into metal armor. “I swear,” she growled, voice thick with venom, “If you tell a single spark, I’ll-”

“Joo’ll continue leaving zose love scratches against mein armor? Kinky! Ahahahahaha!”

“Keep it up and I’ll rip your spark straight out of its chamber, nuisance.”

“Und zen joo vill eat it, ja?” Blizwing clapped his servos together as he howled out another round of deranged laughter. “Sparks: it’s vut’s for dinner!”

“…You’re insufferable.” Blackarachnia scowled. There was no point wasting her energy on making death threats to the Random persona. That sort of thing probably sizzled his circuits, if you knew what she meant. Ugh. Blackarachnia could feel another one of her infamous Blitzwing-derived processor-aches approaching. Beautiful.

With a sound strangely akin to a sigh, Blackarachnia heaved herself off of Blitzwing’s chassis, her anger momentarily forgotten. As she tried to pull away, however, a couple of strong servos gripped her shoulder plates, roughly tugging her back down until her face plate was pressed firmly against Blitzwing’s own.

Blackarachnia was not amused.

“Get off” she growled between clenched dental plates.

“I’d love to, but joo seem so determined to leave before I get ze chance to finish.”

“You’re pathetic. I’d laugh if you weren’t such a sad case; it would be like kicking a short-circuiting cyber puppy.” Blackarachnia placed a servo over one of Blitzwing’s own, trying to pry away fingers that refused to budge. The harder she tugged, the stronger his grip became until she could feel Random’s digits denting her armor. “Seriously,” she snarled, “Let go.”

“No fair!” he whined, his smirk still present even as he complained. “Joo didn’t seem to protest earlier. Is it because joo prefer ze other two faces?”

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe you just said something terrible that ruined the mood?” She received her answer in the form of a tilt of Blitzwing’s head. “No, of course not. Thinking has never been one of your strong points. Besides, someone like you would never have a real chance with someone like me.”

“Someone like me vould never have a chance with an itsy bitsy spider-bot? Oh, Blackie, joo crack me up!” She flinched as he lowered his face plate to nuzzle against her chest. “I love how joo act as if joo have ze right to be picky about jour partners.”

“Yeah? Well I just love how you can’t seem to take a hint” Blackarachnia spat back, her tone thick with sarcasm. “Now move your fat aft off of me, bolts-for-brains.” She shoved him again but the action did her little good; the triple-charger refused to move.

Instead, Blitzwing opted for gently nibbling against her chest plate, sweeping a frantic glossa over where her spark chamber laid hidden beneath layers of armor as servos tweaked and pinched hidden wires beneath her shoulder plating.

Blackarachnia cursed the moan building within her vocalizer before it even passed her lips.

She could feel his smirk pressed against her chassis. “Oh Blackie, joo’re so naughty.” Servos scooted down to pluck at the wires hidden in the seams of her hips. “Joo love zis. Joo like it ven I touch joo, ja.”

“About as much as I enjoy contracting a virus” she growled between clenched dental plates, her spark pulsing sporadically within her spark chamber, begging for direct contact with the talented glossa teasing the metal that shielded it. She whimpered as he carefully tweaked a particularly sensitive wire hidden within her inner thigh, her optics shutting down as electric sparks of pleasure shocked through her system.

“Feel good, ja?” He nipped a wire in her neck, bringing forth another moan from sinfully sweet lips. “It’ll feel even better if joo open up jour spark chamber for ol’ Uncle Blitzy.”

“As if I’d ever open my spark chamber up for anyone who would call himself Uncle Blitzy.” Another nibble to her neck and she had to bite her lip to hold back the moan. “You’re going to have to try a lot harder if you want to get with me, Blitz-brain.”

“Oh goody! I do love a challenge!”

And with that, he harshly bit the wire he had been nibbling on, nearly snapping it in half. Her optics activated immediately, red orbs bright and wide. She hissed, the sound drawn-out and painful until it melted into another whimper as a smooth glossa worked to soothe away the sting. She could feel her chassis heating up; it wouldn’t be long before her cooling fans kicked in, especially if Blitzwing continued to deliver teasing pinches to that wire along her inner thigh. Honestly, who would’ve thought that a mech like him would be so good with his servos?

The servo against her thigh continued to fiddle with the wires there while the other traced up her chassis until it rested back above where her spark lay dormant. Small sparks of energy shot from his fingertips, teasing her intimacy circuits, her body tingling pleasantly with pure energy as she arched her back, pressing her chest plate as close to Bitzwing’s sinfully-talented servos as physically possible.

It was not enough.

She wrapped her legs around his midsection, forcing his chassis to press tightly against her own. Chest plate to chest plate, she could feel the pulsing of his spark, the rumbling of his engine, the soft humming of his cooling fans, and she helplessly fell victim to the pleasurable assault. “Stop teasing me” she whispered, glossa sweeping across his mouth in a fluid motion.

“I zought joo liked teasing!” He cackled against her lips, the sensation enough to make her shiver. “But if joo are so anxious to dance vith me zen joo can open up jour spark chamber.”

“…You first.”

She was surprised when he complied.

A panel over the center of his chest plate slowly opened and a cascade of light flooded outward and enveloped Blackarachnia in a lover’s embrace. It caressed her face plate with its warmth and she took a moment to bask in its glow. Instead of the sharp shade of red she was expecting, Blitzwing’s spark was a blend of many different colors. Teals and magentas and violets moved together as one, constantly shifting as the spark pulsed strongly with energy. She could feel its pulse calling to her and her own spark pulsed and ached for it in return.

Even as her spark throbbed in desire, all Blackarachnia could do was stare, speechless. The sight before her, and she never thought that she would use these words to describe anything that had to do with Blitzwing of all mechs, was… beautiful.

He noticed her stare, heard the distinct sound of her cooling fans as they started, and his smirk stretched impossibly wider. “Joo like?”

“I’ve seen better.”

He cackled again, his spark seeming to glow brighter as he did so, as if it was laughing along with him. A finger boldly tickled against her chest plate, prodding lightly against the metal covering her spark. “Jour turn.”

With a mechanical whir, the plating covering Blackarachnia’s spark retracted, revealing herself to Blitzwing’s prying optics. She offlined her optics and bit her lip.

Her spark was dark; a deep, navy blue color, nearly black. The glow that emanated from it was rather dull, dark, as if the light itself was black. It lacked the luster and beauty of Blitzwing’s spark, looking sad in comparison, but Blitzwing was enthralled. He prodded the dark orb with an unusual carefulness, fingering it and taking pleasure in the breathy moans that the action earned him.

“Blackie,” he whispered against her audio receptor, “Let’s dance. I vant joo to dance vith me.”

She activated her optics again, lips set in a grim line as she opened her mouth to retort. Her words, however, were lost as his fingers dug deeper, wiggling inside of her. “S-slag,” she stuttered, her meta in a pleasant haze, “Blitzwing, just… don’t stop.”

“Stop? Ve haven’t even started jet, fräulein. Ahahahahaha!”

And then she felt it; that warm, pulsing light of energy so close to her own. Her spark ached, the need to bond so strong. Briefly, she wondered if Blitzwing felt the same sensation pulling him towards her. She hoped so; it would be nice to know that she wasn’t the only one falling victim to desires.

Blitzwing was so warm and bright and beautiful and, at the moment, Blackarachnia didn’t even care if this was all just another intricate plot for him to assert himself over her as long as he continued what he was doing. She could always find a way to get back at him later if she had to.

His spark was against hers, just barely touching. Her optics glazed and fluttered on and off and moan after moan leaked from her vocalizer as electric jolts surged through her systems sending pleasant shocks up and down her spine. Her fingers tightly gripped his helm as he brought himself closer, his spark pressing further against hers, melding into a single sphere as they joined together as one. She was blinded with white hot pleasure; her optics deactivated but she could still see visions and nightmares and memories that were not her own.

She was helpless and lost and terrified because she was seeing a part of Blitzwing that she never knew existed and he was seeing parts of her past that she never wanted to remember.

But it was okay. Past the visions in her meta’s eye, past the jolts through her chassis, she could feel his servo firmly grasp her own. His grip was warm, stable, knowing. She was okay because he was there to lead her through this dance one step at a time.

She could feel the energy building up, as painful as it was pleasurable, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She smothered his face plate with open mouthed kisses; briefly, she found herself wishing he would change faces for just an astrosecond because it was ridiculously frustrating to kiss someone without any lips and knowing they couldn’t properly return the favor.

The energy continued to grow, collecting until her circuits surged with electricity. Her plating was tingling and her spark was humming and her vocalizer sang as the energy within her exploded, pleasure flowing from the center of her chest outwards to the tips of her fingers and toes. The dance was over; the performers took their places on stage and bowed.

A round of applause and sweet nirvana flew through her systems.

As she came to she could feel Blitzwing’s weight pressing down on her, the aftereffects of overload slowly wearing off though her meta was still in a comfortable state of fuzziness. She observed him with soft optics, taking note of how his Icy face was currently dominant and she briefly wondered when he had switched before shaking the thought away. It was unimportant, anyway. No matter what the face, they were all Blitzwing, and that was what was truly important.

He really wasn’t that bad.

Blackarachnia smiled, a dainty fingertip traced along his lips, reveling in its softness. She could allow herself to be tender now that his systems were still working to reboot him. This gentleness, it was such an Autobot-like trait; it was best to get it out of her systems while he was too busy basking in the afterglow to notice. Otherwise he would never let her hear the end of it.

“What are you two… wow. Did we come at a bad time?”

At the sound of the voice, Blackarachnia could feel the energon flowing through her systems freeze. There, standing with wide optics and slacked-jaw was Starscream, Lugnut standing beside him with a similar expression.

Starscream quickly collected himself, shocked expression transforming into a sly smirk. “No wonder you two were taking so long. Next time, try to wait until you’re off duty before getting inside each other’s spark chambers.”

Lugnut remained silent.

Blackarachnia felt mortified.

And Blitzwing chose that exact moment to return to the land of the online; “Ready for round two?”

Blackarachnia slapped a servo over her optics; she knew it was going to be an awful day.

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And that’s the end. Tell me what you guys think.

Also, I’m a huge fan of Blackarachnia and though this is the first time I’ve written for her, I love it. If anyone would like to see her paired up with another character I’d be willing to take requests.
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Dance With Me