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Title: “Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock”
Author: Princess Starscream
Universe: MTMTE/AU
Characters/Pairings: Lockdown, Tarn, Kaon, Vos, ; Tarn/Kaon/Vos, Lockdown/Tarn
Rating/Warnings: M (sticky sex, fingering, slight bloodplay, dubious consent/slight rape elements, kidnap, mind and body torture, bondage, threesome, touch of fluff, gore, implied major character death)
Word Count: 2,903
"You deify Megatron’s will.” Tarn smirked. “You deify the whole purpose of our existence.”
“To serve Megatron?” Lockdown replied smugly. “He’s a good client, but I belong to no one.”
“To not belong to him...” Tarn paused. He felt a shiver travel down his spinal column at the mere mention of Megatron’s name. “To not belong to him would be sin.”
Lockdown scoffed. “I’m a sinner.” He shifted in his bonds. He felt them cut deeper into his circuitry. Fresh energon trickled down from the wounds.
“You will answer for your sins, hunter.” Tarn grabbed the chain attached to Lockdown’s throat and pulled him closer. He leaned in, his voice a murmur now. “I will see to that.”
“The DJD has never frightened me much.” Lockdown said, curtly.
Tarn reached over and swiped a dollop of energon from Lockdown’s minuscule injuries onto his finger. He brought the finger close to his face and flicked his glossa out of the slit in the mask, licking up the fluid.
“Mmm. We must change that sentiment.”
Tarn released his grip on the chain then got to his feet. He circled around behind Lockdown.
“It’s such a shame. Megatron has always put your talents to good use. He rewarded you with the all those credits so you could mod yourself the way you have.” Tarn said. “Do you not feel ashamed of yourself for betraying him after all he’s done for you?”
“Betraying him? I was never part of his cause.”
Lockdown smirked. He believed he was causing the DJD leader to stir from his security of being dreaded by all. Powerful mechs cowered and converted to holy loyalists in fear at the sight of Tarn or the sound of his glorious vocalizer.
Silence filled the air momentarily. It was followed by the soft hums from Tarn’s cooling fans cycling. A sign he was getting heated.
“Do I need to repeat myself, Tarn? I will never be part of his cause...”
Tarn laughed. “Never is such a naughty word, because no mech can guarantee it.” He rested his hands on Lockdown’s shoulders. “Converting you would be a simple reprogramming trick. Wipe your memory core, so you’d forget all about the independence that you boast about so much to me now. Or perhaps something more simple. A tune of mine could sway you.”
Lockdown tensed. He felt signals of trepidation pulling at his processor. Tarn was good at what he was famous for, Lockdown would give him that.
“Where are your teammates?”
A sudden change in subject. Lockdown was starting to crack albeit gradually. Tarn had predicted it that way, which is why he chose to take Lockdown on his own. The thrill of a mech who wouldn’t proselytize so easily excited Tarn.
“You are my game.”
Tarn moved his hands down the front of Lockdown’s frame.
“Yeah? When does the real fun begin?”
An ancient Decepticon lullaby filled the atmosphere tempting Lockdown’s grasp on sanity. It was exquisite. Tarn’s vocal abilities tugged at the temptation to surrender to the DJD’s leader.
“Tell me you aren’t already succumbing to me?” Tarn inquired.
The melody ceased and Lockdown snapped out of Tarn’s hypnotic effect.
“How do you know I’m not playing with your processor as much as you are trying to play with mine?”
“I could feel you slipping.” Tarn said. “You exposed your weaknesses to me. Your pain, rage, hatred, love, lust. All of it.”
“Facade.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Lockdown.” Tarn brought his helm closer to Lockdown’s. “I know, because you’re still trembling.” He whispered.
Lockdown looked down at himself. His frame involuntarily quivering.
“You’ve spent your life shutting off feelings for others. No remorse. No pity. You hunt and kill mechs for a price and then spoil yourself with the riches you’re rewarded in attempt to prove that you don’t feel anything for those you steal life from.”
“I don’t feel anything for anyone...”
“That is where you falter.” Tarn stared up at the grand portrait of Megatron displayed proudly in his living quarters. “Emotion drives strength and weakness all in the same. That is why you intrigue me. You’ll be harder to break than others, because you’re so consumed with your built up emotions. When you do finally crumble it will be a magnificent experience to witness.”
“You won’t be a witness to it.”
“No?” Tarn chuckled. “We’ll see.”
Tarn took his hands away from Lockdown’s frame. He then turned and headed for the door, where he lingered. “They say being alone with your own thoughts is worse than the pit itself.” A sinister grin spread across his lips beneath the mask. “I’ll see you soon, Lockdown.”
***
Tick tock. Time was a strange thing. Kilks became cycles. Cycles became day cycles. Then night cycles came and went.
Megatron’s piercing optics gazed down at Lockdown with disgust from the dull, gunmetal grey wall. He couldn’t escape them. Even if he closed his optics, he could still see the red glow. But, it wasn’t real. It was only a painting. An artist’s representation of Megatron.
The lack of energon started to wear on Lockdown’s body and mind. His joints ached from being held in the same up right position. Hallucinations began. Lockdown’s entire life cycle played out with emphasis on the worst parts from the time he was a youngling being ripped out of his maternal unit’s arms to the one and only time he failed and finally to the moment it all ended for him. When the Peaceful Tyranny swallowed up his ship as if it were merely a trinket floating in space.
Lockdown hated to admit it, but Tarn was right. He had broken. As much as he fought it. As much as he tried to hold onto his stubbornness. He was no match for Tarn’s punishment. Worse yet, none of those mods were useful to him now. Those mods that he had worked for... killed for. They only weighed him down.
All of it made him realize that he was already dead. The war was over, and he had been picking up small jobs and living off the credits he had amassed from the war times. For what? So, he could continue stalking the alien black markets? Or modding himself to his own perceived perfection in the loneliness of his decaying ship?
The hot desire Lockdown felt for that mech who opened his eyes by taking away his life, his freedom, was the only hint of hope left for him. The hope he could have something so sought after before he joined the pit to suffer for all eternity.
“I’ll see you soon, Lockdown.” It repeated in his processor over and over. He felt his equipment online beneath his latched codpiece. The yearn unable to be satisfied.
How long would Tarn make him suffer?
How long?
***
“Hoooow m-much l-loooonger?” Vos whined.
From the control room of the ship, Tarn had made a habit of watching as Lockdown started to deteriorate. Every single evening just before a recharge in Kaon’s quarters. Tarn chose to be in Kaon’s quarters, because he understood Tarn’s needs while the other members of the DJD had started to get annoyed with how long he was drawing this out.
“Patience, Vos.” Tarn said. His optics didn’t leave the screen. “I’m enjoying this.”
“They all crack. Some take longer than others.” Kaon commented. “Tarn likes watching how each one of them does it.”
“Boooooring.”
Vos crawled onto Tarn’s lap, attempting to steal his attention away from the console.
“Plaaaay.” Vos was begging for his leader’s touch. Ever since Lockdown had started occupying Tarn’s time, Vos felt like he was ignoring him. It angered him.
Tarn simpered. “You wanna play, huh?”
“His need is strong over the bond, Tarn.” Kaon said.
“So is yours.”
Tarn shifted his gaze to Kaon, who had a cute little smile on his face. The one he always seemed to have no matter what the situation.
Vos growled, clawing at Tarn. “Miiiiiine fi-first.”
“I have a better idea.”
Without letting Vos fall, Tarn reached for Kaon. He grabbed him by the waist and pulled him over to them.
Vos’s attitude immediately changed when he realized what Tarn was going for. He helped Kaon onto Tarn, sharing the space of the tank’s lap.
Tarn rested his hands on either of the mech’s backs, trailing his finger tips along. Encouraging them. “Touch each other.” He said.
Kaon leaned in close to Vos, kissing his mouth plate.
“That’s right. Just like that.” Underneath the mask, Tarn bit his lower lip until it bled.
Vos’s hands found their way to Kaon’s shoulders, where he teased the tesla coils. The contact triggered a jolt of electricity, shocking Vos and Tarn both. As to be expected when dealing with Kaon.
Kaon felt along Tarn’s torso, gliding down to his codpiece. His fingers skillfully unlatched each lock that held the piece in place.
Before Kaon could get any further, Vos greedily yanked the armor away. He tossed it aside, carelessly.
Tarn’s spike extended to it’s full length between the two mechs. Pulsing to life. Aching to be touched.
“Oooooff.” Vos said to Kaon. He snatched Kaon’s codpiece off followed swiftly by his own. He was the impatient one of the group when it came to a good frag. And, feeling deprived only enhanced the feral need.
“What’s the rush, dear Vos?” Tarn asked.
Vos mumbled something in the primal vernacular he was so fond of using. He then grabbed Kaon’s hand, sliding it between his thighs to his waiting port. He pressed two of his teammate’s fingers in. He made sure Tarn was watching, as he started to ride the digits. Dulcet moans escaped his vocalizer.
Kaon obliged the smaller mech, slipping his fingers in and out.
Tarn reached one of his hands to his face where he pushed his mask upward ever so slightly. He then took Kaon into a kiss, sliding his glossa in to meet Kaon’s.
Kaon wrestled Tarn’s glossa with his own, tasting the sweetness of his mate. He thrusted his fingers harder into Vos, as the kiss intensified. Another electric charge threatened to burst the more turned on he became.
As hard as Kaon was going, Vos decided that fingers weren’t enough for him. He mewled, poking at Kaon.
Kaon broke the kiss, panting air from his intakes.
“I think he’s ready for you, Tarn.”
***
Tarn onlined his optics, blinking to focus. He heard the hushed sounds of Vos and Kaon recharging. Their frames still limp against him.
Gingerly, he lifted them up, got to his feet, and then returned them, cuddled into one another, to the chair they had spent the past several hours fragging on. “Sweet dreams, little ones.” Tarn whispered.
Tarn tip-toed to the door, taking care not to disturb them.
The Peaceful Tyranny was nice and quiet. Like he wanted it to be to end this thing with Lockdown.
Tarn half expected to see Helex and Tesarus at some point in the evening, but no sign. They probably had the same idea Vos had. Frag into recharge. Good.
Tarn crept through the halls of the ship until he reached the door to his private quarters. He dallied about, mentally preparing himself. The moment he was finished that would be the end of his fun. Lockdown would be dead.
Finally, Tarn coded open the door, stepping inside. He waited for the door to whoosh closed behind him before announcing his presence.
“How do you feel?”
Lockdown lifted his helm weakly. He didn’t utter a word. What could he say? Tarn had won. Both mechs already knew.
“Not so confident anymore, are we?”
Tarn closed the gap between them, bending down next to Lockdown. He cupped Lockdown’s chin, forcing him to look up at him. “You’re broken.” He stroked the spurs on his chin lightly. “I can see the fear in your optics. But, there’s something else there too.”
“Frag y-you...” Lockdown said. He offlined his optics. He didn’t want Tarn reading him like an open book.
“You have a final request.” It wasn’t a question, because Tarn knew that Lockdown did. He had been watching him for months on end, studying him. His reactions to lack of fuel and the inability to move. Every tiny detail.
“If... if I did?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Silence. Every way Lockdown could say it would sound pathetic. And, if it wasn’t granted, that would be his last words. He didn’t want to go down as one of those pitiful basket cases that pleaded for one last pleasure from the DJD’s leader of all mechs.
Tarn released Lockdown’s chin. He then dug into his subspace pocket and got a handful of energon rations. Not enough to satisfy the fuel tank, but enough to give Lockdown a little bit of strength back.
“Open your mouth.”
The comment, the command, was foreign to Lockdown. No one had ever spoken to him like that and expected to get away with it. He turned his helm away, denying the order.
“Even in your state, you resist. Perhaps you are not completely lost yet. Excellent. Your resistance will make this more enjoyable for me.”
Tarn forced open Lockdown’s mouth, and shoved the energon inside. He slapped his other hand over the mech’s lips, making sure that he would swallow.
Lockdown felt the energon inside his mouth, resting against his glossa. He felt Tarn’s hand pressed against him, so he could not spit the substance back in his face. It could only go one way.
“Swallow.”
Another command. It was in that moment that Lockdown decided he would fight. It was a losing battle, but fighting would get him what he wanted. His last want.
The energon trickled down Lockdown’s throat, feeding his hungry systems. More and more until all of it was gone from his orifice.
“Good mech.” Tarn said. Knowing that Lockdown had ingested the nourishment, he started to take his palm away.
Before it was out of range, Lockdown bit down on Tarn’s metal skin as hard as could, drawing energon.
Tarn yelped, stumbling away.
“Why you...”
“Sinner.” Lockdown taunted. He licked Tarn’s energon off his lips.
Tarn straightened back up. “Are you trying to play a game with me?” He came back over to the bound mech. “Hm. I knew I could have some fun with you before your unfortunate, but necessary termination.”
“You can’t.”
“Who says?” Tarn ran his fingers along Lockdown’s scarred chest plating. “You? Your body, your mind, your spark all belong to me now.”
“I belong to nobody.”
“Still believe that, huh?”
Tarn started playing his music. Faint at first, but it gradually started to build up filling the room. Invading Lockdown’s audio receptors, his processor.
“No!”
Lockdown tried to shake the noise. Block it. But, to no avail. He was slipping again. Reality started to melt away. Tarn was all that existed, and he was master of this realm. Lockdown was merely a trapped ghost.
Tarn watched Lockdown succumb to him completely. If he had attempted this when they first brought Lockdown in, he would have found a way out, but now? Now he was engulfed by Tarn. All his to have.
“Now... who do you belong to?” Tarn asked.
“I... belong to you... to the Decepticon cause... to Megatron.” Lockdown said. Only his voice was not his own, but that of a slave drone’s.
“Such a perfect little pet.”
Tarn wouldn’t dare hurt his mates. Nor a loyal Decepticon. These mechs, on the other hand. These traitors to Megatron, to the cause, were fair game. They deserved only cruelty leading up to their deaths. Tarn and his team supplied that cruelty. Kaon would warm them up with his electric shock. It fragged with their systems, disabling weapons, communications, anything else important. Vos would introduce his booby-trapped face to them. Tesarus crushed the half of their frames they could live without and then shoved them inside Helex’s smelting chamber. All of that physical pain wasn’t enough. Now it was Tarn’s turn. He would coax their sparks to give up with the special vocalizer he was blessed with.
But, on some rare occasions, a challenge would appear. It was Tarn’s alone. Always. Mechs who would not react to the physical tortures bestowed by the other members of Megatron’s grand Justice Division. These were the rarities. That wasn’t to say that Tarn skipped the body’s torture, but his focus was on the mind. He saved the body for last when the mind had slipped. Like with Lockdown.
Tarn thrust his hips into Lockdown one last time, releasing another stream of cycled mech fluids into his battered port. Before Tarn had started, Lockdown’s port had barely been touched. He had been the giver, not the receiver. Tarn changed that. He changed everything about the faction-less wanderer, the disgrace to the Decepticon empire. Only a shell remained.
Lockdown laid limp on the floor beneath Tarn in a pool of his own energon. His body was dead, but his spark burned lightly. Clinging on. Barely enough for Tarn to finish it.
“You did not deserve your last desire to be granted, but you played this games so well.” Tarn paused, taking in what was left of the bounty hunter. He lowered his voice, preparing to tune it to Lockdown’s spark frequency. “Now it is time to join the pit, sinner.”
~~~
Notes:
+ So, not too pleased with how this one came out, but it was gnawing at my brain, refusing to let me concentrate on other fics. But, yeah. I'm not even sure where I was going for this one. >.>It is a hot concept, though. Not gonna lie.
+ Fuuuuck, I'm mean to Locks. But, I love him. <333
+ In my head, the DJD all share a bond, but Tes and Hel are closest to each other. Same goes for Kaon and Tarn. Vos sneaks in and chooses whoever he wants to be with, at a given time. :3
Y'know, I worry about myself sometimes. xD These fics are dark, and that's all that seems to want to come out of me lately. Maybe it's a good thing, because I'm getting the 'darkness' out of me, but daaaaamn! I need to write some fluff here pretty soon. Until then, plushie photo comics are ze fluff of this universe. :3
Author: Princess Starscream
Universe: MTMTE/AU
Characters/Pairings: Lockdown, Tarn, Kaon, Vos, ; Tarn/Kaon/Vos, Lockdown/Tarn
Rating/Warnings: M (sticky sex, fingering, slight bloodplay, dubious consent/slight rape elements, kidnap, mind and body torture, bondage, threesome, touch of fluff, gore, implied major character death)
Word Count: 2,903
"You deify Megatron’s will.” Tarn smirked. “You deify the whole purpose of our existence.”
“To serve Megatron?” Lockdown replied smugly. “He’s a good client, but I belong to no one.”
“To not belong to him...” Tarn paused. He felt a shiver travel down his spinal column at the mere mention of Megatron’s name. “To not belong to him would be sin.”
Lockdown scoffed. “I’m a sinner.” He shifted in his bonds. He felt them cut deeper into his circuitry. Fresh energon trickled down from the wounds.
“You will answer for your sins, hunter.” Tarn grabbed the chain attached to Lockdown’s throat and pulled him closer. He leaned in, his voice a murmur now. “I will see to that.”
“The DJD has never frightened me much.” Lockdown said, curtly.
Tarn reached over and swiped a dollop of energon from Lockdown’s minuscule injuries onto his finger. He brought the finger close to his face and flicked his glossa out of the slit in the mask, licking up the fluid.
“Mmm. We must change that sentiment.”
Tarn released his grip on the chain then got to his feet. He circled around behind Lockdown.
“It’s such a shame. Megatron has always put your talents to good use. He rewarded you with the all those credits so you could mod yourself the way you have.” Tarn said. “Do you not feel ashamed of yourself for betraying him after all he’s done for you?”
“Betraying him? I was never part of his cause.”
Lockdown smirked. He believed he was causing the DJD leader to stir from his security of being dreaded by all. Powerful mechs cowered and converted to holy loyalists in fear at the sight of Tarn or the sound of his glorious vocalizer.
Silence filled the air momentarily. It was followed by the soft hums from Tarn’s cooling fans cycling. A sign he was getting heated.
“Do I need to repeat myself, Tarn? I will never be part of his cause...”
Tarn laughed. “Never is such a naughty word, because no mech can guarantee it.” He rested his hands on Lockdown’s shoulders. “Converting you would be a simple reprogramming trick. Wipe your memory core, so you’d forget all about the independence that you boast about so much to me now. Or perhaps something more simple. A tune of mine could sway you.”
Lockdown tensed. He felt signals of trepidation pulling at his processor. Tarn was good at what he was famous for, Lockdown would give him that.
“Where are your teammates?”
A sudden change in subject. Lockdown was starting to crack albeit gradually. Tarn had predicted it that way, which is why he chose to take Lockdown on his own. The thrill of a mech who wouldn’t proselytize so easily excited Tarn.
“You are my game.”
Tarn moved his hands down the front of Lockdown’s frame.
“Yeah? When does the real fun begin?”
An ancient Decepticon lullaby filled the atmosphere tempting Lockdown’s grasp on sanity. It was exquisite. Tarn’s vocal abilities tugged at the temptation to surrender to the DJD’s leader.
“Tell me you aren’t already succumbing to me?” Tarn inquired.
The melody ceased and Lockdown snapped out of Tarn’s hypnotic effect.
“How do you know I’m not playing with your processor as much as you are trying to play with mine?”
“I could feel you slipping.” Tarn said. “You exposed your weaknesses to me. Your pain, rage, hatred, love, lust. All of it.”
“Facade.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Lockdown.” Tarn brought his helm closer to Lockdown’s. “I know, because you’re still trembling.” He whispered.
Lockdown looked down at himself. His frame involuntarily quivering.
“You’ve spent your life shutting off feelings for others. No remorse. No pity. You hunt and kill mechs for a price and then spoil yourself with the riches you’re rewarded in attempt to prove that you don’t feel anything for those you steal life from.”
“I don’t feel anything for anyone...”
“That is where you falter.” Tarn stared up at the grand portrait of Megatron displayed proudly in his living quarters. “Emotion drives strength and weakness all in the same. That is why you intrigue me. You’ll be harder to break than others, because you’re so consumed with your built up emotions. When you do finally crumble it will be a magnificent experience to witness.”
“You won’t be a witness to it.”
“No?” Tarn chuckled. “We’ll see.”
Tarn took his hands away from Lockdown’s frame. He then turned and headed for the door, where he lingered. “They say being alone with your own thoughts is worse than the pit itself.” A sinister grin spread across his lips beneath the mask. “I’ll see you soon, Lockdown.”
***
Tick tock. Time was a strange thing. Kilks became cycles. Cycles became day cycles. Then night cycles came and went.
Megatron’s piercing optics gazed down at Lockdown with disgust from the dull, gunmetal grey wall. He couldn’t escape them. Even if he closed his optics, he could still see the red glow. But, it wasn’t real. It was only a painting. An artist’s representation of Megatron.
The lack of energon started to wear on Lockdown’s body and mind. His joints ached from being held in the same up right position. Hallucinations began. Lockdown’s entire life cycle played out with emphasis on the worst parts from the time he was a youngling being ripped out of his maternal unit’s arms to the one and only time he failed and finally to the moment it all ended for him. When the Peaceful Tyranny swallowed up his ship as if it were merely a trinket floating in space.
Lockdown hated to admit it, but Tarn was right. He had broken. As much as he fought it. As much as he tried to hold onto his stubbornness. He was no match for Tarn’s punishment. Worse yet, none of those mods were useful to him now. Those mods that he had worked for... killed for. They only weighed him down.
All of it made him realize that he was already dead. The war was over, and he had been picking up small jobs and living off the credits he had amassed from the war times. For what? So, he could continue stalking the alien black markets? Or modding himself to his own perceived perfection in the loneliness of his decaying ship?
The hot desire Lockdown felt for that mech who opened his eyes by taking away his life, his freedom, was the only hint of hope left for him. The hope he could have something so sought after before he joined the pit to suffer for all eternity.
“I’ll see you soon, Lockdown.” It repeated in his processor over and over. He felt his equipment online beneath his latched codpiece. The yearn unable to be satisfied.
How long would Tarn make him suffer?
How long?
***
“Hoooow m-much l-loooonger?” Vos whined.
From the control room of the ship, Tarn had made a habit of watching as Lockdown started to deteriorate. Every single evening just before a recharge in Kaon’s quarters. Tarn chose to be in Kaon’s quarters, because he understood Tarn’s needs while the other members of the DJD had started to get annoyed with how long he was drawing this out.
“Patience, Vos.” Tarn said. His optics didn’t leave the screen. “I’m enjoying this.”
“They all crack. Some take longer than others.” Kaon commented. “Tarn likes watching how each one of them does it.”
“Boooooring.”
Vos crawled onto Tarn’s lap, attempting to steal his attention away from the console.
“Plaaaay.” Vos was begging for his leader’s touch. Ever since Lockdown had started occupying Tarn’s time, Vos felt like he was ignoring him. It angered him.
Tarn simpered. “You wanna play, huh?”
“His need is strong over the bond, Tarn.” Kaon said.
“So is yours.”
Tarn shifted his gaze to Kaon, who had a cute little smile on his face. The one he always seemed to have no matter what the situation.
Vos growled, clawing at Tarn. “Miiiiiine fi-first.”
“I have a better idea.”
Without letting Vos fall, Tarn reached for Kaon. He grabbed him by the waist and pulled him over to them.
Vos’s attitude immediately changed when he realized what Tarn was going for. He helped Kaon onto Tarn, sharing the space of the tank’s lap.
Tarn rested his hands on either of the mech’s backs, trailing his finger tips along. Encouraging them. “Touch each other.” He said.
Kaon leaned in close to Vos, kissing his mouth plate.
“That’s right. Just like that.” Underneath the mask, Tarn bit his lower lip until it bled.
Vos’s hands found their way to Kaon’s shoulders, where he teased the tesla coils. The contact triggered a jolt of electricity, shocking Vos and Tarn both. As to be expected when dealing with Kaon.
Kaon felt along Tarn’s torso, gliding down to his codpiece. His fingers skillfully unlatched each lock that held the piece in place.
Before Kaon could get any further, Vos greedily yanked the armor away. He tossed it aside, carelessly.
Tarn’s spike extended to it’s full length between the two mechs. Pulsing to life. Aching to be touched.
“Oooooff.” Vos said to Kaon. He snatched Kaon’s codpiece off followed swiftly by his own. He was the impatient one of the group when it came to a good frag. And, feeling deprived only enhanced the feral need.
“What’s the rush, dear Vos?” Tarn asked.
Vos mumbled something in the primal vernacular he was so fond of using. He then grabbed Kaon’s hand, sliding it between his thighs to his waiting port. He pressed two of his teammate’s fingers in. He made sure Tarn was watching, as he started to ride the digits. Dulcet moans escaped his vocalizer.
Kaon obliged the smaller mech, slipping his fingers in and out.
Tarn reached one of his hands to his face where he pushed his mask upward ever so slightly. He then took Kaon into a kiss, sliding his glossa in to meet Kaon’s.
Kaon wrestled Tarn’s glossa with his own, tasting the sweetness of his mate. He thrusted his fingers harder into Vos, as the kiss intensified. Another electric charge threatened to burst the more turned on he became.
As hard as Kaon was going, Vos decided that fingers weren’t enough for him. He mewled, poking at Kaon.
Kaon broke the kiss, panting air from his intakes.
“I think he’s ready for you, Tarn.”
***
Tarn onlined his optics, blinking to focus. He heard the hushed sounds of Vos and Kaon recharging. Their frames still limp against him.
Gingerly, he lifted them up, got to his feet, and then returned them, cuddled into one another, to the chair they had spent the past several hours fragging on. “Sweet dreams, little ones.” Tarn whispered.
Tarn tip-toed to the door, taking care not to disturb them.
The Peaceful Tyranny was nice and quiet. Like he wanted it to be to end this thing with Lockdown.
Tarn half expected to see Helex and Tesarus at some point in the evening, but no sign. They probably had the same idea Vos had. Frag into recharge. Good.
Tarn crept through the halls of the ship until he reached the door to his private quarters. He dallied about, mentally preparing himself. The moment he was finished that would be the end of his fun. Lockdown would be dead.
Finally, Tarn coded open the door, stepping inside. He waited for the door to whoosh closed behind him before announcing his presence.
“How do you feel?”
Lockdown lifted his helm weakly. He didn’t utter a word. What could he say? Tarn had won. Both mechs already knew.
“Not so confident anymore, are we?”
Tarn closed the gap between them, bending down next to Lockdown. He cupped Lockdown’s chin, forcing him to look up at him. “You’re broken.” He stroked the spurs on his chin lightly. “I can see the fear in your optics. But, there’s something else there too.”
“Frag y-you...” Lockdown said. He offlined his optics. He didn’t want Tarn reading him like an open book.
“You have a final request.” It wasn’t a question, because Tarn knew that Lockdown did. He had been watching him for months on end, studying him. His reactions to lack of fuel and the inability to move. Every tiny detail.
“If... if I did?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Silence. Every way Lockdown could say it would sound pathetic. And, if it wasn’t granted, that would be his last words. He didn’t want to go down as one of those pitiful basket cases that pleaded for one last pleasure from the DJD’s leader of all mechs.
Tarn released Lockdown’s chin. He then dug into his subspace pocket and got a handful of energon rations. Not enough to satisfy the fuel tank, but enough to give Lockdown a little bit of strength back.
“Open your mouth.”
The comment, the command, was foreign to Lockdown. No one had ever spoken to him like that and expected to get away with it. He turned his helm away, denying the order.
“Even in your state, you resist. Perhaps you are not completely lost yet. Excellent. Your resistance will make this more enjoyable for me.”
Tarn forced open Lockdown’s mouth, and shoved the energon inside. He slapped his other hand over the mech’s lips, making sure that he would swallow.
Lockdown felt the energon inside his mouth, resting against his glossa. He felt Tarn’s hand pressed against him, so he could not spit the substance back in his face. It could only go one way.
“Swallow.”
Another command. It was in that moment that Lockdown decided he would fight. It was a losing battle, but fighting would get him what he wanted. His last want.
The energon trickled down Lockdown’s throat, feeding his hungry systems. More and more until all of it was gone from his orifice.
“Good mech.” Tarn said. Knowing that Lockdown had ingested the nourishment, he started to take his palm away.
Before it was out of range, Lockdown bit down on Tarn’s metal skin as hard as could, drawing energon.
Tarn yelped, stumbling away.
“Why you...”
“Sinner.” Lockdown taunted. He licked Tarn’s energon off his lips.
Tarn straightened back up. “Are you trying to play a game with me?” He came back over to the bound mech. “Hm. I knew I could have some fun with you before your unfortunate, but necessary termination.”
“You can’t.”
“Who says?” Tarn ran his fingers along Lockdown’s scarred chest plating. “You? Your body, your mind, your spark all belong to me now.”
“I belong to nobody.”
“Still believe that, huh?”
Tarn started playing his music. Faint at first, but it gradually started to build up filling the room. Invading Lockdown’s audio receptors, his processor.
“No!”
Lockdown tried to shake the noise. Block it. But, to no avail. He was slipping again. Reality started to melt away. Tarn was all that existed, and he was master of this realm. Lockdown was merely a trapped ghost.
Tarn watched Lockdown succumb to him completely. If he had attempted this when they first brought Lockdown in, he would have found a way out, but now? Now he was engulfed by Tarn. All his to have.
“Now... who do you belong to?” Tarn asked.
“I... belong to you... to the Decepticon cause... to Megatron.” Lockdown said. Only his voice was not his own, but that of a slave drone’s.
“Such a perfect little pet.”
Tarn wouldn’t dare hurt his mates. Nor a loyal Decepticon. These mechs, on the other hand. These traitors to Megatron, to the cause, were fair game. They deserved only cruelty leading up to their deaths. Tarn and his team supplied that cruelty. Kaon would warm them up with his electric shock. It fragged with their systems, disabling weapons, communications, anything else important. Vos would introduce his booby-trapped face to them. Tesarus crushed the half of their frames they could live without and then shoved them inside Helex’s smelting chamber. All of that physical pain wasn’t enough. Now it was Tarn’s turn. He would coax their sparks to give up with the special vocalizer he was blessed with.
But, on some rare occasions, a challenge would appear. It was Tarn’s alone. Always. Mechs who would not react to the physical tortures bestowed by the other members of Megatron’s grand Justice Division. These were the rarities. That wasn’t to say that Tarn skipped the body’s torture, but his focus was on the mind. He saved the body for last when the mind had slipped. Like with Lockdown.
Tarn thrust his hips into Lockdown one last time, releasing another stream of cycled mech fluids into his battered port. Before Tarn had started, Lockdown’s port had barely been touched. He had been the giver, not the receiver. Tarn changed that. He changed everything about the faction-less wanderer, the disgrace to the Decepticon empire. Only a shell remained.
Lockdown laid limp on the floor beneath Tarn in a pool of his own energon. His body was dead, but his spark burned lightly. Clinging on. Barely enough for Tarn to finish it.
“You did not deserve your last desire to be granted, but you played this games so well.” Tarn paused, taking in what was left of the bounty hunter. He lowered his voice, preparing to tune it to Lockdown’s spark frequency. “Now it is time to join the pit, sinner.”
~~~
Notes:
+ So, not too pleased with how this one came out, but it was gnawing at my brain, refusing to let me concentrate on other fics. But, yeah. I'm not even sure where I was going for this one. >.>
+ Fuuuuck, I'm mean to Locks. But, I love him. <333
+ In my head, the DJD all share a bond, but Tes and Hel are closest to each other. Same goes for Kaon and Tarn. Vos sneaks in and chooses whoever he wants to be with, at a given time. :3
Y'know, I worry about myself sometimes. xD These fics are dark, and that's all that seems to want to come out of me lately. Maybe it's a good thing, because I'm getting the 'darkness' out of me, but daaaaamn! I need to write some fluff here pretty soon. Until then, plushie photo comics are ze fluff of this universe. :3
