Trophy Case

Summary: *AU* "I know your games." "...Would you like to play?" Some games are better left unplayed; others, should not even be mentioned. Mech/Mech slash, Spike n' Valve, Sticky, Dub-con
Rating: M

Chapter 3



C.M.D: Suggested listening -E.V.O.L by Marina and the Diamonds

The game was progressing well, or so he believed. Shivering at the little chill that went up his spinal struts, Fireflight giggled, pressing his two dolls forward into a kiss. He felt nervous sometimes, he wouldn't lie, but the game hadn't stopped yet, and Vortex always moved forward one more step. From polite conversation, insignificant gifts and the barest of touches, things had progressed to more frequent visits, bolder questions and closer contact. There was also the helicopter's midnight visits, which Fireflight was aware of as well, growing longer and more frequent in number.

Would the grey mech make the final move in the pitch black of night? Under the sensors of his entire family above? Or would the Decepticon make a more dangerous and public checkmate, claiming the Autobot in the light of a new orn? A chill of excitement ran down Fireflight's spinal struts. He silently hoped that it would be during the orn, Vortex taping at a window with one claw and grinning hungrily, before climbing in and taking his turn with the youngling.

Another series of giggles escaped the jet as he rolled over, staring at the ceiling while his intakes evened out. What if it never happened....? Fireflight paused, swallowing slowly. What if Vortex got tired of the game, went to someone else, or worse, chose one of his brothers ultimately? After all, it was just for fun but even rotating turns could get boring. Or what if the rules changed or he broke one of them and Vortex withdrew because cheaters never won anything, not even....? The youngling slowly sat up, staring worriedly at the toys scattered across his room. He was growing up....

Changing...

And with that change came something even more frightful than he could have thought imaginable.

His tender spark and the slow-budding realization of how very, very fragile it really was.

xxXxXxx

Playing a game like his took patience. It took perseverance and will-power and adaptability.

“A-aah! Ah! Pr-primus!!”

And any smart mech would always have an outlet handy -like a sleazy, wet-and-ready aerialbot.

Vortex hummed, watching through slitted optics as Air Raid squirmed in his lap, hips rolling forward, spitting out and swallowing Vortex's spike back up in one, continuous, fluid motion. The jet groaned under the Decepticon's scrutinizing gaze; fingers scratching deeper marks into the grey chestplates.

“You're leaving a mark,” the helicopter teased, enjoying the way the Autobot rocked weakly in his lap at the statement.

“I-i... I can't...,” Air Raid whimpered, snarling a little toward the end. “A-aft, just, j-just roll over a-and frag me right!”

A chuckle escaped the Decepticon as the aerialbot bucked wantonly in the larger mech's lap, despite his recent statement. “Now, now, Airy,” Vortex purred, watching with shining optics as the Autobot started panting hard, wriggling and writhing on his pressurized spike in delicious friction. It made the grey mech lick his fanged denta hungrily.

“Don't you know nothing in life comes free?,” he added, taunting Air Raid further with a short buck of his own hips. “You gotta work hard for what you want, dollface. And right about now, I think you really want to overload.”

His younger partner almost sobbed, nodding his helm rapidly in admission. Of course, Vortex already knew how close Air Raid was. After all, the lil' whore had been the one to call on him first... He wanted to test the jet though; push, tease, cajole until the red and white mech could stand it no more and toppled over the edge. Flipping him over, touching him in any way, would make it all too easy. He was a master of games, if one did forget. Arms still folded casually behind his helm, Vortex grinned wickedly up at the flyer above him, watching optics dim in need and feeling soaked walls clutch at him even harder.

“What are you waiting for then? Come on...,” the helicopter husked, almost tripping on a name he wasn't supposed to say, “C'mon, ride me.”

With a whimper and a keen, Air Raid broke out into a frenzied pace, rocking hard against the Decepticon's frame as he clawed towards an overload. Vents hitching, the red visor kept diligent watch on his partner, changing colours and styles of plating in his helm until the Autobot riding him hard was a smaller, more naive one. Ah, Primus... What a delight it would be to have Fireflight ride his spike like this. The need, the desperation... all of what Air Raid was demonstrating now would be reflected and magnified thrice-fold in the youngest flyer. It would truly be the most perfect sight ever.

Or, perhaps he would try something new entirely, something he'd yet to put any of the other aerialbots through. The thought sent a thrill through Vortex, a raspy chuckle escaping him as Air Raid screamed in completion; before the Decepticon rolled the jet over and finished himself off, entertained with make-believe images of little Fireflight.

xxXxXxx

Playing a game like theirs took strategy.

It meant understanding your opponent and playing to both their strengths and weaknesses. Fireflight knew Vortex liked keeping score, that he enjoyed the thrill of a hunt and that his preferred way to play was under the veil of subtlety. The less who knew, the better the game became. Sure, the Decepticon could squeeze in time with the flyer whenever but if anything was to move forward drastically, it was going to be up to Fireflight to make it happen.

In the park, alone at the swing sets, populated enough with a few passers-by to not seem strange, and under the warm rays of the late afternoon sun, the board was set. All that was needed now was Vortex's first counter-move.

“Hey there, Snowflake.”

And Vortex did not disappoint.

Turning his helm, Fireflight smiled brightly up at the Decepticon standing behind him; servos wrapped around the chains of the swing, mere centimetres above his own. “Hi Vortex!”

“What are you doing here so late in the orn?,” the grey mech asked, leaning in closer. His expression was neutral -casual- but the jet caught the faint motion of optics scanning their surroundings beneath the red visor. Spark pulsating erratically, Fireflight tried not to show that he knew what Vortex was doing.

“I was playing with some friends,” Fireflight answered. A lie. “But they've all had to go home now. I thought I'd play on the swings a little longer before going home too.” Another lie, but it was all part of the game.

Vortex smirked, nodding his helm slightly as he shifted position; servos cupping the leather seat, while his long fingers curled a tad onto the youngling's lap. “I see, I see,” the helicopter replied. “Would you care for a push then?”

“Yes,” the jet said, a little too breathlessly in his opinion but it didn't seem to bother the grey mech -if he even noticed at all. Wriggling on the seat into a more comfortable position, Fireflight readied himself for the first push, pondering on the other type of “push” he was looking forward to experience. Large servos cupped just under his aft, warm even through the leather, before the Autobot was flying up into the air gently; swinging down in a perfect arc, back into those servos and another push upwards.

“You're a good pusher,” Fireflight giggled, unable to resist enjoying himself, “I should ask you to come to the swings with me from now on!” Large servos caught him as he swung back down again, groping his aft a few astroseconds longer than normal.

“Is that so?,” Vortex said from behind, amusement (and something else) rich in his tone. “I don't know... I'm awfully busy. I don't think we'd have much time to spend at the park.”

An opening. Perfect!

“Well,” the youngling beamed, kicking his pedes up when he swung to get a little higher, “Perhaps we can find something else to do together.”

His valve clenched excitedly beneath his plating and as he swung back down, Fireflight anticipated what Vortex might say or hopefully do at his seemingly innocent offer. Instead, the jet merely swung back into open air before arcing forward again. Alarmed, Fireflight jumped clear off the swing, landing neatly on his pedes. Vortex, he saw, turning around in confusion, was nowhere to be seen. If it wasn't for the slight impression his pedes had left on the ground behind the swing, it would have appeared as if he hadn't been there at all.

Worry turned to anger quickly as Fireflight hurried to check the nearby trees. The park was void of people and Vortex- a wasted opportunity. Where the helicopter had gone, or why, was a mystery but it didn't subtract from the fact that this wasn't how you played the game. On the verge of frustrated tears, Fireflight was surprised when he caught a glimpse of Skydive hurrying past the park in the direction of their home.

His brother didn't even notice the lone youngling all by himself. Optics narrowing in suspicion, the jet hurried after the older Autobot, taking care to remain unseen.

xxXxXxx

“Sure you want to do this?,” Vortex asked, grinning viciously. Skydive couldn't see him from where he was strapped face-first down onto his desk, but the youngling trembled hard, already breathless and wet to go. It was almost sort of cute, seeing that the bookworm apparently had a “schoolgirl” fetish.

“P-please....,” the jet whispered in short vents, “P-please, just... j-just...”

“Shh, shh, shh,” the Decepticon soothed, that unholy smirk still not having yet to leave his face. “It's okay, Skydive. I know. You waited until you were ready to call me and here I am. There's no need to say anything else.”

Indeed, what more could be said? Skydive had just made the biggest mistake of his life, texting the Decepticon and asking him that he frag the flyer- and he didn't even know it! It was such a wonderful chance that Vortex couldn't resist jumping on it, despite having to cut the fun short between himself and Fireflight. No matter though, the helicopter thought, grabbing the back of Skydive's helm and lining up for the strike. He'd have plenty of opportunities later to play with his favourite aerialbot... once he'd had his own fun with the kinky nerd.

Driving into the waiting valve, Vortex broke into a vicious pace, pounding the screaming jet's passage merrily; both unaware of the optics watching them angrily from outside the room.

xxXxXxx

He didn't want to go to school. Dragging his pedes, Fireflight watched quietly as his brothers pulled ahead of him, getting farther and farther away until they'd almost left the youngling behind entirely. Even Skydive was keeping his regular pace, despite the slight limp he had. Glowering, the smallest jet slowed his pace further, until he was practically standing still. His brothers never noticed and he was glad for it.

“Hey, um, you....”

Surprised, the youngling turned his helm, looking up at the green mech as he approached. Visor dim, fingers scratching uncertainly at the white mouthguard, the Decepticon cleared his vocalizer and tried again. “So, um, hey! You.... Eh, listen, not to sound creepy or anything, but,” the stranger started again, “Well, I notice you go to the school here and....”

“I know your games,” Fireflight interrupted softly.

The green mech immediately straightened up. “....w-what?,” he almost squeaked.

The youngling canted his helm a little to the side, studying the stranger. “I know what you're trying to do,” he explained, optics bright and curious. “You like me. Don't you?”

At the candid demand, the Decepticon flustered, fidgeting in place uncertainly and glancing around them in nervousness. “You know what, maybe I shouldn't,” he muttered, mostly to himself, “I mean, you're young and like, I... it wouldn't go over well and...”

“Would you like to play with me?,” Fireflight asked. Immediate silence followed. “I wouldn't mind,” the jet added, smiling and rolling his shoulders up to his chin cutely. “I like you. You seem nice.”

“O-oh, um... OH....,” was all the stranger could get out. He jittered in place, still checking out their surroundings. “A-are you sure? Um, I mean....”

“Well, not right away,” the youngling smiled, shuttering his optics shyly at the larger mech. “But, I'll be all grown up in no time and I really would like to get to know you, so, maybe you'd take it slow with me? My name's Fireflight by the way!” He held out his servo for the other to take and, after almost a klik, the Decepticon did so; shyly giving it a little shake.

“H-hi, uh, Fireflight. Name's Scavenger. Um... Yeah. Y-yeah, I can do slow.” His optics flared comically as little fingers squeezed tighter around his larger ones, cheekplates actually tinging with a blush.

“Walk me the rest of the way to school then?,” the Autobot asked, smiling gently up at the mech. Dumbfounded, Scavenger nodded, falling into pace with Fireflight as he took the lead. This was different, for sure, and not the way that Vortex would approach the game but he was a player nonetheless and that left the youngling to wonder.

On rules, players and possibilities....

xxXxXxx

The street was empty as Air Raid rounded the corner; dark and empty and full of blissfully unaware 'bots. Just the way it was supposed to be. Pausing under a street lamp, the jet pulled out a mirror, looking himself over from helm to pede and back to front. There wasn't a smudge anywhere in sight. Grinning, Air Raid slipped the travel mirror back into the bag he was shouldering, double-checked that all his "homework" was within and then sauntered down the block to his house.

Quietly of course. He might have had a cover story set in place but that didn't mean he wanted to wake his family and discuss what he was doing out of the house so late at night.

Watching the windows of every house and grinning widely that, once again, he'd pulled off sneaking away in the dead of night for some fun, Air Raid almost didn't notice something strange about the front of his house.

Almost.

Slowing to a stop, the Autobot stared in growing horror at the messy 'Air Raid is a desperate con-fragger' painted in large, purple letters across the first floor wall. Spark pulsating quickly, the youngling spun around but the block was still empty and the windows still dark, giving no hint as to who wrote the crude message on his house.

xxXxXxx

"Did you notice that the house seemed freshly painted?," Skydive asked, walking alongside Silverbolt.

"You mean this morning?," replied the eldest flyer. The grey youngling nodded. "No, I hadn't. Perhaps the dew made it look fresh?"

Skydive mulled that over. "Yes, I suppose. Anyway," he went on as they drew up to the school, "I have to go get some things from my locker before I speak to the teacher. I'll see you after school."

"That's fine," Silverbolt smiled at his brother. "Take care Skydive!"

Waving goodbye to the other jet, Skydive headed down the east corridor, heading straight for his locker. It was still early in the orn and none of the other students had come in yet for classes, so the youngling was very much alone as he came to a stop before his designated space. Humming quietly to himself, Skydive twirled the dial lock, hearing it click successfully and swing open to meet him.

Unexpectedly, the rest of the youngling's books came falling out at the same time, crashing into his flailing arms. Before the Autobot even had a chance to wonder why his things were in a state of disarray, his optics caught something plastered on every surface inside his locker. Spark pulsating fast, fuel tanks roiling in fear, a most disturbing collage of images met his gaze. In cut-out letters between the pictures of him tied down to a desk, valve spread wide with a spike, was the statement 'I know what you are whore'.

Shrill ringing broke out overhead; the school bell signaling the start of the day. Fighting back sickness, Skydive threw his books back into the locker and slamming it shut again, before making a run towards the closest washroom.

xxXxXxx

Usually after lunch, if he was having self-esteem problems, Silverbolt would ask permission to step outside the class and get himself a cup of tea from the cafeteria. It was practically a tradition and all the teachers were sensitive to his personal anxieties so they didn't mind. Feeling such a moment during second-last period, the jet politely requested to leave and accepted the hall pass the teacher gave him as he left. A few kliks later found him in the cafeteria, picking up a cup of tea and heading across the room for some napkins.

The dispensers, for once, were empty so Silverbolt had no choice but to reach just under the counter and grab some napkins from the box sitting there. His servo though didn't touch paper- instead, fingers curled around something small and round. Curious, the aerialbot lifted it up to see what it was.... and promptly dropped it into his cup of tea in horror.

The gag ball floated there casually, proudly displaying its 'Why don't you drink this down you spike-sucking freak' message for the fear-stricken Autobot to see.

xxXxXxx

Dinner was a quiet affair at the aerialbot household, but not usually as stifling as it was now. Jetfire glanced at each of his creations uncertainly, before glancing up at Powerglide, finding that even his sometimes more oblivious mate noticed something was up. Clearing his vocalizer gently, the white mech smiled, opening the floor for conversation. “So, how was school today?”

That would normally produce results; instead, it seemed to tighten the noose around everyone's throats. Everyone that was, except Fireflight.

“The teacher told us we'd be going on a field trip soon!,” the smallest jet beamed, bouncing in his chair. “We're going to go into the city and look at several historical landmarks.”

“Hey, that sounds like fun!,” Powerglide replied, patting the youngling on the helm. “Say, any field trips coming up for you other four?”

There was a disorderly response of shrugs, incomphrensible mumbling and the shaking of helms. Jetfire frowned, feeling his worry deepen. Before he could comment on it though, the doorbell rang. “I'll get it!,” Fireflight offered happily, jumping to his pedes and skipping away from the table. Silence hung heavily over everyone until the phantom jet returned, holding a small package.

“It was the postman,” he informed, taking his seat at the table, holding the parcel out. “It's for you Slingshot!”

“I ain't expecting no mail....,” Slingshot muttered to himself quietly. Still, he took the package, looking it over quickly, before putting it in his lap to open. While he was preoccupied, Jetfire decided to take the opportunity to get to the root of this strange and ominous quiet that had taken over his dinner table.

“Now, kids, I understand that sometimes there's not things you like to talk about with me or your sire but-”

Slingshot screamed, kicking the table away as he grabbed Air Raid, tossing his older brother to the floor. A small datapad clattered to the floor in the wake, getting crushed under one pede. “YOU SICK FRAGGER!,” he bellowed, falling on the alarmed youngling. “YOU LET THAT FRAGGING FREAK TOUCH YOU?! YOU LIKE RIDING VORTEX'S SPIKE THAT MUCH?!?”

“WHAT?!,” Skydive screeched, squirming free from his own seat. “You've been sleeping with him too?”

“Too?!” Silverbolt was huffing and puffing, optics glistened with tears. “What do you mean 'too'?! What is wrong with you?”

“Woah! WOAH!!” Powerglide threw himself between Slingshot and Air Raid, getting punched a few times before Jetfire intervened; grabbing both younglings and physically pulling them apart.

“Alright! ALRIGHT!,” he yelled over the five shouting vocalizers. Turning, the large jet looked down at his youngest creation, who was watching the chaos unfold in quiet astonishment. “Fireflight,” Jetfire called, softer, “Fireflight, sweetspark, please go play outside for a while. I think there's something your brothers and I need to discuss.”

Nodding, the smallest jet hurried out of the kitchen and through the front door outside, leaving Powerglide and Jetfire to somehow calm and sort out this unexpected mess.

xxXxXxx

He'd left the house, as he'd been told, but he did not stay outdoors. The moment the front door had shut behind him, the youngling circled around the house slowly, slipping in through his berthroom window just as he'd seen Vortex do many a time. All the screaming and crying and accusing on the other side of the door muffled any sound that he could have made, if he had made any to begin with.

Sitting comfortably under the window, Fireflight just listened -voices rising, more crying, screaming and the sounds of disgust and shame colouring every word. Slingshot bellowed and raged, fighting with Powerglide for who was the angriest. Air Raid tried excuses before those wore out fast and he screamed just as loudly, quickly turned into a corner by his whole family. Jetfire tried soft words at times but they were lost or wasted and everything he said instead spoke levels of disappointment, betrayal and disgust. Skydive was lost in the midst of all those vocalizers and Silverbolt was almost unnoticeable, sobbing and pleading for understanding while carrying the brunt of everyone's disbelief for the things he did.

It was harmony. Messy, chaotic, hateful and cruel harmony.

It took so much effort not to simply laugh. Smiling widely, Fireflight sat and listened, even as the fighting went on, winding down to tearing, breaking and crying. It had to eventually happen; one way or another, they would have found out about Vortex's game. Silly 'copter though.... If he'd just played by their rules, than he wouldn't have had to lose all of his prior trophies.

Oh well, the youngling grinned, optics lit madly in the growing shadows of the room. They had to suffer. Just as Vortex would.

After all, he'd broken the rules first.

Even if that was a lie.

xxXxXxx

Something had gone wrong. Vortex watched from afar, growling low under his intakes. He had to duck a little farther into the tree branches as a suspicious helm stuck out of one of the windows, scanning the block quickly before disappearing back inside. Someone had definitely let the cat out of the bag, the Decepticon scowled darkly, fingers subconsciously outlining the large dent in his mask. Now all his little trophies were tarnished, broken and useless!

He couldn't get near a single one, not that he'd want to at this point. They knew what was up; hated him, loathed him, wanted him dead. Even that sleaze Air Raid wanted to tear his spike off and rip his optics out. A touching sentiment, but it just cemented the fact that someone had spoiled his game and lost him all of his former scores. When Vortex found out who blabbed first, he was going to torture them for orns and then for a few orns more, until they stopped begging for death. The wise thing to do at this point, the helicopter knew, was to leave and go find himself some other goodies to score.

Yet he was still lurking, waiting and hungry for the lovely lil' Platinum that he hadn't even the chance to suckle on.

There was the worry that Fireflight may be tarnished too, but his observations of the family had led him to believe that they had wisely kept the youngest flyer out of that conversation. Everyone seemed to be skirting around the phantom jet as well; keeping their distance and their secrets. That bode well for the Decepticon, who, now more than ever, hungered for what sweetness the youngling had to offer. Skulking to the forsaken house, Vortex confirmed that Fireflight was currently not there, then hurried to find the jet. He decided to hit up the park first and gleefully, he caught white plating shining in the beautiful sun.

Straightening up, the helicopter stepped out from hiding, sauntering casually through the park, heading ever closer to his target. He noticed, somewhat belatedly, that the youngling was playing soccer with some classmates. Pausing, Vortex pondered on how to approach this precarious situation, but stopped, realizing that Fireflight was running for him. Stiff with anticipation, it took all of the Decepticon's willpower not to simply reach forward and scoop his precious prize up. He would admit, only to himself, since discovering that he'd lost all his other toys, his lust was feeling boundless at the moment and he was eager for release.

“Hey Sno-”

“Hey Vortex!,” Fireflight shouted, running right past the helicopter.

Rotor blades twitched and quietly, Vortex turned on the spot, watching blankly as the youngling ran; giggling and yelling in cheerful greeting as he jumped at a larger, green mech, being caught straight from the air and spun in close to the stranger's frame. Fireflight exchanged words with the other Decepticon, faces too close to each other, his little servos on cheekplates, then shoulders and chestplates. Baby blue optics shuttered in laughter, the green mech's mouthguard just barely nuzzling neck cables as larger servos nestled comfortably just above the flyer's hips.

Vortex tried not to snarl out loud when he saw faces turn back to each other, the faintest glimpse of a kiss catching his attention.

When?

How?

This creep, this... this loser! Swept in and stole his gem, the one he'd been gleaning and shaping, waiting until he was just perfect!! And now Vortex didn't even have the satisfaction of admiring his incomplete set of aerialbots as they'd all turned to ashes in his servos! This made no sense; this was an outrage!

Rotors flaring wide in rage, the Decepticon studied the other mech, noting every single feature for future reference when he killed the slimy glitch. He wasn't going to let some nobody come in and steal his prey -that's not how the game went. You stuck to a game, you played diligently and at the end, after trial and tribulation you were.....

Rewarded. The word Vortex wanted to use was rewarded, but his thoughts had stalled to a pause. For across the field, walking away, were his prize and the idiot who thought he could take him away. But that's not what the Decepticon saw in Fireflight's optics as the youngling glanced back over a wing.

A smirk slowly blossomed on the jet's face, whispering 'You lose' to the grey mech, before naivety returned to that gaze, hiding dark intelligence; Fireflight focusing the entirety of his attention and sweetness on the mech whose arm was wrapped around his back.

Rewarded. Rewarded was what you got when you played the game right... and Vortex hadn't been playing the right game all this time. Smoothing his flared rotors, the helicopter watched as the two disappeared from his view entirely, vowing that he would have Fireflight for his own and unaware that jealousy had taken hold.

xxXxXxx

“It only takes a drop of evil to fuck up beautiful people....”

xxXxXxx

 

C.M.D: Welcome to the end~ Was it anything like you expected? I certainly hope I was able to give you an enjoyable read, and watch a sweet 'bot become tainted.... but in a much different way than the norm. Surely this Fireflight won't be the pawn in any more games- he'll be causing a whole lot of trouble and I wonder if Vortex will ever clue in? Perhaps one day I'll write that... but I think it's better to leave things off here. Thanks for stopping by and have a good day!