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“Look at you two,” the monster coos, antennae twitching with sadistic glee.
Blurr won’t look at you, so why bother? Catch his gaze and what? Make him understand through a single expression the miasma of emotions rattling inside of you?
“I’m sorry” is the first thing you want to say, followed by “It’s not your fault” and “Please don’t blame yourself”. You’ve made plenty of regrettable decisions in your time, but sticking by his side isn’t one of them. He’s everything you could have ever asked for.
Each thrust is agonizing, forcing Blurr’s hips to buck against yours. There is no sweetness, no caresses, no shutting him up with a kiss.
He’s dead quiet, servos behind his back, dents in his plating from being wrestled into stasis cuffs. One of his optics is flickering on and off, cracked alongside the left part of his face.
Despite the clear disadvantage, he struggles in the monster’s grip, hips straining as the creature digs its claws into his mesh.
“Let go,” you want to say. “Stop hurting yourself to protect me.”
Your breath hitches as the monster looms over you, shadow easily eclipsing both of his victims. His single red optic leers down at you.
“I’m beginning to understand what you see in them, Agent Blurr,” it croons, wrapping its claws around your neck without pressing down. “I took you for a fool when the truth came to light – how unbecoming of a mech of your status. But it seems as though your organic friend brings out the best in you.”
The monster squeezes lightly.
Blurr snaps and slams his head against its abdomen.
It reels back. But its grip doesn’t falter.
Metal cracks. Energon trickles down Blurr’s hips and onto your legs. His blood is warm.
It removes its servo from your throat.
“Blurr, please,” you beg under the monster’s conniving gaze. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Everything will be okay-”
“How precious,” the monster cuts in. “Despite everything, the organic is desperate to comfort the mech responsible for their predicament. You may have failed them in each and every step, but look how they adore you.” It grabs Blurr’s helm and forces his gaze on you. He immediately offlines his optics.
“Why so shy, my dear Agent? Not so long ago, you looked upon them with spark-warming love, shameless even in the presence of your superiors.”
Its optic dims.
“How I envy the ease with which you’ve given in to one another. Although I have followed you closely, I could never join this lovely perversion. I have lived stellar cycles among your own, but I couldn’t have foreseen xenophilia afflicting a member of the Elite Guard.”
It cradles his helm in its claws. Blurr writhes against them, denta gritting as his face twists in rage and – when his optics come back online – fear.
“And you, dear human…” it lets go of Blurr’s hips and presses itself against him, caging him between its frame and your body. His spike is trapped inside of you.
“I had my sights set on you from the very beginning. How could something so insignificant enrapture someone of his standing? Yet, after observing you for so long… I’m beginning to understand.” It strokes your face with a massive claw. You cringe back, but there’s only so much you can do with Blurr’s lower half pressed against you.
He’s fighting to keep himself from crushing you, an agonizing task with the monster’s weight pushing down on him.
“Care to give me a demonstration of your love?” it asks.
Before either of you can react, it grabs Blurr by the helm and shoves him down.
You brace yourself for impact. But nothing comes.
His vents are blowing searing hot air against your skin. He struggles to maintain his balance without servos to brace himself on. Metal creaks as the monster pushes his face closer to yours. The position he’s being forced into can’t be natural, spinal struts bent to their limits as his flexibility is pushed to the brink of breaking.
Still, Blurr won’t look at you, optics focused on the tiles above your head. Your lips are nearly touching.
“Come on now,” it urges impatiently. “You weren’t so shy when I caught you off duty. Then again, I was just your superior. Not a Decepticon. To think you were crossing wires with your native aide, lying to the Head of Cybertron Intelligence. Really, Agent Blurr? To say you were considered one of their best…”
He grits his denta, spinal struts straining like a car under a trash compactor. Your thighs are wet with his energon.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper.
In the split second Blurr meets your eyes, begging for forgiveness even in his darkest moment, you cup his face in your hands and kiss him.
The monster’s cooling fans kick into gear, blaring loudly over your discomfort. It pauses, watching with uncanny interest as you try your best to please the fiend – violating your dearest friend’s trust in the process.
You pull away only to be met with Blurr’s glitching optics. His frame shakes. Once. Twice. But no more. He won’t give the monster the satisfaction of watching him cry.
The Decepticon shifts its weight, releasing Blurr’s helm. He sits up, wincing as his internal components shift back into place.
And yet, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Of course the monster isn’t done with either of you. It would be too easy. Too forgiving.
Its servos find their place on his hips and continue at a familiar place. It wants Blurr to overload. Why else would it be smashing your genitals so aimlessly?
But what’s next? Will it kill you both? Spare one to grieve the other’s death? Turn the survivor into its new pet to reenact its sick perversions? It’s not like anyone will go looking for a decommissioned cell in this hell hole.
Your groin burns from the merciless friction, but all you can think of is Blurr.
He’s not going to overload. He can’t – not under these circumstances. If he can barely finish during interface, he won’t even come close with the monster directing his hips.
Soon enough, your insides will tear away piece by piece. But at least it won’t hurt him. He doesn’t deserve to suffer for your sake. You’re the one who dragged him into this mess. You’re the one responsible for his pain.
“I’m sorry,” you mouth, unwilling to attract the monster’s attention.
Blurr isn’t even looking at you. His optics have gone offline again. Still, you repeat yourself. Hoping some part of it will carry on. “I’m sorry I kept insisting… I just… I didn’t know this would happen. It’s not your fault. It’s all mine." You squeeze your eyes shut. But it doesn’t stop the tears. “Don’t blame yourself if anything happens to me. I love you.”
How pathetic. Here you are, comforting yourself instead of Blurr.
Self-hatred leads to numbness. Numbness leads to dissociation. There is no fighting back. Blurr tried – look at all the good it did him… A human as weak as you won’t leave a scratch on the monster’s plating.
Drifting in and out of reality, you barely register the Decepticon’s vox.
“What is it? I’m busy, can’t you- Lord Megatron’s orders?” It sounds flabbergasted. “Yes. I’ll be there shortly.”
It looks down at you. Almost hesitant. Having stopped puppeteering Blurr’s body against his will, it wastes no time getting up and heading for the exit. But it stops at the threshold, halfway out the doorway, grotesquely bending its body to fit through. Blurr is staring straight at the creature.
“We will continue once I return,” it tells the Blurr. Then, it turns to you, leering with its creepy optic. “I won’t allow either of you to break. It would be a shame to lose such unique specimens.”
The door slides shut behind it. Locked.
Trapped together waiting for the worst, neither of you speak for… what feels like years.
Blurr removes himself from your thighs, rolling over to lie next to you, face down on the floor. His frame is shaking.
You move to touch him, to reassure him through your usual affection that everything will be alright. But… you can’t. Not without his permission. And your throat is too dry to speak… or so you tell yourself – terrified and unwilling to confront what happened.
And so, you lie in silence, waiting for his crying to pass, tears streaming down your face but unable to make a sound.