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Starscream never thought he’d find himself romantically involved with an organic. But… the feeling in his spark grows stronger with every day, and he just can’t help but think about you more and more and more… and it terrifies him.

When Starscream asks if you want a relationship, it’s likely a quiet, lonely night. He usually keeps you in his habsuite, where not another soul can set their unworthy optics on you. He’ll be nervous when he asks- but when you accept, he’ll lose that nervousness in a heartbeat.

“Of course you would accept- an offer from me is something you’d be a fool to pass up! You’ve made a smart choice, my little pet, and you won’t regret it.”

His cocky and confident attitude is only countered by the nervousness in those red optics. He just hopes he can hold true to his word- he hopes you won’t regret it.

It takes him a long time to be comfortable with touch. He feels so bad for it after your relationship becomes official- at first, he’d been able to play it off as a superiority complex over organics, but he genuinely feels uncomfortable when organics touch him. Your body is a mystery to him, foreign and terrifying, and he… doesnt like it. Not at first. He feels so much internal guilt about it, but he truly loves your soul, and tries to ease his own mind by telling himself that’s what matters… but those disgusted thoughts haunt him. Your sweat, your tears, the thought of kissing you and your saliva lingering on his intake, it makes his fuel tanks churn- and the guilt for those thoughts makes it worse.

Slowly, he becomes more open to the idea.. but this is a very, very slow process.

Sometimes he’ll pick you up and let you rest in the palm of his hand, or maybe even on his shoulder. He likes when your little hand rests over one of his servos. But he never kisses you, never hugs you… it starts to wear at your own confidence in the relationship.

He likes to be fully in charge- he’ll decide what you wear (with your input, but he gets the final say), he wants to watch you eat, he likes to accompany you anywhere you go. If you can tolerate his watchfulness and how he can be a bit controlling, then you’ll come to see him as more of a watchful guard dog. Who’s incredibly bossy. And whiny. But loveable nonetheless.

One night, another one of his plans to overthrow Megatron has failed. He’s sustained quite the beating this time- sparks are flying and live wires are hanging loose. He groans as he sits on the berth, and you rush up to him. He bares his denta and smacks at you with his hand- “Go away. I don’t need your help.”

In truth, he doesn’t want you to get hurt. But he can’t bring himself to admit that.

You sit on the opposite end of the berth as he patches himself up, arms crossed angrily. He’s almost eerily silent.

You’re fuming. After all of it, everything, after months in this relationship, he wants to control everything, wants to have you act exactly how he decides you should, and still he won’t kiss you, won’t cuddle with you, won’t show you any sign that he even loves you at all? You just can’t handle it any more.

You turn around and yell out your frustrations, stomping around on the berth. Every insecurity, every irk, every single thing comes out all at once in this moment.

And when you finally calm down enough to look at him, eyes full of anger, you’re shocked to see that he’s crying.

Fluid spills from his optics and his shoulders shake, and he curls on the berth in the fetal position, rocking softly. His own guilt has spilled over. In truth, he’s never been disgusted by you- just afraid of everything that makes you different from him. Afraid of hurting you with how different he is to you. It had taken him too long to admit it to himself. And he’d… he’d hurt you in his own stubbornness.

There’s no way you can know this though- he’s too proud to admit it. Instead, he cries. Weak. Vulnerable. Pathetic. Everyone was right about him- he’s not worthy. Not worthy of you.

He flinches when he feels something warm on his faceplate… and opens his optics to find you standing before him, holding his cheeks, kneeling to be eye level with him. And you lean in… and you kiss him.

Your intake is so tiny on his dermas. He doesn’t kiss back- just stares with wide optics. He watches you pull away, your expression unreadable. Disappointment radiated from your EM field… but there’s love there too. True, unashamed love.

And in that moment, he decides that his pride is not worth giving up this life with you.

For the first time, he mass displaces in front of you- tear stained and injured. Truly and utterly vulnerable. And he pushes himself to his pedes, and struts up to you, and pulls you close. Your hands hold him carefully- not gripping and disgusting, like he had thought they would be, just tender and assuring.

He leans in and kisses you. Your little organic intake doesn’t disgust him- it makes his spark flip and flutter. Your soft body pressing against him, your little breaths and sounds as he leans into you and kisses you deeply enough to make up for these months of no attention… he never once thought he would love an organic… but here he is.

You two have a long talk that night. About every feeling you’ve had until this point, and about his own internalized disgust and fear. It hurts, for both of you, but he’s finally ready to put his pride aside and work through it. Give it another shot.

Things are different then- he reluctantly lets you wander on your own (though you know he’s still watching, just from a respectful distance.) and he mass displaces in front of you now, something he never used to do. He holds you while you two sleep, he kisses you often, takes you to stargaze, everything he should have done before.

He’s also willing to be intimate with you now- you have to take it slow at first, and let him be in control, but you learn his quirks over time. He likes it when you kiss him breathless- likes when you eat his valve, or ride his spike. He likes having you in control after he grows familiar with your body, becoming comfortable with every part of you.

You two slowly become inseparable, and when the night comes where he ruts up in to you, your thighs straddling his hips, and he bares his spark to you as he spills inside you, you don’t even hesitate to accept. You feel the very essence of your being meld with him- you see millions of years of war, fear, pain, yearning, hardship, every lost piece of control and every step taken to gain everything that he is today, every memory and piece of who he is, all becoming one within you and melding with everything that you’re made of.

Ratchet did not want you going on the patrol at all. It worried him- there was too much of a chance you could get hurt, or worse. But the way you looked at him with those pleading eyes, cupped in his palms like something small and precious… it tugged at even his old spark. He reluctantly agreed, on one condition- Arcee and Bee didn’t let you out of their sight for even a klik.

When the comm came for an emergency ground warp, he figured they’d gotten in a sticky situation- but seeing them jump through the portal with your limp little body cradled in Bee’s arms, his entire frame went numb.

He fell in to autopilot- snatching you from Bee’s arms and laying you out on the medical berth, he looks you over with cold, practiced precision. His fear pounding loud in his processors drowned out everything around him- all that mattered was you.

Your little eyes were wide, and your chest heaved, a rasping sound escaping your mouth with every breath- something was blocking your airway, maybe? Quickly, he moved to peer into your mouth- nothing seemed too out of the ordinary.

Panic begins to cloud his judgement- there’s nothing visibly wrong with you. What should he do? His knowledge on human medicine is limited to start with, and now something invisible is restricting your airways?

Never before had Ratchet been so relieved to have June rush in, pushing his servos aside and barking some command about standing back. She scans you over, and his panic truly begins to overwhelm him. Your skin is the wrong color, and your hands grasp at your throat, your breaths wheezing and minuscule. He’s terrified- and admitting it only scares him more.

(Anaphylaxis) June reaches for something- a small white item tucked into her pocket, with blue and orange ends. She flicks off the cap of orange end, and jams it into your thigh- Ratchet for once finds himself frozen in place, unable to work, just watching.

(Asthma) June reaches for something- a small white item, with a red hinging cap. She flicks open the cap, holds your nose, and places the thing up to your lips, telling you to breathe with a steady, soothing voice. Ratchet, for one, finds himself frozen in place- unable to work, just watching.

Your little gasps turn in to rasping wheezes- at least you’re finally breathing. June leans back, her shoulders shuddering just a little with residual adrenaline, and Ratchet immediately gathers you into his servos, lifting you up to his face so he can inspect you.

You’re trembling in his hold, but breathing finally, eyes half open and exhausted.

“I thought I told you two to keep an optic on them!” Ratchet turns on Arcee and Bee, fury burning in his optics.

Bee lets out a series of defensive beeps, and Arcee cuts him off, stepping forward. “Woah now, we did! It just happened! They said they needed a breather and then they just-“

“This doesn’t ‘just happen!’” Ratchet’s denta grit with anger, and he’s about to continue when your meek voice interrupts him from your place in his servos.

“Ratchet,” you mutter, and immediately his optics are on you, looking you up and down for injury. “I’m fine,” you mutter. “I have a condition. It does just happen. I’m not sure what caused it this time, but it just… happens sometimes. Sometimes the trigger is obvious, sometimes it’s not. June knows about it and keeps medicine on hand.”

The effort of explaining it to him takes a toll on you- you’re out of breath just from talking, and his spark twists at the sight.

Ratchet is silent for a long moment, before his optic ridge furrows in confusion and hurt. “And you didn’t think to tell me about this?” He asks.

Your heart twists with guilt- shakily, you push yourself to your feet in his hold, meeting his gaze. “I’m sorry, Ratchet. I should have. But this doesn’t happen often- June only knows because she works at my primary care office. I usually keep my medicine on me, but this time it just… it just slipped my mind.”

Ratchet’s optics close, and the mixture of emotions is evident in his face. But when he opens those blue optics again, the expression you see the most there is… fear.

“I could have lost you,” his voice shakes. “I didn’t know what to do. I just froze up. I never freeze up.” Ratchet pulls you in close to his chassis, and you hear his spark hammering beneath his plating as you hug him.

“I’ll teach you about it,” you mutter, looking up to him. “And I’ll show you how to treat it. Okay?”

Ratchet nods, optic ridge furrowed as he looks down at you. His expression is uncharacteristically soft. “Okay. Just… just don’t scare me like that again.” It’s a moment of softness you rarely see outside of the privacy of his habsuite- it brings a smile to your face.

“Breakdown, dear?”

“Yeah?”

“How would you feel about… adding a little something extra to our romantic endeavors?”

Breakdown’s optics widen a bit, caught off guard by the sudden question. He looks down to where Knockout, his Conjux, rests his helm against his chassis, servos trailing little patterns over his plating. Knockout looks up to meet his gaze.

Meeting those dark optics, Breakdown feels a smirk tug at the corner of his dermas. Knockout was always the orchestrator of some wonderful plans, especially in the berth. He’d learned long ago that he could trust Knockout to come up with some truly exciting ideas.

“And what were you thinking of ‘adding to our romantic endeavors’, my stunning conjux?” He coos, his hand on Knockout’s waist pulling him closer as he thumbs over his hip plates. He can’t help but be truly infatuated with this stunning mech every time his optics land on him. He’s utterly gorgeous. But Knockout knows that- takes pride in it.

Like now- he scoffs, though there’s no real heat to it. There’s a soft look in his optics- but something sits just a little deeper, another emotion Breakdown can’t quite place.

“Mmh, enough with the flattery. You’ve already fragged me hard enough tonight to keep me thinking about it for the next vorn,” he mutters as he shifts over Breakdown, leaning forwards to nuzzle into the sensitive wiring of his neck.

Breakdown gives a pleased hum as their chassises press together, Knockout straddling him, and moves both his hands to his conjux’s hips. He tilts his helm to make space for Knockout, feeling a brand new stir of arousal rising inside him.

Knockout continues between soft kisses to Breakdown’s neck.

“I was thinking,”

A kiss.

“That perhaps…”

another.

“We could try out adding a third to some of our fun.”

Another kiss.

But this time it doesn’t leave a soft tingle in its wake.

Knockout must notice the way Breakdown freezes up- and in response, he pulls back just enough to meet his conjux’s yellow optics.

Breakdown has never doubted Knockout’s undying loyalty- and that doesn’t change now. He knows the numb shock in his spark doesn’t come from fear that Knockout yearns for a bot other than him.

It comes from a sudden pang of anxiety.

Is he… has he been lacking lately?

He knows he’s been so painfully busy. Maybe he hasn’t been paying enough attention to his dearest conjux? Maybe Knockout wants someone to fill the gap that Breakdown’s work leaves. Part of him twists with pure fear that he’s just… not enough.

The other part of him doesn’t even begin to humor that thought- calls it silly. Knockout is his conjux- he could still remember their sparks melding like they were always meant to be one. He remembered it like it was yesterday. The tangible feeling of Knockout’s pure love and devotion, the flash of every memory they had shared up until that point, the way Knockout had looked at him after like he was the only thing left in the galaxy worth fighting for.

Breakdown is pulled out of his thoughts by Knockout’s voice, lacking its typical sultry tone. He seems concerned as he speaks. “You’re making your thinking face again, dearest. Tell me what’s on your processor.”

Breakdown struggles to take in a long vent- the anxiety twisting in his spark definitely isn’t helping. His thumbs rub over Knockout’s hips plating again as his conjux peers down at him.

“It’s… not because I’ve been so busy lately, is it?” He finally manages.

Knockout pauses- then laughs.

“Breakdown, dearest, no!” He leans down, pressing a little kiss to Breakdown’s cheek. A smile just barely tugs at the corner of his intake as his anxiety begins to dissipate.

“Sweetspark, you’re everything I could ever ask for and more. You being the busy bot you are doesn’t change that- I actually quite like a hard-working mech,” a dangerous smirk grants his features, and Breakdown feels his faceplate begin to heat and his fans kick on as his conjux leans up, shifting to straddle his hips. He feels the drag of Knockout’s hips on his, and he bites back a groan.

“I was just suggesting the idea for fun.” He assures, the sultry lilt to his tone coming back as he grinds his interface panel against Breakdown’s, peering over his conjux’s broad chassis to watch the way his optics narrow and his venting becomes short and huffy- like it always does when things start to get heated between them. He loves it.

“I’ve been thinking about how truly thrilling it would be to have someone watch us together,” he continues, clawed servos scraping against Breakdown’s plating. He arches and groans softly at the soft bite of pain. The image Knockout begins to paint for him pops into his mind… and it’s not entirely unpleasant.

“Share in their pleasure and give them the gift of witnessing ours,” he mutters breathily as Breakdown’s interface panel slides open for the second time that night. His spike is already half pressurized, and Knockout takes it into his hand, savoring Breakdown’s little gasp. “A little extra fun. How does that sound?” He begins to move his hand slowly, and Breakdown jolts, letting out a low groan.

“A-and who did you have in mind?” He breathes, canting his hips up. he can feel Knockout’s deliciously wet valve against his thigh, and he aches to be buried deep inside him yet again, hearing his cries as he takes him.

“You know those wreckers? The split sparks?” Knockout begins to propose. “The bigger of the two- Trailblazer. Always in my medbay after getting into fights. A real pain in my aft, but cute nonetheless.”

Breakdown lets out a huff of amusement as the bot Knockout describes pops into his mind. “Shorter? Black and gold plating?”

“That one, yes.” Knockout hums as he shifts over Breakdown’s spike, letting the tapered tip part his folds and push into him as he begins to sink down on it. Breakdown lets out a soft cry, biting his bottom derma as he finally finds himself buried in that delectable warmth again.

Knockout shudders as he sinks down on his conjux’s startlingly thick spike, bracing his hands against his chassis. Breakdown’s servos sneak forward to find his node, and Knockout lets out a pleased gasp as he bottoms out with Breakdown’s thumb nudging at and rubbing over his node.

“He’s too unserious,” Breakdown manages through a sigh, slowly rocking his hips. Knockout wouldn’t need much time to adjust- he’s already taken his conjux once tonight, he’s reminded of it as he feels a bit of his own spend leaking from Knockout’s valve and pooling at the base of his spike.

Knockout gives a breathless laugh. “And? Maybe he could rub off on you.”

Breakdown quirks at optic ridge, meeting Knockout’s gaze. He immediately lets out a snort.

“Not like that. Or, maybe like that. Who knows?”

Breakdown rolls his optics.

His hands find Knockout’s waist and his conjux gasps as he rolls the two of them over, both letting out hushed moans as he begins to rock in to Knockout’s tight, wet heat.

“Have you- hah- already talked with him about it?” He says, voice hardly more than a whisper as he takes his Conjux.

“Not yet, mmh-!” Knockout whines. “I wanted to- hah! Ask you first, dearest-!” He cuts himself out with a keen as Breakdown’s spike finds his interior node, his frame shivering in his Conjux’s hold. Breakdown groans, hips stuttering forward as Knockout’s valve flutters around him.

“I’d be fine with it,” he grumbles into Knockout’s audial receptor. “But see what he thinks first.” He spares a glance down at the same time that Knockout does- watching together as his spike plunges in and out of Knockout’s valve, a ring of Knockout’s transfluids gathering around the base, sharing in the slick sounds of their pleasure.

“Of course, dear- oh frag-!” Knockout tenses and gasps, his cry ringing through their habsuite as his overload takes him, making his processor hazy and his frame shudder as his servos dig in to Breakdown’s back.

Breakdown lets out a choked groan, his thrusts growing weak as he spills in to Knockout in turn. Knockout’s valve flutters around him, greedily milking every drop of his overload with Knockout’s eager cries spurring him on. He’s always has particularly plentiful overloads- even now, having already spilled inside of Knockout once tonight, his transfluid spurts out of Knockout’s valve around his spike, and Knockout keens at the feeling of being stuffed so full with his lover’s overload.

Breakdown collapses into Knockout, limp with exhaustion. The two share in the bliss of their post overload haze, the sounds of their slowing fans and breathy moans echoing through the otherwise silence habsuite.

“Get off me, you big, beautiful bastard,” Knockout mumbles after a moment, but there’s no bite in his tone.

Breakdown groans in protest, wrapping him arms tighter around his conjux.

“Not yet.”

“My legs are cramping.” He huffs, pushing at Breakdown’s chassis until the larger mech finally pulls away- Knockout shudders as a fresh spurt of transfluid leaks from his valve, but he’s too exhausted to care right now.

The two shift into one another’s arms, slowly falling in to recharge with the soothing rhythm of one another’s vents the only sound that softy breaks the silence of the habsuite.

…

“And then we went like, WHAM! BANG!” The black and gold mech slams one curled fist in to his other open palm, demonstrating the ‘awesome takedown’ for the medic.

Knockout nods along. “Uh huh, yeah. Now stay still.”

“Oh, sorry doc.” Trailblazer says, shifting so his hands rest at his sides, holding the edge of the medical berth. Trailblazer’s split spark, Dayseeker, paces nearby- blue and gold, with a taller and thinner stature than his brother, and a longer face. He’s looking thoughtful- and, notably, staying far more quiet than his noisier counterpart.

Trailblazer’s legs kick back and forth as they hang off the edge of the berth, pedes barely brushing the ground. He barely reaches Knockout’s shoulder height when he’s standing. Of the two split sparks, Trailblazer is clearly the brawn of the operation- he’s short and sturdy, with a round face and yellow optics. The way he squirms makes it clear he’s itching to go fight something again- be it an Autobot or a training dummy.

Knockout often wonders what exactly he’s attracted to in this bot- he’s strong, but lacks the feigned stoicism that thinly masks a soft interior that he loves so dearly about Breakdown. He’s quite the charming little devil, when he’s not yapping your audials off about whatever new battle strategy Dayseeker has conjured.

He has to admit though, the energy with which Trailblazer recounts his tales is quite endearing. It’s a kind of enthusiasm you don’t often see this late in the war. And if Breakdown’s accounts are anything to go by, the two are quite the fighting force when put together. Breakdown isn’t easy to impress, and he’s slower to trust, but in his words, ‘I’d much rather be assigned with them over any of the lackluster dumbafts on this ship.’

Dayseeker perks up, looking like he’s just had a revelation. “You got hurt because you didn’t duck in time. Maybe, if we changed the roll to your left side, since that’s your dominant side, you could be quicker, and the move would be perfect.”

“Oh, great idea,” Trailblazer breathes, “And with you on the right side it’ll be like-! Like an unstoppable force! Like a spinning wheel of awesome!!!” Trailblazer breaks into enthusiastic laughter, and Dayseeker’s optics are bright with equivalent joy.

Knockout has to pause his ministrations again so Trailblazer can get his laughter out. If it were any other mech, he’d scold them for wasting his time. But this darling little creature was something else entirely- and Knockout wants him in ways Primus himself would be ashamed of.

“There,” he thumbs over the bot’s shoulder. “You’re done.”

Dayseeker wastes no time scooting off the berth, and grins up at Knockout.

“Thanks, Knockout! I can always count on you.”

“Of course, darling,” he coos, savoring the hint of a flush that appears on Trailblazer’s faceplate. What a soft face for such a strong mech. Knockout can’t help but let his mind drift- how wonderful that face would look buried between his thighs, or covered in Breakdown’s overload. Maybe even both.

“You good, doc?” That beautiful mech questions, jolting Knockout from his thoughts.

“Mmh? Oh, yes, I’m quite alright,” Knockout crosses his arms and sighs. “I want to check over your older injuries before you go, Trailbalzer. Be a dear and wait for us outside, Dayseeker? I promise I’ll take good care of your brother.”

The two share a glance- like they’re having a silent conversation with just their optics alone. Primus knows they probably are; the two are absolutely inseparable. They don’t even need private comms to communicate. Knockout would go to far as to say the bond they share is stronger than that of any Conjux Endurae. They are split sparks after all; two beings, meant to be one. Two halves of a whole.

Trailblazer nods, and Dayseeker shrugs, turning for the door. “I’m gonna save our spots in the mess hall. Meet me there.”

He waves goodbye to Knockout as he leaves.

Trailblazer turns and hops back up onto the medical berth, where Knockout begins to circle the shorter mech. He pokes and prods at a few old wounds, but he knows his own work better than anyone, and knows the mech is fine… he has other intentions with their newfound solitude.

“How have you been feeling lately?” Knockout hums. “Any aches? Stabbing pains?”

“Nope.” The other mech says plainly. “Feeling great, Knockout. You always know how to patch me up.” He looks over his shoulder and grins at the red bot, and Knockout can’t help the smirk that pulls at his intake in turn.

“Mmh, I know I do.” He moves in front of Trailblazer and stands straight, hands on his hips. The silence draws for a moment- Trailblazer’s gaze begins to flick around, first to Knockout’s face, then to the wall behind him, then to his face again, then his chassis, then the floor. It’s like the bot is hyperactive- both trying to maintain respectful eye contact and not get caught sneaking glances lower and lower.

Oh, Knockout just knows this darling little thing wants him. He can see it in the way his faceplate begins to glow, the slight tick up in his ventilation system, the way he begins to swing his legs nervously as Knockout eyes him silently. His EM field is over-guarded- far more than what this situation should entail.

Knockout gives a sigh.

“You think I haven’t noticed you eyeing my conjux?” Knockout leans back a little, taking the other mech in.

Trailblazer freezes, and his optics go wide. He seems to shrink in on himself- guilty, like a sparkling caught with a hand in the sweet jar.

“I-I-I don’t, I, uh, I…” he begins to stammer, and Knockout holds up a hand to silence him.

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?”

He leans down to eye level with the wrecker. Trailblazer’s intake is parted, searching for words, his optics darting everywhere like he’s looking for an escape route.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers. Knockout immediately winces hearing the mech’s voice crack with shame and guilt.

The energetic mech is now cowering before him like an injured turbofox. He looks so afraid.

Knockout grits his denta and internally cringes- wow, this was a bad method of approach. Noted.

“Relax,” he coos softly, feigning confidence in his actions. He leans forward and pats the mech’s knee- but his hand doesn’t move. Instead, it slowly begins to slide up his leg. “I’m not upset.”

Trailblazer’s plating is warm under his touch- smooth, well maintained. His servos inch up the top of the mech’s thigh, before dipping just barely into the seam between his thigh and hip. He hears the way Trailblazer’s breath hitches- sees the way his darting optics become laser focused on Knockout’s face, like he doesn’t believe this is real.

“I’m actually quite pleased,” he hums, other hand coming up to cup Trailblazer’s helm.

Trailblazer’s optics go wide again, his vents kicking on full send. Knockout can’t help but chuckle at the reaction. Such a strong, confident mech, reduced to a blushing mess with just a simple touch.

He looks utterly frozen- it’s adorable.

“I know I’m quite the sight, darling, and my beloved conjux is too. I can hardly blame you for letting your gaze wander,” Knockout sighs, leaning in closer. They’re so close, he can feel the shaky exhales of Trailblazer’s vents, his thigh trembles under his touch, and his helm held softly in his servos is still with tension. Those yellow optics are locked tight on his now- holding their contact like a lifeline.

Knockout bites his bottom derma at he looks at this strong mech, reduced to a speechless, trembling heap underneath him. It’s a thrill he can never get enough of- knowing the effect his beauty has on other bots. Call it narcissism, but he knows how stunning he is, and he’d be a fool not to use it to get what he wants.

“And I can’t say my own gaze doesn’t wander.” The words are breathy and light, hardly more than a whisper as red optics scan the trembling sight before him, flicking down a bit- suggestively. It’s clearly intentional- it’s shamelessly blatant.

He thumbs over Trialblazer’s cheek plate, chuckling as he stammers out something incoherent. His hands move to the mech’s hips and test the hold. For being such a tough-built mech, Trailblazer has a delectably slim waist. He pulls back just a bit- observing. As much as he wants this, he would stop right this moment is he saw even a hint of uncomfortability in those yellow optics.

But all he finds in Trilblazer’s gaze is heat, desire, and undeniable bashfulness. He didn’t take this mech to be so shy when put on the spot, but it’s quite endearing.

“B-but… but Breakdown… and… and I don’t want to… to get in between you two, you’re so happy together… and…”

Trailblazer’s stammering cuts off with a gasp as Knockout pulls him closer, right to the edge of the table. Strong thighs wrap around Knockout’s hips like a lifeline, and Knockout sees the way Trialblazer clutches as the edge of the medical berth, arms shaking.

“Your concern is sweet, but trust me dear. We want you in between us… but in another manner.” Knockout coos. “I’ve discussed it with my dearest Breakdown… he and I would both love to get a better look at you… to get to know you a little more. If you would be interested…?” He leaves it a question- an offer, with a clear out if Trailblazer wants it.

Trailblazer’s processor is numb and overwhelmed- is this real? He’s always thought the bonded pair were stunning- maybe even felt a hint of jealously towards both of them. But it’s never gone further than that- he would never make any move to interfere with such a happy couple. Now Knockout tells him they’ve both been talking about him, and they both want to… to…

Trailblazer’s faceplates are burning hot, his systems beeping in alarm as he begins to overheat past the point his ventilation systems can handle- much to Knockout’s amusement.

“What will it be, little wrecker?” He coos, and he’s so close, and Trailblazer can feel his servos thumbing over his hips, his grip steady and sure, and their pelvis plating presses together, lewd and intimate thoughts racing through his processors. Their chassises brush, and he knows he’s shaking, clutching the berth like his life depends on it, and Knockout’s face is so close, and-

“Yes,” he whimpers. How utterly humiliating, but Primus did he love the way Knockout made him feel so numb and hazy with just this. His arousal is hard to hide- his EM field is hardly contained, and absolutely radiates with evidence of his shamefully horny thoughts.

“Good,” Knockout hums, leaning in and placing a kiss on Trailblazer’s cheek that leaves a tingling hum in its wake.

“Meet me in our habsuite tomorrow night. Don’t be late, darling- we may just start without you.” Knockout takes a step back, and that humming warmth is gone, fading and leaving Trailblazer shaking and cold.

He nods wordlessly, staring with wide optics. Knockout crosses his arms over his chassis, a smug look on his face. He looks proud of the effect he has on Trailblazer.

“Your brother is waiting for you,” Knockout reminds him after a moment of silence.

“Huh? Oh-! Oh, that’s right,” he says, voice still breathy. “I, uh…” he scoots off the table once more, inching past Knockout hesitantly. Like he isn’t sure if he can really just up and walk away after that. “Uh. Thanks doc. I’ll…. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

He hurries off, and Knockout watches him with that same smug look until the door closes.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

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Intimacy was always daunting to Astarion.

Emotional intimacy was close, it was vulnerable, it was a means to exploit. And it was terrifying. Physical intimacy was a task, something Astarion struggled to enjoy.

More than a few times he had feared you leaving him because he couldn’t provide the intimacy you deserved. He wasn’t always emotionally available, sometimes we was so apathetic he feared you would be disgusted with him, but there were some things he just couldn’t care about. Even if he wanted to, caring was vulnerable, and it wasn’t allowed. Survival of the fittest.

He was next to never physically available for intimacy; either he completely zoned out before you even got his pants off, the thought of a hug lingering too long sent shivers down his spine, or a hand on his hip pulled a fear response from him, making his whip around to face you, ready to push you away.

You were so understanding that it hurt.

Never once did you judge, never once were you angry or upset. That was almost worse than you being angry; just not knowing what you were thinking. The uncertainty was horrible.

Uncertainty over how you thought of him, uncertainty of where he even liked you touching. Sometimes your soft, romantic touches made his heart soar; they were safe, there was no fear, no ulterior motive, only you, at face value. He loved those times. He wished he knew them more. There were so many little places he was and wasn’t okay with you touching him, he couldn’t even keep track of them.

Maybe it was worth finding out.

..

“Darling?” Astarion approached your tent, and you looked up from the book you had been reading, smiling when you saw that handsome face you’d come to love.

“Astarion,” you greeted, setting down your book and standing to meet him. He hugged you, and you held him close. It seemed he was feeling a little touchy today, and you didn’t mind one bit.

“I wanted to talk. Is… now a good time?” Astarion questioned. You felt a pit of nervousness in your stomach; he looked serious.

“Of course, come with me.” You said, leading him in to your tent and shutting it behind you. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

Astarion grabbed your hands tenderly, and you felt nerves twist in your belly.

“I know I haven’t been the best to you.” He began, immediately filling you with doubt and confusion.

“Darling, of course you-“

“Please.. let me get this out.” He gently kissed the back of your hand, and you shuffled nervously.

“I haven’t been the best to you. I’ve been reclusive, and I know you deserve better. The.. the thought of losing you is terrifying. I want to be more open, give you what you deserve, I just… dont know how. I… have a favor to ask of you.”

You gulped nervously. This didn’t seem like he was trying to break up with you… but the way he spoke in such a self deprecating manner, it was so concerning to you.

“What is it, hun?” You asked.

“I.. want you to help me learn where I can and cant touch you. Where you can and cant touch me. I suppose I… just want to admire you. You tell me when and where it’s too much, and you do the same to me. Is… is that okay?” He looked up at you with those beautiful red eyes.

“Like… like what do you mean?” You asked. “Whatever it is, im alright with it, but.. you may have to take the lead, show me what you’d like. Is that alright?”

“I… want to touch you. And want you to touch me.” He hesitantly explained, a shadow of doubt cast over him now. “I dont want it to be… sexual. I… suppose I want to find where im alright with you touching me. And where youre alright with me touching you.”

“Oh,” you said, realization dawning on you. “Oh hun, of course we can do that. That sounds like a great idea.” You kissed the tip of his nose and you smiled seeing the way the tips of his pointed ears flushed.

He smiled, that slight uptick to the corner of his lip, and the way his smile lines showed and his ryes warmed just looking at you. He was so, so beautiful.

You gently cupped his cheeks in your hands, thumbing over the corner of his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” you muttered, and Astarion rolled his eyes, though his smile didn’t fade for a moment.

“I know. And wonderful, don’t forget.”

You laughed. “And wonderful.” You pulled him in for a kiss, soft and tender. Astarion melted in your touch, his hands lifting to let one wrap around your chest under your arms and the other card through the hair at the back of your head and gently hold you close to him. His lips moved over yours and both of your relaxed in to the kiss.

You pulled away after a moment, saying, “How do you want to do this?”

“Maybe… here, come with me.” He took your hand and lead you to the bedroll in your tent, the two of you sitting on it facing one another. He gave an awkward pause, clearing his throat and saying, “Could… I take the lead, then you take over?”

“Of course,” you say. “Do you want me to take anything off, or keep this all over our clothes?”

“Maybe.. leave our undergarments on, but take off everything else?”

“That sounds alright,” you said. “I have a blanket right there if you need to cover up.” You motioned to the blanket next to the two of you. Astarion nodded in confirmation, and as you began reaching for the hem of your shirt, he asked you, “May I?” He reached your your shirt, pausing before reaching your hands and waiting before moving on.

You smiled, the care and focus in his expression warming your heart. “Of course,” you said. His fingers hooked under the hem of your bed shirt, pulling it up and over your head. The focus in his gaze was wonderful, so careful as if he would shatter you with one wrong move.

He let out a little sigh when he had your shirt off and tossed to the side, as of he had been holding his breath.

“Beautiful as ever,” he whispered, so soft you hardly heard it. You nudged his shoulder with a little laugh. “Gods, Astarion,” you laughed, and he joined you. His hands cupped your cheeks, and he gazed lovingly into your eyes. You had never seen him so… soft. So vulnerable. It was almost like you were looking at an entirely different man to the one you had found in the woods after the illithid ship crashed, the one who had held a knife to your throat and threatened your life. And maybe he really was a different man, after all you had went through.

But he would always be Astarion, forever your little star.

Calloused hands softly traveled down your neck, closely watching you for any reaction. Down your neck, over your shoulders, across your chest. Over your hips and up your stomach, then to your back, scooting close to feel down the line of your spine, to your shoulders, and down your arms, until his fingers tangled in yours.

“Was that alright?” He asked. You nodded, giving him an assuring smile.

“Of course,” you said. You leaned up to kiss him, a gentle peck to his lips before pulling away. Your fingers danced feather light at the hem of his bedshirt.

“May I?” You asked, to which he nodded.

You pulled his shirt up over his head, watching his gaze fall to the ground. It had always made him a little nervous to feel so bare in such an intimate way, but you didn’t let your gaze linger on his body, instead starting how he did, cupping his cheeks.

You moved to trace over the points of his ears, and he laughed softly, relaxing in to your touch as your fingers carded through his hair.

You hands moved to his jawline, before slowly moving to his neck. You watched his smile fade and a more focused expression return. You tilted your head, and he looked to you.

“I’m not sure.” He said, almost as if having read your mind. You nodded; he’d always been iffy about any touch on the side of his neck that Cazador bit him on. You moved on without another word, to his shoulders and his chest. Neither of which he had any complaint over, you noted.

Your fingers ghosted over the muscles of his abdomen, and you noted how Astarion watched your hand with an intent gaze. You thumbed over the top of his pants before gently resting your hands on the small of his back. You looked at him, waiting for him to return your gaze before you asked, “Your back. Is that a no overall?”

He pursed his lips and looked away.

“That… may be situational. I dont mind sometimes, but others…”

You nodded and said, “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll ask you before I ever touch you there, alright?” He nodded, visibly relaxing.

You moved to hook your fingers under the waistband of his pants, once again looking at him for approval before continuing. He nodded, hut you said to him, “Use your words, hun.”

“You can,” he said. He knew you always preferred he be vocal about his consent, instead of implying it. It made it easier for you to judge when he really wanted it.

Sometimes it was hard for him to know when he really wanted it.

Nodding, you gently pulled his pants down, him lifting his hips to help you out. You hummed, seeing him in nothing but his underwear. He truly was beautiful.

Starting with his hips, you pressed your thumbs against his hip bones, before moving to his outer thighs. You felt him grimace a bit, looking up to him.

“It’s alright,” he quickly assured. “Maybe move a little slower, if thats okay?”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” You responded.

Making a note to move more carefully, you moved down to his knees, then his calves. You ran your hands up the insides of his legs, stopping at his inner thighs. He shuffled a little, saying, “I think this is fine.. just let me know before you touch me here, please?”

“Aye aye, captain,” you said with a light hearted smile, moving in to kiss him.

It was slow and sweet, and you felt him squirming a little under you with you leaned over him and your hands on his thighs.

When you pulled away, his hands went up to the waistband of your pants.

When you nodded your approval, he removed the clothing, mimicking your motions with care and attentiveness. He was so gentle.

When he sat back on his knees, you noticed something you handn’t noticed before; Astarion was hard. You looked away quickly, not meaning to be rude, but he noticed your gaze and pulled back, sitting on his bottom and pulling his knees up to his chest to hide himself. Hurriedly, he said, his words coming out in one long string, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I think I just enjoyed seeing you like this but I dont want this to be sexual and I dont think I can handle being touched like that right now, but if you want me to touch you I can, I just-“

You hushed him, moving up to place a hand on his shoulder and gently thumb at the skin there.

“Darling, hush now. It’s alright. Its perfectly normal. I dont want anything like that right now either.” You assured him, the nearly scared way he looked up at you breaking your heart.

“You… you’re sure? Im still sorry I got… excited, I guess, I promise it wont happen again.” He seemed almost desperate to convince you he was truly sorry, and you gently cupped his cheeks, tilting up his head to look at you.

“My love,” you spoke, voice nearly a whisper. “I promise, it’s alright. We wont be doing anything sexual tonight, and I’ll pretend this didn’t even happen. Okay? There’s no need to be afraid.”

He nodded, his eyes shining almost as if he was on the brink of tears.

“Okay,” he breathed.

You kissed him softly, which he returned after a moment of hesitation.

You leaned back in the bed roll, saying, “Would you like to continue?” He took a breath and nodded, that signature smile returning to his face, even if it was a little forced. His hands crossed your thighs, calves, giving you a cheeky grin as he squeezed your butt, you swatting at him and rolling your eyes.

“You’re sure you’re alright with this all? You haven’t mentioned anything to me about anywhere you dont like…” he trailed, settling next to you.

“I’m sure. If its you, im alright with anything.”

“What?” He said, looking at you. His expressing was one of confusion. “Why?” He propped himself on up his elbows, looking down at you next to him. “What makes me so special?”

You stared back at him for a moment, equally as baffled as him. “What makes you so- Astarion, love, everything. You’re the brightest light in my life, the reason I keep fighting, you’re my everything. I’ve seen the best and worst sides of you, and you’ve seen the best and worst sides of me. You’re the one constant in my life, and you’re absolutely wonderful. I-“ you trailed off a little, noticing the way Astarion stared at you with an unreadable expression; shock, maybe?

His bottom lip started to tremble, and he said in a shaky voice, “You… you mean that?” Before breaking down in to tears.

You stayed still for a moment as he cried, completely caught off guard, watching him shrink down in to the bedroll, but quickly moved to action and pulled him close, gently hushing him. “Shhh, shshsh,” you cooed, burying your nose in his soft hair and combing through the white strands. “It’s alright, hun, don’t worry. It’s okay.”

The way his shoulders heaved with every fresh round of sobs wrenched your heart, and you felt guilt swirl deep within you. “I’m so sorry, I-“

“Don’t,” he managed to breathe between sobs. “You mean it?” He sniffed, looking up to you with a tear stricken gaze.

“Of course,” you cooed. “I mean it all. You’re my everything.” You kissed his forehead, and he was wrecked by a fresh round of sobs, burying his face in your chest. You pulled him close and held him, rocking him softly as he cried. Your poor, sweet boy.

It may have been ten minutes, it may have been an hour. Eventually, Astarion’s breathing slowly began to even out, and his sobs became few and far between. Is a shaky, hoarse voice, he started to speak.

“Two hundred years. For two hundred years I was locked in that crypt.” Your fingers combed through his hair and his memories came back to him. “Cazador put so many horrible thoughts in my head. About myself, about the people around me. I never trusted anyone again until I met you. I never even trusted myself. A monster, I am, just a creature meant to feed off of the innocent. I haven’t been mine in so long.”

You started to speak, started to assure him that he wasn’t a monster, this wasn’t his choice, but you second guessed. Astarion being this vulnerable was… rare. So you gave him his moment.

“You’ve always been so trusting. I thought you were just stupid at first,” he laughed softly, and you rolled your eyes with a little smile. “But I realized that you are the only person whos ever put faith in me. Ever. At least within my memories. You’re… the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. So careful. So understanding. I dont understand why you care so much, but… thank you. And… I love you.”

Your heart was in your throat, choking you from the inside. You hugged him tighter, kissing the top of his head. “I love you too,” you breathed.

You placed your fingers under his chin to tilt his head up, giving him a warm smile when his eyes met yours. You leaned down to kiss him, pressing your lips against his and closing your eyes, feeling the way he relaxed in to your touch. Your lips moved together, in time as if this were practiced. You pulled away, and he gave you a little smile.

“You’re such a romantic,” you laughed. “It’s adorable. I love it.”

He clicked his tongue and looked away, though the little upwards tick in the corner of his lip gave away his stifled smile.

The rest of the night was filled with stolen kisses, little laughs, and sharing one another’s embrace. Astarion truly was something else, and he saw the same in you. You were the kind of dream he’d always held, a perfect lover who was kind and sweet. You were that. You had been next to him as he gained his freedom, encouraged him and trusted him even when you shouldn’t have. And he was so happy that you had made that choice, now.

.

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@adequate-superstar

Astarion’s nightmares have always been rough on him. They didn’t come every night, not like they used to, but when they did, there was no telling how he’d react when he woke up.

He may blink awake, that oh so familiar feeling of dread but also of pure numbness creeping over him. He would sit staring at the ceiling for hours, or at least until you woke up, nearly thoughtless the entire time.

When you noticed, he sometimes wanted to scoot closer and cuddle you, other times just humming an acknowledgement of your awakening before zoning out again. He would eventually get up and moving, but for a few hours, he felt like a complete detachment of himself.

Other times, he would jolt awake, not recognizing you as the one safe thing in his entire life. He lashed out at you once, demanding you leave, scrambling for his knife. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t even pick it up. When those red eyes softened in familiarity, the guilt that swamped him was the worst thing he’d ever felt.

Occasionally, he would awaken in a similar trance of not recognizing you. He would usher you out of bed and insist you had to go, leave, run for the woods and never look back. If you don’t, you’ll never see the light of day again. He will get you.

You knew these times were draining for him, and some days, he just needed some time to sit and reflect for a while; reflect on everything for the past two hundred years, from having his freedom cruelly ripped away, then regaining it, then losing it all over again. It was a lot for you just hearing about it, so you could only imagine how overwhelming it could be to him.

He still tried not to let it rule his life, though, and thats where you came in. You made an easy distraction, something to focus on and give to, something normal.

At times he would lose his focus, but you were always there to keep him on track. While you weren’t the cure for his trauma, you helped to guide him through it as he built comfort in himself and his new life.

You were there through the anxiety, the panic, the angry outbursts. Gods, he always felt terrible for those. But you stayed, because you knew about him, and you knew why, and you knew he was trying. You by no means made excuses for him, but you never shamed him for the things he couldn’t help.

Your patience was the thing he didn’t know he needed. Your understanding, your empathy. Things he would have found weaknesses a mere month ago were the reasons he loves you now. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

..