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In my unbiased (ha) opinion Eclipse hasn't been hurt enough, and Solar should allow himself to lean fully into his sadistic nature with someone no one would care about. I've scrolled through your blog and I think you mentioned him keeping Eclipse trapped? He should do that 100%. He could justify it pretty easily with Eclipse being a genuine threat, and what wouldn't you do for your family protection... Even Moon will understand.

He could use that bunker as his new prison cell, which would be pretty ironic, cos it's Eclipse's, or he could find some other place to lock him in—but either way it should be secured. He doesn't even need to tell anyone about it necessarily, god knows, he wouldn't be the first in that family to do shit behind their backs for "protection". I think it'd be interesting if the thing with Nebula still worked out okay—for a bit—before Solar realized soft vanilla sex isn't really doing it for him. He's not gonna hurt his girlfriend, though, and why would he if he got a perfect victim to try out his more fucked up fantasies with? He could tell himself it's not cheating because he's not in love with Eclipse—it's just... letting off stream, like using a punching bag.

Plus, most of the stuff could be easily fixed—and Solar is the best mechanic around. He could pull him apart and put him back together no problem. Increase the sensitivity and work on him with an soldering iron, or do a suspension bondage with his own wires, forcing him to stay in an uncomfortable position for hours, or install a virus in him and watch him lose basic functions one by one—there are sooo many ideas, he simply can't try out with Nebula.

In the end wouldn't it be the perfect outcome with one of their biggest threats contained, his girlfriend happy and his more violent side having an outlet? Maybe he'll be able to relax and be calmer in general, when he wouldn't have to keep his darker urges on a leash all the time.

Also would be interesting to see Eclipse's mental spiral through all of this: how the anger and resistance will melt away into submissive fear. Solar doesn't hurt him less if he's good but once he learns nothing he does or says helps... learned helplessness anyone? 🙂

It's another dream.

Sun knows it to be a dream because he looks at himself—and at Moon towering over him, furious, the intent to hurt palpable in the mindscape. It's like watching a movie: the figures move in front of him, dramatic tension builds and Sun is frozen on the edge of his metaphorical seat, waiting for the grand finale. He's not naive enough to exect a happy ending.

He—the other him—backs away, cowering, trembling arms raised in a silent plea. What a pathetic character. Sun almost cheers when Moon lunges, his face distorted into a grimace of disgust he wears so often around him.

Cobalt claws slash across pale yellow faceplate, catching one of the eyes before seizing thin shoulders and throwing the shrieking body to the ground with enough force to stun it for a brief moment. Moon was always so much stronger when rage finally boiled over—when all his energy was focused on only one objective. Sun's right knee splits apart beneath his foot, and the wail of agony echoes in the mindscape, annoyingly loud—but gets cut short with a wet crunch of his voicebox getting ripped out. It's a relief.

The oil spilling from the wounds in thick pulses is dark crimson.

No. That isn't right, is it?

He can taste it on his tongue, a metallic tang that's impossible to wash away no matter how many times he pours bleach down his throat. The sense of déjà vu arrives with a splitting headache. It's almost as if someone sinks their claws into his mind, trying to reach—

Sun resets his optics.

Moon is on top of him now.

He's not just an outsider looking in anymore. Agony tears through his mangled body, ruptured oil lines pulsing hot as they bleed out. The image in his remaining eye glitches and distorts, turning Moon into something nightmarish— Are there rays around his head? He cannot scream, his voicebox laying useless in a pool of oil, colorful wires looking like a tangle of worms.

Moon's delirious, gleeful laughter rings in his audios. His eyes bathe Sun is a sickening red light, sharp fingers digging into his hips as his brother forces himself inside.

Sun's body takes him easily despite everything, pain blooming into agonizing pleasure—sharp and euphoric. They fit together perfectly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other, and Sun feels sickeningly whole, clinging to Moon's shoulders as he lacerates him. He'd be moaning if he could.

There—pinned beneath his twin, feeling him use him fast and rough, staring at the beloved face distorted in hatred—Sun is complete. His oil is smeared across Moon's crescent, red glistening on the curve of his mouth and the urge to kiss him is unbearable. Shame only feeds the terrible fire burning inside him, amplifying the heat until Sun is nothing but a writhing, pathetic mess, begging soundlessly as he's torn apart.

Moon looks like he wants him—to hurt, to kill, to consume—does it matter?

Sun knows he deserves it.

And he wants everything his brother is willing to give him.

The pain crescendos, bringing with it the heights of pleasure he wishes he'd never known. The coil inside him tightens, ready to snap.

He's so, so close—oh God, please don't stop—

Blunt teeth sink into Sun's shoulder with enough force to bite through the metal before tearing away a chunk of plating, wires and all.

That does it.

His vision fizzles out completely. His body bends and convulses as he's ripped out of the dream by the force of his orgasm. The intensity of it crashes through his systems as they desperately try to process the sensory overload, and for one brief, blissful moment—Sun's mind is silent.

It doesn't last.

His systems inevitably come back online, dragging their unwilling host into dreadful reality. He's sluggish, as he always is upon waking up, his mind struggling to reconnect with his body, keeping him in an uncomfortable state of dissociation. Sun dimly registers the elevated body temperature, dismisses warnings he already knows by heart, and reluctantly reaches for the motor lock —a precaution he'd started taking after the first nightmare in Moon's bed.

That first time he'd woken screaming bloody murder, thrashing hard enough to fall off the bed. It had been pure luck that his brother was out with Monty doing... something. Since then, he'd made sure his body stayed frozen until his mind had a chance to catch up.

The command never executes.

Sun stares at the line of code motor lock = OFF, perplexed. What? But it should be—

Realization dawns. Panic floods through him, the veil of dissociation torn to shreds, as he becomes painfully aware of everything at once.

His body is not locked.

Moon is pressed against his side.

He's still shaking with the aftershocks of his climax.

Moon's vents are far too loud for him to be asleep.

The sheets beneath his hips are soaked and his modesty panel is open.

His own fingers are buried deep inside him.

Moon is awake.

Everything inside Sun seizes. There's no command needed for his body to go utterly still this time, though he knows it's far too late. He wishes he could pretend it's just a nightmare—it isn't. That it's not happening—it is.

No.

No.

NO—

Sun's voicebox crackles with wet static, the whine he's been desperately trying to suppress breaking through. He wants to run and hide. He wants to rip out his own wires. He wants to fall to his knees and beg Moon not to hate him—not to leave him, please—

He doesn't turn on his optics. He can't. He waits for a blow, for a harsh shove that'll send him toppling off the bed, for a scream of disgust and rage. He knows he deserves it. He ruined everything.

Claws tap on his chest. Fur of the hat tickles his sensitive rays as Moon snuggles closer.

It starts as it often does—with a sort of anxious buzzing in his wires, his hands growing unsteady and fidgety enough to make complex work unnecessarily difficult. He tries to focus, to reach that deep state of concentration that came so easily before where he could lose hours just working on a project, but his thoughts keep slipping away, spiraling round and round until there's only one person at the center of it all.

Oh, how Nexus hates it.

It feels like losing, like giving up, but he can't stop himself—

No, no, he doesn't want to stop himself. He could easily. He's not weak. He could stop whenever he wants to. He just doesn't feel like it.

Laughter echoes through the lab, the walls reflecting the sound, corrupting it until he can't tell where it's coming from, but it doesn't matter—he knows it's all in his head anyway. He half-heartedly mutters, "shut up" not really expecting it to listen and, of course, it instantly grows clearer, more real, as if embodied by his attention.

Not-Solar speaks with a gleeful cruelty that has been only directed at Nexus since his death.

"You're not too good at all this being evil thing, huh?" Nexus knows his mouth forms a nasty smile that doesn't belong on his face. "Carving my own path my ass. Can't even take what you want. No wonder you got replaced so easily."

Nexus's claws dig into his workstation, leaving deep grooves in the metal. Dark Sun will see them later. He won't say anything, but Nexus can already feel his eyes on him, judging, calculating, digging into his weakness.

"I said. Shut. Up. You're not him."

Solar's laugh deepens, starting to sound too much like Eclipse.

"Yeah, I'm not," It agrees easily. "But it doesn't matter, because you want me there. You need me, because who else will be honest with you?"

It's voice turns venomous, hissing through clenched teeth. "If I knew you'd be so pathetic after my death, I'd have ditched your ass sooner. All this power for what? To watch Sunny crawl back into his piece-of-shit brother's lap, after everything you did for him?"

The mockery—the truth of it—twists something inside Nexus's chest so violently he swears something breaks. He spins around, his claws ready, power held poised like a dagger, but there's nothing. Of course, there's fucking nothing.

He turns back, frantic now, his head pounding and unsteady energy buzzing through him. He shouldn't listen. It's lying, it's always lying to him, that's not fucking true. Sun doesn't. He wouldn't —

Nexus needs to know. Just to be sure. One quick peek, that's all. Decision—his decision—comes with the rush of relief.

He connects to the cameras—all of them at once. The screen in his lab splits into multiple squares, showing different areas, different angles: the kitchen, Dazzle's room, the cat's room, Sun's—there you are.

He breathes a sigh of relief, anxiety snuffed out like a flame, when he spots that familiar soft yellow—no disgusting blue here to taint it.

Sun is alone in his room. He's crying. Fuck.

Nexus doesn't even attempt to stop his modesty panel from snapping open, his legs going weak as he leans closer to the screen, taking in the way his brother curls into himself, clutching something that looks suspiciously like Nexus's pajamas. The wave of soft affection that washes over him is almost as strong as the arousal.

Arms circle him from behind, sudden but not surprising—not anymore. Nexus knows how this goes by now. He doesn't fight it.

One arm wraps around his neck, holding him tight, the other digs into his thigh, rubbing up and down, nearly but not quite touching his writhing cock. He can feel the rough fabric of work gloves (he shouldn't be able to —), powerful hands holding him, keeping him together. Solar will not let him fall apart. A body presses against his back, every part icily cold but solid. Steady. Breath ghosts over his shoulder, the voice warm now, telling him he got what he wanted. What they wanted.

"Was it so hard? I know you needed this."

Teeth graze his shoulder, sharp points tangible even through the clothes, and Nexus shudders, leaning over the table as he's pressed closer to the screen.

"S-shut up." It lacks conviction now, with the way he pants, but he can't stay silent. A childish need to prove he was right forces the words out of his voicebox. "S-see? He's... he's not with—"

A particularly loud sob from Sun silences any cohesive thoughts he had left, and he cannot wait anymore. His hand flies down to frantically tug on his suspenders, pulling his pants down just enough to free his aching length, squeezing it with a moan. He gasps for air like he needs it, his vents roaring—or maybe it's his processor overheating.

It doesn't matter, because all he can hear, all he can see, is Sun — Sun — Sun.

Curled on his bed now. Alone, miserable, crying. Crying for his brother, his real brother.

He strokes himself in time with each whimper that tears itself out of Sun's voicebox. Thank fuck he installed high-quality bugs in Sun's bedroom. The sounds are so clear it's almost like he's standing right over him. He wished he was.

"You could be," Solar whispers, his voice coated in dark desire, mirroring the one that swells inside Nexus. They always were in tune. "You could go there right now. Comfort him~ Look how much he needs you."

Cold fingers settle over his, helping him, steadying the rhythm, steadying him. Nexus's optics never leave Sun's figure on the screen, but he can see the dark orange of Solar's faceplate in his peripheral vision, can feel him pressed against his back, supporting him like he always had.

Sun pulls on his rays, his distress palpable and beautiful even through the lens of the cameras, each angle displaying his misery in all its radiance. His eyes are dim and cloudy, his lovely faceplate dark with streaks of oil that Nexus desperately wants to lick clean. Oh, he could comfort him, alright.

He struggles not to cum, the need burning through him, painful in its intensity, as he imagines going there right now. He could open a portal there. Isolate the sounds in the room so no one could interrupt. And then—

"You will pin him to the bed. He's too weak to fight you off, and he won't even try once he realizes it's you. He'll spread his legs and beg you to take him, to make the pain stop, to forgive him for betraying you." Solar purrs, his voice filled with icy fire, his—Nexus's—hand speeding up against his cock, squeezing too tight, almost painfully.

"He'll know he deserves to be taken however roughly you please, but you won't hurt him, will you? No. You'll make him feel good, so good, he forgets Moon, Dazzle, anyone. He'll only know you. He'll only need you."

"Ahh, fu-fuck... Sunny..."

His brother is crying. Nexus is crying too, oil dripping from his eyes and his mouth tinted with streaks of vibrant purple, but that doesn't register. It doesn't matter. Dark power—his power—swells within him like a tumor, growing too large for his body.

He's invisible.

He's gonna break.

He needs to touch Sun. He needs to sink his teeth into his metal, to infect him with the same sickness that has plagued him ever since he opened his eyes for the first time.

That smile, that fear, everything that is Sun—his brother, his other half. His.

"Yours," Solar agrees, guiding his hand, faster — harder. "Ours. You'll take him and you'll bind him and you'll make him part of us."

The voice isn't Solar's anymore. The shape in the corner of his eye shifts and melts into something horrific, with eyes and tentacles and mouths that bleed purple. The grip on his cock turns punishingly tight. The energy, like a lightning strike, shoots through his spine and lower body—he screams as he cums, his legs giving out from the force of it. His face slams into the desk as wave after wave of pleasure rips through him.

It goes on and on, far longer than it should, Sun's fading cries in the background the only thing he can hear between the wheezing of his vents.

It takes some time for him to come to his senses. He's alone in the lab, kneeling in a concerningly large puddle of his own cum and what looks like oil, neon-purple swirls resembling distant galaxies in a sea of black. He should probably be worried, but all he feels is numbness.

The desk creaks as he uses it to pull himself upright, his legs still shaky, his calibration all wonky, but it doesn't matter. He'll deal with it later.

Sun's cries have quieted into tiny whimpers, his shoulders still shaking with aftershocks, but his vents going steady and deep.

Ah... he's fallen asleep.

Nexus's mouth slips into an easy, soft smile. His hand, still trembling, presses against the screen as if trying to reach his brother through it. The greasy, glistening stain of cum and oil it leaves contrasts beautifully with the soft yellow of Sun's sleeping form. He looks so tiny in that bed—in that room—in that house. Like a lonely star drifting through the empty void of space.