For the spicy request.
I'd like to see Pharma put Tarn on a leash.
Okay, I had to rewrite this like four times because I loved the concept so much that I just had to explore it in a bunch of different ways (including a humanformers version lmao).
Also, I named the file Freak on a Leash, please tell me you got the reference. PLUS, I wrote the whole thing while listening to Another Side of You by Night Club, and I swear the entire Masochist album is SO tarnma coded (seriously, do yourself a favor and give it a listen). I really hope you enjoy this 💕
MINORS DON’T READ THANKS
🔞
The private quarters aboard the Peaceful Tyranny were as spartan as one would expect aboard a vessel of the Decepticon Justice Division; cold metal walls, a single recharge berth, a weapons rack.
But tonight, the room had been transformed by the presence of its newest occupant.
Pharma stood in the center of the chamber, his white, red and blue frame gleaming beneath the harsh overhead lights.
He was immaculate, as always; his armor polished to perfection, his field held in perfect, disciplined check. In his delicate digits, he held the end of a length of high-tensile alloy chain. The chain trailed across the floor, ending at a thick synthleather collar fastened around Tarn's neck.
The leader of the DJD was on his knees.
Tarn's massive frame stood in stark contrast to Pharma's elegant build; where Pharma was sleek and impeccably polished, Tarn was broad and battle-scarred, his dark purple armor bearing the marks of centuries of warfare.
His faceplate remained hidden behind his mask, but the glow of his crimson optics betrayed the turmoil beneath. His vents cycled in slow, measured breaths, yet Pharma caught the faint tremor running through them; the barely restrained beast straining against its leash.
“You're doing so well.”
Pharma's voice was as smooth as polished chrome.
He gave the chain a gentle tug, prompting Tarn to lift his helm until their optics met.
“But I think you're still holding back; I can feel it. You want to grab me, don't you? Throw me onto that berth and take what you think is yours.”
Tarn's digits curled into tight fists against his thighs. His vocalizer crackled, the voice that could make entire planets tremble reduced now to a low, reluctant growl.
“You're pushing your limits, Pharma.”
“Am I?”
Pharma stepped closer, the chain sliding smoothly through his grasp.
He stopped directly in front of Tarn, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his engine wash over his plating.
With his free servo, Pharma traced a single elegant digit along the edge of Tarn's mask.
“You could snap this chain in an instant. You could overpower me, pin me down, and frag me until I couldn't remember my own designation. But you won't, because I asked you not to.”
Tarn's frame shuddered, his vents faltering.
“You asked me to wear a leash. To kneel. To let you lead.” His voice dropped into a dangerous rumble. “I have never knelt for anyone.”
“There's a first time for everything.”
Pharma smiled; a thin, cold expression devoid of warmth. He wrapped the chain twice around his servo, shortening it and drawing Tarn's helm closer.
“Now, I believe you promised me a demonstration of your... enthusiasm.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “But on my terms. Remember?”
Silence stretched between them, thick with tension.
Tarn's optics flickered, and for a fleeting moment Pharma caught a glimpse of the monster lurking behind them; the part of Tarn that had slaughtered entire crews, that had torn Decepticon deserters apart with his bare servos.
Then, slowly, Tarn lowered his helm.
A single nod.
“Yes.”
Tarn said, the word dragged out of him like a confession.
Pharma's smile widened.
“Good. Then you may proceed.”
He released the chain, letting it fall slack, and stepped back toward the berth.
With deliberate grace, Pharma climbed onto it, settling onto his back and parting his legs just enough to invite. His valve cover slid open, revealing the slick, white folds beneath.
He was already wet; the anticipation, the power, and the danger of what they were about to do had left him lubricating freely.
Tarn rose smoothly to his pedes, the fluidity of the movement belying his massive size.
He stalked toward the berth, his heavy footsteps echoing through the chamber. The chain trailed behind him, forgotten for the moment.
He came to a stop over Pharma, his imposing frame casting a shadow that swallowed the medic's smaller form.
“On your terms,” Tarn repeated, his voice dropping into a low rumble. “But I will be inside you.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
Pharma spread his legs a little wider, one servo drifting down to part his folds and expose his valve to Tarn's hungry gaze.
“But you will not move until I tell you to; you will not thrust, you will not take. You will stay perfectly still and let me decide when; and how deep.”
Tarn's engine growled, a deep, threatening vibration that resonated through the berth.
His modesty panel retracted, revealing his length; thick, dark, heavily ridged, already glistening with pre-transfluid.
It looked like a weapon in its own right, and despite himself, Pharma felt his optics widen.
“Closer.”
Pharma commanded, his voice steady despite the increasingly rapid rhythm of his spark.
Tarn climbed onto the berth, his weight making the frame groan beneath him. He settled between Pharma's legs, his spike brushing lightly against the medic's entrance; the tip was hot and slick with lubricant, and Pharma could feel the ridges pressing against his rim.
But Tarn stopped.
He held himself perfectly still, his entire frame trembling with restraint, his crimson optics locked onto Pharma's.
Pharma reached up and wrapped his hand around the chain once more, drawing Tarn's helm down until their foreheads were nearly touching.
“Now,” he whispered, his field finally brushing against Tarn's in a delicate, teasing caress. “You may enter, slowly.”
Tarn's vents hitched.
Then, with agonizing restraint, he eased forward.
The first inch was a stretch. Pharma's valve was tight, built for a smaller frame, and Tarn's spike was anything but.
Pharma's optics flickered as a sharp breath escaped his vents; the sensation burned, intense and overwhelming, yet he refused to cry out. Instead, he held Tarn's gaze, his expression composed, almost serene.
“More…”
Pharma whispered.
Tarn advanced another inch, then another, each movement slow, deliberate, and carefully measured.
The ridges along his spike dragged against Pharma's inner walls, sending waves of electricity through both their frames. Pharma's valve tightened around the invading length, instinctively trying to accommodate it, to accept it.
His legs wrapped around Tarn's waist, drawing him deeper, but Tarn immediately stilled, his crimson optics silently seeking permission.
“Did I say you could move?”
Pharma's voice cut cleanly through the haze of arousal.
“No.”
He ground out.
“Then stay still.”
Pharma's command cut cleanly through the dimly lit room.
He kept the leash short, giving it a firm tug to draw Tarn's masked face closer.
He rolled his hips upward to meet the intrusion, and his valve tightened around the thick length, warm and slick, pulsing with every measured movement. A low moan rumbled from Tarn's vocalizer, his entire frame held rigid by the effort it took to obey
“Just like that.” Pharma murmured, his voice steady despite the pleasure building within him. “You feel perfect when you hold still for me.”
Tarn's optics flared brighter, every cable beneath his plating drawn taut.
Every instinct urged him to thrust, to pin Pharma beneath him and claim him, yet he remained perfectly still, exactly as ordered.
The chain draped across Pharma's chassis served as a constant reminder, catching the light with every slow breath.
Pharma tugged it again, more firmly this time, drawing Tarn's helm down until their faceplates were only a fraction apart.
“Thrust. Slowly, deep.”
Tarn obeyed at once, easing forward until the full length of his spike disappeared inside Pharma's trembling valve.
Pharma gasped, his back arching as the pressure filled him completely.
He gave the leash another short, deliberate tug, controlling the pace with practiced precision.
Each pull earned a single measured thrust; each release forced Tarn to hold perfectly still again, buried deep inside him, every line of his frame trembling with restraint.
“Faster.”
Pharma ordered, his voice cracking as his own transfluid slicked the slide between them. His valve tightened and released in rhythmic pulses, milking every ridge.
“But only when I pull.”
The chain clinked softly with each tug, its steady rhythm matching the pace that was gradually building.
Tarn's vents roared; his thighs glistened with lubricant, his crimson optics never leaving Pharma's face. He drove forward with every command, stilled whenever the leash slackened, his spike throbbing within the tight, welcoming heat.
Pharma's free servo came to rest against Tarn's chassis, feeling the frantic rhythm of the Decepticon’s spark beneath his armor.
“Close…” Pharma breathed, giving the chain a firmer tug. “Look at me when I overload.”
Their optics met.
Pharma's valve clamped down hard, contracting in waves as climax ripped through him.
He cried out, his frame shaking, pulling the leash taut to hold Tarn in place.
The pressure broke Tarn's restraint.
He drove forward with a guttural sound, burying his spike to the hilt and pumping thick pulses of transfluid deep into that tight heat. Load after load flooded him, hot and heavy, while the chain stayed taut between them.
They remained there together, their frames trembling through the lingering aftershocks.
Pharma reached up, gently tracing his digits over the edge of Tarn's mask, the leash still looped loosely around his servo.
“Good mech.” He murmured softly, though the authority never left his voice. “Now... a massage. Then we'll discuss your next assignment.”
A faint smile tugged at his dermas.
A low chuckle rumbled from Tarn's vocalizer; rare, quiet, and utterly genuine.
“You'll be the death of me.”
“Perhaps,” Pharma replied, a sharp smile spreading across his face. “But what a way to go.”
