#slugshot

(And Hammerlock had watched it and felt sick. His spark had been in his throat. His interface equipment had *throbbed*, and it had been all he could do to keep himself in check. He’d never thought he could be aroused by such a thing, never thought-)

Diamondback’s lips curled, revealing sharp fangs that Hammerlock knew dripped with venom. A similar venom that Slugshot’s saliva carried - paralytic… and aphrodisiac. He hated how he trembled when the beastformer reached out with a clawed servo and skirted his digits along the underside of Hammerlock’s jaw, tilting his helm up, forcing him to meet the beastformer’s eyes.

*Hated it-*

“Would you, Hammerlock?” Diamondback prompted again. He was losing patience, poisonous green optics narrowed to slits. “... No, boss.” Hammerlock finally replied, voice strained, but even. “Good.” Diamondback gave his helm an appreciative stroke, and it took all Hammerlock had not to shiver in disgust. “Kneel, then.”

He took a step back.

Hammerlock sunk to his knees.

His awareness seemed to ficker. Suddenly he felt a presence above him, large and radiating heat. Hammerlock’s frame locked tight, and it was like he couldn’t vent. Panic surged, his spark pulsing a frightened, erratic rhythm - and something thick, wet, and glowing a bright purple dripped down onto his chest. Hammer ceased venting all together. 

The liquid seemed to *burn*. From that point of contact, a heat seemed to spread throughout his entire frame, causing his limbs to weaken gradually - until they lost strength altogether, and he swayed forwards, servos barely catching his fall - barely holding his weight for all of five seconds, before they gave out all together, and he landed on his front with a whoosh of air escaping his vents. 

Static filled his audials. He thought he heard Windjumper’s voice, but couldn’t make out the words. He wanted to snap at the other ‘copter, tell him to leave him be lest Diamondback grow suspicious but - but his mouth couldn’t form the words he wanted to say. His vision was hazy. All he could make out before him were the tapered black claws that made up Diamondback’s pedes, and a tail that curled absently behind him in a way that indicated amusement. 

He felt so hot. He couldn’t stop shaking. He couldn’t think. His HUD was flashing warnings that he couldn’t decipher. Something large wrapped around his waist, and lifted him with no effort whatsoever, and a punched out noise escaped his vocaliser when something *hot* and *wet* and *thick* laped over his closed interface panels - causing chills to spread across his frame, causing the heat to grow - causing his panel to snap open without a command.

*Slugshot’s glossa,* he thought blankly, mouth falling open. He remembered watching it, on the transport. Watching as it had licked over Windjumper and stretched his valve right open with so much ease. That - that was what he felt lap over his valve, hot and wet and *so much, too much*-

Hammerlock had always had an over-sensitive valve. So sensitive that he had barely had to touch it before he was overloading, back when he first discovered the joys of self servicing. He had brought himself to many a satisfying end, thinking about Windjumper’s brother Strikecloud, imaging all sorts of devious, pleasurable things that mech could do to him. Childish imaginations from a childish mech who had yet to discover the true cruelties of the world, who had yet to realise that a silly, unrequited crush was far from the worst thing to experience.

(~~Oh how Hammerlock wished for those days, when things were so so simple, and he had a family and friends and people he could rely on and trust.~~)

The overload took him by surprise. Barely a lick or two - he’d been so built up since the transport, had been trying so hard to ignore how pent up he was, *how wet he was* - that swipe of Slugshot’s glossa was all it took for his limbs to seize and white-hot pleasure to sweep through his frame, causing his processor to go utterly blank. A noise escaped him - a strangled keen - and Slugshot *didn’t stop*.

That tongue - that hateful, *glorious tongue* simply lapped up the spill of lubricant his release had created, curling up between his thighs, across sparking, glowing nodes. He spat static, sensitive to the point of pain, but he couldn’t struggle, couldn’t move, couldn’t even lift his damn helm -

And then that tongue was prodding at his valve lips, and *pushing in*.

Hammerlock’s mouth fell open, optic fritzing. He’d seen the size of that glossa. He knew how big it was. For it to simply push in - with no pain, no resistance, only a pleasure so intense it confused his sensornet, had the charge hiking so high it pushed him head long into another mind wiping overload. His valve clenched down, calipers rippling around the glossa, trying to draw it in deeper - and Slugshot acquiesced. That glossa pushed in deeper and deeper and *deeper*, gliding over his ceiling node, brushing over the spiraled closed entrance of his gestation chamber, and it was so much - *too much* - he couldn’t handle it-

There were servos cupping his helm. Hammerlock couldn’t focus - his vision swam with a blur of colours and pixels, and it took too long for it to register that the mech hovering before him was *Windjumper*.

He was talking. Saying something that hammerlock couldn’t even begin to understand. His spark sank, and he wanted to tell him to go away - to let go, because Diamondback shouldn’t see that Windjumper obviously cared for him, but he couldnt - couldn’t focus - 

He saw Dimanondback shift behind Windjumper. He was carrying something - a familiar object that had the energon go cold within Hammerlock’s lines. The blinking red light indicated the camera was recording, Diamondback eager to get yet more blackmail material on his second in command, to stash away in his person library - and Hammerlock felt like he was choking-

“Focus on me.” Windjumper’s voice, finally heard over the static in his audials. The other ‘copter raised his helm, forcing their optics to meet, and Hammerlock couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. Windjumper was smiling - sad, tired, he knew without Hammer having to tell him that he was just as trapped in this situation as he and Slugshot were and - that no matter what, they were now in this together. 

They were strong. They would endure.

Eventually, they would be *free*.

(~~And Hammerlock was going to see Diamondback dead with his own bare servos.~~)

The tongue withdrew, and Hammerlock had never felt so empty. He ached, deep down to his very struts, to be filled once more. His valve felt so cold, so empty, it clenched down on nothing, and he was unaware of the whine that escaped him. But Windjumper hushed him. Fingers wiped at his wet cheeks - Hammerlock hadn’t realised he was crying. It was just - all so much, too much, he almost begged - would have, maybe, if he’d had control of his glossa. He couldn’t even control his own drooling.

(He knew that the moment Slugshot spiked him, there was a very high chance that he could become sparked, even without the spark sharing. This was what Slugshot had been created for - to be the ultimate breeding mech, and Hammerlock was so afraid, *but so desperate for it-*)

And there it was. Finally. A point of heat, sliding over his throbbing valve lips. Hammerlock had no warning before it was pressing *inside*, thin and tapered but then - it just got thicker. And thicker. And *thicker* and Hammerlock’s mouth fell open in a choking, overwhelmed cry as he was suddenly stretched out more than he ever had been before. The spike rubbed over inner nodes that had never been touched. It scraped insistently, consistently against his ceiling node. More kept pushing in, stretching his valve so much wider, beyond capacity-

And then he was moving. 

Hammerlock was lost. Lost in a storm of sensation of too much - too much pleasure, too much stretch, too much charge, too much *everything*. Slugshot had both servos wrapped around him, using him as a living frag toy-

*It was too much-*