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As it turned out, the Earth team of ex-bridge builders was actually capable of some level of competency. Primus be praised.
After repaying his little debt to them, bare minutes after the deed had been done, Blurr was out of there. Goodbye, forced labor! Goodbye, near excruciating immobility! Goodbye, soft fleshy parts being rubbed all over him, soft caresses and needlessly exuberant praise after each and every accomplishment…
To say Blurr’s feelings on the matter were mixed would be a gross softening of the matter. Master Disaster was a sleazy, no good creep, but he had to admit the semi-constant attention and positive recognition of his unique abilities was nice. Very nice. Not nice enough to go back, of course. Not enough to make him dwell on the subject after his departure from this muddy rock, several quartex from now, when he was back in the clean halls of the Fortress Maximus, reporting his mission to Longarm Prime, neatly excluding the messy middle.
When the time came, he would forget those awful cycles spent as some squishy’s pet like they had never happened, but for now, still entrenched in the organic goo of this strange world, he could not help but be reminded. Not when he had to constantly monitor their media for mentions of the rouge Earth team, or Decepticon activity. Reports of the Master’s trial ran their course, hardly sensationalized but news worthy enough to stick around for a few weeks. He pretended that he only listened to them for signs of Allspark interference.
Things began to pick up when his work on triangulating the location of the Decepticon base yielded results. The Autobot continued their odd jobs helping the native species with their own, seemingly trivial problems. The Allspark gave birth to a new pair of Cybertronians, Decepticon in size but Autobot in function. They seemed harmless enough. The bounty hunter Lockdown made an appearance, but left just as quickly. Blurr saw little reason to intervene. There was an odd and very troubling incident some time later which rendered himself and everyone around him immobile for a short time, but nothing came of it. Later communications he intercepted implicated the turncoat arms dealer, Swindle.
Earth, it seemed, was becoming very popular. The unfortunate truth about this was, however dangerous things seemed to be getting, Blurr could not assist his comrades unless it was an absolute, Great Unmaker kind of situation. He drove around their base, watching from the sidelines as they fought their battles and played their games, all the while taking time to care for the small Earth human they seemed to have some form of ownership over. He organized his internal files and then reorganized them, ensuring that it would be easy to convert them into a report format when he finally downloaded them onto the physical data pad he would be transferring to his boss when this was all over.
It was so unbearably dull.
Not to imply he hadn’t experienced his fair share of missions that required complete silence and stillness for far longer than this, but generally there had been an edge of danger, a sense of immense urgency. Here, however, after all that had happened, things seemed to be heading towards one whopper of an anti-climax. He supposed he should be glad for the easy turn the formerly FUBAR’d mission had taken, but it was difficult, even now, to organize his thoughts on the matter. Particularly when he had been trapped for so long and all he wanted to do was drive and run and run and run and run-
So, naturally, something had to go wrong.
The transient nature of his work, along with the secrecy it required, meant he was recharging in a different spot every dark cycle. When he could actually recharge, that is. Apart from needing to be on alert constantly, his timing program glitch was acting up rather fiercely, and so his nights were often spent in a power save mode, still online but wishing rather desperately he wasn’t, torn between the call of defragmentation and the need to surveil as best he could.
Of course, finding a place where he was sure he would be safe was a difficult task on its own. The Decepticons actually posed little threat to his mission, having no real idea of his presence on the planet; rather, it was the humans who caused trouble. It was logical to be wary after what had already happened to him, but beyond that there was the hazard of random vandals, children, city authorities who would attempt to hook him up and tow him away, etcetera. It had already happened once, although he had his speed and the lateness of the hour to thank for his not-so-narrow escape.
Still, there were few places he knew of in town that could likely shield him from the organics and their prying optics and muddy little fingers. For better or for worse, many of them were the old stomping grounds of his prior captor.
Returning to the scene of the crime felt queer for a number of reasons, and infuriatingly few of them had to do with the unpleasantness of the memories. In fact, it was largely the opposite that drove him to distraction, and he avoided having to stoop low enough to use them unless he was desperate. Which, as luck would have it, ended up being most of the time. What harm could it do, though, really? Other than their propensity to unearth a myriad of rather racy memories, the warehouses were silent and removed, perfect for the short stasis naps he managed to squeeze in every now and then. It’s not like they were in use anymore.
Naturally, his attempt to calm his worries ended in the beginner’s mistake of overcompensation. He was probably more surprised than he should have been when, on one of the rare nights where he had actually almost managed to power down, the shuttered door was raised a few feet and a little leather clad figure wriggled underneath. He was in his vehicle form already, having not transformed since his time imprisoned, so he felt little actual worry for his personal health at first, already having mapped the exits long before this particular stay.
Then the human stood up straight. Their eyes met, really met, despite Blurr’s visual net being transferred into his frontal vehicular sensors. This would probably be unusual for any other human, but, of course, Master Disaster already knew where Blurr’s optics were.
“What the- you’ve gotta be shittin’ me.”
Maybe saying that things went wrong was an understatement.
“Well, well, well!” crowed Master Disaster, stature effortlessly shifting from ‘nighttime prowler’ to ‘suave businessman’.
“Just couldn’t stay away, could you?”
During the short seconds it had taken Master Disaster to develop his ego-stroking theory on why his little blue race car was back in his warehouse, Blurr had gone through several threads of thought of his own. Firstly, that there was no way in Primus’s good universe that the creature had stayed out its entire legal punishment and was therefore here under the cover of night very illegally. Second of all, he mentally smacked himself for choosing this particular night to crash here like the burnt out idiot he was. Apparently, desperation made him sloppy.
The last thing he thought before transforming and standing up under his own power for the first time in what felt like eons was that Master Disaster was about to discover firsthand what the underside of a Cybertronian’s stabilizing servo looked like.
“Whoa Nelly!” Master Disaster jumped back, apparently not having expected him to retaliate, hands raised defensively. Blurr strode across the room just slowly enough for the human to recognize his impending doom, yet still quick enough that Master Disaster’s sudden decision to backtrack to the entrance was in vain. Blurr’s final footfall was close enough to knock him flat on his squishy human aft, and he stood above him, arms crossed, seething through his vents the wrath of a vengeful god.
“You, human, have got some nerve!” unable to contain his budding frustration, Blurr shifted from pede to pede, fingers crawling across his arms.
“You come back in here, assumingly sprung against your Earth laws from whatever primitive penal system you organic mud creatures have devised, crawling on the floor like a newly protoformed Insecticon and yet you think you can just, just waltz up to me and make me your little plug hub again! Well no, no sir, not at all, you sleazy little creep, I am not standing for it!”
The vents lining his helm pushed out a cloud of steam and he panted, as if the words alone had put him through great amounts of physical stress. Master Disaster looked genuinely shocked, juxtapositionally holding his breath, mouth wide open as he stared. Feeling he’d made his point, Blurr allowed himself a small smile.
“You mean to tell me, all this time…you’re a guy?”
Cancel that smile.
“Wha,” Blurr spluttered, “a what? A guy? What does that even mean!”
Regaining some of his posture, Master Disaster pushed himself up into a squat. He shrugged noncommittally, waving his hands in a vague gesture.
“You know, a, a male. A man. A guy.” He sized Blurr up, clicking his tongue.
“I mean, that body’s pretty ambiguous, I guess, but your voice is all…” he shrugged again. “I guess I just thought so cuz of your, ya’know, windshield,” he cupped his hands around his own, flat bosom, imitating, Blurr assumed, the bountiful mammary glands of the females of his species, “and your cunt.”
Stifling the sudden urge to cover himself, Blurr grew heated. He was more than familiar with that word.
“After all this, are you seriously telling me that my supposed slot in you creature’s gender format is all you took from this?”
Master Disaster cringed a bit.
“Well you don’t exactly make it easy on a guy, do you? I’m barely gettin’ a word off you!”
“Alright, you criminal scum, I’ve had about as much of this as I can take!”
Blurr slammed his knee down into the concrete, kneeling to face the human head on. Master Disaster jumped, scrambling to his feet.
“We-well, no need to be hasty, now, love! I’m sure we can work something out, yeah?”
Blurr opened his mouth, then closed it. It wasn’t Master Disaster’s words that got to him so much as the dawn of his own realization. What was he going to do to the human? What could he do? He was intimately aware of how fragile and soft these things were, and there was no way he could reveal himself to the humans just to turn in the little jerk.
The tension bled out of him. Falling back on his haunches, Blurr shuttered his optics, sighing deeply. Warily, Master Disaster lowered his arms, not yet bold enough to try bolting but feeling it was at least a little less likely he was going to be reduced to a greasy stain on the pavement.
“Why are you even here, human?”
Master Disaster shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Needed a place to camp out. This just happened to be closest. Didn’t figure you’d be here, though I can’t say it’s not a lovely surprise.” A pinch of his characteristic smile crawled back onto his lips.
Resting his elbows on his knees, Blurr stared at him.
“That’s too bad for you because I think if anything I deserve to use this building more and quite frankly I’m not in the mood for sharing if you catch my drift which I sincerely hope you do because while I would assume my revulsion was obvious you tend to be even less understanding of physical cues than the rest of your hairy little race.”
“Aw, come on, now!” Master Disaster opened his arms, as if requesting an embrace.
“I didn’t catch all of that, sweetness, but I gather you aren’t so pleased to see me,” Blurr opened his mouth, but the human continued, “and for good reason! I get that I was a little brash with you, the last time we were in such close quarters – you remember that, don’t you, when I used the power buffer on you and you rightly squealed – but I can be a gentleman too!”
Blurr’s frown deepened.
“My understanding of the term is loose so forgive me if I’m wrong but is that not the title someone of generally good social standing is given? I only ask because you are anything but.”
“Aha, see?” finally daring to take a step forward, Master Disaster flashed his teeth.
“I knew you didn’t wanna squash me!”
Nodding and looking away dimly, Blurr sighed again, this time prompted solely by exhaustion. It had been several Earth cycles since his last recharge, and that had been brief and turbulent at best. He really, really did not want to deal with this right now.
“I’m an intelligence agent, not a murderer, thank you very much.”
“An agent?”
Master Disaster had crept closer in his time spent sulking, now only a few sparse feet from his chest. Blurr eyed him wearily.
“Yes, so you had better think twice before you try anything, mister.”
This did absolutely nothing to deter the human from reaching out with a safely gloved hand and boldly stroking right down the side of his breast, fingering the polyglass-to-metal seam with practiced care.
“Come now. I can make it worth your while, if you let me spend one night here. Just one!”
Blurr jerked back out of his touch, glowering.
“What makes you think I ever enjoyed your freakish affections?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Master Disaster, following his retreating chest with both hands this time and tracing right down to his waist, “probably the fact that I made you cum yourself blind.”
Sputtering with indignation, Blurr was too shocked to even pull away this time.
“Ex-excuse me, human, but your filthy tongue is in no way appealing and you are getting a little too fresh with me, if you’d please!”
“No, no,” Master Disaster crooned, pressing himself fully to Blurr’s chest, “don’t be like that, baby. You know it’s true. I made you squirt like a godamned fire hydrant.”
Pursing his lips, Blurr averted his gaze. Master Disaster noted with glee that he still had yet to push him off. He took advantage of this to his fullest capacity, rubbing his hands in firm strokes up and down the angular curve of his windshield, pleased to feel the metal heating ever so slightly through his gloves.
“I’m not pushing for a relationship, sweet thing, I think you know me better than that. But you gotta admit, when you left me, you were wanting it, weren’t you? Feelin’ like something was…lacking.”
He nudged the tip of his boot into Blurr’s crotch. Blurr’s optics widened, frown taking on a more strained look. Embarrassed, thought Master Disaster, how cute. It was no wonder, really; his interface paneling had been burning from the moment he’d laid his fleshy little hands on him.
“It doesn’t matter whether or not you made me physically react,” Blurr spat, “I find you repulsive in every sense of the word.”
Master Disaster ground his foot harder against the panel, reaching up to cup Blurr’s face and bring it down to his own. Feeling an acute spike of self-loathing, Blurr let him. When their lips were but a hair’s breadth apart, they paused, Blurr going nearly cross-eyed to keep the organic in his sight.
“You still want me though, don’t you?”
Blurr pushed forward and the organic kissed him, mouth far too small to really engage him in any form of playful action but able to dole out, in little bundles, the somewhat off-center affection he had been craving since they last parted. Simultaneously, his boot pressed hard into Blurr’s crotch and, Primus help him, he let his panels slide apart, giving himself in to whatever sick pleasures the organic hoped to take from him.
Master Disaster pulled away from his mouth just long enough to look down, wheezing out a chuckle as he appraised Blurr’s exposed valve before pressing hard against him once again (recognizing the human’s seeming revulsion at the thought that Blurr could possible carry interfacing equipment that resembled his own human male anatomy, Blurr had chosen to forgo exposing his spike. Why make this any more difficult than it had to be?). Without even a shred of self-consciousness, he pushed the heel of his boot against the folds.
Arching his back, Blurr shuttered his optics and tilted his head up, trying his hardest not to second guess this and just feel. Master Disaster could only just reach his breast from this angle, continuing to touch but moving the attentions of his mouth lower. The connection between the hard armor and his waist was a sensitive spot, and he capitalized on it with trained precision. Still his boot moved, maddeningly hot, and Blurr reached up and grabbed the human by his flat aft, pulling them flush together.
“This is, this, it’s so – wrong! I…” it was embarrassing how quickly his words dissolved into nonsense.
“Nah, baby, nah,” came a coo from beneath his chest, “you love this. Yeah. Yeah, you do.” There was a distinctive rustling, and the leather jacket the human had been sporting fell away to the concrete.
“Lay back.”
Blurr pushed at him a little.
“What? Why should I? This had better not be some wire crossed scheme to try and recapture me because as I’ve already informed you I have no intention of-!”
“Would you just do it? Oy…”
Master Disaster pulled off him completely, crossing his arms over the thin white shirt that had been beneath his jacket and frowning. It took a stupidly large amount of willpower for Blurr not to try and follow him back with his hips, but he managed, not sure if he was proud of the accomplishment or disappointed in himself for even having to consider it one.
“Alright,” he muttered, stretching his legs out around the organic, “but I’ll have you know that in regaining my motor functions I have also regained the use of my T-cog, meaning I am armed and dangerous and I am authorized to use violent force to protect myself if necessary!”
With that, he lay back, hard enough that the resulting clang echoed throughout the warehouse louder than either of them would have liked. The moment after was met with total silence as they both cringed, waiting a little longer than was probably necessary to ensure no one outside had heard. Blurr’s statement about his defensive status was a bit of a half lie, as he did in fact have access to his energy saw again but was under strict orders not to engage the native life forms under any circumstances beyond the most dire. It would not do for them to be caught like this, when he was soon to be so particularly compromised.
“Okay,” said Master Disaster, stage-whispering needlessly, “okay, good.”
He stepped up to the fork of Blurr’s legs, rubbing a hand smoothly over his stomach. Blurr sat up on his elbows and watched.
“Well? Are you going to do something or not?”
Master Disaster chuckled.
“Quiet, you. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around a nice piece of machinery, and I highly doubt I’ll get much time after this to appreciate a chassis like yours again.”
Blurr scoffed.
“Praise The Allspark for small miracles.”
A gloved hand was suddenly caressing up the cleft of his valve, stopping to tug lightly on the exterior node, and Blurr threw his helm back with a gasp.
“I could really do without the attitude.”
Choosing to let that one slide in favor of moaning loudly, Blurr rolled his hips into the motion as gently as he could, hoping the movement was just enough to encourage the movement and not dislodge the slim fingers. It was so, so good to have talented hands on him again. He still lamented the lack of size, particularly in regards to the human’s flesh-spike, but some stimulation was better than none. and what stimulation it was - the way the human tweaked his nodes, pushed and pulled just right on the rubbery mesh just inside the entrance, the skill with which he handled the entire area, not just focusing his attention on individual sensors; Blurr had a hard time believing that he had never laid his hands on another Cybertronian valve before.
“PrimusPrimusPrimus, you are so sleazy and creepy and weird and greedy and talented and wonderful and awful please please please don’t stop doing that, that’s-ah!-deeper, come on-!”
“Same old slutty racecar.” The words were purred out as praise, treating Blurr’s supposed promiscuity as a sort of success. Still, he felt the trained in need to defend himself.
“Shu-shut up! I really don’t normally do this kind of thing I, ah, I am a somewhat respected individual and I have a reputation to uphold that certainly wouldn’t benefit from having it known I interface with dirty organics, ahhahhh…”
Master Disaster had chosen that moment to shove his entire fist inside, praising his own foresight for having taken his longer gloves from his apartment (as if he could have known he would be elbow deep in a willing body that evening).
“You got somethin’ against us Earthlings?”
His fingers flexed and twisted. Blurr covered his face, embarrassed by the high whine that squeezed from his vocalizer.
“You’re dirty and toxic and primitive little life forms crawling across some previously unimportant rock world where you, mm, ahhah stop that it’s not fair!”
Master Disaster pumped his fist inside, as deep as he could get with without risking burning himself on the copious amount of lubricant liberally coating Blurr’s valve. At this point it was already leaking out to cover the floor, forcing him to shift up off his knees.
“Yeah, and you’re a giant robot with a pussy. What’s your point?”
“It’s, it’s not a pus, a pussy, or a ‘cant’, or a…a whatever, it’s a, ah, an interfacing valve, installed into our genet-ic-ic-ic code billions upon billions of your Earth years ago in order to assist in developing interpersonal relations, not one of your crude reproductive sockets!”
Working his hand into his pants furiously, Master Disaster finally managed to release his dick into the quickly heating air.
“Hey, sex isn’t just about reproduction. There are lots of ways humans fuck that have nothing to do with poppin’ eggs.”
Panting wetly, Blurr managed to raise his head and give him a dimly sour look.
“Going by the word alone, saying sex (which I assume is short for sexual intercourse) isn’t about reproducing is in itself a contadictionnnnmmm.”
“Jesus, do you ever shut up?”
Blurr wanted to ask what ‘Jesus’ meant, but he was too busy spamsing into overload. Grounding his heels firmly against the ground, he pumped his hips into the air, howling appreciatively, gushing. Master Disaster, used to the routine, knew well enough to distance himself from Blurr’s involuntary writhing. Damning the consequences, he ripped his glove off with his teeth, spitting acrid lubricants across the concrete as his bare hand flew to his erection. It had been too long since he’d seen his pretty robot flop its way through ecstasy, and he was closer than he’d like to admit.
As the final shudders of Blurr’s overload twitched their way from his circuits, Master Disaster swung a leg over his waist, planting a hand firmly on his chest. Dazed, Blurr almost had time to ask him exactly what he thought he was doing when the human stiffened, a throaty groan escaping his parted lips, and came all over his windshield. Panting, he slumped down to Blurr’s side, finding the metal uncomfortably hot through his shirt but unable to muster the brass to care.
After several minutes of complete and total silence, apart from their respective labored breaths and the unsteady purr of a robotic cooling fan, Blurr finally shifted.
“Do you have to do that every time?”
Having almost fallen asleep, Master Disaster was slightly less than coherent.
“Do I gotta what?”
“Ejaculate on me.” Blurr sat up, running a finger through the mess with a grimace.
“It’s completely and totally disgusting. Does it mean something in your culture or are you just gleaning some satisfaction from inconveniencing me with your human juices?”
Master Disaster laughed at that.
“Human juices? Good lord…”
“I’m serious,” said Blurr, straightening up enough that the human fell straight backwards, “why do you do it?”
“You really wanna know?” Master Disaster continued his ragged sniggering, tucking his dick back into his trousers.
“I wouldn’t have asked if it didn’t, now would I.”
Blurr lamented his lack of cleaning rags, but his subspace compartments were required to be completely empty when on a mission. Though it was rare, certain bots were calibrated to pick up on the small particle trail absent objects left. In lieu of his own tools, he used the human’s jacket.
He expected at least another snarky comment, but Master Disaster just smiled, eyes narrowing a fraction. He shook his head as though he were in on the joke.
“It means,” he said, patting Blurr’s thigh roughly as he stood, “that I own you.”
The sun peaked over the eastern trees, streaming through the thin windows lining the warehouse ceiling. Master Disaster, sans one jacket, slipped out into the sandy lot, creeping low and alert, knee deep in switch grass. As silently and inelegantly as he came, he snuck off into the pink morning light.
Blurr wiped the rest of the mess off himself, closed his panel, and stood, staring at the shutter door. He contemplated his next move in charting the Decepticon action in the area, how he might better equip himself to intercept their communications. He wondered if the Earth team Autobots were booting up, preparing whatever misguided counter-measures they had planned for the situation.
He looked at the rumpled jacket, faded leather stained a nasty dark. Restless, his fingers tapped the center of his chest, feeling the erratic pulse of his spark beneath. Its beat was off, far too quick.
Despite his earlier commitment, he did not manage to forget the incident for a long time.