This story is set in the DeadZone continuity: a random assortment of Transformers have been stranded on an abandoned planet. Notably, the rest of the Stunticons were not stranded there with Dead End.
Starfighter's jerking, barely-in-control flight caught Dead End's notice as he rolled in from his latest round of exploration. Seekers like Starfighter might fly further and faster, covering more ground, but there was something to be said for having optics at ground level to investigate things in detail.
The blue pyramid jet transformed and stumbled to a landing; Dead End backed off on the gas pedal and rolled quietly toward him as Starfighter shuddered violently. Dead End could hear the ugly hacking noise his backfiring air intakes made from hundreds of yards away.
Starfighter was having one of his attacks, the attacks he denied and tried to hide from the others. If Dead End had not seen such seizures twice before, he might have believed the denials and excuses. Something was wrong with Starfighter, something he didn't want anyone to know about.Decepticons couldn't afford to show weakness. In their "survival of the fittest" world, the weak were expendable--spare parts for the strong. No one wants to be spare parts; Starfighter hid his disability as best he could.
His best wasn't good enough; Dead End knew, and Dead End watched. The moody Stunticon disliked most Seekers; they were a vain, arrogant lot, though the ones he'd been stuck with lately hadn't been so bad. Starfighter, though, was too weak to be arrogant, too timid and self-effacing to be obnoxiously vain, though he had a Seeker's handsome face. In fact, thought Dead End, he could use a hand getting polished up. His engine missed on two cylinders as he thought of rubbing Starfighter all over, first light touches to apply polish, then slow and hard to buff it in.
Dead End transformed silently and stalked Starfighter; the Seeker was shaking violently and clutching at his cockpit. The delectable blue Seeker was almost helpless, completely unaware of his surroundings. Anyone could just walk up and take advantage of him. The dark red Stunticon seized him around the waist just as Starfighter collapsed to his knees--or would have.
"N-No! Let go of me, I'm fine!" Starfighter thrashed weakly, optics widening in fear--then stopped as he shuddered, his intakes violently backing air. He spasmed helplessly as Dead End pulled him off the street into one of the many abandoned buildings in the mining town-turned-base.
"Shhh!" said Dead End softly. "You're only making it worse, frail little Seeker. Don't try to deny your weakness; I've seen you before. You try so hard to hide it, hoping against hope that no one has seen, no one has reported. Futility; there is no hope of that. I have seen."
He held the Seeker against his body, letting his engines purr through the other as he felt the seizure shake Starfighter, overwhelming the little fluttery trembles of fear. "You are so much like my brother Breakdown, you know. He couldn't stand to have strangers watching him--it would get to him, the optics and cameras looking, always looking for him, until he snapped."
Dead End gently stroked one of the Seeker's wings, tracing the trailing edge. He held back, only touching the alevons, gently flexing their joints, instead of throwing the weakened Seeker to the ground and using him like he craved. Starfighter was so frighteningly like his brother at times, and the loneliness and desire was just too much.
"I'd hold him, and pet him until the shakes went away, and the cameras stopped looking into his mind." Starfighter's own shakes seemed to be diminishing. He whimpered softly as Dead End's fingers stroked to the root of his wings and caressed the joints. "N-No, please, you've got it all wrong," he said fearfully, his wings trembling deliciously.
"He had a handsome face like yours, too," Dead End whispered into Starfighter's audials. He relaxed his grip, releasing Starfighter to slide to the ground, still weak from the lasercore flare.
"It was just a momentary glitch, just--" Starfighter babbled--until Dead End slipped around in front of the sitting Seeker and pressed one finger against his lips.
"I told you, I've seen you before." He slid off his visor, revealing curious violet optics; a touch at the corners of his battle mask unlatched it, revealing a dour, yet handsome face beneath. "The first time, in the ditch with the alien tank, you almost fooled me with your denials--but it happened again, and again."
He caressed the side of Starfighter's face with one hand; the other came to rest on an intake. "Don't be afraid. I have no interest in seeing someone so like my brother broken up for spare parts--and you have a keen mind like him, too. I'm only a ground-crawling car, after all, least powerful of the Stunticons...." Dead End brought his face close to Starfighter's, lowering his voice to a whisper as he caressed the Seeker's helm and face.
Something that was not quite desperation lit up Starfighter's optics, and he grabbed at the Stunticon. Perhaps Starfighter meant to push Dead End away, but he ended up pulling Dead End down on top of him. "T-that's right, you're just a car," he said, as if reassuring himself. A look of resignation crossed his face; he could guess what the Stunticon wanted as the price of his silence.
Dead End nuzzled the Seeker's face even as his hands roamed over the jet's cockpit. "Just a car," he agreed. "You're so much bigger and better armed than I am," he said, his voice a deep, sultry purr. "If you pointed your guns at me, I'd have to do whatever you wanted."
"W-Whatever I wanted?" Starfighter trembled again, but it wasn't from the design defect that plagued him. Nor was it fear that forced a squeak from him as Dead End stroked the seams of his cockpit, wriggling his fingers under the edge. This wasn't going quite as he expected!
"Whatever you want," Dead End said, closing Starfighter's mouth with a kiss. Dark hands lifted and wrapped around Starfighter's arm guns, pumping up and down the length of them, pulling them down and inward to point at Dead End's chest.
"See? One click of a relay," Dead End said in that same dark sultry voice, "and oblivion. I am at your mercy--and you are a Decepticon, ruthless and without mercy. I had best... satisfy you. On the other hand... will sensory overload prove too much for your weakness? Does oblivion wait on the other side of pleasure?" Dead End's violet optics burned feverishly bright as he caressed the Seeker's deadly guns; shivers of anticipation sparked through his circuits.
"No!" Starfighter exclaimed, stiffening and trying for a brief moment to yank his guns out of Dead End's grasp... But he liked Dead End's hands there, yes he did, that felt good... "It won't hurt me," he said weakly, his arms trembling again.
"You're the mech with the guns aimed at my lasercore," Dead End said, another shiver of anticipation running through him. "I have to do what you say, now."
Starfighter blinked, optics flickering dimly and back to normal again. This definitely wasn't what he'd expected! Dead End wanted to... submit to him? To Starfighter? "Er, do what you were doing?"
That didn't sound very confident, did it? The intense violent burn of Dead End's optics whenever he forced Starfighter's guns to point at something vital was downright disturbing, too. Starfighter didn't want to think about what it might mean, and--
Those hands continued to ride up his guns as Dead End straddled his nosecone and pressed against Starfighter's cockpit. Then his fingers roamed off the ends of his guns to his shoulders--not an area Starfighter thought of as sensitive--
Until Dead End started forcing his fingers into the underside, where the rotator was. Pressing at the seam that protected the joint in this mode, the seam that had to open up and fold back when Starfighter transformed.
"Ah! Concentrate there!" Starfighter suddenly found an order to give.
Dead End smiled ever so slightly and complied, shifting both hands to Starfighter's left shoulder. He gently parted the under-shoulder seam, opening and spreading it wide enough for his fingers to work into the joint. He stroked the complex mechanism, working his fingers in, bumping and jolting the kinesthetic sensors there.
Starfighter shuddered, intakes violently sucking air as sensations sparked through his circuits. Dead End lowered his face to the top of Starfighter's cockpit, hiding a smirk as he nuzzled the folded nose section.
"Do you suppose your cockpit sections are similarly... responsive?" Dead End asked. His engine purred, a deep thrumming that resonated through Starfighter's entire upper body.
Starfighter whimpered. Wait, he was the one in charge, wasn't he? "I-I don't know. I order you to find out!"
"At once, sir!" Eager fingers teased at Starfighter's cockpit latch. "And once we find out, would you allow me to give you a good polish?"
"Polish?" Starfighter had trouble concentrating on Dead End's words; the Stunticon had found the latch, and the seams, and...
"Polish. It's how we Stunticons always go into battle shining and beautiful. We take care of each other. Breakdown was especially good at it," said Dead End in that sultry voice, lowering it almost to a whisper in Starfighter's audials.
"First he'd apply polish all over every inch of exposed metal, with a very... light touch. Then, he'd have to wait a few minutes for it to dry. No touching," Dead End said softly as he reached into the circuitry underneath Starfighter's open cockpit.
"No touching at--ahhh,' Starfighter writhed, his wings fluttering against the wall. His turbines whined erratically, the note rising and falling with his own thrashing. Oh Primus he was going to die of this! "At all?"
"Not at all. I'd just have to... anticipate." Dead End suddenly froze, hands motionless.
Starfighter whimpered. "Don't stop! I order you to continue!"
"I feared it might be too much, too soon. Your glitch seems to happen whenever things get interesting," Dead End explain. A simple, logical explanation--so why was he smirking?
He resumed stroking deep inside Starfighter's cockpit, caressing sensitive, life-maintaining circuitry. "Then, when it was dry, he would take a soft pad and rub me hard, with slow, circular motions. He'd buff every... square... inch of metal on me."
Dead End lowered his voice as Starfighter arched and cried out, voice an incoherent shriek of ecstasy. "Then he'd do it all over again three more times."
-- FIN --
Starfighter is
the adopted character of Seiberwing and used with her enthusiastic
cooperation permission--his original creator stuffed him in
a badfic, from which he was rescued, renamed, and given a background
that made sense. This version of Dead End is the one played in the
Transformers:Deadzone RPG.