Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/673006.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Transformers_Generation_One
  Relationship:
      Bluestreak/Prowl
  Character:
      Prowl_(Transformers), Bluestreak_(Transformers)
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-06 Words: 10248
****** Breaking ******
by Camfield
Summary
     There is rarely something a dragon such as Prowl wants and does not
     get. Whether it is offered or taken, it makes no difference in the
     end. Even when there are consequences for the ones who stood within
     his path.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Bluestreak stretched out by the river that ran peacefully through the forest.
His long body tensed up, then relaxed in a stretch that pushed his limbs
outward, claws curling at the apex. He rested his muzzle on crossed legs,
optics taking in the goings on of the creatures that scurried around. Each of
them getting ready for the changing of the season that would bring bounty and
abundance. Creating hidden boltholes for stores of food that would keep them
through the bare season that would follow.
His power flowed from him into the ground and Bluestreak attuned his senses
inward. Peeking at the mechamoles that dug massive burrows in the metal and
mineral terrain, feeling the throb of healthy flora as they gathered nutrients
with their roots. Stretching his power further and further until the sensations
that flowed back to his processor overwhelmed him, a brief warning popping up
on his HUD before he shut down into an instant recharge.
*~*~*~*~*
“Bluestreak.”
A groan, but he opened his optics to see his mother-creator standing over him.
She was wearing a soft expression, one that Bluestreak hated with all of his
being, and gazing at him with exasperation.
“Just wait young one. Soon enough you shall have the power to be one with the
forest. There is no shame in waiting, no shame in learning your limits.”
She leaned down and tangled her antlers with his, their nasal sensors just
brushing, before standing back up. “Come, he waits.”
Bluestreak stood up, ignoring the twinge of pain coming from his processor, and
trotted after her. His long tail whipping back and forth in agitation, catching
on the energon grass and making it wave. Ignoring his mother-creator’s
disapproving look and bounding ahead to chase a petrorabbit who had waved an
ear in invitation. His laugh rang through the trees and air, clear and bright.
Each step taking him further from his mother-creator and into the forest,
playing with the creatures that resided there. His glossa lolling from his
mouth, intakes panting as he loped along. Already he could feel the burn in his
tension cables and hydraulics and a frustrated whine escaped him.
When! When would he have the strength to roil with the creatures of the forest
like his father-creator! When would he find that his power was great enough to
connect with the forest in full!
The sparkling slowed to a walk, dipping his head to grasp at strands of
energrass. Sharp teeth closing around them and ripping them from the ground, an
expression of distaste coming over Bluestreak before he spat them back out and
flopped to the ground. Laying there panting until his mother-creator came and
picked him up by his scruff. Twisting her neck around to place him between her
folded wings, smoothing the underside of her chin over his muzzle before
continuing on.
The Protector was still waiting, after all.
*~*~*~*~*
Prowl watched the two forest spirits through the water. The ending of the spell
sending ripples over the surface as they disappeared. The little one was
impatient, impetuous. He lacked the finesse that most spirits naturally seemed
to possess, there was no grace inherent in the sparkling’s movements.
A new image appeared as Prowl waved a claw, the main tribe of the forest coming
into view. They went about their work with little care, trusting in the
Protector to keep them safe and secure in their secluded world. His own shrine
laying neglected and forgotten down an overgrown path, only the occasional
curious youngling ever passing it by.
His teeth bared in a snarl and he shifted to his feet, large wings unfurling
and flapping once. The rush of air pushing the debris from his lunch into the
lake where the Nagas would finish it off. They would find out the reason that
there was a shrine there, and they would pay for neglecting it. His processor
spun into action, plans and information working their way into a web that would
soon be cast.
They would pay for abandoning him.
*~*~*~*~*
For a vorn he watched. Each infraction noted and filed within his vast
processor, every slight against him and his shrine documented and image
captured. The case against the tribesmecha growing every cycle.
He also watched the spirits.
The father-creator was weak, and Prowl hissed flame through his fangs at the
thought of being cast aside while the old spirit grew weaker and weaker. His
power to commune with the forest the only thing keeping him from being toppled
by another creature, his sister-mate quietly supporting the doddering fool. All
the while raising their offspring to be a soft and worthless being.
A gleam flashed through amber optics as he watched the growing sparkling. He
was small and sleek, barely out of the infantile stage. Only half as tall as
Prowl, but nearly just as long. His body curving and whipping as he ran through
the energrass, now able to run for more than a breem before tiring. Playing
with the technoanimals that resided there freely, no care or thought of danger.
Prowl wanted.
The next Protector of the forest, raised by the Destroyer. The ring of irony
made him twitch his tail in delight, wings resettling over his back struts. The
thought of taking the sparkling and dangling him in front of the Protector...
Opening his great maw and closing his fangs ever so gently around the
youngling, just enough so that the tips would scrape against the child’s
plating. Watching the fear and horror sure to be present on the faces of those
around him as he demanded retribution for their vorns of slight against him.
His claws curled in pleasure at the thought. Of the screams and begging that
would surely ensue.
And he would ignore them all. Taking the mechling away with him and demanding
sacrifices once again. Relishing the taste and smell of fresh energon as it
covered his claws and fangs, as he bathed his scales in it.
Optics dimmed, partially shuttered, and Prowl rumbled. A deep, purring growl
that thrummed through his frame from tail tip to the deadly sharp points of his
main cranial horns.
So very soon.
*~*~*~*~*
The air was dark. Foreboding. Each of the many creatures that filled the forest
scrambling to find a place to hide as a large shadow slowly moved over the
ground. Prowl gliding over the treetops in lazy, looping paths. Making sure
that not one creature in the forest was unaware of him. Flame licking from his
nasal sensor in wisps as his internal combustion chamber filled with molten
metal, just waiting to be sprayed over any who stood in his path.
He deliberately circled over his broken shrine. Flying downward in a spiral,
the tip of one wing pointed directly at the rubble below, before landing
heavily beside it. A roar released from his maw that shook the trees and houses
nearby, the thread of fear turning into a thick cable that tied the tribesmecha
down in their spots. The terror pinning them to the ground where they stood as
they cried out to the Protector to save them.
Prowl laughed, fire streaming from his mouth as he moved through the village.
Spitting gobs of liquid metal onto the structures and watching them melt, claws
digging into the bodies of the mecha who were unfortunate enough to be in his
way. Relishing the screams that tore through the space. Raising his claws to
lick the energon and pieces of armor that stuck to them. “Where is your
precious Protector now, fools! Who will save you from your own neglect!”
The giant black head was thrown back and Prowl roared his challenge to the
heavens.
“Come Great Protector! Come and save your underlings! Come show them how weak
you have become!”
*~*~*~*~*
Bluestreak cowered under his mother-creator, the force of the roars echoing
through the forest shaking their covered home. He cried out, burying his muzzle
into her ruff.
“Be still young one! I must go with the Protector, you must stay, keep hidden!”
“Creator! No!” He clutched to one wing, pulling at it with all his might.
She pulled it from his grasp, sending Bluestreak tumbling. “There is no time
for this! Stay here, stay safe!”
Her long body shot off, legs speeding over the ground, wings beating a sharp
staccato until they lifted her airborne. The white body disappearing into the
trees within a klick, leaving the sparkling alone in the burrow.
He cried out again, turning in a tight circle. Wings half furled, fur standing
on end and optical lenses dilated wide with terror. The magic of the forest
calling to him, pleading with him, as he felt parts of it burning, melting. The
pain of the creatures that died in their homes, of those who were injured but
not dead. Of the pain of those who escaped death, only to find that their
families had not. Each and every creature calling out in the magic for help,
pleading, begging. His father-creator not answering their calls, not sending
out reassurance through the web.
The cacophony of noise grew louder in Bluestreak’s processor. Each new patch of
destroyed forest a new pain, a new entryway for more voices to crowd him. The
sparkling was backed up to the far back of his burrow, tail curled around him
and rump pressed as close to the wall as it could be. Whimpering, pain clouding
his optics. The voices of the forest overwhelming him with their intensity.
Bluestreak panted, his vents drawing in air as fast as they could. The world
was swimming before him, his gyros no longer sending usable information as he
toppled over, unable to keep his balance. His claws dug into the fine mineral
dust that littered the ground and he finally screeched. The wail of a child in
pain that cut through the forest like a knife before he fell offline.
*~*~*~*~*
The Protector stood in front of him. His wings outstretched and ruff on end in
a bid to give him more weight. Whiplike tail held at the ready as he crouched
before Prowl, optics glowing sharp in a way that had the larger dragon dipping
his head once in respect.
“Leave these mecha, this forest. There is no room for you here, Destroyer.”
Prowl deliberately turned his great head away from the Protector. A slight
against the ancient spirit that made him growl and flex his own claws. “They
have forgotten.”
“You should be forgotten.”
“I should be revered.”
A snort. “No one should revere destruction.”
“I protected them more than you have.”
“From your own machinations! Not from outside threats! Who worships a god who
only demands sacrifice and never helps his people!”
The vibrations from the Prowl’s engine shook the ground as he growled. Baring
his fangs and raising his spinal strut spikes from where they lay flat against
his back plating. Spreading his legs and standing tall, looking down at the
Protector, the few mechanometer difference in their heights both unimportant
and a gaping chasm. He settled himself, optics partially shuttered, and
invented. Molten metal churning in its chamber, smoke pouring out of his nasal
sensor as his intake tubing rotated out of the way. A reinforced gate spiraling
open, ready to force the liquid up and over his glossa and between fangs. The
crack of metal against metal as he caught sight of the sister-mate the instant
before she crashed into his neck. The deadly liquid Cybertronium and fire
spraying over the area, bringing screams from those caught in its path.
 
In an instant he was up on four legs again. Smashing the back of his neck into
the sister-mate’s chest, his spines driving into the thick armor that protected
her spark and lifting her, sending her flying into the Protector. Claws
flashing as he roared and dove forward, slashing whatever white was closest and
ignoring the pricks of pain that came with his opponents doing the same.
A tail came around and slammed into the side of his head, sparks flying as the
metal screeched off each other. Prowl’s optics surged for a klick before he
lunged and caught a foreleg in his jaws. Crunching down and feeling struts and
joints break before giving a mighty yank and pulling the whole limb from its
socket. Spitting the mangled metal aside and inventing again, cycling open the
gate and breathing fury again upon them. Fire licking at their filament fur,
turning the edges black. Drops of their armor hitting the ground as the heat
melted it from their bodies.
He stood back and looked at them, partially fused together and bleeding where
the fire and liquid metal had burned away armor and hadn’t cauterized the
energon lines. Taking a step forward so that he stood just before them and
roaring again. Resting his weight on his hind legs as he wedged his claws
between their frames and pulled outward. Ignoring the squeals of metal and
screams that came from the two. Not stopping until they were again two bodies
that he dropped to the ground, landing heavily on his forelegs and bringing his
head close to the Protector’s limp and charred audial sensors.
“All that you once had is now mine. Never again will a spirit of your line rule
this forest, old one, and all the creatures that you love so dearly will bow to
me,” Prowl rumbled in satisfaction, “or they will die.”
A cry ripped through the air and Prowl’s head snapped up. Taking his attention
away from the Protector and his mate bleeding energon over each other and the
ground. Ignoring their attempts to get up, to distract him as he scented the
air. Drawing in deep draughts of atmosphere and holding it in. Allowing the
special sensors in his mouth to separate out the different scents, each teased
out and discarded until he found the one that made his oral lubricant run.
Globs of the sticky fluid dripping from his fangs to hit the ground as he
vented in again and again. Stepping carefully forward, then more and more
confidently as the smell filled his nasal sensor. Flicking off the sister-mate
as she made a last bid to turn him back by sinking her fangs into his tail.
“Don’t run away ‘Protector.’ I will be back soon enough to finish you off.”
He lowered his head to the ground and moved off, purring in pleasure at the
wails that raised up behind him.
*~*~*~*~*
Bluestreak powered on slowly, aware of a terribly intense heat on his muzzle
and automatically shying away, protecting his sensitive components. Wiggling
backwards to find that there was no space for him to go and unshuttering his
optics the barest amount, seeing a great black and red maw mere microinches
from his own faceplates.
He let out a squeal and scrambled around, trying to get past the dragon’s
muzzle and out into the open air.
“P-p-please!”
The head retreated and a claw came in and swiped him out of the burrow. Holding
him tightly to a thickly armored chest as he squirmed.
“Come child. Your creators wish to see you.”
His creators! Bluestreak relaxed into the dragon’s grasp, letting his body
drape against the warm metal. It was awkward, since he was nearly as long as
the dragon, but he pulled his torso up to rest on a shoulder. Sitting with his
back end firmly grasped and his tail wrapped around the limb, like the
tribesmecha did with their young. His neck curling around the thicker one to
watch as they moved forward. He didn’t notice the way the pull of his magic
dimmed, nor the voices of the forest growing weak. His only focus on the
trepidation he felt for his creators, the way their bond was weak and growing
weaker.
“Hurry? Please!”
The dragon rumbled, but kept on at his leisurely pace. Ignoring the pleas of
the sparkling as they passed by melted patches of forest. Burned and
unrecognizable frames that could have been technoanimals just as easily as they
could have been mecha. Bluestreak finally crying out when he saw his creators.
The dragon let him go and he ran to their sides, whining and whistling. Nudging
their muzzles with his own, trying to get a response from either of them and
trilling in relief when his father-creator groaned. Lifting his head slightly
to touch their antlers together.
“How touching.”
Bluestreak whirled around and gazed up at the sitting dragon. Watching as he
methodically cleaned a claw, the sparkling recognizing the pink of congealed
energon coating the metal.
“I do hope you enjoyed my final gift to you, Protector. As well as the
knowledge that I will keep him, as a part of my hoard, for eternity. Forever
bound to me by spark. The future bearer of my brood.”
The old Protector struggled to push himself up onto his claws. Three remaining
limbs shaking with effort to hold his body up.
“Leave him be!”
The sparkling huddled closer to his father-creator, confused. This dragon had
brought him to his creators, yet they acted like he was an enemy.
A chuckle from the dragon and he suddenly whirled around.
“HEAR ME! All the creatures who inhabit this forest are now beholden to me! I
am now the master that rules this realm and those who disobey shall be
destroyed as examples!” He turned to the one mecha that remained, his legs
melted into a puddle that was now a solid mass. “You shall be my messenger.
When they return for you, you will tell them to rebuild my shrine.”
The mecha babbled something at him, clutching at his own chassis so hard that
he left dents. Nodding emphatically as he tried to scoot his deformed frame
backwards.
“I expect sacrifices to begin in one vorn.” the dragon snorted, blowing smoke
out of his nasal sensor. “Do not disappoint me.”
He moved again, knocking the Protector over and grabbed Bluestreak up in one
gesture. Holding the squirming sparkling to his chest as he pumped his powerful
wings and rose into the sky. Watching as both the old spirit and his sister-
mate reached out with what little strength they had left and laughed. Clearing
the treetops and wheeling around, dangling Bluestreak under him as he flew back
to his cave. Delighting in the tremors and whimpers that came from the
frightened spirit.
*~*~*~*~*
When Prowl reached his cave his wing joints were beginning to ache. Bluestreak
was half his size, despite being still a sparkling, and the tensile cabling and
neural lines that ran through the malleable metal wings had been strained to
it’s limit with the extra weight they’d carried. He dropped the spirit
unceremoniously on the hard rock floor, ignoring the yelp of pain that
followed. Instead stretching his wings out to their limits before carefully
resettling them over his back struts. It would be an orn or so before he could
again fly comfortably. Prowl made a displeased noise, a rumble deep within his
chest, and turned amber optics to Bluestreak.
The sparkling had voided his secondary recycled energon tank and there was a
sizable pool of processed and depleted fluid that spread from beneath him. The
slightly acidic liquid steaming as it ate away at the topmost layer of rock.
Prowl snarled and grabbed him up by the scruff of his neck, shaking him before
hauling him over to the pool of water and dunking him in. Holding him under and
shaking him again, then dragging him out and throwing him to the ground with
enough force that Bluestreak bounced, his head hitting the rock with a dull
clang.
“Disgusting creature. Didn’t your creators teach you anything?”
Prowl skirted the mess, inventing and cycling his internal chamber open.
Cooling the molten metal within just enough that it wouldn’t melt a hole in the
rock before letting it spray out. Covering the acrid liquid and indent it made
with a layer of metal that popped and simmered. Glowing red-orange, filling in
the space until it was again level with the rest of the floor.
“The next time you decide to do that in my dwelling, I will stick one of your
claws into the metal and hold it there until I feel you’ve learned your
lesson.” He turned and brushed a clawtip under the sparkling’s chin, tilting it
up. “Do I make myself clear?”
Bluestreak nodded emphatically, his dripping fur sending water droplets
everywhere. “Y-yes. I won’t do it again!” His tail was curled around him and
frame shaking.
A smile curled up the corner of Prowl’s mouth. He sat on his haunches and
gathered the sparkling up, winding his neck around the other’s in a caress.
Smile growing as the trembling spirit tried to reciprocate.
“Good.”
*~*~*~*~*
“Can I go outside today? Please?
Prowl blew smoke from his nasal sensors. “No.”
“I’ll be good! I promise I will!” Bluestreak held himself curled as small as he
could, huddling against the wall. His wings ached from disuse and the part of
his processor that controlled his flight processes cried out for the open air.
“You will be good regardless.”
He would, but he had nothing else to promise. Nothing to barter with.
“Please... I want to-to fly...” The sparkling rested his head down on the floor
and fought back tears. His vents hitched and wings twitched on his back.
“Then fly.” Prowl hadn’t looked up from where he was cleaning his scales.
Making each one gleam and shine before moving to the next one.
Bluestreak looked around the cave. It was large enough... He carefully looked
at the dragon and stood. Edging his way to a large boulder and clambering up,
his wings opening and claw-thrusters firing as he left off.
There wasn’t really much room, not nearly enough to really stretch out his
wings properly, but the feeling of air flowing over his flight sensors sent him
into euphoria. They sang at being able to test air flow and patterns, calculate
angles and adjust thrust. His optics surged white as he executed tiny
maneuvers. Tight barrel rolls and hairpin turns in the small space. His magic
whorled around him, creating the illusion of a forest that he darted through
with ease and Bluestreak trilled in happiness as he flew.
Prowl watched the sparkling, cleaning on hold. He lay one front leg over the
other and relaxed, a purr growing in his engine. His optics half shuttered and
mouth open, the tang of magic passing over his chemoreceptors and filling his
nasal sensor.
He regarded the sparkling with a possessive air, “Soon enough you will carry my
clutch, spirit.”
The white form zig-zagged across the space joyously, heedless of the dragon’s
words.
 
*~*~*~*~*
 
Prowl was done waiting.
For vorns he had mated whomever had entered his territory. Keeping them captive
until their heat cycle before interfacing them into stasis. Each time it
produced no eggs, and each time he grew more and more frustrated.
Each time killing the other dragon and sending their frames to the bottom of
his lake where the Nagas finished them off.
Bluestreak was different and that made Prowl impatient.
The spirit had a completely different gestation system, one that he was more
than eagerly waiting to try out. The fact that Bluestreak was vorns away from
his first heat cycle was... unfortunate. There was, however, no reason that
training could not begin. It would be wonderful to have a warm, willing, pliant
body underneath his during mating season.
Of course, he’d take one that was rigid and unwilling just the same.
One massive claw pressed down between Bluestreak’s wings, forcing his legs to
bend and chest to graze the ground. Running his long glossa along the underside
of the sparkling’s body from stomach to tail. Feeling the edges of the thinly
protected valve panel with the tip and plying them with extra attention.
A whimper came from the spirit as he tried to shift his legs, to move away from
the strange sensation, but Prowl only pressed down harder on his back.
“Be still.”
There! The manual catch, hidden and hard to activate, but with a few deft moves
Prowl had the panel open. Bluestreak’s sealed valve bared to the air, the
sparkling’s tail trying to come down and protect it. His head whipping from
side to side as he keened in fear. This wasn’t anything his creators had told
him about and it terrified him that his keeper knew more about his body than he
did. The glossa on his body felt strange, nothing like when his mother-creator
would clean him. It left a path that felt warm and made his tank shudder,
coding coming online and feelings he didn’t understand going through his
processor. Whimpers becoming squeals of pain as the burning hot glossa speared
his seal, back legs scrabbling against the rock as he tried to hunker down. To
get away from the throb of the heated glossa within him, away from the zings of
pain that shot through his neural net every time either of them moved.
“It hurts! Please stop!”
Prowl gave a rumble that vibrated through his glossa and into Bluestreak as the
rough appendage scraped over dry inner walls. The abrasive texture scraping
what was left of the seal from the rim of his valve, leaving behind raw
metalmesh that seeped a tiny bit of energon. So different from other dragons
and Prowl purred in appreciation. The spirit was so much softer, interface
equipment so different than his previous conquests. Valve and spike separated,
neither hidden within a heavily armored and protected opening that kept
unwanted suitors out. No, he was bare and ready for the taking and Prowl
relished the idea of grooming his little captive.
The smell of energon made his oral lubricant flow. Coating his glossa and fangs
and easing the friction of metal against metal as he continued to lick the
inside of Bluestreak’s valve. The slickened walls beginning to quiver as he
continued to pass his glossa over the newly stimulated sensor nodes. Noticing
that trickles of lubricant were beginning to seep from the metalmesh and
rumbling again. Slowing the path of his glossa to pay individual attention to
where it came through, making sure to allow it to cover the chemoreceptors on
his glossa. Savoring the taste with a pleased sound as he settled himself more
comfortably on his hind legs, pushing his maw forward so close that the front
of his fangs pressed against Bluestreak’s valve housing. Glossa slithering in
and out through the gap between fangs, delivering more oral lubricant on each
pass. Twisting and turning so that the flat rubbed a different part of the
silky lining every time it entered.
Bluestreak was quickly losing his focus as pleasurable shocks pulsed through
his neural net. The ache from losing his seal throbbing in the background as
Prowl continued his ministrations. He didn’t understand. The sensations were
overwhelming, intense and his processor fought to categorize and file them
properly. Failing at every turn because the coding responsible for his
reproductive system was still unpacking and integrating, out of order and at a
pace he was barely able to keep up with. His neural net rushing through
hardware upgrades even as Prowl continued licking him out, surges of
electricity crackling over his frame as he convulsed into his first overload.
Keening, a reedy wail that rang through the cavern.
Prowl paused, letting his glossa rest inside the sparkling. Resisting the urge
to bring it back into his mouth as watery lubricant pooled over it. The heavy
claw that rested between feathered wings pulling back, lighty drawing tips over
super sensitized plating. Allowing himself to crouch down behind Bluestreak
completely, confident that the spirit would no longer be so eager to escape.
 
Bluestreak’s limbs seemed to be locked in position and he was unable to decide
if he wanted to hunker down and cover his valve or spread his legs and tilt his
aft backward. His tail quivering as it made aborted motions to sweep out of the
way, the super thin sensor filaments brushing over Prowl’s muzzle and sending
tiny bolts of sensation through his frame. Valve calipers clenching around the
slippery glossa and his coding finally caught up to the hardware upgrades. The
final internal connections fusing together, newly activated sensor nodes
lighting up with visible charge. The spirit shuddered again and again, optics
dim, and exvented with a harsh huff. Cooling fans running at full capacity in
an effort to dump the immense heat from his internal systems.
The red and black dragon just made a pleased noise. Withdrawing his glossa,
careful to bring as much lubricant as he could back, and nudging the sparkling
around to lay down. Draping himself over the smaller frame with a rumble of
pleasure and ignoring the whimpering cries that sounded out.
Oh yes. When he finally mated Bluestreak it would be to a willing frame. One
that would bloom open to his every advance without hesitation and be ever so
pliant against him.
His optics blazed bright as he watched a Naga jump from the lake to catch a
technobat, ripping the wings off and letting an arc of energon spray before
gravity carried them back down into the water. A pink cloud forming as the rest
of the flock swarmed their brother. Ripping the still alive creature apart
within seconds. He rested his head down and shuttered his optics.
Perfect.
*~*~*~*~*
Bluestreak sometimes wondered what drove Prowl to do what he did. There was
always a moment when the red dragon seemed to think about his actions and
forcibly turn them the other way, often in a direction that hurt someone around
him. Prey, neutral or otherwise, there seemed to be no difference. He bore more
marks of temper than the nagas simply by way of proximity, but Bluestreak
wasn’t stupid or slow. He could see the gouges in the walls and floor of the
cave that had been made long before his arrival here. Could see bits and pieces
of framework from creatures that couldn’t have been prey, as large as they
were.
He saw the remains of a nest encased in metal, down to the broken edges of
eggs. Scorches and furrows in the wall, boulders half smashed, even what might
have once been a pile of gems turned into a hardened puddle of mixed colors.
No, Bluestreak was neither slow nor stupid. Even as young as he was, or perhaps
because he was young, he looked at Prowl and under all the anger, under all the
deliberately made hurtful decisions, he saw a creature who was terribly sad.
 
*~*~*~*~*
 
Bluestreak whipped around Prowl, scrambling for the exit. His wings already
beating as his long body sped over the rock floor. He just had to get to the
edge of the cave, just had to make it out into open air...
His power reached out, as always, for a place he was no longer physically
connected to. The barest whispers of a response that called to him, begging him
to return. Their call was weak, and grew weaker every orn he was far from his
home. He spent joors searching for a pathway his magic could travel, begging
Primus for a moment that let him be one with the life of the forest and crying
himself into recharge again and again.
It never made a difference. Prowl was always there, laughingly blocking his way
out of the cave. Mocking him when he slipped on the smooth rock floor, his
claws meant to grip the loamy, nutrient rich ground of the forest. Bluestreak
always held onto the hope that if he made it to the sky he would be free, that
somehow the sky represented safety from the monster that nipped at his heels
lazily, as though he couldn’t be bothered to put any effort into stopping his
captive from running away. No matter that he was near full growth and almost as
large as Prowl himself.
With a howl the spirit pushed himself to move faster, already feeling the air
currents working over his fur and wings. Glossa lolling out, invents coming
faster, and Bluestreak gathered himself before leaping off the floor.
Prowl swung his tail, bringing it down just behind sparkling’s antlers. Making
his body slam into the jagged rock edges , one wing twisting under his body
with a crunch that ripped a scream from the spirit’s vocalizer.
“And here I thought we were past trying to escape. Come now Bluestreak, you’ve
been here how long?”
Bluestreak lay stretched out on the rock, unmoving. Optics dim and vents
panting as he struggled to deal with the negative sensory input. Prowl reached
out and put his muzzle right next to the injured wing, vents hot on the over
sensitive limb. “How long Bluestreak.”
Still the sparkling didn’t answer. Whimpers as the too hot air scorched sensor
nodes and began melting the protective rubber that covered his neural lines.
Aware that Prowl was next to him, but not comprehending the question. Processor
skipping and jolting around as it tried to compensate for the pain.
The dragon closed his jaws lightly over the damaged wing.
“How long Bluestreak.”
Warnings began popping up on Bluestreak’s HUD, shunting the pain aside to focus
on the words that vibrated the damaged wing with each word. What they said.
Prowl was asking him something, and judging by the hold he now had Bluestreak
in he’d already asked it more than once.
His vocalizer crackled as Prowl put the slightest pressure into his hold. Just
enough that the deadly sharp points barely dug into the mangled plating. A
warning. Bluestreak’s processor shrieked at him to answer the question, to
prevent further injury that was immanent if he stayed silent. A blat of static
came out the first time but the pressure on his wing didn’t increase, a sign
that Prowl was waiting for his correct answer.
“Ksssht-ree v’rn.”
The fangs tightened almost imperceptibly and Bluestreak hastily forced a hard
reboot on his vocalizer.
“Three vorn!”
It was said in a strong tone that belaid the spirit’s trepidation. He’d been so
close and yet he could feel hopelessness creeping in. Prowl seemed to be the
one letting him get that far only to break him a little more each time. Each
denied escape wearing on him. Bluestreak looked again at the sky that was so
close. Reaching out a claw that registered the wind, the thermal patterns, for
a mechamile in front of him. Undamaged wing twitching as his processor broke
the data down and primed him for flight. The grip on his wing remaining
unyielding, constant. A solid presence that sent despair blossoming through
every one of the sparkling’s circuits. Three vorn. Countless escape attempts.
Not one that had gotten him past the entrance to the cave.
The catalogue of injuries from his escape attempts came to the forefront of his
HUD and scrolled down. His automatic reflexes had already added and were
updating the damage to his wing as it came in and he bleakly dropped the claw
that had been reaching outward as he looked over the list.
Auto-repair had already begun. Minor energon leaks sealed off, bare and damaged
wires covered in nanites that formed a protective coating. Deadening some of
the pain sensors as they went, making the stark contrast between the numb and
the pain so much more clear it nearly overwhelmed his processor again.
Broken struts, melted and torn plating and armor. His wings were a mass of
barely repaired filaments and sensors, only one thruster worked with any
consistency. The other would spin up and fire intermittently, catching on
something internally that made it misfire and reboot constantly. His tail was
crooked, the main strut had been snapped and he’d been offline for most of the
healing process, meaning that he hadn’t been aware enough to stretch it out to
heal straight. Claws chipped and broken, denta the same. Some sharp enough that
they cut his glossa if he wasn’t careful, and others so blunt that he had
trouble eating the mechanimals that Prowl brought when it was time to refuel.
Only his antlers stood proud and unbroken and then only because they renewed
themselves every quarter vorn and had yet to sustain damage. The only damage
that Prowl allowed the tribesmecha to repair was internally. His inner systems
always worked at near peak performance, especially those related to interfacing
and gestation. Processor always compensating for the lag caused by poorly
maintained external sensors. It was sometimes as though he was looking at
someone else’s body, trying to control it with the barest of impulses. Feeling
as though he was hardlined to his own frame from the outside, going through
relays multiple times to make sure that the information reaching each piece of
armor, each limb, was correct.
There was a rising keen as the information settled in his processor. A gurgling
as his tank threatened to bring back up the minimal amount of fuel inside,
frame beginning to shake as Bluestreak watched the last of his hope die. Not
even noticing that Prowl had let go of his wing and was simply watching. Optics
half shuttered with pleasure as he watched his captive tremble. The fiery light
dying from his optics, replaced by a dull glow that was barely visible.
To Prowl, it was a beautiful sight to watch hope die. It never failed to make
his frame heat up with arousal at their despair. That the spirit wasn’t even
yet a full adult frame made it even sweeter, and again he resolved to keep
Bluestreak for an eternity. Already relishing the nights that would be spent in
pleasure.
His primed little sparkling. Only two vorn from becoming fully grown and
capable of bearing him newsparks. Prowl licked his lips in anticipation.
Bluestreak’s grooming was nearly complete, his shrine had been repaired to a
flawless state, and the tribesmecha from the forest were once again offering
him proper tribute.
Bluestreak was still frozen in place, trembling. A keen pouring from his
muzzle, music to Prowl’s audials that rang throughout the cavern.
“You have a place. Learn it.”
Prowl pushed the sparkling away from the entrance, deliberately putting
pressure on the damaged wing. A brutal shove sending the spirit sprawling in a
screech and scream of metal grinding together. His lust growing as he watched
his broken toy try to get up and fail. Hydraulics refusing to hold up, energon
leaking from freshly re-torn lines. Matted filament fur, clumps of dried
energon and nanites, melted metal and plasteel covering most of the once white
frame.
It was gorgeous.
His engine rumbled. Wings partially unfurling and spike thickening inside it’s
protective armor covering. Waiting for him to give the command to let it slip
through the tiny slit at the back of his underbelly. He hooked a claw under
Bluestreak’s haunches and pulled the sparkling up. Holding him there, because
the spirit was in no state to hold himself up. Letting his heavy spike slide
out, the surface already slick with internally applied lubricant. The base
swollen just slightly, hinting at the knot that would come later. Prowl growled
in approval when Bluestreak regained himself enough to slide back his valve
panel. He was in no mood to have to have the spirit repaired again for refusing
him entry.
A taste of the air told him that even battered and broken, the sparkling was
reacting. The faint scent of his light lubricant wafting just barely from the
uncovered opening. Prowl had been careful, perhaps more careful in this than
anything else, to cultivate a positive response to interfacing. For short term
mates there was no issue with forcing them, damaging them. They weren’t going
to be with him for more than a season, why should he pretend that their
pleasure mattered? But with with Bluestreak, this had been vorns in the making
and he had no desire to start over with another. Assuring his frame at least
wanted the encounter was a victory. One that meant he would be able to mate
Bluestreak as many seasons as necessary to procure a brood.
Because this wasn’t just about offspring.
It was about breaking everything that the old Protector had held dear.
His forest was under Prowl’s control. His sparkling was not only in the
dragon’s grasp, but was enjoying it on a perverse level that tickled Prowl’s
very spark. The beings he’d been charged to protect were worshipping the
Destroyer, and the power that flowed into Prowl from the absolute terror that
he saw every time he flew over them was worth every klick he’d had to spend
coaxing Bluestreak into overload after overload. Ignoring his own needs to
create one in a sparkling that shouldn’t even know what they were.
The spirit moved his legs slightly further apart and Prowl let go. Bluestreak
wobbling slightly but able to hold his aft elevated, optics brightening and
glossa lolling out of his muzzle. Aware of what was coming next and unable to
stop his frame’s responses to the dragon.
Prowl’s optics shuttered as he flicked his glossa inside the moistening tunnel.
The fact that he’d come to enjoy the taste of Bluestreak was a welcome side
effect. So much so that he’d spent one cycle doing just that. His glossa never
leaving the silky inner walls for long, and then only to return more of that
fragrant fluid to his mouth. Bluestreak had eventually dropped into emergency
stasis from the constant charge and overloads, the only reason Prowl had
reluctantly removed himself from the sparkling’s back end and flown off to find
food.
A rumbling purr rolled through him as lubricant began to flow in earnest.
Allowing himself only a brief taste this time before straddling the sparkling.
One front claw on Bluestreak’s uninjured side, resting just enough weight on
the shoulder to keep the slim chest pressed to the ground. Licking the long
neck, under the spirit’s muzzle and between his antlers. His haunches lowering,
spike rubbing over the primed valve beneath it. Bluestreak’s tail was swept
high and to the side, his aft tilted out as much as the position allowed,
whimpering as the spike rubbed over him.
Bluestreak hated how his frame craved Prowl’s attention. Hated how every time
he even walked past the sparkling’s back end his valve began lubricating.
Wanting the overload, the pleasure that it brought. It seemed to be the only
time his body reacted properly anymore. The only time when his processor
functions and his neural net matched up.
But still, he hitched up his aft again, another whimper breaking free as the
tantalizing slide over his entrance made another gush of lubricant flow.
Wanting, because even though he hated everything that interfacing was, he
couldn’t bring himself to fight it. Not when a surge of pleasure wracked his
body and took away some of the pain from his injuries. Not when the heavily
ridged underside of the spike finally caught his valve and a keen bubbled up
from deep in his tank. His disgust at himself for the abject relief he felt as
the spike was rocked into him. Slowly, gently stretching the pliable rim as it
moved smoothly inside. Oh how he hated that he wanted this. His processor
already clouded, the feelings of hate becoming muddled in the wonderful
pleasure that sang through him. Hrrrk’ing softly, an encouraging noise that he
couldn’t stop. Pressing back into the rhythm that was so perfectly at odds with
how he was normally treated that he craved the contact.
His auto-repair had fixed all of the tiny, minor problems and left his wing
almost blessedly numb. The parts he could feel were throbbing, no longer
bombarding him with dizzying pain signals. Bluestreak only knew that whatever
pain was caused to him, it all seemed to go away when Prowl interfaced him.
The massive dragon behind him was fully seated, grunting when Bluestreak
clenched his valve around the thick spike. Starting a rhythm that was forceful
and gentle at the same time. A fluid movement back and forth that filled him
nearly completely with each thrust. The knot grew, at first slipping in and out
of him easily, then with a visible strain as it breached the rim each way. A
shudder went through them both at each pass, Prowl gripped the spirit’s
shoulder a little tighter. His head, huge in comparison, pressed up against the
Bluestreak’s. Armor plating puffed out to maximise air circulation as their
fans whirred noisily, dumping heat away from sensitive internal systems. Each
of the scales on Prowl’s neck were angled outward, the bare struts and
protoform visible underneath as he moved. Condensation glistening anywhere heat
passed, creating a sheen that dripped into puddles on the floor. Specialized
vents on his chest and shoulders open to full as his internal temperature rose
to dangerous levels, threatening an overload of the circuits that controlled
his combustion and molten core chambers. Additional coolant rerouting through
special pathways to allow Prowl to keep going, growling as he thrust his spike
continuously into Bluestreak.
Magic sang over them as the sparkling trilled. Energrass blanketing the rock
under them only to be burned to ash by the heat vented directly on it. Again
and again, the smell of it in the air and on their glossa as they continued the
familiar dance.
Bluestreak felt his frame shudder. Pushing back in earnest as he felt the
telltale clench of his belly plating. Tension cabling locking him in his
position, knowledge of what was to come had trained him and a bubble of
excitement rose as his charge neared its peak. He rubbed his head and neck, the
only things left that still moved, under Prowl’s. Curving motions that
slithered back and forth, the dirty filament fur catching on the dragon’s
flared scales and tugging. A deep thrumming coming from inside the dragon,
vibrating them both with the sheer intensity.
Finally the knot pressed in and expanded fully, holding them fast together.
Prowl hunched as close as he could to Bluestreak, smoke streaming from his
mouth as transfluid erupted to batter the top of the sparkling’s valve. He
shuddered once, letting out a roar of completion. Under him Bluestreak beared
down, valve calipers rolling, pulling the engorged spike further inward.
Elongating it, the metal plates no longer overlapping but now edge to edge,
until the flared head pressed up against his gestation chamber gate with each
burst of transfluid. His neck was bent and his muzzle pointed straight up.
Mouth open and a keen echoing alongside with the great roar.
The immediate charge ran through them, tripping circuits and crackling off
their frames. Running its course until they both had vents heaving, fans
whirring as they tried to dump the excess heat away from more delicate systems.
Bluestreak raised the armor plates that weren’t damaged, crouching low to stay
as far away as possible from Prowl’s own vents. Glossa lolling out of his mouth
and optics shuttered as they rode out the waves of pleasure.
Bluestreak’s hind end shook as he came down from overload, the pain and damage
from his wing exploding through his still primed neural net. His leg hydraulics
hissed and misfired, jerking them painfully where they were connected. Prowl
snarled and reached down again to clamp a claw around the spirit’s underbelly,
letting his claws dig in with displeasure. Bluestreak whimpered, but moved no
more. Keeping still and waiting for the knot to loosen, small shudders wracked
his frame.
*~*~*~*~*
 
Prowl dove from the sky, and snatched the goldeer up in one massive claw.
Bluestreak was gravid, and his frame needed as much precious metal as Prowl
could provide to form healthy young.
The sparkling-
No, he was no longer a sparkling. His form had fully matured, gaining color.
Chevron a bright red, now long, jutting up between his now impressive set of
antlers. Prowl knew that now he would not be easily taken down, even with
diminished magic and injury to his frame. Not only was he a carrier who would
protect his clutch to the death, but he was a fully grown forest spirit. Prowl
had no delusions that his strength was the only thing that kept Bluestreak from
leaving.
The spirit had turned gray and black to match his surroundings, taking Prowl’s
own red coloration on his thighs, the place they were joined most. Only his
claws stayed white, color gradating as you went up. Each color blurring into
the next one, none of them clearly delineated. A safety mechanism that allowed
him to blend in with his surroundings where clean cut lines would not.
With a snort, Prowl wheeled around and fired his thrusters. His wings cutting a
swathe through the fog that was beginning to form in the forest. He passed over
the shrine, rumbling in satisfaction when he saw one of the villagers there and
tending it. On a whim he let himself glide over the village, fully rebuilt, and
watched the fear that erupted when his shadow ran over the bipedal mecha.
Satisfaction bloomed within his processor and Prowl finally turned toward his
cave, clutching the still struggling goldeer within one claw.
When he arrived, Bluestreak was flying laps around the inside of the cave.
Snarling at the lack of room and his own unresponsiveness, snapping his jaws at
Prowl as the dragon flew past to land. The building of the newsparks often left
him agitated and in a flurry of energy, never sitting still for long. Always
moving, even in recharge, the burning heat that radiated out from his belly
plating almost too hot for comfort. His self repair had slowed to bare
essentials, and Prowl found himself careful not to cause injury to the spirit.
It was an odd feeling, to care about the wellbeing of another. His processor
placed the needs of the young, the dragon was not yet sure if they were eggs or
live young, high above the need to keep Bluestreak in place.
Suddenly Bluestreak banked and shot out the cave entrance, wings spread wide as
he caught a thermal and fired his thrusters, shooting up into the atmosphere.
Prowl snapped the goldeer’s neck and pushed off behind him, roaring in anger as
he watched the spirit spiral up into the sky.
But then as instantly as Bluestreak had taken off, he twisted and pulled his
wings in tight to his frame, dropping like a rock back down toward the surface.
Prowl’s spark pulsed once as he watched Bluestreak fall to Cybertron. His claws
raked air and frame folded painfully as he turned to follow the spirit. Letting
himself drop as well, optics half shuttered against the air screaming past,
keeping Bluestreak targeted as they came closer and closer to the ground.
In the klicks before they passed the treetops, Prowl’s processor calculated
survival percentages for all of them. Changing variables and running the
simulations in microseconds, each adding to a burgeoning fear that began to
grow inside of him. For the first time in his long life, Prowl found he was
afraid for another. He was afraid for Bluestreak and the unborn brood.
The realization made his systems hiccup and any distance he’d gained was lost
as his wings opened just enough to slow him down. His front claws reached out
even though they had no hope of actually coming close to the spirit and Prowl
let out a great roar.
“NO!”
He watched in slow motion as Bluestreak neared the ground, flicking his wings
open at the last klick. Relief flooded through him only to turn again to fear
as the weakened wing strut snapped under the pressure of a fully grown frame
plus. The spirit screamed, his one good wing catching air and straining to hold
him from hitting the ground and failing to do more than slow the last few
mechanometers of his descent.
Bluestreak hit the forest floor and there was an explosion of magic that flew
outward. Covering everything in range in a blue glow before winking out.
Prowl landed heavily. Pain twinged through his legs, struts bending as they
took the hard landing. He carefully circled Bluestreak, nudging the energon
covered frame. There was a whimper, a choked vent, and the dragon flew off to
find the villagers.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Prowl lay curled around two eggs. They were not strong, not fully formed, still
translucent and if the light hit them the right way he could see the forming
frames inside.
Bluestreak’s frame lay against him, the spirit in such a deep recharge he was
like the dead. Systems barely making a sound and vents barely moving the
plating.
He kept his optics away from the long weld scars that ran the length of
Bluestreak’s bellyplating, carefully increasing his surface temperature by a
few degrees. The spirit’s frame was often cold, and it kept the eggs warm as
well. Prowl lay his massive head alongside the smaller one and vented, ignoring
everything but the frame and eggs beside him.
*~*~*~*~*
Prowl returned with some of the mecha, dropping them near Bluestreak and moving
to nudge his head again. Panic searing through him when there was no response.
The villagers were shouting to each other, the medicine mech pulling out tools,
herbs, and a welder from his subspace. They pushed the good wing out of the way
and began sealing wounds, not talking to Prowl until they needed the spirit
moved.
He complied, subdued, as they ordered him around. Reeling back in horror when
he pushed Bluestreak onto his back and found internals falling out of a large
gash in the metal plating. A moan of anguish as his optics picked out the
sparkless, partially finished forms of his offspring. Three broken frames and
one crushed egg spilling from the cleaved gestation chamber.
Energon stained everything. There was so much of it on the ground and
villagers, even Prowl himself, that it masked true colors. Covered every one of
them in a uniform pink that was slick and tacky as they worked against time to
seal Bluestreak’s internal leaks.
The medicine mech had the others carefully move the empty frames aside and
shone a light into the tank. Breaking out into shouts, using a knife to open up
more of the tank. Prowl bared his fangs at the sight, but before he could do
anything an egg was brought out of the dark hole.
And then another. Two eggs, unbroken.
Prowl’s optics surged at the sight of the whole eggs. Carefully collecting them
from the mech and nosing them, scenting them.
The villagers worked until Bluestreak was no longer leaking. The technianimals
from the forest gathered around them, a silent vigil perhaps. The red chevron
let off a dim glow, the only reason Prowl knew he was still alive, and he
finally let himself lay down alongside him. The eggs safe between his forelegs
from the chill of the nightcycle.
He did not recharge. Prowl kept his own vigil, watching the barely there light
of the chevron through the night.
*~*~*~*~*
When Hadeen rose, a goldeer stepped forward. It took one step at a time through
the energrass, leaning down to touch nasal sensors with the stasis locked
spirit. Prowl watched as the technianimals came forward one by one to touch the
spirit, ignoring him and banding around Bluestreak. One of the turbowolves
howled and that set off a chain. Howls, yips, squeaks, hoots, screeches... each
one lent its voice to the call that sounded out into the forest.
Bluestreak did not move. Prowl felt something change.
*~*~*~*~*
It was nearly a full decaorn before Bluestreak stirred. Each night cycle the
technoanimals had gathered around them and sent their cries into the black sky.
Each night one came and lay down in front of the spirit, and at the first
rising off the golden sun rose to touch noses with each creature ringing the
two large frames. Kneeling and baring it’s neck to Prowl as a sacrifice of
energon. Each morning Prowl carefully slit the throat plating and held the
frame upside down within Bluestreak’s mouth. Letting the Energon drain into him
until only drops remained, then swallowing the remains whole and settling back
down to keep the eggs and spirit warm in the cool air.
It wasn’t processorless, he did everything with deliberate movements. A
reminder to himself of his guilt. The pain that had bloomed within his spark
remained, settling in. Becoming as much a part of Prowl as his intricate
processor and plating color.
He blew out hot air in a sigh, turning his great head to look at Bluestreak’s
motionless frame. Looking until shame and guilt clouded him and even then
refusing to look away.
His pride would not let him.
*~*~*~*~*
The first noise that Bluestreak made was a keen of pain, his optics lit only
just barely enough that they had color. His frame began to tremble, growing
from a very slight movement into a full blown shake.
Prowl shifted, a wing unfurling from his side to drape over the spirit.
Bluestreak cried out at the touch, flinching, trying to move away from where
the warm, heavy wing pressed against him. The dragon lifted it, keeping it from
touching the other’s plating, and watched carefully. Silently watching the
flickering light from the red chevron as Bluestreak whimpered through the
entire night cycle.
The pain within Prowl’s spark grew.
*~*~*~*~*
The village medicine man visited daily.
He looked over the welds and repairs. Reapplied healing nanites, cleared away
rust and infection and wiped away any leftover fluids that leaked from the
repairing spirit.
Prowl was always compliant. Always silent.
The mech had stopped and given Prowl a hard look at some point, but no words
passed between the Destroyer and once terrified villager. Instead, there was
one mecha every day that brought a cube of pure distilled energon. They took a
brush and carefully covered the surface of the barely developed eggs, both
mecha and dragon watching as it was absorbed bit by bit into the
transparasteel.
Each day Prowl carefully cycled open his combustion chamber and cycled the gate
open, letting liquid metal dribble out into his claw. Creating patterns and
shapes that glowed red hot for joors before settling into a shiny gray. His
offering to whatever spark had come to help that day.
Still the mecha came.
Still the technoanimals waited.
Still Prowl grieved.
*~*~*~*~*
When Bluestreak finally booted up, the amount of sheer emotion that flooded
Prowl overwhelmed him. The intensity was like nothing he had ever experienced
before, terrifying in its sheer overpowering volume.
Prowl barely vented, did not move. The eggs were secure between his front legs,
visible and protected at the same time. He watched as optics came online and
Bluestreak laboriously lifted his head. Glancing around the clearing, seeing
the technoaminals still sitting and watching in their vigil.
Seeing Prowl.
Seeing the eggs.
A sound that was a cross between a whine and a growl caught itself within his
throat. The base coding need to protect his offspring warring with the fear he
felt at seeing the dragon so close.
They watched each other, until Prowl finally spoke. His voice the quietest that
Bluestreak had ever heard.
“You are alive.”
A reiteration of fact, clearly Bluestreak was alive, awake and conscious. But
it had taken the spirit nearly dying for Prowl to recognize in himself what he
had. This was merely a safe way of expressing that. Hopefully in a way that
Bluestreak would not find aggressive.
The eggs were carefully moved from between Prowl’s legs to rest against
Bluestreak’s. He reached out one claw hesitantly, gently touching the still
soft metal casing.
“Are they?”
Even he knew that eggs did not usually survive outside before their casings had
fully hardened.
“Yes.”
Bluestreak passed his glossa between denta to taste the eggs, and Prowl tensed.
Claws flexing and worry flickering through him. Eating less than viable eggs
was not unheard of...
But the spirit did not let his fangs touch the metal. He gathered them up close
to his chest plating and curled his long neck around them. Optics shuttering
and vents whooshing as he sighed.
They stayed like that for a long time.
*~*~*~*~*
Bluestreak unshuttered his optics to look at Prowl. Watching as he carefully
ex-vented hot air over the slowly strengthening eggs. There was no fear in him
that the Dragon would devour them, no fear in him that he would be hurt. The
last quarter vorn had erased any such emotions from him. He knew Prowl now was
as invested with protected them as he was.
His frame ached. It always ached, but this orn more than normal and he stiffly
rose from where he lay. Walking out kinks in cabling and directing his self
repair toward places most in need.
Making two full circuits of the clearing before groaning and carefully laying
back down, this time pressing up against the dragon. The heat of the other’s
plating helped immensely to soothe the pain in his frame, and on cue Prowl
raised the surface temperature of his plating.
“Thank you,” Bluestreak murmured, relaxing into the heat with a sigh.
Prowl said nothing, only turned his head slightly to brush their necks
together.
There was still a long way for them to go, but at least now. In this moment.
Contentedness covered them both.
End Notes
     Inspiration images for:
     Prowl - http://www.draconika.com/img/red-dragon.jpg
     http://mythka.deviantart.com/#/d4a8159
      
     Bluestreak - http://manekochan.deviantart.com/art/Fauna-Dragon-
     93439365
     http://akeli.deviantart.com/art/Dragon-204119478
     http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2010/361/b/6/
     deer_dragon_thingy__by_khoi_luff-d35sg0z.png
     http://hibbary.deviantart.com/art/Luminescence-103172227
     http://mythka.deviantart.com/#/d5b3pg6
      
     Body shape
     http://mythka.deviantart.com/art/Dragon-28-Commission-337326181
     Muzzle shape
     http://mythka.deviantart.com/#/d5hedbv
     Fur
     http://mythka.deviantart.com/#/d5fmy2c
     Wings/body/fur/muzzle/ears
     http://mythka.deviantart.com/#/d4y7ok9
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!