#anyway expect fic in 1-3 business uhhhh. weeks. business weeks

[banyanas]

uhhh its wednesday right. anyway returning to my roots of outsider pov/using a character technically in the media but not named or mentioned beyond relation to a main character. Also I think post-Doodler Hildy should get to have some unsettling and weird horrorvibes

[roseymoseyberry]

Samsara (4/?)

I’m gonna be v busy for the next few days so I’m posting a little earlier than I had planned to.

ALSO!!! It’s less relevant here than on ao3 but uhhhh while writing this chapter I accidentally wrote an interfacing scene. Oops. It was a surprise to me but here we are. So just know that if you weren’t expecting that to pop up in this fic, well. It’s here. But it’s p vaguely described with a much stronger focus on the emotions involved.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! Though this chapter is a rollercoaster of emotions haha.

Title: Samsara

Series: RID15 and TFP (and some tidbits grabbed from Aligned wiki pages)

Ship(s): Wildbreak/Knockout, Breakdown/Knockout

Tags/warnings: Reincarnation AU, hurt/comfort, verbal/physical abuse (though the worst of the physical abuse is barely described or off screen), past character death, age difference (but still consenting adult alien robots), a lot of filling in worldbuilding gaps and making shit up, and a lot of Wildbreak being a sweet boy who just needs some love and affection. NEW TAGS/WARNINGS: Very vaguely described sticky interfacing

Fic Summary:

From the day he was forged, Wildbreak had felt like there was something missing; some motivation or drive or desire that had been left behind in the Allspark.

Something he should know but didn’t.

|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|

Wildbreak wasn’t really sure what he expected at the end of the journey.

It was dark out, and made all the darker as they stood under the heavy boughs of the forest, but their combined headlights made it easy enough to make their way through the foliage. It took nearly an hour of stomping around before Knockout slowed and Wildbreak asked, “Why’re we stopping?”

Knockout gestured in front of him.

“We’re here.”

It was just a small grassy clearing. Large enough to allow a couple cybertronians at most to walk around, but still small enough that there was only the slightest spacing between leaves that allowed moonlight to fall on the center of the space. Truthfully, it looked like any other clearing in any other forest. Wildbreak wouldn’t have been able to differentiate it from anywhere else in the woods they had trekked through.

However, his spark fluttered sickly.

“At least, this is most likely the place,” Knockout continued as he took slow steps out into the clearing. “Dreadwing was polite enough to give me the coordinates, and while Breakdown’s frame was already long gone by the time I came to check, there had been enough evidence to suggest this is where it happened.”

Wildbreak stayed on the periphery, his joints locking up with an odd dread.

It was shockingly easy to imagine the spilled energon across the ground that Knockout now stood on.

“Autobots?” Wildbreak asked as carefully as he could.

Knockout’s back was to him.

“Decepticon,” Knockout corrected, his tone almost indifferent sounding. “Instead of simply doing the job himself, Megatron sent Dreadwing and Breakdown to offline her, coming up with some fake cover story. She realized, of course. Not everyone is as oblivious as that egomaniac.”

Wildbreak felt his spark twist. It occurred to him that he could ask about it, about who ‘she’ was, all the circumstances that led up to it, but the very idea only made him feel more ill. Wildbreak desperately didn’t want to know.

He didn’t want to have this horrid tale sound familiar.

“I’m sorry.”

Knockout didn’t respond right away. Instead he gracefully knelt to the ground, his digits gentle as they brushed along the fragile grass of the forest floor. A moment went by, and then another.

Wildbreak was about to ask if Knockout wanted some time alone, to have his space while he mourned Breakdown, when finally Knockout spoke.

“It’s my fault, you know.”

“What?” Wildbreak blurted, his ridges furrowing with confusion. “But you weren’t even here, right?”

“No, but I’m the reason he was here in the first place,” Knockout insisted. The cold detachment of his voice was starting to get to Wildbreak. His vents huffed. “But you don’t want to hear about that. Just go back to the road and I’ll find you in the morning.”

Wildbreak’s spark quickened its pulsing as he took one step into the clearing.

“Do you want to be alone?” Knockout didn’t respond to that, so after a moment Wildbreak gathered his courage and said, “Th-then I’ll stay. And you can talk, if you want to. Or not. I don’t mind either way.”

A small bunch of grass was plucked, ripped away from the ground strand by strand.

“It’s not a happy story.”

Wildbreak’s chest grew tight with knowledge his spark couldn’t share with him.

“I kinda figured that much out.”

After a long moment, Knockout dropped the grass in a pile.

“I had done so well to keep him from becoming cannon fodder. Once I had him as my assistant, I could keep him from the worst battlefields and out of the general command line of unfeeling generals. Sure, it became harder once we arrived here and had high command ordering us around directly, but I was so sure we could make it. The war had to be almost over. I saw the finish line and ignored all the signs.”

“Signs?”

“Megatron didn’t care about Breakdown,” Knockout stated, and while his tone was still cold, there was a fury beneath it making itself known.

Wildbreak’s spark clenched painfully. “But he was a part of the team here on Earth, so Megatron had to care at least a little, didn’t he?”

Knockout snorted dismissively and bitterly.

“When Breakdown got captured by some filthy humans, Megatron did nothing about it. Starscream of all mecha was the one who finally went to get him, and he had to do it behind Megatron’s back, lest he anger our leader by saving his own soldier. And by the time he did, the Autobots had already gotten there and done the job for him. The Autobots rescued him before his own faction bothered to!”

Clawed digits dipped into the dirt, dragging shallow gouges into the patches of green.

“And the worst part was that Breakdown wouldn’t let himself be angry. He wouldn’t even let me replace his optic, insisting it was a reminder of his failure, as if it was all his fault and he deserved what happened. As if somehow through apologies he could convince Megatron to care!”

Knockout’s frame shook as his voice grew.  

“And I let him. I knew that Megatron didn’t and wouldn’t ever care, but I let him keep that despicable patch and we stayed with that despicable mech because I was so sure we were on the winning team, and Breakdown paid the price for it!”

He grew silent then, for just a moment, crouched and trembling with emotions that Wildbreak couldn’t name from where he stood. Wildbreak was caught between wanting to say something and dreading that saying anything at all would cause Knockout to realize what he was admitting and clam up. Knockout was always so swift to change topics when his own emotions slipped through.

When Knockout finally spoke, it wasn’t as cold as before, couldn’t detach itself from emotion, but it was softer again.

“And then that horrid human took his frame from me. Took it and corrupted it to house his weak fleshy body, and he walked right into the Nemesis like he deserved a place with us, and Megatron let him. He let that – that abomination in Breakdown’s offlined frame try to earn his way into the Decepticons.”

Wildbreak’s optics went wide, shocked when his spark didn’t pulse with familiarity in response. For the first time that night, it didn’t know what Knockout was talking about at all, though his spark still twisted tight enough to make him nauseous at the thought.

“And I still stayed. After it all, I still stayed.”

Wildbreak wasn’t sure when he had started moving, but soon enough he was kneeling in front of Knockout. The mech was so hunched over that Wildbreak couldn’t make out his face in the shadows, but there were drops of cleanser dripping to the ground and Knockout’s vents hitched with every ventilation. His servos were caked with dirt where he was crushing the ground beneath them.

“I made that abomination scream for weeks,” Knockout confessed, sounding bitter and ashamed. “I called what I was doing experimentation, but it was torture and we all knew it.”

“I mean, that’s not that weird,” Wildbreak tried to reason. Wildbreak wasn’t good at comforting, had so rarely been shown that sort of affection and his team would have never accepted it, thinking it made them look weak. So he just followed the prompting of his spark and placed his servo on top of Knockout’s where it was piercing the ground. “You had to get it out of you, and it’s not like you coulda done it to Megatron or something.”

A wretched chuckle escaped Knockout.

“Spoken like a true Decepticon.”

Wildbreak didn’t understand – he had seen time and again that mecha lashed out at weaker ones when they couldn’t fight the cause of their frustration. His teammates certainly always did. That was normal, wasn’t it?

Were – were Autobots not like that?

Knockout’s digits finally unearthed themselves and Wildbreak further wrapped his servo around Knockout’s, squeezing it. He wasn’t sure if it was for Knockout or himself anymore.

“It still doesn’t sound like it was your fault.”

That surprised Knockout enough that he looked up, and Wildbreak’s spark ached at the thick lines of cleanser streaking down his face and how his features were tight and twisted with grief and hatred.

“Breakdown died because I didn’t want to defect. How is that not my fault?!” Knockout hissed.

“I mean, you can’t control everything,” Wildbreak said, aware that his voice was strained around the tightness of his intake. “Maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to. Or even if you convinced him and had defected, you can’t know for sure something bad wouldn’t have still happened, right? He coulda died anyway.”

“But if I had just--!”

“You don’t know that!” Wildbreak insisted, his hold on Knockout’s servo tightening. “And thinking ‘bout it isn’t gonna change nothing.”

“But—!”

“Breakdown wouldn’t’ve wanted you to blame yourself.” Wildbreak had meant it to come out as a question, to end it with ‘would he?’, but his spark roared that it was a fact.

Knockout looked stricken. His optics were wide and his jaw was slack and his cheeks were still wet with tears. Then, slowly, his face crumpled.

When Knockout’s free servo reached up to grasp Wildbreak’s arm as he ducked his helm, frame rattling with a sob, Wildbreak let himself be pulled forward. Knockout’s tears felt as if they were burning against his neck.

Wildbreak held him tight and let him cry.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s ok,” Wildbreak said, shuffling closer when Knockout tried to pull away. He had long lost track of time, not sure when they had arrived so he had no beginning marker, but it had been a while. The heavy wailing had tapered off soon enough, but it was the lingering hiccups and relapses that took time for Knockout to work through. And even once it was finally over, Knockout had kept himself curled against Wildbreak, helm ducked, until his ventilations had finally slowed to normal.

Now, after it all, Knockout lifted his chin, and it was only because Wildbreak was looking for them that he noticed the dried residue on his cheeks.

Wildbreak’s digits itched to rub the lines away.

“Are you ok now?”

“Was I ever?” Knockout asked sarcastically, the smirk that came with it weak. He shifted, accepting the closeness that Wildbreak was trying to maintain by simply settling onto his hip instead of his knees, his frame still leaning against Wildbreak but now against his side. Knockout’s helm flopped against Wildbreak’s shoulder. “But yes, I am better now. Thank you.”

“Oh, uh, it’s no problem,” Wildbreak said, unsure what else he could possibly say. The physical closeness he could at least handle, keeping his servo on Knockout’s shoulder, doing his best to comfort. Wildbreak was still uncomfortable being in the clearing in a way he couldn’t describe, but it was obvious that Knockout needed to stay a while longer, and Wildbreak could live with the discomfort.

“You know, I can’t even remember the last time I said his name out loud before meeting you.”

“Really?” Wildbreak asked, optics widening as a flustered heat started to build around his spark.

Knockout nodded, his helm rasping against the armor of Wildbreak’s arm as he hummed, “Mm-hm.”

“Didn’t you talk to anyone after it happened?”

“Who would I have talked to?” Knockout asked. “I was barely a step above Breakdown and only because I had medical skills. And, frankly, that never kept them from treating me like a punching bag when they needed one.”

Wildbreak couldn’t imagine a mech as handsome and charming as Knockout being so alone and abused, but the evidence was there clear as day in the bitter curl to Knockout’s lips.

“But uh, Dreadwing, right? He was the guy who told you the coordinates?”

“Because he was the only one amongst them who had a shred of decency, but he was blindly loyal until the day Megatron shot a hole through his spark.”

Wildbreak winced.

“One of the vehicons?”

That got an amused huff out of Knockout.

“You sound just like him sometimes.”

With a throbbing pulse of his spark, Wildbreak turned to look at Knockout fully. Knockout seemed just as surprised at the words that came out of his mouth, his optics staring straight ahead as he lifted his helm off Wildbreak’s shoulder, not daring to meet Wildbreak’s optics.

“What I mean is Breakdown got along with the vehicons,” Knockout said, clearly trying to hide how his plating heated where it met Wildbreak’s, “and he always wanted me to get to know them better. They honestly would have been my best choice. I think they missed him too.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Knockout shrugged.

“It took years before I let Breakdown in past my charming exterior. How could I have possibly let myself appear weak in front of some mecha I had only known for a few months?”

“You let me.”

It was hard to tell who was burning hotter where their plating met.

“Yes, well,” Knockout stammered, looking down to pick dirt from between the plates of his digits. “You’re easy to trust, I suppose. You don’t have a dishonest strut in your frame.”

“I lied to Motormaster to come with you,” Wildbreak admitted, and that just made Knockout smile.

“I’m honored to see I’m such a good influence on you.”

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know, I know,” Knockout said as he peeked at Wildbreak out of the corner of his optic before returning to his digits. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this so you’ll have to forgive me.”

“What d’you mean ‘this’?”

“Being honest, opening up, all that nonsense,” Knockout said. He flicked his servo to scatter some of the dirt and debris that had come loose. “It just doesn’t come naturally to me.”

Wildbreak’s ridges knitted together as he replied, “But you’re – you’re good at talking.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Wildbreak. I am well aware of that.” Knockout finally looked at him again, flashing him a gorgeous grin, and it was only because of the circumstances that Wildbreak realized it was completely fake. “I know how to charm mecha. I just never got the hang of actually connecting with them.”

With a frown, Wildbreak asked, “You haven’t made any friends with the Autobots?”

“Oh, they’re fine. Bumblebee’s old teammates are shockingly lovely,” Knockout admitted as the exaggerated smile started to fade a bit. “And I’m sure they would love to hear all about the trauma I have from having spent most of my life as a Decepticon, and that’s why I’ll never tell them. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction. Not when they don’t understand what it was like.”

Wildbreak remembered the anxiety he had felt when telling Knockout about his life with the Stunticons, the fear of judgment that ultimately never came.

“So you told me ‘cause I’m a Con.”

Finally the smile faded to a small, gentle curl of Knockout’s mouth.

“That’s a part of it, I suppose.”

Wildbreak’s spark raced in his chest, anxious and hopeful at once.

“And?”

Knockout’s ex-vent was amused sounding as he teased, “Greedy for compliments?”

“Is that bad?”

“Quite the opposite. Which means I’ll have to reward you with an actual answer, won’t I?” Despite his tone, Knockout’s optics returned to his digits, oddly shy as he looked for any dirt left to be picked out. Wildbreak waited as Knockout cycled a ventilation. “You really do remind me of him sometimes.”

And just like that, the racing of Wildbreak’s spark shifted from what his processor could understand to something that just resulted in errors.

“You mean Breakdown?”

Knockout nodded. “Sometimes you say things, or smile a certain way, or laugh just right, and it’s uncanny.”

TELL HIM.

“Am I that much like him?”

“No. I mean, you’re sweet and too honest, and the paintjob similarity is almost scary,” Knockout replied as he flicked a few strands of grass from between his joints. “But you’re also like me in that you’re a coward. And I mean that as a compliment – I wish Breakdown hadn’t been so eager to run helm-first into a fight. Though you are even more trusting than he was which is honestly shocking and something I’m going to try to get you to break the habit of.”

TELL HIM. TELL HIM.

“Besides, most importantly, Breakdown’s offline. I’d say that’s a rather important detail.”

TELL HIM. TELL HIM. TELL HIM. TELL—

“Well, maybe I’m like, a reincarnation, or something weird like that,” Wildbreak stammered, anxious and hoping against hope that it would make his spark stop threatening to break out of its casing.

Knockout stilled. Even his ventilations stalled.

And then air whooshed from his vents.

“You’re giving Primus far too much credit,” Knockout insisted as he turned to look at Wildbreak. There was something almost comforting in the way his servo grasped Wildbreak’s arm. “Coincidences are just that.”

Coincidences didn’t explain the way Wildbreak’s spark ached.

Coincidences didn’t explain the way Knockout had hesitated.

But then Knockout reached his servo out to cup Wildbreak’s face.

“And I like you just the way you are.”

The ache of Wildbreak’s spark was, within seconds, utterly overwhelmed by the rush of flustered glee. Wildbreak could feel a smile tugging at his lips as he said, “Aww, shucks, Knockout. You mean it?”

Knockout snickered at him, but there was with nothing but warmth and a fondness in the way he looked at Wildbreak.

“Primus, you’re adorable,” Knockout murmured, and Wildbreak’s temperature skyrocketed, no doubt hot against Knockout’s servo and wherever their plating met. “Of course I mean it.”

“I-I like you too,” Wildbreak blurted. It felt like his spark was pulsating out of control, and it felt like it was all his, no weirdness he couldn’t understand, no mystery. Just Wildbreak and his feelings and Knockout’s ever growing smile. “I mean, that was probably pretty obvious, but I figured I should say it.”

Knockout’s thumb stroking along Wildbreak’s cheek had his vents hitching.

“I had figured that one out, but it’s still nice to hear. Though,” Knockout drawled as he leaned that much closer, “I haven’t been able to quite put my digit on the way you like me. Are you looking for a guardian? A friend? Perhaps even a lover?”

Wildbreak’s cooling fans whirled to life as his frame finally burned too hot, and his face twisted with shame.

“Oh, n-no, I would never – I don’t expect you to like me that way, ‘cause I know you loved Breakdown, so you don’t have to worry about any of that. I’m happy with what we got.”

Knockout’s optics were wide with surprise. Slowly though the surprise faded to leave him with the small, sad smile that always came with talking about Breakdown.

“I hadn’t realized I was that transparent. But you’re right,” Knockout admitted softly. His servo was still cupping Wildbreak’s face, keeping him from looking away. “I did love him. I still do, and unfortunately it seems that I’ll never be able to stop. I--” Knockout trailed off, optics flickering down for a moment, the corners of his lips tensing as he ex-vented heavily. “I miss him so much.”

“Knockout--”

“But he’s dead,” Knockout interrupted definitively, optics finding Wildbreak’s again. “I can love and miss him all I want, but he’s still dead and I’m still alive and so fragging lonely.”

Wildbreak’s spark ached with a regret that wasn’t his. And this time, the pushing of his spark was softer. Quieter. Begging instead of demanding.

Tell him. Miss him.

“You shouldn’t be lonely,” Wildbreak murmured honestly. Knockout huffed and his digits stroked the side of his helm.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not when I’m with you.”

Kiss him.

Wildbreak’s spark was finally in complete agreement with his processor for the first time that he could remember.

It was only when his mouth met Knockout’s a little too hard that Wildbreak realized what he was doing, and the muffled noise of surprise from Knockout mixed with the sting of impact caused embarrassment to race down Wildbreak’s lines as he jerked back.

“S-sorry, I’ve never – I don’t really know how to--”

Knockout chuckled.

“Hush,” Knockout murmured as his servo slipped behind Wildbreak’s helm. “You just surprised me.”

“But I really don’t know how to do this good.”

“That’s alright. I’ll teach you.”

When Knockout leaned in it was softly and gently, lips warm against Wildbreak’s. He couldn’t help gasping quietly because it was so nice, so unlike anything Wildbreak had ever felt, but also familiar in a way that had his spark pulsing with warmth.

Knockout’s digits trembled against the back of his neck.

Wildbreak pulled away again, concerned as he asked, “Knockout?”

Knockout’s digits tightened, though there was still a subtle quiver to his grasp.

“I haven’t done this since Breakdown,” Knockout confessed.

“Oh.” Realization of where they were and just what they were doing hit Wildbreak and he felt guilt bubbling in his tanks. “Y-you don’t have to do this then.”

“Of course I don’t. But I--” Knockout glanced away then, abashed as he pulled further back. “But it’s hardly fair that you need put up with my—well, all of this.”

“I don’t mind.” Knockout’s gaze met Wildbreak’s again, surprised, and Wildbreak shrugged weakly. “I mean it. I really don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re ok with this.”

Crimson optics flickered and for a moment Wildbreak swore he saw cleanser welling up in them.

And then Knockout was suddenly pushing up to his pedes, tugging at Wildbreak’s servos, insisting, “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m sure I can find a better place to show you a proper first time.”

Wildbreak easily let himself be pulled since he was eager to leave the clearing behind. Every step away left his spark lighter.

And then when Knockout finally stopped, whirling around, Wildbreak had only barely managed to keep from barreling into him. An apology was already on its way out of Wildbreak’s voicebox when Knockout’s servos braced against his shoulder, helping him find his balance.

As soon as Wildbreak had his footing, though, Knockout slid his arms around his neck and leaned in.

And Knockout was kissing him again. This time it was more insistent, desperate and passionate. Wildbreak’s processor stalled so he followed his first instincts as he embraced Knockout and tried to keep up, to kiss back even if it was clumsy.

And his spark finally settled in quiet contentment.

Wildbreak didn’t question how his digits knew where to slip past Knockout’s plating and stroke sensitive receptors that had Knockout gasping against his lips.

“Beginner’s luck,” Knockout had teased as he shuddered, plating flaring to give Wildbreak room to sink in further for deeper nodes. “But Primus, don’t stop.”

Wildbreak didn’t question that with the awe that came from staring up at Knockout in pleasure – handsome face all the more beautiful for it and his frame so gorgeous and tempting that Wildbreak’s engine purred without his permission –there was also a moment of déjà vu.

And Wildbreak didn’t dare question the flicker of confusion when Knockout was knelt between his thighs and could still reach his lips for a kiss.

“How do you want me?” Knockout murmured against his neck, nipping a fuel line that had Wildbreak gasping as his back arched.

“I-inside me. I don’t think I’d – hahh – be good at spiking.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll learn,” Knockout insisted as he pushed up to his elbows, bracketing Wildbreak’s helm, and watching with bright, eager optics as he rolled his hips. With another gasp and tremble, Wildbreak’s panels shifted away, desperate and unable to control himself, weak against the pleasure. “I’ll show you by example.”

It was teasing, Wildbreak knew that, and he should have tried to tease back, or laugh, or anything to maintain that lighter mood – but instead his servos clung as he turned his helm, trying to find Knockout’s lips to kiss again as he whined, barely louder than an ex-vent, “Please--!”

Wildbreak didn’t question any of it because he desperately didn’t want to think anymore. About spark troubles or reincarnation or who he might have been; about his team or lingering injuries or the boss who gave them to him; about the terrible intersection that begged the question if Wildbreak was just going to live through the same mistakes and someday offline like Breakdown had – at the hands of a leader who would never truly care about him no matter how hard he tried.

He didn’t want to think about any of it.

Wildbreak just wanted to be here, now, with Knockout.

Thankfully, Knockout didn’t deny him. Knockout kissed him, and Wildbreak didn’t even know how many times they had kissed, or if he was any good at it now, but it was still soothing. When Knockout was kissing him, everything felt like it would be alright.

Knockout kissed Wildbreak as he slowly pushed inside him. And Knockout kissed him until Wildbreak’s frame was ready for him to move. And still Knockout kissed him while Wildbreak shuddered and bucked and clung to him as they fragged, choked by the overwhelming affection of his spark.

Until the wet drops hit Wildbreak’s face.

His optics onlined slowly, confused in the haze of pleasure, and that’s when Wildbreak saw the source. He pulled away from the kiss, panting against Knockout’s lips, managing, “K-Knockout?”

Knockout immediately jerked to a halt, his optics onlining quickly as shame crossed his handsome face. There was no mistaking the tears that were escaping or how the way his cooling systems heaved wasn’t just from their interfacing. He pushed up onto his servos, stammering, “Scrap, I’m sorry--”

“No, no, it’s ok! You don’t have to say sorry,” Wildbreak protested, reaching out to keep Knockout from retreating further and trying to tug him back in. “Should we stop? I didn’t mean to push you if you didn’t want to--”

“It’s not that,” Knockout insisted, scrubbing at his face with one servo, clearly embarrassed. “I do, and you’re fine, you’re so good – Primus, I--”

“You what?”

A fresh wave of cleanser spilled down Knockout’s cheeks as he murmured, “I didn’t think I’d get a chance to feel like this again.”

Wildbreak would swear his spark was swelling, filling his chest until it was choking him, and still pushing harder as if trying to reach further. It couldn’t reach though, not the way his servos could, pulling Knockout close while he pushed himself away from the ground, moving to hold Knockout as close as their frames could allow.

“I love you,” escaped Wildbreak, spark and processor in agreement, and he felt the way that Knockout shuddered and his hips rocked.

“Don’t say that.” Knockout’s optics were wide and wet but his servos grasped Wildbreak tight, like he never wanted to let go, and his spark was pulsing so hard that Wildbreak felt the vibrations of Knockout’s chest against his own.

Wildbreak kissed Knockout, shifting so he straddled Knockout’s lap, took Knockout inside again as they both gasped at the pleasure.

“I love you, Knockout.”

Knockout kissed Wildbreak, picking up their rhythm again while clutching at each other.

Knockout still had tears streaming down his face and Wildbreak was desperately ignoring the the déjà vu that came with telling Knockout he loved him. But he wouldn’t have asked to be anywhere else doing anything else with anyone else.

So Wildbreak let himself drown in Knockout’s kisses and the sound of his name – “Wildbreak, frag, Wildbreak” – on Knockout’s lips.