dracoqueen22 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dracoqueen22) wrote2020-03-16 06:06 am
dracoqueen22) wrote2020-03-16 06:06 am
[TF] Family Found 01/10
Universe: Transformers, Escort AU, All This and Heaven Too
Characters: Sunstreaker/Starscream, Rodimus, Sideswipe, Wrench
Rated: M
Warnings: lost siblings, reunited family, hard choices, angst, bdsm themes, humiliation kink slightly
Description: Sunstreaker didn’t understand why he felt so drawn to Sideswipe, until a mistake revealed the link between them, provoking a turn of events which will change everything.
Family Found
Part One
“Hm.”
That was never a good sign. Sunstreaker had heard enough from medics over his life span to understand the different non-verbal sounds they made and whether or not they meant good news. This one was new.
It did not bode well.
Sunstreaker frowned. “What does that sound mean?”
In front of him, Wrench stared harder at his scanner, his lips pressed to a thin line. “Hm means nothing,” he said, and his gaze flicked up to Sunstreaker. “These results, however, are very interesting.”
Sunstreaker worked his intake. “Am I getting worse?” he asked, swallowing down the tremor of fear rippling up from his spark, the reminder of his own mortality and how each passing cycle brought him closer and closer to the moment his weak spark extinguished.
“On the contrary. Your spark seems to be strengthening.” Wrench tapped a stylus against the screen. “Which, let me tell you, is scientifically impossible.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yeah. Neither do I.” Wrench heaved a rattling sigh and yanked out the chair from his desk, dropping into it with a heavy rattle. “Sparks don’t regenerate like this.”
Sunstreaker nibbled on his bottom lip. “No one knows why I have a weak spark in the first place or why I survived whatever made it weak.”
“True.” Wrench tapped the datapad against his thigh, bracing his elbow on the arm of the chair. “So I guess it’s less impossible and more improbable. The real question is why and how. Because whatever it is, you need to keep doing it, kid, because it can’t be that overpowered roommate of yours, otherwise we’d be seeing results by now.”
Sunstreaker frowned. Wrench had no idea how true that was.
He and Starscream hadn’t spent much time together lately. Not since the incident with Turmoil and the resulting argument. Two weeks? Three weeks? They were starting to blur now as he and Starscream pretended nothing was wrong, while everything wilted around them.
To the outside, everything was fine. No one would think there were any issues.
He and Starscream remained cordial. They shared a berth, they interfaced on occasion, but there was something missing. A chasm Sunstreaker couldn’t cross, like a respectful distance, however subtle. All the progress they’d made since they first met was gone, leaving them co-workers and roommates and friends.
Then again, Sunstreaker supposed that really was all they were. He never asked for anything more.
Never did Starscream.
“I should’ve known you knew about that,” Sunstreaker murmured. He refused to blush, but even his determination couldn’t stop the heat in his cheeks. Starscream and he were the secret that wasn’t, apparently.
Wrench arched an orbital ridge. “Who do you think made the recommendation to pair you two up?” He smirked and tapped his temple, finger going tink-tink against his heavily armored head. “Old Wrench here knows and sees all.”
Sunstreaker cycled a ventilation, his processor whirling. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
“Whatever,” he said, and pointed to the datapad. “What’s this mean anyway? I’m getting better? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“No. When it comes to your spark weakness, there’s no ‘better’.” Wrench cycled a ventilation and met Sunstreaker’s gaze. “Whatever’s doing this seems to be cyclical. It boosts your spark, stronger and longer than a merge with Starscream, but it’s not permanent. Your spark isn’t going to grow. It’s just… holding onto boost for longer.”
Sunstreaker furrowed his orbital ridge. “I’m not fixed, I’m just delaying the inevitable.”
“That’s what we’ve always done. Whatever this is does it better.” Wrench scrubbed his forehead and tapped the datapad again. “I have an old friend who works for Iacon Medical. With your permission, I’d like to let him take a look at these results. He’s got more experience in this sort of thing.”
“You trust him?” Sunstreaker asked. He had no intention of becoming a lab experiment. It was one of the reasons he didn’t take his income to a better medical facility. Rich medics looking at him and saying ‘fascinating’ made his armor crawl.
Wrench laughed. “Oh, he’s an arrogant twit, but he’s smart and gifted, and ruthless when he needs to be. If I tell him to hold his glossa on this, he will.”
Sunstreaker gnawed on his bottom lip. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I know.” Wrench heaved himself out of the chair, joints and hydraulics creaking, betraying his age. “But if I was lying here with my armor going gray and my spark flickering. I’d want him working on me, sure as Primus rests.”
“Fine.” Sunstreaker scrubbed a hand down his face. “So what does that mean? What should I do?”
Wrench set his datapad aside. “Figure out whatever it is that’s stabilizing your spark and keep doing it.” He paused and gave Sunstreaker a queer look. “You haven’t spark-bonded Starscream, have you? Because that would do it.”
Sunstreaker scowled. “Wouldn’t your scanner tell you if I had?”
“Normally, yes. But I’ve learned things are different when it comes to you.”
Sunstreaker folded his arms, discomfort coiling in his belly. “No.”
“Pity.” Wrench rested a hand on his knee, the weight of it warm and comforting, just like Wrench’s field, which always wrapped around Sunstreaker in a parental embrace. Or at least what he assumed one felt like. “You should just tell him, you know.”
Sunstreaker snorted and gave Wrench a sidelong look. “No, I shouldn’t.”
Wrench sighed and leaned on the edge of the berth next to Sunstreaker, pulling one of his hands into Wrench’s lap. “His spark is yours, Sunny. I’m sure of it.”
Sunstreaker shuttered his optics and cycled a ventilation. “I’m not afraid he won’t return my feelings. I’m afraid that he will. And then he’ll stay here. Or he’ll offer to carry me.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
The worst.
“I don’t want to be a burden to him. Eventually, he’ll resent me for it.”
Wrench squeezed his hand, his field squeezing as well, like a full frame embrace. “I still don’t think you give him enough credit.”
“I’m where I’m supposed to be, Wrench. I don’t have a bad life. Just a short one.” Sunstreaker offered a thin, wan smile.
“Don’t lose hope, Sunny. If things keep on as they are, I think you got more spark in you yet.” Wrench threw an arm over Sunstreaker’s shoulder and pulled him into a half-hug.
Wrench was the only mech Sunstreaker let do this. There was something comforting about the rusty old grouch. He’d been looking after Sunstreaker since he first came here. He’d been the one to help Sunstreaker figure out how to manage his weakened spark. He’d come up with the spark batteries, for lack of a better term, that helped keep Sunstreaker stable. He hadn’t needed them as much, once he and Starscream started sharing a berth and occasionally their sparks. But here lately…
“I’m going to need a few batteries,” Sunstreaker said as he leaned into the embrace. It was the only true comfort he had right now with he and Starscream being so distant. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alone.
Starscream coming into his life had saved him in more ways than one.
“You and the bird having a tussle?”
“Something like that.”
Wrench slid off the berth, patting Sunstreaker’s thigh as he did so. He started digging through the cabinet. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Sunstreaker double-checked his clamps, making sure his chestplate was locked tight after Wrench’s examination. “It’s probably for the best anyway.”
Wrench grunted as he pulled out a box and withdrew a few cylindrical chargers from it. He held them out to Sunstreaker, expression firm. “Tell him.”
Sunstreaker hopped off the berth and closed his fingers around the batteries. “I can’t. I’m not that brave.” They were carefully stowed in an arm compartment for later use. “Thanks, Wrench. I’ll see you next week.”
He didn’t have to see Wrench’s disappointed look to know it followed him out.
~
Appointments were always scheduled on his rest days. Often because Sunstreaker had to spend half the morning hooked up to a spark stabilizing machine, to help his spark return to a natural, normal rhythm. Or at least what qualified as one for Sunstreaker at any rate.
With his spark oddly strengthened, however, Sunstreaker had no need for the machine this morning. He was set free earlier than expected. He had nothing in mind for the rest of day, except perhaps for the datanovel he never seemed able to finish. So when his schedule pinged with a request, Sunstreaker peeked at it instead of ignoring it.
Interesting.
Sideswipe wanted a session this afternoon.
Sunstreaker’s schedule automatically informed potential clients that this was a rest day and therefore, accepting clients was at his discretion. There was no plea or wheedle in Sideswipe’s request. Just a simple offer of an absurd amount of creds and a polite query for the use of Sunstreaker’s time.
Rest days were usually for playing with or snuggling his Seeker. Starscream purposely didn’t book too many clients on Sunstreaker’s rest days so they could spend the time together. But last Sunstreaker checked, Starscream was booked solid all day, and his last client was Blurr. Who, Sunstreaker knew, would go and go and go, until his tanks ran dry.
Thank Primus Blurr paid well for the efforts. Sunstreaker could have never taken Blurr for a client. Aside from the fact Blurr didn’t seem to have any interest in Sunstreaker’s specialties, his spark wouldn’t have endured the Racer’s never-ending drive.
His day was open to him.
Sunstreaker accepted Sideswipe’s request.
He didn’t feel the least bit exhausted, which was a new sensation for him, to be honest. Was it because of Rodimus? Could the rookie’s constant presence in their life have something to do with it? He did share their berth frequently. Was Sunstreaker somehow drawing on his spark by mere proximity? Was there something special and unique about his spark as well?
Sunstreaker pulled out a datapad and jotted down the hypothesis. He would think about it for the remainder of the week, and the next time he met with Wrench, he’d present his guesses to the medic and see if any of them were valid. He tried not to let hope gain a foothold.
Wrench was right. He couldn’t be cured. There was no point in wishing for the impossible.
A future with his Seeker. A future where he wasn’t a burden.
Sideswipe pinged back. With it, he’d included a list of potential scenarios for Sunstreaker to include in the session.
Sunstreaker’s orbital ridges rose even as he chuckled. Sideswipe must be getting more comfortable with him, to start being more honest about what he wanted. Sunstreaker was more than willing to give the humiliation he craved, though it was rare that a submissive client wanted the submission without the sexual aspect.
Oh, Sunstreaker had directed Sideswipe to self-service on several occasions, and Sideswipe had overloaded without touch more than once, but that was the extent of it so far. They’d kissed. Sunstreaker had fondled him a bit, especially when calling him all sorts of uncomplimentary names, but Sideswipe seemed uninterested in actual copulation.
It wasn’t a problem, merely a curiosity.
Well. Sunstreaker’s feet were in need of a good polish. How kind of Sideswipe to volunteer.
~
Sideswipe was late. But then, he was always late. He seemed categorically incapable of arriving on time.
Sunstreaker didn’t mind because Sideswipe still paid for the full session. Plus, it gave him time to mentally prepare, to arrange the furniture in the room for the session, to put together a plan of action further than what he’d already decided.
He moved the plush single chair to the center of the room, shoving the low center table aside. He wanted the center of the floor to be as clear as possible, except of course, for the single chair. He wanted that to be Sideswipe’s sole focus since Sunstreaker would be sitting in it.
The door chimed and opened on its own with Sunstreaker turning to face it, a queer sense of anticipation and hunger dancing in his spark. He was never this excited to greet clients. Usually. But there was something about Sideswipe that always made him feel lighter as soon as Sideswipe came into view.
“Wait out here. Seriously,” Sideswipe was saying as he slipped into the room, directing his order to a mech outside of it. Perhaps a new guard who was unfamiliar with his employer’s proclivities. “Look, if Sunstreaker wanted to kill me, he’s had ample opportunity, and I don’t want a voyeur today. Shoo!”
He darted inside and closed the door. He muttered something Sunstreaker didn’t catch before he turned around with a big smile that made Sunstreaker’s spark unexpectedly throb.
“Sunny!” he greeted with his arms thrown wide, clearly expecting an embrace. The nickname failed to produce the usual surge of anger Sunstreaker normally had to swallow.
“Sideswipe.” Amusement filled Sunstreaker’s voice. He allowed the embrace and the kiss Sideswipe pressed to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome.”
“Thanks for taking me today,” the merchant said as he drew back, bobbing on his heelstruts. He was impeccably clean and shined, as always, even more so than Sunstreaker’s strident requirements demanded. He appreciated the effort.
“I know it was your day off.”
Given the huge increase in fees Sideswipe was paying, Sunstreaker should be the grateful one. But to each his own.
Sunstreaker inclined his head. “Anything for my favorite client.”
“Am I really your favorite or do you tell all your clients that?” Sideswipe asked, giving him a sidelong look.
“You’re my favorite,” Sunstreaker replied without thinking, and was surprised to find it was true.
There was something he greatly enjoyed about Sideswipe’s sessions. They’d gone from biweekly visits, to once a week, to twice. Today would make three times this week, if Sideswipe kept to his usual pattern and returned two days hence.
Sideswipe grinned. “That’s good to know.” He clapped his hands together and looked around. “So you got my list, right? Did you decide which one you wanted today?”
Sunstreaker draped himself on the plush chair and leaned back, thighs parting, arms resting along the chair. “I have.” He pointed to the ground in front of him. Sideswipe needed no verbal commands.
His glossa swept over his lips. His optics darkened in hue. He lowered himself slowly, that grin still on his lips, and shuffled forward in an awkward knee walk until he knelt in front of Sunstreaker, hands on his thighs. His head dipped deferentially, but he looked up at Sunstreaker with optics that for a shade of hue, would have matched Sunstreaker’s own perfectly.
He really was a handsome mech.
“And what did you pick?” Sideswipe asked, his vocals turning husky.
“You’ll see.” Sunstreaker braced an elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his cheek against his knuckles. “What is your safe word for today, Sideswipe?”
“Topaz.” Sideswipe’s hands scrubbed down his thigh armor. “Sir.”
Oh, but he submitted so beautifully.
Sideswipe gave himself to it fully. His plating relaxed, allowing Sunstreaker a full view of his gleaming cables and substructure. His shoulders sank down, his optics spooled into full attention, often glazing over when he slipped into subspace. He obeyed, except when he felt the need to be punished, and it helped that he was beautiful.
Sunstreaker always did have a weakness for the pretty ones.
“Good pet,” Sunstreaker murmured, and offered Sideswipe a small, proud smile. “For now,” he added. “But we both know what a disobedient little worm you are, don’t we?”
Sideswipe’s field flickered hot, a lick against the edge of Sunstreaker’s own. “I’ll try to be better,” he said, voice crackling, and his hands kneading his thighs. “This time.”
Sunstreaker’s lip curled, more derision than approval this time. “I don’t expect you’ll manage it, but you’re welcome to try.” He braced his elbows on the arm of the chair and laced his fingers together. He slid one foot forward. “Go on. I’m waiting to be disappointed.”
Lust surged into the room, so thick and heady, and Sunstreaker’s field nearly drowned in it. He’d never been with anyone who dove so hungrily into their role. Sideswipe had the capacity to be intoxicating.
He’d have to keep his wits about him.
Fortunately, Sunstreaker had plenty of practice.
***
Characters: Sunstreaker/Starscream, Rodimus, Sideswipe, Wrench
Rated: M
Warnings: lost siblings, reunited family, hard choices, angst, bdsm themes, humiliation kink slightly
Description: Sunstreaker didn’t understand why he felt so drawn to Sideswipe, until a mistake revealed the link between them, provoking a turn of events which will change everything.
Part One
“Hm.”
That was never a good sign. Sunstreaker had heard enough from medics over his life span to understand the different non-verbal sounds they made and whether or not they meant good news. This one was new.
It did not bode well.
Sunstreaker frowned. “What does that sound mean?”
In front of him, Wrench stared harder at his scanner, his lips pressed to a thin line. “Hm means nothing,” he said, and his gaze flicked up to Sunstreaker. “These results, however, are very interesting.”
Sunstreaker worked his intake. “Am I getting worse?” he asked, swallowing down the tremor of fear rippling up from his spark, the reminder of his own mortality and how each passing cycle brought him closer and closer to the moment his weak spark extinguished.
“On the contrary. Your spark seems to be strengthening.” Wrench tapped a stylus against the screen. “Which, let me tell you, is scientifically impossible.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yeah. Neither do I.” Wrench heaved a rattling sigh and yanked out the chair from his desk, dropping into it with a heavy rattle. “Sparks don’t regenerate like this.”
Sunstreaker nibbled on his bottom lip. “No one knows why I have a weak spark in the first place or why I survived whatever made it weak.”
“True.” Wrench tapped the datapad against his thigh, bracing his elbow on the arm of the chair. “So I guess it’s less impossible and more improbable. The real question is why and how. Because whatever it is, you need to keep doing it, kid, because it can’t be that overpowered roommate of yours, otherwise we’d be seeing results by now.”
Sunstreaker frowned. Wrench had no idea how true that was.
He and Starscream hadn’t spent much time together lately. Not since the incident with Turmoil and the resulting argument. Two weeks? Three weeks? They were starting to blur now as he and Starscream pretended nothing was wrong, while everything wilted around them.
To the outside, everything was fine. No one would think there were any issues.
He and Starscream remained cordial. They shared a berth, they interfaced on occasion, but there was something missing. A chasm Sunstreaker couldn’t cross, like a respectful distance, however subtle. All the progress they’d made since they first met was gone, leaving them co-workers and roommates and friends.
Then again, Sunstreaker supposed that really was all they were. He never asked for anything more.
Never did Starscream.
“I should’ve known you knew about that,” Sunstreaker murmured. He refused to blush, but even his determination couldn’t stop the heat in his cheeks. Starscream and he were the secret that wasn’t, apparently.
Wrench arched an orbital ridge. “Who do you think made the recommendation to pair you two up?” He smirked and tapped his temple, finger going tink-tink against his heavily armored head. “Old Wrench here knows and sees all.”
Sunstreaker cycled a ventilation, his processor whirling. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
“Whatever,” he said, and pointed to the datapad. “What’s this mean anyway? I’m getting better? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“No. When it comes to your spark weakness, there’s no ‘better’.” Wrench cycled a ventilation and met Sunstreaker’s gaze. “Whatever’s doing this seems to be cyclical. It boosts your spark, stronger and longer than a merge with Starscream, but it’s not permanent. Your spark isn’t going to grow. It’s just… holding onto boost for longer.”
Sunstreaker furrowed his orbital ridge. “I’m not fixed, I’m just delaying the inevitable.”
“That’s what we’ve always done. Whatever this is does it better.” Wrench scrubbed his forehead and tapped the datapad again. “I have an old friend who works for Iacon Medical. With your permission, I’d like to let him take a look at these results. He’s got more experience in this sort of thing.”
“You trust him?” Sunstreaker asked. He had no intention of becoming a lab experiment. It was one of the reasons he didn’t take his income to a better medical facility. Rich medics looking at him and saying ‘fascinating’ made his armor crawl.
Wrench laughed. “Oh, he’s an arrogant twit, but he’s smart and gifted, and ruthless when he needs to be. If I tell him to hold his glossa on this, he will.”
Sunstreaker gnawed on his bottom lip. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I know.” Wrench heaved himself out of the chair, joints and hydraulics creaking, betraying his age. “But if I was lying here with my armor going gray and my spark flickering. I’d want him working on me, sure as Primus rests.”
“Fine.” Sunstreaker scrubbed a hand down his face. “So what does that mean? What should I do?”
Wrench set his datapad aside. “Figure out whatever it is that’s stabilizing your spark and keep doing it.” He paused and gave Sunstreaker a queer look. “You haven’t spark-bonded Starscream, have you? Because that would do it.”
Sunstreaker scowled. “Wouldn’t your scanner tell you if I had?”
“Normally, yes. But I’ve learned things are different when it comes to you.”
Sunstreaker folded his arms, discomfort coiling in his belly. “No.”
“Pity.” Wrench rested a hand on his knee, the weight of it warm and comforting, just like Wrench’s field, which always wrapped around Sunstreaker in a parental embrace. Or at least what he assumed one felt like. “You should just tell him, you know.”
Sunstreaker snorted and gave Wrench a sidelong look. “No, I shouldn’t.”
Wrench sighed and leaned on the edge of the berth next to Sunstreaker, pulling one of his hands into Wrench’s lap. “His spark is yours, Sunny. I’m sure of it.”
Sunstreaker shuttered his optics and cycled a ventilation. “I’m not afraid he won’t return my feelings. I’m afraid that he will. And then he’ll stay here. Or he’ll offer to carry me.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?”
The worst.
“I don’t want to be a burden to him. Eventually, he’ll resent me for it.”
Wrench squeezed his hand, his field squeezing as well, like a full frame embrace. “I still don’t think you give him enough credit.”
“I’m where I’m supposed to be, Wrench. I don’t have a bad life. Just a short one.” Sunstreaker offered a thin, wan smile.
“Don’t lose hope, Sunny. If things keep on as they are, I think you got more spark in you yet.” Wrench threw an arm over Sunstreaker’s shoulder and pulled him into a half-hug.
Wrench was the only mech Sunstreaker let do this. There was something comforting about the rusty old grouch. He’d been looking after Sunstreaker since he first came here. He’d been the one to help Sunstreaker figure out how to manage his weakened spark. He’d come up with the spark batteries, for lack of a better term, that helped keep Sunstreaker stable. He hadn’t needed them as much, once he and Starscream started sharing a berth and occasionally their sparks. But here lately…
“I’m going to need a few batteries,” Sunstreaker said as he leaned into the embrace. It was the only true comfort he had right now with he and Starscream being so distant. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alone.
Starscream coming into his life had saved him in more ways than one.
“You and the bird having a tussle?”
“Something like that.”
Wrench slid off the berth, patting Sunstreaker’s thigh as he did so. He started digging through the cabinet. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Sunstreaker double-checked his clamps, making sure his chestplate was locked tight after Wrench’s examination. “It’s probably for the best anyway.”
Wrench grunted as he pulled out a box and withdrew a few cylindrical chargers from it. He held them out to Sunstreaker, expression firm. “Tell him.”
Sunstreaker hopped off the berth and closed his fingers around the batteries. “I can’t. I’m not that brave.” They were carefully stowed in an arm compartment for later use. “Thanks, Wrench. I’ll see you next week.”
He didn’t have to see Wrench’s disappointed look to know it followed him out.
Appointments were always scheduled on his rest days. Often because Sunstreaker had to spend half the morning hooked up to a spark stabilizing machine, to help his spark return to a natural, normal rhythm. Or at least what qualified as one for Sunstreaker at any rate.
With his spark oddly strengthened, however, Sunstreaker had no need for the machine this morning. He was set free earlier than expected. He had nothing in mind for the rest of day, except perhaps for the datanovel he never seemed able to finish. So when his schedule pinged with a request, Sunstreaker peeked at it instead of ignoring it.
Interesting.
Sideswipe wanted a session this afternoon.
Sunstreaker’s schedule automatically informed potential clients that this was a rest day and therefore, accepting clients was at his discretion. There was no plea or wheedle in Sideswipe’s request. Just a simple offer of an absurd amount of creds and a polite query for the use of Sunstreaker’s time.
Rest days were usually for playing with or snuggling his Seeker. Starscream purposely didn’t book too many clients on Sunstreaker’s rest days so they could spend the time together. But last Sunstreaker checked, Starscream was booked solid all day, and his last client was Blurr. Who, Sunstreaker knew, would go and go and go, until his tanks ran dry.
Thank Primus Blurr paid well for the efforts. Sunstreaker could have never taken Blurr for a client. Aside from the fact Blurr didn’t seem to have any interest in Sunstreaker’s specialties, his spark wouldn’t have endured the Racer’s never-ending drive.
His day was open to him.
Sunstreaker accepted Sideswipe’s request.
He didn’t feel the least bit exhausted, which was a new sensation for him, to be honest. Was it because of Rodimus? Could the rookie’s constant presence in their life have something to do with it? He did share their berth frequently. Was Sunstreaker somehow drawing on his spark by mere proximity? Was there something special and unique about his spark as well?
Sunstreaker pulled out a datapad and jotted down the hypothesis. He would think about it for the remainder of the week, and the next time he met with Wrench, he’d present his guesses to the medic and see if any of them were valid. He tried not to let hope gain a foothold.
Wrench was right. He couldn’t be cured. There was no point in wishing for the impossible.
A future with his Seeker. A future where he wasn’t a burden.
Sideswipe pinged back. With it, he’d included a list of potential scenarios for Sunstreaker to include in the session.
Sunstreaker’s orbital ridges rose even as he chuckled. Sideswipe must be getting more comfortable with him, to start being more honest about what he wanted. Sunstreaker was more than willing to give the humiliation he craved, though it was rare that a submissive client wanted the submission without the sexual aspect.
Oh, Sunstreaker had directed Sideswipe to self-service on several occasions, and Sideswipe had overloaded without touch more than once, but that was the extent of it so far. They’d kissed. Sunstreaker had fondled him a bit, especially when calling him all sorts of uncomplimentary names, but Sideswipe seemed uninterested in actual copulation.
It wasn’t a problem, merely a curiosity.
Well. Sunstreaker’s feet were in need of a good polish. How kind of Sideswipe to volunteer.
Sideswipe was late. But then, he was always late. He seemed categorically incapable of arriving on time.
Sunstreaker didn’t mind because Sideswipe still paid for the full session. Plus, it gave him time to mentally prepare, to arrange the furniture in the room for the session, to put together a plan of action further than what he’d already decided.
He moved the plush single chair to the center of the room, shoving the low center table aside. He wanted the center of the floor to be as clear as possible, except of course, for the single chair. He wanted that to be Sideswipe’s sole focus since Sunstreaker would be sitting in it.
The door chimed and opened on its own with Sunstreaker turning to face it, a queer sense of anticipation and hunger dancing in his spark. He was never this excited to greet clients. Usually. But there was something about Sideswipe that always made him feel lighter as soon as Sideswipe came into view.
“Wait out here. Seriously,” Sideswipe was saying as he slipped into the room, directing his order to a mech outside of it. Perhaps a new guard who was unfamiliar with his employer’s proclivities. “Look, if Sunstreaker wanted to kill me, he’s had ample opportunity, and I don’t want a voyeur today. Shoo!”
He darted inside and closed the door. He muttered something Sunstreaker didn’t catch before he turned around with a big smile that made Sunstreaker’s spark unexpectedly throb.
“Sunny!” he greeted with his arms thrown wide, clearly expecting an embrace. The nickname failed to produce the usual surge of anger Sunstreaker normally had to swallow.
“Sideswipe.” Amusement filled Sunstreaker’s voice. He allowed the embrace and the kiss Sideswipe pressed to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome.”
“Thanks for taking me today,” the merchant said as he drew back, bobbing on his heelstruts. He was impeccably clean and shined, as always, even more so than Sunstreaker’s strident requirements demanded. He appreciated the effort.
“I know it was your day off.”
Given the huge increase in fees Sideswipe was paying, Sunstreaker should be the grateful one. But to each his own.
Sunstreaker inclined his head. “Anything for my favorite client.”
“Am I really your favorite or do you tell all your clients that?” Sideswipe asked, giving him a sidelong look.
“You’re my favorite,” Sunstreaker replied without thinking, and was surprised to find it was true.
There was something he greatly enjoyed about Sideswipe’s sessions. They’d gone from biweekly visits, to once a week, to twice. Today would make three times this week, if Sideswipe kept to his usual pattern and returned two days hence.
Sideswipe grinned. “That’s good to know.” He clapped his hands together and looked around. “So you got my list, right? Did you decide which one you wanted today?”
Sunstreaker draped himself on the plush chair and leaned back, thighs parting, arms resting along the chair. “I have.” He pointed to the ground in front of him. Sideswipe needed no verbal commands.
His glossa swept over his lips. His optics darkened in hue. He lowered himself slowly, that grin still on his lips, and shuffled forward in an awkward knee walk until he knelt in front of Sunstreaker, hands on his thighs. His head dipped deferentially, but he looked up at Sunstreaker with optics that for a shade of hue, would have matched Sunstreaker’s own perfectly.
He really was a handsome mech.
“And what did you pick?” Sideswipe asked, his vocals turning husky.
“You’ll see.” Sunstreaker braced an elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his cheek against his knuckles. “What is your safe word for today, Sideswipe?”
“Topaz.” Sideswipe’s hands scrubbed down his thigh armor. “Sir.”
Oh, but he submitted so beautifully.
Sideswipe gave himself to it fully. His plating relaxed, allowing Sunstreaker a full view of his gleaming cables and substructure. His shoulders sank down, his optics spooled into full attention, often glazing over when he slipped into subspace. He obeyed, except when he felt the need to be punished, and it helped that he was beautiful.
Sunstreaker always did have a weakness for the pretty ones.
“Good pet,” Sunstreaker murmured, and offered Sideswipe a small, proud smile. “For now,” he added. “But we both know what a disobedient little worm you are, don’t we?”
Sideswipe’s field flickered hot, a lick against the edge of Sunstreaker’s own. “I’ll try to be better,” he said, voice crackling, and his hands kneading his thighs. “This time.”
Sunstreaker’s lip curled, more derision than approval this time. “I don’t expect you’ll manage it, but you’re welcome to try.” He braced his elbows on the arm of the chair and laced his fingers together. He slid one foot forward. “Go on. I’m waiting to be disappointed.”
Lust surged into the room, so thick and heady, and Sunstreaker’s field nearly drowned in it. He’d never been with anyone who dove so hungrily into their role. Sideswipe had the capacity to be intoxicating.
He’d have to keep his wits about him.
Fortunately, Sunstreaker had plenty of practice.