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"Fucking watch where you're driving!" Sari shouts at the asshole who had nearly run her over in the crosswalk, zipping through a red light. She dusts her skirt off, and rubs at her skinned knee, glad it's not bleeding yet. It's pretty hard to get her bleeding, which she's thankful for. A minute later, sirens wail as a cop finally tails after the jerk, and she really hopes he ends up in jail for the night. She mutters to herself unhappily, tugging her backpack up a bit on her shoulder.

She starts to walk, not really sure where she's going. She's never actually been in this area of town before. Sure, she's left the college campus several times, but that doesn't mean she goes wandering all the fragging time. She has classes to go to, and not many friends when it comes to being there.

She had kind of hoped that she'd get more people to talk to here, moving out of state, and getting a /kind// of blank slate. But that isn't really helpful when everyone looks at her like she's crazy, or comments on how she looks. She has tried to take her pigtails down, but they're more than a little stuck that way. She doesn't even know how that happens, but it just does. It also isn't her fault she looks sixteen when she's twenty-three.

She most likely takes after her mom, even if her dad keeps giving her these wide eyed looks when she asks about her.

Aging slowly isn't her fault, dammit. It's in her genes or something. Sari sighs, and walks into one of the parks near the campus. It's always a bit overgrown, and doesn't get as many visits from the college kids, so she likes it more than the rest. Something keeps drawing her to this place, and she finds it relaxing there.

Sari sits down near a little pond, on one of the benches, and a duck swims over to the shoreline, staring up at her with wide eyes.

"No bread today."

It quacks at her mournfully, and swims off to go harass someone else. Not that there is someone else here, but a duck in a public pond is ever hopeful. She normally comes here, since something about it feels... right, she supposes. Like she should be here.

Any stress she's been having just... fades away.

But the draw seems quite a bit stronger today. She's not sure what it is, but she has a wild urge to just... jump in the pond. It is rather hot out, so the cool water looks really inviting.

She isn't sure if she wants to, though. She doesn't want to walk around in wet clothing, and her backpack may get stolen.

And the pond is probably all slimy gross the way most ponds are. It's not meant for swimming in it. Neverthless, she finds herself at the edge of it, slipping off her shoes to touch her toes to the water, which feels blessedly cool on a hot summer day. Well . . . never let it be said that Sari Sumdac doesn't go with her instincts. She considers slipping out of her dress, but she doesn't want to deal with the bad publicity she might get for going for a dip in a public pond in her underwear, so she keeps it on, slowly walking deeper into the pond. The duck comes back and circles around her once before growing bored and swimming away.

She continues walking, going in until it is up to her neck. She's not sure if she wants to duck her head or not, but something is telling her to just keep going. She takes a deep breath, and dives.

She moves quickly to where it feels like she should be, and dives even more. She reaches the bottom, and starts feeling around, eyes closed. There's a feeling of some sort of a /box//. Every common sense says that it is just a box someone threw away, and will be filled with nothing useful, but she's already down here, and she can just go with it.

Yanking on it hard, she heads back up to the surface.

She kneels down in the water, feeling the soft, muddy earth under her squish as she pushes the box onto it. The box is strange looking. She's never seen anything like it. It's yellow, with weird, angular lines all over it, and handles on the sides. There's a sort of button in the middle, and when she touches it, the lines light up blue, and the thing opens by splitting into pieces that fold outwards like some crazy trick puzzle.

Inside is the prettiest blue rock she's ever seen. It's glowing, and it's probably radioactive, but she can't help but touch it, pressing her hand against the pulsating crystal.

There's a bright flash of blue light, and she's suddenly on the floor, getting pecked at by a damn duck. She sits up and blinks, wondering why she's on a /floor// when she should have landed on the ground. She rubs the back of her head, not liking how it kinda hurts. At least the ground would be softer than whatever she's sitting on.

The duck quacks at her again, climbing into her lap. She blinks down at it, "You are possibly the /tamest// duck I've ever seen. What the hell." She pokes it, and it glares up at her, as if asking her what that was for. She frowns at it, "I need to get up, that's what. Shoo." She waves her hands at it, trying to get it to go away, only for it to stick it's stupid head under them, as if to ask for pettings. "/So dumb//," she mutters, patting the thing on the head.

She looks around, wanting to know what is going on. She can't recognize anything around her, since it all seems really highly decorated. And made entirely of brightly polished metals and decorated with crystals. It's a giant room, and she does mean giant, the place is enormous, and it doesn't seem to have a way for her to get out.

Sure, there is clearly what is a door, but that is so large it may as well be another wall.

And in the middle of it all is the stupid glowy blue rock, now sitting atop a pedestal in the center of the giant room, in front of what looks like a fraggin' altar. If altars were the size of small houses.

It glows brighter as she approaches it cautiously, duck held in her arms.

Stopping in front of it, she stares at the rock, which is pulsating now, looking like it's about to freakin' explode. "What the fuck are you?" she asks softly, rhetorically, not expecting the rock to /suddenly start projecting holograms faster than she can interpret them//. She only really notices a strand of DNA, some weird robot-y things, and her dad. "Woah. That's not normal." Sari steps away from it, spinning around when she hears a strange wooshing noise, like hydraulics working. The door is slowly sliding open.

The blue light behind her pulses so bright she swears she goes blind for a minute.

When it dims, the door is open, and there are two giant freakin' robots standing there.

But she hardly notices them, because her body . .

She's a robot /too// now.

She rubs the back of her head, wondering how hard she hit it when she fell down. Because she /must// be suffering some sort of brain damage if this is happening. It just isn't normal.

She looks at the duck, holding it up to study while ignoring the giant robots, "What the fuck happened to you?" It seems to be covered in armor, just like she is. She pinches a wing, and it quacks at her. "Well, maybe you never should have come with me in the first place, buddy." She pokes it, feeling a bit sick as it and her finger clang, and she feels how the duck /is// metal now.

One of the robots walks forward, into her line of sight, and drops to his gigantic knees heavily, somehow /not// shaking the floor. "Priestess?"

She gives him a blank look, "What."

The other robot drops to /his// knees, and starts to crawl over, looking at her relevantly, "Priestess, you've brought the Allspark back!"

Oh god, she's hit her head, and is hallucinating as she she slowly bleeds to death on the ground. The most detailed hallucination ever. Clearly, there were drugs on that box, and it got all over her, and she's slowly dying of blood loss since she fell over, and that mixed with the drugs.

She is so fucked.

The duck quacks its agreement in her arms.

"What the fuck are you?" she asks them, wondering if the weird glowy rock made them into robots too. She looks around, "Where the fuck /am// I?" This was the trippiest hallucination ever.  And she refuses to believe it's not a hallucination, because that would mean she was even more fucked than if she was dying from blood loss and drugs.

One of the robots, a big white one with blue trim all over his body, gives her a confused look, "We are in the Allspark temple, Priestess. Surely you know that. Why else would you have brought the Allspark here?"

She gives the robot a blank look, the words going over her head. "What."

The robots glance at each other, and the other one, a thinner one than the other guy with a visor instead of eyes and black body and white trim, reaches forward cautiously, "Are you hurt, Priestess? Would you like us to take you to the medic?"

She rubs her eyes, "Yeah, sure. Whatever. A doctor would be good." Even if the doctor is just a product of her imagination, it will make her feel better.

The robot looks at her, then at the other one before returning to her, "Would... would you like one of us to carry you?"

Does she want a giant robot to carry her? Hell no. "I can walk."

Her duck quacks plaintively, flapping its metal wings a bit, trying to escape her arms, and she tightens her hold on it. She's not letting her only companion in this madness get away.

The robots stand up, their hands fluttering nervously, shifting back and forth on their feet. "What . . Priestess, are you certain you do not wish to be carried? The medic is not in. We will have to walk to a medical facility, or call the medicbot here."

"We can walk. It's not like it's gonna be hours away, is it?"

They stare at her without comprehension, and then the one with the visor says, "If we . . . walk, then I expect it will take several breems to get there. You are . . very small."

She gives him a confused look, "What's a breem?"

They look at her and the white and blue one says, "About four kliks."

She looks at them for a few seconds, "And... a klik is?"

They give her a very distressed look, "Priestess, you must have been badly damaged! Can we please carry you so that we get you to the medic qui-"

She holds the duck closer, a protective gesture, "No. No carrying." She isn't sure why, since she knows she'd normally jump at the chance to be carried by a robot that's so fucking huge, but something tells her not to. "I'm walking. With my duck." She looks at the duck, patting its armored head, "Your name is Aloysius now. It is a wonderful name, don't you agree?"

The duck quacks, and she takes that for acceptance of her awesome naming powers.

"Is," one of the mechs gives her a nervous look, like he'd rather walk into a room of certain doom than risk asking her this, "is your companion your First Consort?"

She blinks, and stares down at her duck, and then up at him. She understands /consort//. "No. He's a duck." Fucking crazy robots.

The bot sighs with something like relief, "It is your pet? I have never seen another like it. It is like a laserhawk, but smaller."

"He's a /duck//," she repeats, ignoring that he's a /metal// duck now. What the fuck was a /laser//hawk. And why did it sound so completely /awesome//?  "Let's get to this medic."

They very reluctantly walk in front of her, and they keep trying to drift to her sides, and then behind her, and it's driving her crazy. Finally, she has had enough of their weirdness.

"Stop that," she hisses at them. "I don't know this building. I don't know how to get out of here. You can just stop trying to walk behind me like you're worried I'm gonna run away and you need to keep an eye on me."

One of them gives her a blank look, "What..." The bot looks away, then returns, 'Priestess? What's... what's an eye?"

Oh god damn it, she has gone insane. This feels a bit too real to be a hallucination, so whatever was on that box really fucked her up. "This," she reaches up to her face, tapping her eye, "is an eye.'

They give her a look of understanding, "Oh." The robots nod, the skinny one looks at her cautiously, "Why..." The guy shakes his head, "Nevermind, priestess."

She sighs, "You can ask me questions, I don't mind. Maybe then I can figure out what the fuck just happened."

"Why do you call your optics 'eye'?" the bot asks, biting his lip.

Optics? "Because they are eyes. They-" she stops, and snaps her fingers, "give me a mirror."

The bots stare at her, and then at each other, "I . . do not have a mirror."

She huffs, and shifts Aloysius to one arm, reaching back to rifle through her backpack, pulling out her little folding brush that has a mirror in the handle. She angles it, and then drops it with shock.

Her face looks so different. Her pigtails are yellow metal blobs now, and she has little things on the side of her face, halfway between headphone-looking things and replacements for the bangs that used to fall on either side of her face. Her eyes are glowing blue shapes now, on a black metal expanse, and the lower half of her face is covered by some kind of yellow and grey mask. She touches it, and feels it retract. She picks up the mirror again and looks at her uncovered face, which is more black, with a barely visible mouth.

Inside her mouth is a tiny metal, segmented tongue.

She shudders, and the mask snaps back into place defensively.

She looks up at the robots, hearing them sigh softly, "What?"

They give her slightly lovesick looks, "You are very pretty, Priestess."

She glares, holding Aloysius closer, "Don't /lie// to me." She turns around, and stalks to the door, scooping up her brush, "Let's go. I want to go to the medic."

The robots stride next to her, "Is it okay if only one of us goes? One of us should stay here to check to see how the Allspark is doing. We will be bringing more templebots in to help, but for now, there is only us, and-"

She waves a hand, "Yes, yes, awesome. Do that."

"Which of us do you want with you? I am Sidewinder," the white one with blue says, smiling at her. "This is Speeder," he gestures at the white and black one with the visor. "Either of us would love to accompany you, Priestess. We would be honored-"

"I'll take you," she gives Aloysius a squeeze, and he quacks mutinously, snapping his beak at her arm. "We can go to the doctor and he can diagnose me, and then I can wake up from this freaky dream." She prods Aloysius's head, "Don't bite me."

The duck quacks at her again, as if to just be contrary, and then hisses at the robots when Sidewinder steps too close.

The robot blinks, and steps back, "Priestess, would you like me to open the door for you?"

She waves at it, "Let's /go//."

He opens it, and steps out into the sunshine. She follows him out, and freezes when she sees how /big// everything is, how there are just... robots all over. And funny looking vehicles. The cars and trucks and motorcycles... don't have any seats in them, not that she can see through the windshields.

Several of them jerk to a hault in front of her, and then there's a strange noise and they all turn into robots, staring down at her with wide eyes. "Oh, Primus," a whippet-thin bot that had been a motorcycle says, before falling to his knees in front of her, "we . . we have a Priestess again? Is the . . Allspark?" the bot swallows hard, staring at the guard behind her.

"The Allspark has been returned to us," Sidewinder says kindly, reaching over to touch the bot's shoulder. "The Priestess returned it to us. She is not manifested yet, but she will soon, no doubt."

"Manifested? What?" She glares up at the robot next to her, "What the hell is that?"

The robot smiles, "Where you fully come into your powers, Priestess."

She looks at him with wide eyes for a minute, then says cautious, "So... when you say powers... do you mean, like, being fully trained, or like... I don't know.... magic?"

The bot tilts his head, "It isn't magic, Priestess. It is a blessing from the Allspark, and-"

"Oh god, I hit my head so hard, and that yellow box was filled with drugs. I knew it. I'm going to bleed out and die in some park, and my dad won't ever know what happened until my school calls him and says I haven't been in my room in a week."

"You hit your head?" the robot asks, worried now, and he bends down to scoop her up in his arms. "We must get you to the medic faster, then. Please, forgive me for this." The bot folds down all weird, and he's suddenly a truck, and she's stuck to the top of him somehow. She wiggles, and tries to get off, but she can't. "I am sorry," the bot says to the crowd, "but the Priestess is unwell, and we must take her to the medicbot."

She kicks at him, "Let me go, dickbot."

Sidewinder takes off, rushing through the streets, "You are injured, Priestess. you should have told us before and we would have taken you there automatically. If you are suffering processor damages, we want to get you fixed as soon as possible. The sooner we catch it, the more likely we can fix it."

She holds Aloysius, who quacks indignantly, "If this is a hallucination, then rushing to a fake doctor won't help me any."

"This is not a hallucination, Priestess." The bot speeds down the streets, and Sari has to admit it feels pretty good. Kind of like driving in a fancy car with the top down, wind rushing everywhere, but twice as fast. She tries to relax into it, and just go with the flow. There's not much she can do.

If she's hallucinating, there's no way to tell. She could have been dreaming her whole life and this now is the reality. It's stupid to sit there and think too hard on it. She has to play it like this is real, because the results will be disastrous if it is and she doesn't treat it that way.

The bot starts to slow down, and asks, "Priestess?"

She sighs, "Yes, Sidewinder?"

The bot warms under her for some reason, then goes cold again, "This... this is going to sound a little...a lot insulting, but I want to know if you'd be willing to go to a sparkling medic. He is the best there is, and is closer, and you are small enough he may be called in anyway. Or... we go to the medic that the Magnus uses. Which would you rather have?"

She has no clue what a Magnus or a sparkling is. "The closer one is fine."

"If you are certain, Priestess." The robot changes course a bit, and heads down some narrower streets until they're in front of a large white building, which looks distinctly medical, even as huge as it is. "Please just relax. We will have you cared for soon," the bot promises, transforming back to hold her in his arms. He rushes inside and stops in front of the desk, where another bot is sitting with a smile on his faceplates.

"How can I-"

"The Allspark Priestess is suffering from a head injury. We must see medic Ratchet at once."

The bot sits up quickly, "Allspark High Priestess?" The mech points down the hall, "Go to the very first room through there. We'll send him right in."

Sidewinder rushes in, putting her on the large metal medical table, and hovering over her with worry. "Are you okay, Priestess? I know this won't be what you were expecting, but-"

She looks at him blankly, then holds up a hand, "Stop that this instant." She sets Aloysius down next to her, "I wasn't expecting anything. Last thing I knew before I got here, I was at a park, having just dragged a box out of the pond."

"A park? On what planet?" The bot stands beside her, wringing his hands nervously. "Where was the Allspark hiding all these decavorns?"

She stares at him, and then at the room around her. Planet. As in, other planet.

Which makes sense, really. The sky outside had been . . . different. Much darker, even in daylight. Different sun. Different moons. Moons, plural.

She rubs her eyes, and lets Aloysius wander around on the bed, pecking at the metal at random. "I was on Earth. On break, between classes. I'm probably late for my next class right now."

The bot tenses a bit, "Classes? You . . how old are you, Priestess?"

She sighs, "My name is /Sari//, and I'm twenty-three."

The bot looks at her, and asks cautiously, "Twenty-three..." the bot's voice turns /slightly// hopeful, "decavorns?"

She gives him a blank look, "Decavorns are, like, ten vorns, right?" The bot nods, and she asks, "And a vorn is.... a year?" At the bot's confused look, she shakes her head, "No. I'm not twenty-three decavorns old." She waves a hand, unsure what to say, "Twenty-three vorns." She'll just work off a vorn as a year, since that seems like the most likely thing. If they measure how old someone is in it, it is like a year.

The bot gasps, and then looks terribly sad, "You're . . so young."

She finds that really insulting. She's not that young. "I'm an adult." She frowns at him, "Plenty old enough to be making my own decisions and shit." She crosses her arms over her chest, "Can you get the medic to hurry it up? I hate waiting at the doctor's."

Sidewinder gives her another sad look, "Yes, Priestess." He presses his fingers to his temple, and starts talking out loud, "Yes, this is templebot Sidewinder. I was hoping you could get Ratchet to hurry up."

She sits down, folding her legs under her, and pulls Aloysious into her lap. The duck quacks at he, then leans against her tummy. Patting him on the head, she says, "You sure look funny, all robotty." She sighs sadly, "/I// look funny, too." The duck quacks at her, almost mournfully, and she pets him softly.

After a little bit, Sidewinder turns to look back at her, "Medic Ratchet is... in the middle of extracting a sparkling. Is... is it okay if we wait?"

She has no damn clue what that is, but it kinda sounds serious. "... uh, yes. Okay. I guess?"

The bot looks uncomfortable, "We can get another medic in if you want, but they won't be as good as-"

The door opens, and a bot walks in, "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. It was just a routine thing, I had another bot do it. He needs to learn, anyway." The bot looks at her, frowning, "You are /tiny//."

"You're /ginormous//," she counters, glaring up at him. "I'm normal sized. You're just the size of a freaking car. What kind of robots turn into cars anyways? That's just stupid."

The medic gently prods at her, "You know, I have no idea what your alt mode is. Are you some kind of small cyclebot? I don't even see any wheels on you." He taps the strange blue circle on her chest, "Open up so I can scan you."

The guard hisses, "How dare you show such disrespect to the High Priestess, medic Ratchet. Pray that she does not curse you for this."

Ratchet sighs, "I need her to, so I can scan her. She looks far too small for me to use her access ports, and-"

She shifts a tiny bit, "What do you mean open up?"

Ratchet looks at her, then gives her a downright kind smile, different from his grumpy demenor just a bit ago, "Okay. Do you want me to do it?"

His voice is like speaking to a small child, but it is actually better than everyone seeming to have her just /know// what is going on. "Please."

He takes out a thin metal rod, "I'm going to use this to manipulate your locks. When I tap them, you should be able to feel them and unlock. If not, I'm going to have to pull on them a bit, and it may hurt, but that should show your system how to open up."

She nods, tilting her head, "Okay."

He puts it to the seam of the circle on her chest, and gently presses on... something, and metal plates pop open after a soft clicking sound. "There," he says, smiling at her. "Did you pay attention to how it feels? Or should we do it again?"

"No. I don't need you to do it again." She looks down and sees . . a glowy blue ball in her chest, with darker blue spots inside of it. It's like a radioactive amoeba, and she reaches up to poke at it, jerking her hand away when it feels /really// good to touch it.

The medic pulls out a little computery-thing and then reaches into her chest, pulling out a cable from inside her, and links it to the pad's cable. "Let me know if anything hurts or feels strange to you."

She nods, cuddling her duck, "'Kay." She looks down as the bot scans her. "Am... am I broken?"

Ratchet actually laughs at that, a soft bark of a laugh, and he pats her, "No. Not at all. You are a tiny bit jarred from a bump on your head, but it is /nothing// serious. You aren't damaged, and it will go away in a megacycle or two. Your selfrepairing systems are very good." The bot pats her again, "I can see that you're twenty-three stellarcycles old, too."

She brightens, "So /that// is a year. Not a vorn."

He nods, while Sidewinder makes a horribly dismayed sound. Ratchet looks at the datapad in confusion, "I am kind of wondering what this organic part that is coming up, though. Is this nor-" The bot smiles at her, "Yes, it is normal. You're a techno-organic, I see. That's interesting."

"Techno-organic?" she asks, curiously, and the medic frowns at her.

"Part Cybertronian, part organic. Were you not aware of this?"

Fuck. That . . her dad had sex with a robot? Sari shudders, and wishes for brain bleach. No wonder her mother was never around if that was true. She was part robot. "No. I wasn't really aware of it, thanks." She looks away, and rubs an arm. "But I'm okay? No brain damage?"

The bot chuckles, "None that I can see, Priestess. You are very healthy, and very, very young. Even for a techno-organic. You seem to have aged much faster than they normally do."

She tilts her head, "I have? I mean, I always grow so /slow//. I look sixteen!"

"Ah, that would be why." He smiles at her, resting his head on the medical berth to be eye to eye, "Your organic parts come from a species that grows incredibly fast. You must be very short lived. What's the avarage lifespan for them?"

She looks down, "I don't know. I mean, fully attended and everything, it is about... seventy to ninty. Some live longer, some shorter."

Sidewinder makes that distressed sound again, and Ratchet sighs softly, "So very young. You will live, if you weren't the priestess, for about twice that. I'm not sure how the Allspark will modify you. I imagine it will be much longer now, though."

"Yeah, sure." Sari snorts, "Or I'll have something go wrong and I'll die much sooner. Hybrids aren't the best at living and lasting." She slips off the medical bed, "Thanks for the check-up, but I think it's time for me to go home. I'm sure my dad is wondering where I've run off to, 'cause I normally call him in the evening. He's always worried about me." She'd say something about friends missing her too, but . . she didn't really have any friends. Never had.

Sidewinder moves next to her, handing her Aloysius, "You said you were on... planet Earth, Priestess. We... we don't know where that is. I had Speeder check on star maps, even commed Cosmos, but..." The mech gives her a helpless look, "I really don't know how we can do that, Priestess."

She looks at him, "I... I'm going... I will go look at the rock."

Sidewinder gives her a horrified look, "You... you called the Allspark a... a rock? It is the-"

"Is that what the rock is called? The glowy blue one that was in the box?"

"It is no /rock//," the bot shudders, and moves his hands in a strange pattern. "The Allspark is our most holy artefact. It is Primus's creation, and it helps give life to our species. It can heal the wounded and the sick, and it can create sparklings, if a couple cannot conceive them on their own."

Oh. So sparklings were like, baby robots.

She pauses.

Baby. Robots.

Oh god. The robots /do// have sex.

Ratchet snorts, gently pressing a servo to her back to push her out of the door, and looks at Sidewinder, "She's the Allspark High Priestess, and /very// young. Didn't even grow up in a place where anyone knows about bots. Give her some slack, and let her talk to the Allspark. It won't hurt its priestess, and she'll know if she can go home or not. Maybe it just wanted to use her as a boost to get home, and will want her to finish growing up to her full age on Earth, wherever that is. Just cool your jets."

"I'm not a jet," the bot hisses, before scooping Sari up in his arms again.

Ratchet snorts louder, "You can stop angling to be her consort, Sidewinder. It doesn't look like you're her type. If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say she's more interested in . . . hm. . racecars?"

Sari stares at him blankly for a minute, and then nods, "Yeah. I do like racecars." They were fast and pretty awesome, even if most of them didn't really need the spoiler attached to them. Street models weren't ever gonna go fast enough for those. "They're pretty awesome."

Ratchet smiles, "Well, you go talk to the Allspark, and see what's going on, Priestess. I'm sure you'll figure something out." The bot reaches into the air, and pulls out... a giant pink candy on a stick, giving it to her, "Here you go. Have some candy."

She looks at it, unsure what to do with it. "... Why do you have hammerspace?"

The mech blinks at her, then laughs, "That's a subspace, I'm glad to know that your species has a name for it. You should have one, too. Want me to teach you how to get into it?"

"No." She takes the stick like she's worried it'll explode, because she's worried that it will explode. Messily. "What is this?"

Ratchet reaches over and gently pats her shoulder, "It's an energon sweet on a rust stick. I keep them for my best patients."

For the baby robots, then. She's not sure if she should be offended or not. "I don't know if I can eat this." It looks like a tiny rusted pipe with radioactive pink gummi candy on the end.

He smiles at her, "You don't have to if you don't want to. I'm sure that Sidewinder would love to eat it if you don't. Just try it when you get home. Maybe other energon will be better." The bot smiles, "I'm sure they can try all sorts of things to feed you if you need it."

She looks down, "I guess."

He smiles, "If you don't like it, I won't be offended. I know you want to go home, so you most likely just aren't hungry."

"I had a big lunch," she lies, and something inside her rumbles, leaving her feeling really hungry. She glares down at herself. And then directs Sidewinder toward the door, only to be stopped by Ratchet's polite cough.

"You might want to shut your sparkplates. It's obscene to go out with your spark showing, sparkling."

She scowls at him. "Sure. Whatever." She closes her plates.

The bot smiles at her, "Next time, you may want to do that with your automatic systems. It is considered a come on to have a bot close them with their servos."

She freezes, "So... a spark is like... your junk?"

He gives her a confused look, "I'm not sure what you mean by that, but it is what is used to interface."

Oh god, she does not want to know what robot sex is like. "Okay. I won't do that." And she now knows why it is obscene to show it off. She's not going to be doing that again. At all.

Ratchet smiles, "And don't open your plates with your servos, either, sparkling. That is even /more// of one, and should be saved for private in the berthroom."

Oh god, she wants to die. She hides her face in Aloysius's armor, "Okay. I got it."

The medic laughs, and it is a nice laugh, no hint of malice in it at all, "Would you like a datapad on 'facing information? It will explain about things for you."

"No," she mutters, still hiding her face. She's embarrassed enough as it is.

"I think you should have one, just in case." The medic offers one of the computer things to Sidewinder--a datapad--and instructs him to give it to her when she's ready for it. She is so never going to ask for that. Ever.

"Thanks," she mumbles, and Aloysius quacks, flapping metal wings as if trying to fly. She wonders if he still can, and if he'll be sad, in a very duck-ish way if he cannot. Maybe she can strap rockets on to him if she has to.

Ratchet pats the duck on the head with a single finger, "You may want a vet to check your tiny laserhawk for anything."

She shrugs, "He's techno-organic, too. He used to be just a duck, but then he got changed." She looks at Aloysius, "Laserduck?"

Ratchet laughs softly, "Only if he shoots lasers. He could be a cyberduck or a turboduck, but if he's a techno-organic like you, then he is still just a duck. He is whatever you want him to be."

She pets Aloysius, "Laserduck."

Even if the idea of a duck with laser power is sort of terrifying. It's also really fucking awesome, and that overrides any terror that might accompany it. Aloysius the Laserduck. It had a certain ring to it.

Sidewinder coughs, "We must return to the temple soon, Priestess. There is much to be done to prepare for what will be coming. You will meet with the Magnus tomorrow, of course." The bot carries her out of the room, "And then, we will begin inviting bots to offer themselves as consorts."

"I don't want to," she protests. She frowns at the bot, "I want to go /home//!"

He gives her a slightly distressed look, "But you are our Priestess, and-"

She cuddles Aloysius, looking away, "I need to talk to the Allspark and see if I can go home." Rather, she's going to hit that stupid rock and demand it take her home. She can't leave her dad without her. He'd miss her so much. He gets so worried.

Sidewinder makes that upset sound again, "If... if you wish, Priestess."

"I do." She kicks him lightly, and squeezes Aloysius, prompting a very loud and disgruntled quack. "Now, take me to the temple so I can talk to the rock. Make it take me home, where I belong." She wants to be there /yesterday//.

He folds himself down and drives slowly through the streets, "Yes, Priestess." His voice sounds mournful, like he can't imagine anything worse than this.

They make it to the temple, and there is a /line// forming there. She watches as they go past it, and then asks, "What is that all about?"

"They want blessings, Priestess. Most bots can't have a sparkling at all. There are some that can, and they are considered incredibly blessed, but most... most just... can not have a sparkling. They are rare and precious, and-"

She taps him lightly, "Got it. Rare. Yes. Why weren't they there before?"

"The... the Allspark only just came back with you, Priestess."

"So they've been waiting for a couple years now? That sucks."

Sidewinder transforms up and carries her inside, out of the view of the bots in the line, "For many decavorns, Priestess. Some bots are blessed, and can carry right away, and will continue to carry for that partner, but the rest of us," he trails off and carries her to the Allspark in silence.

Stupid robot wants to guilt her into staying, but she's not doing this. She never signed up to be anyone's savior.

He sets her in front of the Allspark, walking past the line of bots that are at the door to the room it is in. "Priestess, do you want someone in here with you, or-"

"I'm cool being here on my own. Aloysius will keep me company. He's a good duck."

The bot gives her a look she can't really interpret, but it looks sad, "Y-yes, Priestess. We will make sure that none of the bots asking for a blessing comes in while you're here."

She watches him go, and keeps hold of her duck. When the door closes, she strides to the stupid rock, "What the hell is wrong with you? Send me back!"

The rock glows brighter as she approaches, and it flashes images at her, thing that make no sense at all--Sari with a pretty red and orange bot at her side, and then with a red and teal bot, and a bot with a cape, and a green and black bot with a black circle on his chest.

"That's not an answer, you idiot," she hisses, and slams a palm on the rock. It flashes an angry red and then a . . . hologram of a human woman shows up in front of her.

The hologram crosses its arms over its chest, /You will cease being difficult, my daughter.//

The hologram really does look like how she always imagined how her mom would look. Tall, red hair... maternal. There's love in her gaze, even if it is irritated.

That doesn't fragging mean she's going to trust it.

She glares, "You're not my mom. You most likely took what I thought she looked like from my head. It doesn't matter. Take me /back//!"

The hologram frowns at her, flicking her facemask with an intangible finger, /You are badly behaved. Not like how a prietess should act at all.// It is weird hearing it speak, since it is like words dropping in her head without her ears. It makes her ears itch with want of use.

She glares harder, rubbing her ears, or rather where her ears should be since there are really these nubby things on the side of her head now. "Well, I'm not a fucking Priestess. I don't care what they say. I'm going home."

/I knew I should not have let Isaac raise you. I love him dearly, but he has taught you nothing of our ways. I should not have expected an organic to raise our daughter to inherit her rightful place.// The hologram reaches over and rests a hand on her shoulder, and she can /feel// it. /You will learn, my daughter. The bots here will love you, and Primus has indicated which mechs will serve as your consorts already. He was very happy to find that he has a grandsparkling now.//

She looks at the hologram, and pulls away. "I'm not getting married."

The hologram laughs, an oddly musical sound, /They are consorts, my daughter. They will keep you sane when you manifest.// the Allspark kisses her forehead, /You will need them. When the first two come, you will manifest and fix the one that is damaged. He is your first and you will love him.//

"No." That . . if they came together, they were probably in a relationship, and she's not going to break them up. "Fuck you, rock. I'm not getting married, and I want to go back to earth. And to my dad." She stands in front of it, defiant.

It only smiles at her, /Isaac is here, my daughter. I have blessed him with armor now that I have the energy to do so, and I intend to create many more daughters with him. You will have sisters. Won't that be wonderful?//

She looks at the hologram, and takes a step back. "What does dad think about this?"

It sighs in a lovestruck way, /He is going to be on my altar,// it waves at a flat piece of the raised pedestal that is rather large, and really does look like an altar, /after he is done getting energon.// It glares at the door, /I didn't want any bots looking at him before I am done taking care of him, so he will not be here until tonight, but when they are gone, he will not be wandering the temple.//

"You're . . gonna make him do that? I want to talk to him." They could escape together, somehow. Flee the awful rock and go home. And live as robots on earth.

Yeah, it didn't sound so great to her either.  But she was hopeful.

The Allspark sighs, and nods, /Very well. I will take you to my Isaac, but only because you are our daughter. You will like what I have done with him. He makes a very nice mech. He will serve me well and carry many sparklings for me.//

She cuddles Aloysius, having to hurry to keep up with the hologram as it opens the door. "Where is he?" She ignores the bots that part for them, "You didn't hurt him did you?"

It gives her an irritated look, /I would never hurt him. I love him. I fixed him so he will live a proper amount. LONGER than a proper amount. He is mine, and I will never let him go. I was broken when my last love was offlined, and I will not allow it to happen to my Isaac. He will never be damaged like that.//

"He's not gonna live forever," she points out, following it as it hurries down the halls, as if trying to lose her. "You-"

/Isaac is in here,// the hologram gestures at a door. /He will not be allowed to leave. Do not try to leave with him. I will be most cross with the both of you if you try.//

She glares at it, and slips inside, stopping at the sight of a small robot that looks a lot like her dad, if her dad was covered in metal and silver and blue. He has a weird shaped decoration on his head--his hair, in robot form. The white streak is /blue// now.

"Dad!" she shouts, rushing to him. She drops Aloysius, and wraps her arms around him in a hug, hating how they clank. "Are you okay?"

He blinks at her, "Sari? Sari!" He hugs her tightly, realizing who she is, and rubbing her back, "I'm fine, Sari. A little tired, but okay." He smiles up at her, "What about you? I have not seen you in forever because of you being at college, and now all of this happens."

She buries her head in the crook of his neck, "I'm so sorry, dad. This is all my fault. I never should have pulled that stupid box out of that pond."

"Box? What box?" he father asks, rubbing her back, right below the little winglet things that adorn her shoulders. "This isn't your fault, Sari. I should have told you. . . I always knew you were different. You started as a small, silver body that showed up in my lab one day."

She blinks at him, "Really? So. . . there was no robot 'interfacing' going on?"

The hologram huffs behind them, /I scarcely had the energy to create you, my daughter. I could not manifest a form there.//

She glares at it, "No one asked you."

It walks over to them, and kisses her dad possessively, /But you get told anyway. He is mine, and he helped make you. I so rarely make sparklings with another, and he is the one of the few I will do that with. You are my Priestess, my most literal daughter. You will be doing my work while I can not. You need to visit places off planet. Show everyone the old ways are not dead.// the hologram smiles at her, /And that they will have a new twist to them, coming from my lovely techno-organic daughter.//

She frowns at it, "You're kinda a jerk, aren't you?"

It stares at her without comprehension, and then waves a hand at her, /Go. You have seen that your father is fine. We have new sparklings to create together. You can go see your new room. It is lovely. I used my power to decorate it for you.//

It starts kissing her dad again, and he . . well, he kinda seems into it, but she grits her teeth and asks, "Are you okay, Dad? You want me to make the rock stop?"

He blinks at her, then shakes his head. "No." He pulls a little away from the hologram, ignoring how it makes an angry growl, "You go ahead and leave. You... don't want to be here for this." Her dad puts a hand on the hologram's back. "You should go look at the temple, it is really interesting."

She nods, making a hasty retreat as the rock pushes her father onto the floor. She slams the door and shudders. At least her dad isn't /upset// about being claimed by the thing.

She wanders around, not really sure what to do. She should possibly find Speeder or Sidewinder, but she doesn't want to deal with them. Instead, she walks to the entranceway.

There are bots there, and she stares out at them. They don't notice her. She's grateful for that, not sure how to act if they /did// notice her.

Sari sighs, and feels her. . . heart, her spark, her /something// ache at the sight of all those robots, hoping to be blessed by a rock that's currently . . doing unspeakable things to her father. She shudders again, and thinks of other things.

She's about to turn away when a pair of bots she recognizes from the pictures shown to her by the stupid rock step in. Her breath hitches and something in her chest flashes hot, warming her entire frame, as she watches them standing there. The one with the cape is holding the red and orange one, murmuring something in the bot's ear. The red and orange one looks /horrible//.

Absolutely horrible.

The bot's frame is covered in rust, and his legs dangle, as if broken or like they're incredibly hard to let be deadweight. The bot kisses the one wearing a cape, and her spark turns blinding hot. She takes a step forward, panting more than a little bit, and she glows blue.

There's a sudden rush of noise around her as bots notice her, and take reverent steps away from her as she walks towards the pretty bots in the crowd. She stops in front of them, and feels her frame brighten even more. "Come with me," she orders curtly, and spins around to avoid forcing them to do something obscene in public. She wants to see their sparks.

She doesn't really understand /why//.

She leads them to a room that feels right, watching as they walk in after her. The one with the cape closes the door and sets the red and orange one on the metal bed in the center of the room. The bot smiles at her, "Preistess, I'm so glad that you're-"

She touches his cape, feeling it, "What are your names?"

The bot smiles, his beard twitching a bit as he talks, "My name is Alpha Trion, Priestess. I came with Rodimus to have his frame fixed... and possibly to allow him to 'face more than twice a decacycle."

She looks up at him, "Pick me up."

She's taken in his arms cautiously, "Did you need me to put you somewhere, or-"

She touches his mouth, retracting her facemask, "Put me next to Rodimus." She bites her lower lip, still looking at him as he moves her, "And you will open up so I can see your spark."

He dims his eyes, so they're just barely glowing, and she can hear a click coming from his chest. "If that's what you wish, Priestess."

Her mouth goes dry as she watches the bot reach up to his plates, slowly opening them a tiny bit at a time, pulling them open with his fingers. She licks her lips, watching as the blue ball pulses, feeling oddly warm. "Nnngh, stay open like that."

"As you wish, Priestess," the larger mech hums, his spark pulsing faster. She reaches up and touches it, and feels it crackle against her fingertips.

"Open," she demands, as she turns to the smaller bot and touches his sparkplates, which are so terribly damaged. Rodimus shifts, and flushes beautifully, and Sari knows that he's going to be her special bot. Her First Consort. His plates retract slowly as the bot pushes them open, and Sari helps them along, pulsing blue energy into his frame. Her First will not be scarred and hurt. He will be whole. Fully functional. Beautiful.

Rodimus gasps, and she can hear Alpha Trion make an almost dismayed sound behind her, "Priestess, what . . please, do not claim him. We-"

She glares back at him, "He is mine. The Allspark told me he is mine. Just like /you// are mine, and the other two are mine." She doesn't even know the names of the red and teal one or the black and green one with the slutty blessing paint on him, but she /knows// they are hers.

Alpha freezes, "You're.... claiming all of us? We can't-"

She clambers on top of Rodimus, licking him as she goes, "Yes. You are all mine, and I am claiming you. You will be-" She tilts her head, blinking at the sudden image of all but the black and green one with red sparks, "What does it mean to have a red or gold spark?"

Rodimus is revving under her, his frame slowly healing under the influence of her powers, but he manages to gasp out, "It . . it means that a bot is blessed with a lucky spark."

Alpha Trion adds, "A red spark makes a bot want to interface more, his spark heat increased, and a gold spark makes them want to interface less, with a much lower spark heat. Purple sparked bots have a slightly higher interfacing drive, and green sparked bots have a lower one. Gold sparks . . can rarely, if ever, overload."

She rubs Robimus's spark, pushing energy into him that feels like it /should// be used, "Then does-"

/Knock Out, my daughter. His name is Knock Out, and he has a green spark. You will be able to interface him when you give him a gold spark. The rest of your constorts with red mean that they will be able to as well, much easier than they would have with a normal spark. It is always best to have lucky sparked consorts. Having one that started out that way is even better.//

She glares at the wall, in the direction that the hologram is in, "I don't need your information. I wanted it from Alpha and Rodimus."

/The truckbot is Perceptor. He's very logical, and you'll like how he talks.//

"Shut up. Are you done with my dad already? You suck." She finds the place where the Allspark is talking to her and pinches down on it until the Allspark's voice is a tiny, tiny whisper.

/You are being disobedient again, my daughter. Learn to have more respect.//

She pinches it down further, until she can barely hear the Allspark, and then turns her attention to Rodimus. "Sorry. The Allspark is a mega-jerk." She pulses energy into his spark and watches it glow brighter, the color shifting slowly towards a purple shade. She likes purple more than red. And she kinda does like the idea of making their sparks different, because she has a hard time telling all the stupid blue, sexy balls of light apart.

She pets it softly, and Rodimus squirms under her. "Priestess? I-"

She rubs his chestplates, using a slightly different energy to clean up the rust around where she's going to hold onto him and rub their sparks together. At least she /thinks// that is what you do. It seems like the only way to do it. "Sari. My name is Sari, my First."

He blinks at her, then looks away, "F-first? I couldn't be your first consort. I mean, I'm-"

She moves a bit and kisses him scarred mouth, healing it up, "Mine. You are mine, and I will fix you up."

"But, Priestess," the bot protests again, and she silences him with another kiss. She doesn't want to hear his complaints. He will be hers. Her First. Her first everything, really. She's only ever kissed before. No one wanted to fuck a girl who looked perpetually sixteen; no one other than pedos, and she didn't want someone who /only// wanted her because she looked underage.

"You are mine." She bends down and kisses his spark, and the color shifts to a rich, deep purple, and the rust and scars on his frame slowly flake and fade away as if they had never been there at all.

Rodimus relaxes, eyes flickering prettily, "Oh..." His hands go to her frame, and pet her, "I feel better than I have in decavorns."

She smiles, opening her chestplates, "I fixed you." She isn't sure /how// it happened, but that doesn't matter. "Now you will be my First. You are-

He puts a hand to her back, "I would like to get your spark warmed up, Pri- /Sari//. You are just going to shove against me without caring about your own comfort. Let me help."

She thinks that shoving her spark against him sounds like an excellent idea, but part of being a Priestess and having a First is listening to that consort. "Alright." She blinks as the mech shifts, putting her under him. She feels so much smaller this way, and isn't entirely sure she likes it, but it ceases to matter when the bot leans down and starts licking her spark, dragging his glossa over it.

Sari shudders, clutching at his helm, pulling him down closer, wanting him to lick her faster, harder, a hundred things, all of them /more//. Rodimus chuckles, and nibbles gently on her spark, making it crackle with charge.

Alpha sits on the bed next to them, reaching over cautiously, "Am I allowed to touch you as well, or should I just sit over there with my plates open and not allowed to do anything?"

She reaches over with one hand, trying to touch him. "Y-you can touch us. Just..." She arches up, gasping at a flow of information just as Rodimus sucks on her spark. "You can't touch us when I have my spark on his. I want to change your spark, too. It will be better if I do that when I'm done."

Alpha rubs her ponytails, bringing waves of pleasure, "Very well, Priestess."

She groans, and rubs the little nubs on the sides of Rodimus's helm. "I . . I want you to-" she thinks of the datapad, and the cables inside her chest, and hopes her instincts are correct, "link up with me."

"Are you sure, Priestess?" Rodimus asks, flicking the tip of his glossa over her spark.

"Fuck, yes," she pushes him up enough to grab one of her own cables, tugging it hard to get it out. "Link up with me." She's not sure what it does, but she wants it.

The mech smiles at her, eyes dim an wanting, "Of course, Priestess. I would love to." He pugs out one of his own, and puts it next to hers, not connecting it just yet. "You only have two cables." The bout touches the one still inside, "How disappointing. Will you be wanting us to connect up with you later? One for each of us?"

She really wishes she knew what this did. "Maybe." She grabs the cable from him, and clicks it together.

And suddenly, this interface is /perfect//. She's . . in his processor, and he's in hers, and she can feel something like affection for her already. She shudders, and pulses energy and warmth at him, and feels him send some of it back to her. This is the /best// thing ever.

They are /always// gonna do it this way from now on. "Fuck," she curses, dragging him down on top of her. "Rub my spark with yours. Do it. Now."

He laughs, pulling her up, and flipping over so she's on top of him, "There. This will mean that I don't accidently land on you if I offline. You can control the pace, as well, Pri-"

She pokes him, "/Sari//. You are supposed to call me by my name, Rodimus. You're going to be my First Consort. You will use my name."

He moves just a bit, flashing his spark in a oddly seductive way, "Yes, Sari."

She reaches between them and rubs his spark with her hand, and it's warm and pleasant to touch. She bends down and licks it, and it makes her glossa tingle. Mm. She likes that. But that's not what she wants right now. Sari shifts up and pushes her spark against his, feeling the energy in her surge wildly, flickering charge racing through her body like she had just been hit by lightning.

Sari whimpers and starts rubbing against him, charge crackling as she moves.

Rodimus reaches up and teases her frame, fingers rubbing at seams. "You feel wonderful, Sari. Just keep going. You are lovely like this."

She wonders if he realizes she's a virgin and is saying this so she feels better. Rubbing a little harder, so their sparks crackle with electricity, sending waves of pleasure through them is more than enough to make her not mind. Even more so when he gasps, arching up to try to get more contact.

Larger servos touch them briefly, and then pull away when she glares at Alpha, "I am sorry, Priestess. You two are just so . . . tempting. It is very hard not to touch you."

She glares darker, "You can have your t-turn after." Something tells her that it is unusual to claim multiple consorts so quickly after the First, but she doesn't care. Sari has never been a traditional girl. She pushes her spark harder on Rodimus's, feeling the energy build up higher and higher until she overloads, charge washing through her. She gasps and rocks against him slowly, trying to draw it out--Rodimus overloads under her, and the pleasure through their link sends her into a second overload.

She lays on top of his spark as she goes through the aftershocks, and then Alpha picks her up, gently disconnecting her from Rodimus. The mech moves her limp body, and starts to rub her spark with one of his fingers, "Is there anything you'd like to do with me first, Priestess?"

She glares weakly, no real heat in it because his fingers are so wonderful and she's heating up from it. Pushing the finger away, she points at the bed, "Lay down. I wanna change your spark, and then we can connect up. Rodimus will then get to ride you as I'm connected to get you warm. And I will mark you."

"Like you've marked Rodimus?" he asks, gesturing to the younger mech, who has blue lines and circles all over his frame now. And blue trim on his sexy spoiler.

"No." Those were the marks of a First. Her others would get a few blue accents and a nice blue circle over their sparkplates. So no one could frag them without knowing they belonged to Sari. Her engine rumbles with displeasure at the thought of other bots fragging /her// consorts. They will all belong to /her//.

Alpha lays next to Rodimus, and sets her on top, "You are really quite lovely, Priestess."

She prods him, "You will call me Sari, too. All my consorts are going to call me by my /name//. No matter what."

He gives her that dim eyed look, "Of course, Sari. You still look very lovely. I was hoping you'd do something else, but I am willing to be marked by you."

She touches his spark, and it turns red instantly. She yanks back, looking at it in shock. "What the hell just happened?"

Rodimus laughs softly, kissing her head, "I think that his spark had been wanting to be red, and it is only through a quirk that it wasn't. He can run red sparked bots, that are always panting for a frag, dry."

Alpha dims his optics, "I can run multiple red-sparked bots dry. I took two of them to my berth one decacycle, and they eventually claimed they had appointments elsewhere after I fragged them so many times they kept offlining. And then I'd use them while they were offline. Not many bots know that you /can// bruise a red spark from overuse. They were very bruised when I was done with them."

Sari pokes his spark, and it goes an even darker shade of red. She hears the Allspark again, /Oh, what a lovely spark he has. I think it may be the reddest I have ever seen before.// Silence, and then, /Oh, Primus. Is that Alpha Trion? He will be a wonderful consort for you. He has pleasured many Priestesses in the past.//

She freezes, pulling her hand away. "I... I really didn't need to know that, Allspark. You really didn't need to tell me this."

Alpha shimmies a bit under her, "What did it say?"

She makes a face, "It isn't important." It won't change that /she// will keep Alpha to herself and not share him. He is hers and no one other than her and her consorts can touch him.

If they aren't enough for him, she can find some nice, sturdy prostibot and bond with them to give Alpha another spark to satisfy himself with. She won't let him out of the bond. He was terribly promiscuous. He'd even infected a previous Priestess with spark itch.

She stares at him, "Okay, we're getting you scanned for visuses. You infected a Priestess in the past."

Alpha scowls, "I most certainly did not. That was the cover story she told, because she did not want to admit that she had contracted it from the weaver she had botnapped and forced into a bond. The little mech had deliberately infected himself to discourage her from taking him, but she did it anyways. /I// had to go to a medic for a vorn to get rid of it. She refused to heal me."

She opens up the communication with the allspark, and pokes it. She can feel how excited it is she's asking to know things, /He's right. I told her to leave the little weaver be, but she refused. The poor weaver even took an infection that is more than a little difficult for my powers to take away.//

She closes the communication again, and pets Alpha's spark, and it changes until it matches his paint perfectly. "There. Now we connect up and Rodimus gets you hot with his spark."

Rodimus kisses the back of her head, "Yes, Sari." He rubs Alpha's cables, pulling one out and offering it to her, "Do you want me to connect to him as well?"

"Yes." She takes his cable and licks the tip, watching Alpha's spark brighten with charge. She likes this. It's nice to see such a visible reaction in a bot. Makes it easier to tell if he likes what she's doing. Of course, the easiest way is with the cable link. "Don't overload too fast." She links her cable to Alpha's, feeling her eyes--her optics--dimming with pleasure. "Mm. I love this. Feels so good to be linked this way."

Rodimus nibbles on the little wings on her back, kissing them to soothe her, "You will like it more when I ride his spark like you want me to. Do you want to be connected to me as I do this?"

She nods, pulling out her second, "Yes! Put us all together."

The bot takes her cable, connecting them and sending pleasure all through them. He takes another of Alpha's and connects that one. She slips off of Alpha as her First climbs on, "Anything else you want before he's hot enough for you?"

"No. I want you to grind his spark until it's hot enough for me to claim." She sits back and watches them, reaching up to palm her own spark lightly. "If you put on a really good show, I'll let you overload together after I'm done with him." She dims her optics, "And then you bots get to call up Perceptor and Knock Out and tell them to come here. That you've got a surprise for them." She's not giving them the chance to turn her down and flee. Not when she wants them so badly.

She'll feel terrible about it later, but right now, she does not.

He kisses Alpha, and Alpha reaches up to pinch his ass. "I think I like that we both have hotter sparks, Sari." Rodimus moves over a bit, and kisses her before grinding down agaisnt Alpha hard.

Alpha gasps happily, yanking him down and forcing them to keep their sparks together. Sari mewls happily, writhing on the bed, as she feels the pleasure of them both.

This is really freaking awesome. Everyone should have cables like this. Sari wiggles into a more comfortable position and watches them grind a bit more. She knows she'll have to separate them soon. She doesn't want her First to have Alpha before she does. It would alter their relationship quite a bit. She claims new consorts first. Then her First gets an overoad from them. Then the other consorts share his spark until they've all had him. It was how these things worked.

She writhes a little bit longer, enjoying the surge of feeling, then sits up reluctantly. She pushes at Rodimus, "Okay. Off. I need to mark him. You also need to disconnect from him if you don't want to have /more// blue all over you."

He flops on the other side, looking at her with dim optics, "I'm fine with more. I'm your First consort, may as well let more people realize just how much of one I am."

She clambers up Alpha, "If you're sure." She takes the hand that Rodimus is using to rub Alpha, and kisses it. "But they can tell already."

"I want them to look on me with envy, rather than disgust." Rodimus smiles at her, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. "You make me wish I was a rescue bot, so I could carry you within my frame. You are so small."

Sari grins at him, "Sounds kinda kinky."

The bot flushes, "It would not be."

She giggles, "It /could// be." She kisses his fingers again, and turns to Alpha. The mech is panting, hands slowly inching closer to grope at her. She pushes into him, "You /can// touch me. I want to mark you, and touching me will help."

Alpha revs happily, touching her possessively, "It was hard not to while you were next to us. The way you move is just so wonderful." The bot dims his optics, "Like a virgin on their very first sol in another's berth."

She blushes, "Maybe."

Alpha stares at her with wide optics, "Are you a virgin?"

"No." She wasn't anymore, not after taking Rodimus. Rodimus Prime, and the very thought of that word, /Prime// makes her blood boil. She knows what the Magnus is allowed to do to his Primes. But taking Rodimus strips him of his rank. The Magnus cannot demand her First into his berth ever again. "Shut up and frag me." She shoves her spark on his.

He gasps, pushing down on her to hold her still. She squirms irritably, and he lets her go slowly. "Mmmm... Your spark... is possibly the most perfect one I've ever felt, Sari. Even better than the previous priestesses. Wonderfully warm and welcoming."

She rubs against him, feeling incredibly smug about that. "Good. You are very..." She trails of, shoving against him, and bringing up more energy that will help mark him.

Blue inches along his frame, outlining bits of his armor, and she purrs with satisfaction, watching it spread. He looks good in her colors. She likes seeing him that way. Beautiful. Hers. All hers.

Her possessiveness floods their link, and both bots send back waves of pleasure and agreement, not fighting her claim even one little bit. She rewards them by shoving Allspark energy into their frames, forcing both bots into a sudden, unexpected overload. Rodimus falls offline from it, but Alpha does not, only shuddering beneath her, staring up with expectant optics. He wants /more//.

She smiles, kissing him, "Later. /You// need to get Perceptor and Knock Out. When I mark them, you can use their sparks. I'm sure you'll like that."

He carefully disconnects the both of them, then rubs Rodimus's spark, "Would it be okay if I used his spark again? I would-"

She pokes him, "After Perceptor and Knock Out are contacted and brought to me. They are mine, just like you are mine. Get them to come."

"As you wish. Should I tell them why they are coming?" Alpha rubs her sides, curling his fingers around her waist. "They would like to polish up a bit if they know-"

And they might try to run away. "No. Just tell them to come to the temple."

He touches his fingers to his helm and speaks softly, "Yes, Perceptor. I am at the temple. I would like to have you and Knock Out come here. Rodimus has been restored. Yes, you should bring an offering for the Allspark. I think it would like that very much."

She kisses his hand that isn't to his helm, and nuzzles him lovingly. Her consorts are wonderful, and she's going to get /more//. She'll have four, which seems like the right amount. One for each general color of spark other than blue.

He takes his fingers from his temple, and kisses her head, "They will be here in less than a breem, Sari. Do you want us to come with you or-"

She pushes him gently to Rodimus, "You can use him while I sit out in the lobby." She disconnects the cable she still has on Rodimus, and closes up, "I want to see them before they know you're both marked." She's not letting them take off without marking them.

She gives them both kisses, and exits the room, slipping out, where a crowd of bots are waiting in front of the Allspark chamber again. She stares at them, and they stare at her, and the paint on her chest. A few of them even seem relieved to see her that way.

One of them, a pretty cyclebot, approaches her slowly, and then kneels in front of her, "High Priestess, I came to ask for a blessing. My bonded and I are prepared to build a new temple in your honor if we can be blessed with a sparkling."

That seems rather excessive, just to have a baby. She touches his shoulder and pushes some energy into him. "Okay. You can have a sparkling now. Don't build me a temple though."

He blinks at her in shock, "If... if that is what you want, Priestess." The bot touches her relevantly, "Thank you. Thank you so much. The medics said that we'd /never// be able to spark because of how I and my partner suffered from malnutrition and had to fuel on drone energon to survive when we were younger, and now you-"

She hold up a hand, "Wait. You-" She gets hit with information from the Allspark. "Okay. Yeah... You.. You will need more than just that blessing, then. You bring your bonded back in the morning, okay? You will need to drink high grade before you come. Or... I'll have Speeder or Sidewinder bring it. It needs to be really high quality. You'll need the energy for me to fix you."

"You-" the bot looks incredibly dismayed, "Priestess, we cannot pay you for such work. We-"

"I'm not gonna ask you to pay me for fixing you." She stops, and chews on her lip for a second, and then adds, "Well, I might ask you to buy me some snacks if it drains as much energy as I think it's going to. But I sorta doubt you've got access to the stuff I like, so you don't need to bother."

"What is it you like? I can try to-"

She waves a hand, "Not unless you know how to get to Earth." He looks at her in confusion, and she nods, "Exactly." She looks around, "You just go back home, then return in the morning, okay?"

He nods enthusiastically, "Thank you, thank you." She waves him off, and he takes off to the door.

She looks at the various bots, and hums thoughtfully, trying to figure out what to do next. She should heal a few or bless them or whatever. She points at one with a clear chestplate like Sidewinder, "You. Come here."

He walks over, looking relieved, "Yes, Priestess?"

She looks at him, filtering through what the Allspark is saying, "You ... you should not be coming here to ask for a job. Allspark doesn't do that. Primus does. Go to his temple."

"There are no Primus temples on Cybertron," the bot says softly, looking away. "There are a few altars, but most of them are defaced, or crumbling. I tried to repair one, but it . . fell apart in my servos."

She shrugs, "So build a new one. Primus would like that. You can make him a temple, and the council will give you funds for it." She stares at him critically, noting his clear glass chestplate, backed with metal that she somehow knows it not something he was born with. "I hope you don't have a partner. Primus has a fondness for bots of your model type."

He blushes, "Well, no. I don't. I mean..." He looks down, "I am not bonded or in a relationship. Thank you for allowing me to do this, Priestess. I will go do that right away."

She waves him off, "You go have fun. Primus would want you to enjoy working on the altar for him." She makes a face at the image of Primus molesting that poor bot, but since that image is of Primus being fully transformed and /gigantic//, she doesn't see a reason to worry about it.

The bot smiles, and touches her servo, "I will do my best, Priestess. Thank you." He leaves quickly, looking excited.

She sits on a ledge on the wall and other bots approach her, and she decides this is an acceptable way to waste the time until her new consorts arrive. She blesses ten couples with a sparkling, giving one of them a really strong accidental surge of energy that probably means they'll have twins. Two bots want some healing, and she fixes what she can, but she's not a miracle worker. She can't just make problems go away completely. She tells them to come back for more help if her energy doesn't work.

When they show up, it takes everything she has not to hop up and down in excitement while clapping. Instead, she slips off the wall, and walks over to them, forcing herself not to run. "Perceptor? Knock Out?"

They both look at her, and Knock Out smiles, "Hello, Priestess. Alpha Trion told us to come. We were just going to leave a gift and then look for hi-"

She reaches for him, "Pick me up."

Knock Out picks her up, trying to keep his hands off her chest, but his hand ends up right up under her skirt instead, and Sari flushes. Apparently bots have different naughty places, because wow, he's totally got his hand right between her legs. "Did you want me to carry you somewhere, Priestess?"

Sari coughs, "Uh. Yeah. To Rodimus and Alpha. They're that way," she points, and tries to shift so he's grabbing her somewhere else. Other than her crotch.

Knock Out glances at Perceptor nervously, but starts walking, "Yes, Priestess." He shifts her so she's a bit more comfortable, "Is... is there any reason why they're in a sep-"

"Alpha said she healed Rodimus, Knock Out," Perceptor says tonelessly. And, wow, Allspark was totally right, she loves his voice.

She reaches over to him, making grabby motions with her hands, "You hold me now." He nods, taking her from Knock Out, and she starts to touch him curiously, "You're wearing clothing." She giggles, "I didn't know robots wore clothes!"

"We do, Priestess, though it is uncommon on Cybertron. We wear them primarily out of respect for Rodimus. He wore his clothing to keep his heat regulated, and we wore some to stand with him." Perceptor is totally awesome, and she kinda wishes he was First, but he's really not anywhere near as hot as Rodimus is. She's made the right choice.

She stares over at the black circle on Knock Out's chest. It's going to look nice in blue.

Perceptor absently pats her back, "I saw that you were uncomfortable with Knock Out holding you between your legs. Do you have interfacing mods installed?"

Robots have mods for 'facing on their crotches? She wonders if they look like what she thinks they do. "They aren't... mods." She squirms a bit, "I was born with them."

Perceptor frowns, "Born? ... oh. You are a techno-organic, Priestess?"

"Yeah." She lays against his chest, feeling the warmth of his spark through his plating. It's nice.

"So, you intend to have your future consorts modded to suit your organic needs?" Perceptor asks, making Sari flush at the thought of being fucked by a robot with parts built to her specifications. That's just . . really fucking filthy. And kinky.

"Probably not, no. I'm happy with the whole spark thing." She rests a servo on his plates. "So, what is it that you do?"

Perceptor vents softly, "I am a sciencebot. I work in a lab, creating new things. Weapons, modifications for bots, new ways to refine and create energon. Wheeljack and I make many things."

She rubs his plates, just a little harder, "Go through the door on your right. Alpha and Rodimus are there."

He doesn't move from where he is, standing right in front of the door, but he grabs Knock Out arround the waist, holding him tightly. "You are going to mark us as your consorts, aren't you?"

She freezes, giving the mech a hurt look, "It isn't fair that you found out."

He moves her to his mouth, and kisses her, "We will not argue it. It is fairly clear you've already marked Rodimus and Alpha, since you have their paint on you. Who is the first consort?"

"Rodimus." He looks so good in his new paint. She'd wanted to be sneaky with them, but she guesses going out with their lovers' paint on her isn't a good way to maintain stealth. She sighs wistfully, tracing his sparkplate seams, "Go in. Alpha should be using Rodimus. I'm not sure if Rodimus is online again yet."

She sort of hopes he isn't. It'd be hot to see Alpha taking him while he was still offline.

Perceptor walks in, kissing the top of her head, and letting Knock Out go only when the door shuts behind them. The cyclebot looks horribly distressed, "Do you only want me because I'm lucky sparked? i'm not-"

She nuzzles Perceptor's plates, "I'm perfectly able to change the sparks of any bot I'm with. I'm gonna make Perceptor gold sparked. He'll match the yellow on him, and it will be wonderful."

Alpha is rubbing sparks with Rodimus, who is still offline. "I'm red sparked now, and Rodimus is purple. His spark is wonderfully responsive like this."

She watches him, and watches the way that Rodimus's frame reacts while offline, pushing up like he's so eager to be used that his frame will work for it even while his processor is blank. She likes that. A lot. "I'll keep you green, Knock Out, but I'm going to increase your charge level so you can overload as much as I want you to overload." And that was also a lot, because she wants happy, sated consorts.

She's not going to be like some Priestesses, who chose to keep their consorts restricted to very rare overloads, only when they earned her favor.

Perceptor sets her down, slowly untying his clothing and putting it to the side, "Do you want me or Knock Out first?

She looks over both of them, licking her lips, Which of you wants to go first?"

They look at each other, and Knock Out backs away, "I... I want to be last."

She smiles, patting the bed next to her, "Perceptor first, then. I want to change his spark color, and mark him. We can do you after, Knock Out." She gives him a lustful look, "You can come over and touch us as we do this, since you're going to be a consort as well." The reason that Alpha wasn't allowed to touch her or Rodimus when she was marking Rodimus was because she needed to use more energy than was safe unless they were spark to spark.

Perceptor lays on the berth beside Rodimus, his plates sliding open simply  for her. "I am yours to do with as you wish, Priestess. Red Alert may be upset that I have been claimed by another femme when I see her again."

Sari scowls, "I don't care. You're mine. Other femmes can go frag themselves." She was top femme. All mechs were hers if she wanted them. Not that she'd deliberately steal.

He rubs her side, spark pulsing hot and excited, "It is your right." He shifts a little under her, trying to get her to touch his spark, "You can do whatever you want to me, and I will not protest."

She smiles, leaning forward and licking it. She does love how it tingles on her tongue, and she rubs her hands on it, gathering the energy to cool it down. "This /may// hurt. Not a lot, but you won't really like it until I start to rub sparks with you. Then it will sort of... lock into place and feel wonderful."

"Yes, Sari." He stares up at her as she pours energy into it, cooling the spark with it. Perceptor shows no signs of suffering from it other than a brief twitch of one optic, his expression smoothing to cool indifference again. His spark shifts slowly from blue to green, and then to gold. Perceptor shivers a bit then, and Sari pours more energy into him. His spark may have the color she wants, but it is so very cold now, and she doesn't like that at all.

Making it stay gold and hot is hard--it keeps trying to shift to an ugly orange color. She forces it like that, then shoves her spark against his, managing to lock it into place with the extra force of spark energy. He shudders in pleasure under her, optics going offline only to return slowly. She grins at him, and then starts to rub against him. "There, now to mark you."

He looks at her with dim optics, "That... is a lot better now. I do not hurt at all." He pinches the tip of one of her little wings, and she shivers in pleasure. "Will I always need you to use my spark to overload?"

She shakes her head, "You can self-service, or you can 'face the other consorts with no problem." She shoves into him possessively, showing them with electricity. "But no one else. You are mine, just like they are mine."

She'll find a way to make that permanent. For all of them. Try to 'face any other bots and their spark zaps them and goes cold and unuseable. Yeah. She likes that idea. Sari grinds on him, rubbing her servos over his microscope-cannon thing.

Perceptor gasps, pushing up against her spark, his servos squeezing her winglets harder, making them ache with pleasure. "Will you re-require any other modifications?"

She thinks as hard as she can with pleasure coursing through her, "Mm. . . yeah. Gonna make sure you can all carry me inside you."

Perceptor actually chuckles softly, a little huff of a laugh, "Sounds filthy."

She beams, "That's what I said!" She rubs against him harder, "You... You know what I mean, though."

He nods, spark so hot against her, "Y-yes. Knock Out and I are already able to, but w-we can do more modifications on Alpha and Rodimus."

"Maybe." She kisses him as best she can--it's really awkward with the size difference, but they manage a bit of glossa. Sari shudders her way through her overload, loving the way his spark flashes an even brighter shade of gold when Perceptor topples over with her. "Mm. Fuck yeah," she's starting to get a bit tired, though. She worries she's gonna end up falling asleep after she takes Knock Out.

She reaches to the cyclebot, and he picks her up, crawling onto the bed with them, just barely fitting. "Are you going to change my spark?"

She drops her head against his chest, "Only a little bit. Gonna have it match your green paint. That okay?"

He smiles, moving her so she doesn't fall in as he retracts his plates, gascap moving entirely to one side, "Yeah, that's fine. I don't mind. It will make it easier to overload, too."

She nods, looking at the spark, and slowly brings it to the right color, "Gonna also heat it up, so the color won't matter for that, either."

Knock Out trembles under her, his optics wide as she pours heat into his spark, "I- I-" he shudders and twists, as if trying to escape her servos and grind against them at the same time, "I've never . . never felt this way before."

Arousal must be pulsing through his circuits now that his spark can heat properly. Sari bends down and gives it a little kiss, testing the charge with her glossa. It's satisfactory, and she shifts until she's got her spark on his, rubbing it slowly. She's more gentle with Knock Out--he's not used to this kind of thing at all, and she wants him to enjoy it.

He mewls under her, gasping in pleasure. "P-please."

She rubs a hand along his face, "It's fine, Knock Out. It will only get better and better. You'll want to have Rodimus ride your spark when I'm done, won't you?" She can see out of the corner of her eye that he's awake now, and that Perceptor is forcing him onto his spark, making him lick while Alpha continues to use him.

Knock Out gasps and nods before tossing his head, "Y-yes!'

"You'll have that chance now," she lets the charge build slowly between them, until Knock Out is practically screaming in overload, writhing under her like a wild thing. She loves it, and wants more of it, and lets herself overload with him, adding to his charge. Frag, she hopes it's always this good with her lovers.

But her estimation of her energy levels was correct, and she falls asleep almost immediately after, optics powering down. At least she's comfy.

--

She leans against Rodimus's head, looking at the Magnus and his husband, "No, I'm really not the least bit interested."

Optimus has been trying to get her to accept one of their sons as a consort, the truckbot looking faintly embarassed at his father's insistence. Optimus flutters his wings, "But he'd be such a wonderful consort for you. He's so obedient!"

She shakes her head, "Not interested. Really. You can let him go back to his house now, you didn't have to call him here over the com."

"But-" the bot looks so very disappointed, she has to give him some good news as well.

"You're a Speaker for Primus," she pats his shoulder, "You don't need to have one of your sons bonded to me to get that special connection to him that you seem to want. He's been speaking to you for many decavorns now."

Optimus shakes his head, "No. I would know if Primus had been speaking to me, Priestess. I do not," he trails off, as if thinking of something. "But . . I do sometimes hear a voice that speaks to me. I had assumed it was just in my processor. My own internal voice. That is . . . Primus?"

She nods.

He blinks at her, "R-really?"

She nods, "He likes your model type. Another guy with the same one as yours is going to be building altars for him. You should probably go and check that out every so often. It would mean that Primus is more likely to look at bots praying there."

Optimus beams, "I'd like that. More good luck, and things are always needed."

She rubs Rodimus's head, loking how his engine purrs for her. "But, yeah, is there anything else you needed me here for? Because Optimus is already carrying another crystal femme. I can't really help with blessings or anything."

Ultra Magnus coughs, "Ah. Well, I suppose that . . . Optimus's status as a speaker would explain why we have always been so blessed with our sparklings. Primus is well-known for favoring his speakers with fertility and blessings of all sorts. His trinemates have also been quite blessed when we have sparked."

Sari thinks of how both seekers had clutched nine eggs at a time, and then blinks. Eggs? Seekers laid . . eggs. Like giant birds.

She shakes her head, and smiles at them, "But there you go. If you need something, don't hesitate to drop me a line, but I'm not really going to have much to help you with. I'm more likely to help others than you with my powers. I'm just... not equipped for what you may need, you know?"

He nods at her, "Thank you, High Priestess Sari. We're glad that you took the time to come and talk to us about this. It explains quite a bit."

She nods, "Not a problem." She taps Rodimus's head, "We'll be going back now. You know exactly how to get back to us if you need us."

"Yes," they leave together, and Sari tickles Rodimus's sparkplates.

"Do you think I should have told the Magnus that he was carrying too?" she ponders aloud, leaning against Rodimus's armor, stroking it affectionately.

Rodimus coughs, "I . . yes, you should have. He would have appreciated knowing that. Do you . . know who the co-creator is?"

She nods, "Optimus. They sparked each other. Pretty rare thing, from what I understand."

He nods, blinking in shock, "D-downright unheard of, Sari."

She shrugs, kissing him, "Well, I can have Speeder or Sidewinder tell him. That could work."

He rubs her back, kissing her as well, "Yes, Sari." he gives her a slightly wicked look, "Want me to speed back to the temple?"

She clutches to him, "No. You don't have a way to carry me that makes me feel safe. You'll wait until Percy does the mods on you and Alpha."

"I can magnetize myself, Sari. You know that is perfectly safe. You /never// object when Sidewinder carries you that way." Rodimus's engine rumbles with something like jealousy. "I don't like that you trust him more with your safety than me."

She sighs, "It's not that. I just . . I'd rather be inside you, you know?" She's interrupted by a last minute com call from some bot, and she sighs, rubbing her optics as she accepts it on the console. "Prince Sedan, I am not blessing you with quadruplet frame-shifters. You can stop asking. I'm not sure you realize how irritable Shockwave will get if you spark him /at all//, let alone with multiples. You can wait for a sparkling blessing for another vorn."

Sedan scowls at her, "We want one now, Priestess. You give them to other bots as if they were candy, and you constantly refuse us."

"Because you want a sparkling as proof of his loyalty to you. You get frag all until you figure out that he's loyal without /proof// in the form of a living being."

He gives her an irritated look, "But he wants it. I have had him talk to you, and he has said that he does. Without anything from me other than putting him in front of the com!"

She crosses her arms, "No. He wants it to show how he is loyal. Guess what? There's your proof. Just accept it. He loves you, and you love him. Congratulations." She rubs her optics, turning off the com. "Let's go, Roddy. I want to go /home//."

He kisses her, "Of course, Sari." He walks her out of the Magnus's home, holding her lovingly, "I still wish you would let me carry you how I want, and-"

"Later, Rodimus. Later. Mods first, then carrying."

He sighs, and heads back to the temple, her in his arms.

She's had the temple remodelled, just a little bit, to separate her living space off from the public areas a bit more. So she often expects to find her lovers with their sparks exposed when she comes in, and this sol is no exception.

Except it kind of is.

Because Alpha's spark is exposed, his frame sprawled out on the couch.

But he's also got a neon-pink dildo strapped on to him, modified straps fitted to his hips. It looks ridiculously tiny on him, because it's sized to her organic frame, and holy fuck, where did he buy a /neon pink dildo// on Cybertron?

Asking him will just mean that he tells her and expects her to use it. She turns around, not saying a word. She's just... not dealing with that.

She walks to where Perceptor normally is in the temple, and sits down next to him. "If you're responsible for what Alpha has strapped on him, I am very upset with you."

He doesn't even look up from what he's programming in the datapad, "He left for a bit and showed up with it after a megacycle, Sari. I had nothing to do with it."

She eyes him critically, trying to decide if he's being honest. "You /have// been trying to coax me into 'facing you the organic way. You said you wanted to try licking organic parts. You-"

Perceptor looks embarrassed, "I only want to be allowed to see if it is something you might enjoy. That we might enjoy together. I have not pressured you at all after you rejected my advances, Sari. I am not responsible for that thing that Alpha found."

She sighs softly, "Okay." She crawls into his lap, kissing him lovingly, "Hi."

He smiles, setting the datapad down and hugging her, "Hello, Sari. Did you have fun going out and doing things with Rodimus?"

She nods, "I did." She kisses him, "Love you."

His spark pulses against her, warm and welcoming, "I love you, too."

She could get used to this. She's with her family and the bots she loves. She is ... happy here. Much happier than she ever was on Earth. She thinks she could /easily// get used to this.

---

There are a thousand things that Oil Slick needs to get done; not the least of which is blowing up the science minions they've shoved into /his/ lab.  Or, well, the lab they gave him to work in while he was on the Nemesis.  But it was /his/, and they gave him science minionbots.  Ripe for explosion.

Unfortunately, he needs to pay attention to Megatron's welcome-speech first.  Seeing as he is such a talented sciencebot, Oil Slick has little trouble appearing attentive, absorbing his words and warnings, and imagining Blitzwing under him on the berth.  Fragging triple-changer is hotter than he has any right being.

Normally he'd just go up and demand to 'face a bot he likes, but it is different when the bot he likes outranks him. He's absorbed in studying the bot's features. He wonders how the mech would look as he licks the bot's spikes. Maybe the triple changer would like to rub them against his own spikes? The thought almost makes him shudder with want. It is most likely that Blitzwing /would/ flip personalities while mid-interface, and he wants to make /all three/ want him as much as he wants all of Blitzwing.

He flips his optics straight at Megatron as the Decepticon leader is starting to search for where Team Chaar is focusing. He doesn't want the mech to think he /wasn't/ paying attention to the boring rules and regulations he's taking the time to explain about; that will just mean the bot gives it in a significantly more frustrating manner. The gist of it is certainly clear, and he /knows/ a certain part that was slipped in was deathly serious and about /him/. He knows better to ever shake the ship again, anyway.

When Megatron finishes, he lets them go, and Oil Slick is immediately accosted by his team.  "Saw the way your optics kept roamin', Oil Slick,” Blackout says wickedly, giving his shoulder a friendly bump.  "Gonna try and get Blitzy in the berth?”  The bot gets distracted almost immediately, stopping to flick his rotors flirtatiously at a passing mech.  "Good luck.  You should probably jump him in /his/ quarters, though.  Your berth's not gonna be big enough for that.”

Stika smirks, "Vith the one /you/ got, ve vould think you are a tiny little autobot. I vonder vhere ve even got a berth so small."

Oil Slick sneers at them, "I wasn't planning on dragging him to my berth in the first place."

They both pat him condescendingly on the back. "Of course not, Oil Slick. You would never sink so very low as to try to interface with a bot that doesn't even look at you," comes Spittor.

"He'd look at me if I put a little effort into it,” he mutters, ducking away from their servos.  The reputation he had as untouchable and dangerous generally served him well—he had no problem hacking any bot trying to get at his spark against his will to pieces, but it grew tedious after a while.  In this case, it was probably keeping the triple-changer from even considering him.

"Ooh,” Strika coos, "effort?  Is our Oil Slick planning on shining himself up all pretty and acting like a slutbot?  Ve could help vith that, you know.”

Blackout's rotors slice the air enticingly at another bot they pass, and the larger mech puts both seros on Oil Slick's arms, "We could find you some clear chestplates."

Spittor murmurs softly, "Get them from an Autobot brothel, so they'd even /fit/ you."

Strika taps her lips, "No, no. He'd much rather have us fix his frame so he has nice hips and a tiny little waist. One that even a minibot could wrap a single servo around."

"Or maybe some better colors,” Spittor adds enthusiastically, hopping up and down.  "Your black and green is really /boring/.”

Strika picks Oil Slick up and prods at him, "Or some more spikes.  Blitzving vould probably like that.”

"Oh, shut the frag up,” Oil Slick punches her arm, "Don't you have a bot to molest?”

She flicks a finger at his head dome, making it ring gently and him hiss at her as he stops the vibration, "My Lugnut does not need me vith him all the time. Part of a working relationship is being able to let the other out of your sight, and not vorry about them doing something you do not like."

He glares at her, crossing his arms, "And I suppose you have advice on what I can do to get Blitzwing to notice me?"

She smiles, "Vell, I would say tha-"

He raises a servo, cutting her off, "If you say /anything/ about ripping off sparkplates, I will poision Lugnut, and make it look like you did it by trying to, very badly, frame /me/."

Strika gives his claws a significant look.  "I vould /never/ suggest that you rip off plates, Oil Slick.  Not vhen your claws are so much better suited to /prying/ them open.  Or /slicing/ them off.”

"Mm,” Oil Slick taps his claws against his chin, "you know what I'm thinking, Strika?  I'm thinking that there are hundreds of dangerous chemicals that Lugnut could accidentally be exposed to that will make him unable to interface for decacycles.”

She gives him a dark look, finally putting him back on the floor. He returns to walking with his team, and Blackout suggests, "You could show off your best part?"

Oil Slick glares at the copterbot, "And what part is that? The fact that I'm as small as a Autobot?" He spins around on a single ped. "My claws?" He holds them up, putting a gouge in the wall as they pass. "Maybe the fact that I can easily murder you in your recharge? Every bot thinks that is so very wonderful, I'm certain."

"Most Decepticons like danger,” Spittor flicks a glossa out lazily.  "I could spit some aphrodisiac-slime on him for you?”

"No, thank you, but no thank you, Spitt-” he stops, "Wait.  Was that what you spit when we were in that neutral bar?  The one where my memory files are all fragged up after a few breems?”

Spittor flicks his glossa again.  "Yup.”

Before Oil Slick can reprimand him and order him to /never/ use that particular brand of slime again, Blackout perks up. "We could mount some rotor blades on you.  Temporary-like.  Every bot likes rotors.  Watch this,” he flicks his rotors at a passing bot, who stops to watch.  "You. Me. My berth. Three megacycles from now. Make yourself shiny so I can scuff it up.”

The mech gives Blackout a lust filled look, "Y-yes." The bot straightens up, "Yes! I'll go do that now! I'll..." the bot kisses Blackout and takes off, calling behind him as he goes, "I'll be waiting at your door!"

When the mech is out of sight, Oil Slick turns to Blackout, "... I really fragging hate you."

"See?” Blackout flicks his rotors again. "Bots love 'em.” He eyes Oil Slick's shoulders critically.  "Could probably rig some up on you without too much trouble.  Have to find some ridiculously small blades though.”

Oil Slick's claws click together in irritation.  "I don't want rotor blades.”

"Where's Cyclonus?” Spittor asks, and the entire team stops.

Strika rubs her face, "I think we left him in the throne room. Let's go get him, since he's most likely surrounded by random bots."

They all head back down the hallway, and Blackout comments, "What's wrong with rotor blades?"

"I'm not trying to get a /random/ bot, Blackout. None of us have a problem getting a random bot in our berth, as you so handily demonstrated. I want /Blitzwing/, and have you seen him go for rotorblades?"

Blackout tips his head back, thinking about it. "I heard a rumor he was into copterbots a while back.”

"I heard it vas Seeker models,” Strika objects.

Spittor hops alongside them, "Wasn't it bots with wheels on their peds?”

"I doubt he's going through a razor-clawed cyclebot phase,” Oil Slick points out, and nearly covers his face with his palm when they make it back to the common room.  Cyclonus is being pawed and stroked by a half dozen mechs, while a single femme is giving him considering looks from across the room.

They glance at each other, wondering who gets to 'free' the jetbot from the pile. After a quick game of even-odd, Oil Slick is forced out of the group to go get Cyclonus. Glaring back at his team, he shoves through the mechs, not sparing his claws, and pulls Cyclonus with him. Ignoring the mech's and single femme's sighs of disappointment, they go back out to the hallway. "Why didn't you just follow us? You'd think you /like/ the attention."

"There was no point,” Cyclonus intones, walking with him only because he is being forced to move.  "One place is as good as any other.”

Strika pats his head, "Vell, next time perhaps ve vill leave you.  Maybe you vould like someone to play vith your spark for an evening?”

Cyclonus stares ahead, expressionless.

Spittor snickers, "I bet they show up at your room later, and that femme tomorrow."  Cyclonus doesn't react, but the rest of the team joins in on the laughter, knowing it is very true. After the chuckling dies down, Spittor says, "He could like treads right now. You have those, afterall. On both your servos /and/ peds. Not may bots have that."

"Perhaps,” Oil Slick agrees, before twitching his claws.  "Is there any truth to the rumors that he's shared a berth with Lord Megatron himself?”  If it was, he would need to approach the situation more cautiously.  No one wanted to upset Megatron.

His team leader nods, "Oh yes.  He's shared Lord Megatron's berth before.  It's hard to get accurate gossip about the things that go on in our Lord's rooms, but I'm fairly certain they shared Starscream a few times.”

Oil Slick flexes his claws unhappily, "This is going to be harder than I thought it would be."

Strika shrugs, "I could tell Blitzving you like him if you vant. He /is/ more accessable to me, since I am vith Lugnut."

He rubs the two spikes on his arm, "... if you want, just be..." he's not really sure how to tell her not to be as brash as she normally is, so just trails off.

"I vill speak to him later.  And com you if he vants you to come to his room.”  She pats his arm. "I am sure he vill.”

Oil Slick gives her an arch look.  "We'll see.”

–

Oil Slick looks up from what he's working on to see Strika shoving a few of his lab minions away. Raising an optic ridge, he waits for her to step in front of him. She stands there for half a klik before saying cheerfully, "Blitzving thinks you're a coward for not asking you himself."

Returning to his work, he murmurs, "I am not very surprised. Did you tell him that I want to 'face him?" she nods, and he continues, "And he informed you I should have told him myself. Despite the fact that he is one of Megatron's favored bots, and I am just a lowly scientist bot that he only knows the name of because I work with /you/."

"Oh, Oil Slick,” she pats his shoulder, "he knows your name for more reason than that.  You are a very vell-known sciencebot. Very dangerous.”

Oil Slick waves her servo away.  "Go play with Lugnut.  I'm sure he's desperate for you by now.”  He has /science/ to do.  If his spark is not going to be satisfied this night, then his processor will.

She waves at him as she leaves, and he doesn't even look up. Tapping into the datapad, he frowns in slight confusion, and stands up. Pacing around, he ignores as the larger bots around him scatter, paying attention to the code flittering and fluttering to its death. Putting it down, he shoves several bots out of the way, and launches himself onto the table. Catching the edge of it with a claw, he swings up and lands easily on it.

He smiles, looking at the various vials and chemicals; it is time to get to work.

--

A few megacycles later, his spark is warm with satisfaction.  He does /so/ love to invent new and painful ways to offline Autobots.  He taps his claws to his temple, entering his leader's com frequency.

"Yes, Oil Slick?  Was there something wrong with your lab, or is this a call to inform me that our ship is about to explode?  Again.”  Megatron's voice is full of something like friendly menace, and it sends a pleasant shiver down Oil Slick's back.

"I have something to show you, my liege.  I would appreciate it if you could come down to my lab.”  He pauses, "And bring one of our less-liked Autobot prisoners.”

Megatron's voice turns much more pleasant.  "Ah.  It's one of /those/ surprises.  I will be there shortly.” The call disconnects.

He wraps his arms around himself, too pleased to stay still. He's pacing on the table, playing with another project on his datapad, when Megatron shows up with a mouth clamped and stasis cuffed grey and blue carbot. The Autobot mech is dropped next to him, shaking his table, as Megatron smiles down at him, "And what, exactly, did you design this time, Oil Slick?"

Snapping his claws at one of the lab bots that is there, making the mech stand in front of him, right next to the prisoner. He looks at Megatron, dente flashing in a genuinely happy smile, "I have developed a virus that I think you will have a /very/ great interest in, my lord."

Megatron smiles, "I am always interested in your creations, Oil Slick. Even when they blow holes in my ship.”

He ducks his head, "A mistake I will not repeat, my liege.”  He removes the stasis cuffs from the Autobot.  "This will be far more entertaining with these gone.”  Pulling the vial out, he tosses it at the peds of the two bots - the science minion unfazed, as he had already been through this twice.  A great cloud of fumes rises up, and the Autobot prisoner begins twitching in a matter of seconds, and then full-out seizes, armor clattering loudly against the table.  He makes pained noises behind the mouthclamp, and then goes perfectly stiff.  A few seconds later, his frame goes completely grey, permanently offline.

The science minion is unharmed.

Megatron raises an optic ridge, "... can you repeat that?"

"Of course, my lord! It only attacks specific Autobot only coding, and I would be pleased to show you as many times as you want," he's practically bouncing back and forth on his peds, but managing to keep still for appearences sake.

Megatron puts a finger to his temple, "Blitzwing. Bring me a expendable Autobot prisioner to Oil Slick's labs." The grey mech drops his servo onto Oil Slick, running a thumb along his face. "Does it only offline, or can we use it for disabling as well?"

Oil Slick offlines his optics to better absorb the feeling of the touch, "It can also disable for an entire solar cycle."

Megatron pulls him a little closer, fingers drifting along his small frame, "What a wonderfully helpful virus for the Decepticon cause, my little scientist."

"It targets Autobot-specific code, my liege,” he shudders when a finger rubs across his sparkplates, "leaving our double-agents unharmed.”  The fingers press more insistently at his sparkplate seams, and Oil Slick has to fight the /need/ to unlock and open for him.

"What a clever bot, my scientist,” Megatron purrs, "but can this weapon be turned against us?  If one of their brilliant little sciencebots gets a hold of a sample of it, will we be at risk?”

Oil Slick onlines his optics, and vents air hard at the /way/ Megatron is looking at him—optics dim with lust.  And /pride/.  "No, my lord.  I tested that as well.” His intakes hitch when Megatron scratches his plates lightly.  "Even if they insert our code into the virus, it will not be able to harm us.”

Megatron's optics flash with interest before dimming back down low, "Open for me, my tiny scientist." His plates unlock and he opens instantly. "Very good, Oil Slick," Megatron purrs as he's picked up and carried over to a normal Decepticon sized chair, and laid in the larger mech's lap. "With this, we will win the war without any effort."

Sprawled across Megatron's thighs, Oil Slick looks up at the larger mech.  "I will need more supplies, but they are rather simple to acquire.” He hisses and arches his back when Megatron plays with the edge of his sparkchamber. "The lab equipment, not so much.  I admit I am,” he vents hard, whining loudly as a finger brushes against his spark, "impressed with the equipment you have here.  It is excellent.”

"I do try to keep my sciencebots happy,” Megatron smirks, rubbing Oil Slick's spark deliberately, making him cry out with pleasure, spark crackling.

He's about to say how much he appriciates it when Blitzwing comes in with a fairly large Autobot that comes above the triple-changer's waist. "My Lord Megatron, I have brought ze prisioner you you asked for." The mech's optics roam the lab, not even looking at Oil Slick's open spark chamber, instead focusing on Megatron's face, "Is zere anything you needed?"

Megatron shakes his head, "Not really, Blitzwing. Would you like to play with Oil Slick's spark before you go?" Oil Slick /can't/ control the bright flash his spark does at that offer. "He is being rewarded, you see."

Blitzwing's gaze drops to the sciencebot's spark, making it throbs with want, and brightening even more. "... Nein, my lord." Oil Slick's spark darkens dangerously at the rejection, an unwilling reaction, even as Megatron pets it gently.

Turning to leave, Blitzwing is halted mid-step by Megatron's voice, which has taken on a hard edge.  "You will stay and watch Oil Slick's demonstration.”  The Decepticon Commander plays with his spark, and Blitzwing flips faces before settling on Icy, standing rather stiffly beside them.

"Of course, my lord.”

Megatron teases Oil Slick's spark until it is hot and throbbing again, and Oil Slick is writhing helplessly on his lap.  Only then does he carefully lift Oil Slick and put him on his peds on the table.  "Keep your spark visible, sciencebot, and demonstrate your virus again.”

Oil Slick blinks rapidly, trying to clear his fogged processor, He's venting heavily as he murmurs, "O-of course, Lo-Lord Megatron." He pulls out another vial, and drops it next to the autobot. The fumes curl around his overheated spark, doing absolutely no damage as the Autobot clearly looks like he's trying to scream and flail around behind his mouthclamp and light stasis cuff. His spark brightens and throbs as the truckbot turns grey. "Was... was that a suitable demonstration, my lord?"

"It was,” Megatron pulls the cyclebot back onto his lap, laying him across it once more.  "Are you more impressed now, Blitzwing?”  Megatron pets Oil Slick's spark, keeping his touches light, so he won't overload before the mech wants.  "Our little sciencebot created something that will win the war for us.”

Blitzwing's optics flash, "It attacks Autobot code?  Will our agents be safe?  Can it be turned against us?”

"Answer his questions, Oil Slick,” Megatron hums, gently pulling one of Oil Slick's cables from its bay, rolling it between his fingers.

The cyclebot gasps, venting hard, trying to form words around the pleasure sparking through his systems, "Our . . . double-agents will be safe.”  He whines, high and loud as Megatron tugs on the cable, "Targets Autobot-only code.  Can't, can't be used against us.”

Blitzwing kicks the dead bot questioningly, servo absently patting Oil Slick's spark, making it flash and throb, "Only a kill code?"

Oil Slick shakes his head, arching into Megatron and Blitzwing's touches, "N-no! Di-dis-disables, too." He keens with want, unable to vocalize more because Blitzwing is actually /stroking/ his spark at the answer.

"Can you provide this for our troops in large quantity, or will we be working with a very limited supply?”

His spark chamber is too /small/ for both of their servos at once with full range of movement, but they are doing an /amazing/ job of keeping him right at the cusp of overload, without letting his spark discharge.  "It's,” his processor blanks, and he has to force himself to focus, "simple to make.  With this, this e-equipment.”

"/How/ simple is zis to make, Oil Zlick?"

His optic's flicker, it is /hard/ to answer anything when Blitzwing speaks with his wonderful accent, "W-war will b-be w-won in a-a-a matter of," his vocal unit fritzes, and they calm their petting, "s-s-sol-ar cycles."

He whines when Blitzwing withdraws his servo, "Zat was all I wished to know.  You are a very brilliant scientist, Oil Zlick.”  Facing Megatron, he asks, "May I go now?  I need to incorporate zis new weapon into our strategy.”

Megatron waves his off, rubbing Oil Slick's spark slowly, so it doesn't have time to dim when the triple-changer leaves.  "Do you want to overload for me, Oil Slick?”

Nodding frantically, he shoves his chest up, pushing his spark against Megatron's servo, "Please, please let me!”  Megatron smirks and squeezes his spark, listening to it crackle against his fingers.

"Overload,” he orders, and Oil Slick is unable to anything but obey his lord when he gives a command in /that/ voice.  Charge surges through his frame, and he arches almost painfully—and seeing as he has ninjabot training, it was quite an impressive feat.

He flops bonelessly in Megatron's lap, optics dim and almost lifeless. His spark pulses contently as Megatron pets him softly on his sparkchamber edges. "Th-thank you, my lord," he murmurs.

Megatron leans down, kissing him demandingly, glossa tangling. The larger mech pulls away when Oil Slick's spark starts to brighten again, "There is no need for thanks, my tiny scientist." The larger bot's voice lowers, "Come to my room after you clean up, Oil Slick," Megatron's glossa ghosts along a headscrew, making him twitch in pleasure, "You have two megacycles."

"Yes, my lord,” he murmurs, waiting to be put down.  Megatron leaves after one more long, lingering kiss that has his spark pulsing.  He looks over at his minion bots, who are all clearly aroused and clearly a few touches away from overload; though they have all kept their plates firmly shut.  He's impressed.  "Go and self-service.  I'm sure you want to.”  They flee like their peds are on fire.

Oil Slick closes his sparkplates absentmindedly, and leaves his lab behind.  He needs to clean himself for Megatron.  As he walks, he touches his temple and brings up a group call with his entire team.  When they answer, in various stages of bored, irritated, and in the middle of 'facing, he says cheerily, "You will never guess what just happened.”

There's the sound of a body hitting the floor from Blackout's com, "Well, if it isn't something good, I'm ripping you apart. No, not you. I'm talking to my team mate. If you stop, I'm going to kick you out, and you'll never get back to my berth again."

Oil Slick and the rest of his team laugh loudly at that. "Like you vill /remember/ who that is, Blackout. Do not lie! Do you even know his /name/?"

Blackout mutters something that no one can make out, and Oil Slick smiles as Spittor says, "You /don't/, of course." there's a noise of a bot exclaiming something slightly disgustedly, then the noise of Spittor getting kissed... loudly.

Oil Slick makes a face as he makes it to his quarters. Heading to the washracks, he asks, "So you /don't/ want to know why I'm calling all of you at once?"

Cyclonus finally speaks up, "You are getting ready to interface Blitzwing, and called to brag."

"No,” Oil Slick turns on the solvent sprays, carefully scrubbing himself, "although he /did/ have his servo on my spark earlier.”

Strika gasps, "You interfaced him /already/?  But he rejected you!  Did you go back and ask him again?”

"More importantly,” Blackout hums, and there's a slight crackle over the line, "was he any good?”

Carefully getting all the grime from the lab out of his joints, Oil Slick resists the urge to roll his optics, "What do you think?  And Blackout, stop rubbing sparks /while/ you're on the line.  You know it interferes with signal transmission.”

There's a small noise of acceptance, and Cyclonus murmurs, "You /haven't/ interfaced him? What did you do to get him to touch your spark? If you tricked him into it, Megatron isn't going to be pleased."

Oil Slick smirks, putting up his head dome to clean it, "Megatron is the one that had him pet it."

The whole team makes various confused and surprised noises. "Vhat did you /do/ to earn that, Oil Slick?"

Washing his treads, he replies, "I created something we will /win/ this war with.  Megatron approved.” He shivers, remembering it. "He was very appreciative.”  He lets his smugness suffuse his tone, "And he has requested that I clean myself and then come to his rooms.”

"You liar!” Strika cries, shocked.  "Did he /really/?”

"He did!" he exclaims brightly, starting to work on his spikes.

Blackout's voice is clear, must have pushed the bot away to talk, "Megatron threatened to /rip out your spark/ how he would a tiny Autobot like the frame you match for blowing up his berthroom that one time. Did you forget that?"

"I assure you that I have /not/. It is hard to not remember when I was missing an arm, and was stuck out in space without a single way back."

Spittor snickers, "And Blitzwing had to fly you back into the ship."

"Don't remind me,” he curses silently, trying to find a better brand of polish.  He wants to look his /best/ for his lord, though he imagines he'll be scuffed and messy within a breem of being taken to Megatron's berth.  "And if you don't believe it, I'm sure the videos should be circulating soon.  My minions were there the entire time.”  And Decepticons were a gossipy lot.

"Ooh,” Spittor says, "is /that/ what the sciencebots are talking about over there?  I'm gonna go get that video.”

He finds his best polish after a moment of searching, having just remembered he'd put it in his sub-space forever ago for safekeeping. "You're going to have to send it to me, too. Try to get the one from Thunderwing, he seemed to have the best view." He starts to shine up.

The rest of his team chimes in for wanting it, Strika the loudest, "I vant /proof/ that Megatron is doing that, Oil Slick!"

"Be patient,” he murmurs, "and I'm sure that Spittor will get a copy.”

He's proven right less than a klik later, when Spittor accesses the comlink again, and says, with awe in his voice, "Slag, Oil Slick.  You're like . . . wow.  Why didn't you say you were working on something like that?”

"I only started it this sol,” Oil Slick examines himself in the mirror.  He's the prettiest he's ever looked, which isn't saying much, but he shines like he's fresh from the factory.

"It's just,” Spittor sends the file to them, and Oil Slick opens it, examining the angles, "wow.  And Megatron is totally hot for you.”

He's fastforwarding a bit as he poses in the mirror, checking for parts he missed. "Huh, they edited out the bit where Blitzwing had /refused/ to touch my spark."

He can almost hear Cyclonus's raised optic ridge as the mech says, "/Refused/? After that display?"

Oil Slick finds a file and looks at his claws, "He wasn't there for the first part. ... Should I blunt or sharpen my claws for this? I want to look my best, but I also don't want to rip Megatron or his berth apart."

"Sharp claws,” Strika counsels him.  "He interfaces Starscream.  I think he is vell used to being clawed up in the berth.”

The file makes a satisfying, smooth sound against the edges of his claws.  "But you see?  I was not lying.  Megatron /did/ order me to come to his berth.”

"I am so jealous,” Strika says. "But you deserve it, after making something like /that/.  You vill have to give us a special demonstration later.” A long pause. "Vhenever Megatron allows you to leave his berth again.”

He tests his claws on the wall, smiling as it cuts right in with the smallest pressure, "Well, I have quite a bit saved in my sub-space, and it isn't like I won't be able to make more when I'm back in the lab. I'll call you all when I'm there, and show it off."

"Frag, Oil Slick,” Blackout whistles in admiration, "you look /hot/ when you're sprawled out on Megatron's lap like that.  You teensy tiny little bot.”

"I am not /that/ small,” he protests, and wonders if it would be a breach of etiquette to go to Megatron's quarters early.  Would he appear /too/ eager?

Spittor snickers, "You /are/ that small. Just like a tiny Autobot cyclebot."

There's a soft crackle of static from Spittor's line, and Oil Slick makes an irritated sound, "Go to your /room/ with the bot, Spittor. No need for him to keep whining against your plates like I'm sure he is."

"But if I get him to my room, he's going to see the berth and go all crazy.”  Spittor makes a wet sound, probably licking the bot again, "So I'll cut the call here.  You go and 'face Megatron.  Tell us all about it after.”

"As if you'd let me /not/,” Oil Slick laughs.

Blackout follows suit, getting back to his own partner, while Cyclonus says softly, "Are you upset that Blitzwing refused you earlier?"

Oil Slick pauses, picking at his treads before answering, "He refused me more than once, you're going to have to be more specific."

"I'm not talking the first times, from before we were kicked off the ship for you blowing it up. Just this solar cycle."

Oil Slick gives a bitter laugh, "Again, you need to be more specific. Strika asked him for me before the virus breakthrough."

There's an irritated noise over the line, and he can imagine Cyclonus narrowing his optics, "The rejection on petting your spark that you mentioned."

"You saw what I created.  Of course I was slagging upset when he didn't touch my spark when Megatron asked.”  It was just /rude/ to do that.  And it spoke greatly for how much Blitzwing apparently disliked him.

"It's alright, Oil Slick,” Strika consoles him again, her voice soothing.  "He vill realize what a catch you are someday.  Maybe Megatron vill promote you for this discovery?”

Oil Slick paces out of his room, "Perhaps.  I'm going to see Megatron now.”  He disconnects his com, not wanting to hear his team trying to reinforce an ego that was just fine.  Blitzwing would come to want him, or Oil Slick would find a better bot.

It is really far earlier than Megatron asked him to be there, but it isn't like he won't have to deal with walking through bots to get to him, anyway. He absently sharpens his spikes as he walks, ignoring the contemplative looks from bots in the hallways. Going through the common room, he's immediately swarmed by his lab-bots, who hide him from view.

Smirking, he pats Thunderwing on the side and a few of the others that he reconizes standing in the correct area of the angles they used. "Very good, you all. Who did the editing?"

One of the mechs nods his head, "I did, sir."

"Very good, Autoclave. You're no longer on labrat duty." He glances around the various bots, seeing one that had been in exactly the wrong angle to see anything, but seemed closest to overload when he glanced around before leaving, "You, purple and red, you're taking his old job." He walks through, and heads back on his way to Megatron.

They stay behind like good science minions, preventing any bots from interacting with him.  Oil Slick's spark pulses in his chest, thinking about what Megatron intends to do to him.  When he reaches Megatron's door, it slides open for him automatically, Megatron standing large and prominent in the doorway.  "Oil Slick,” he hums, smiling at the smaller bot.  "I am pleased you came so soon.”  He steps back, allowing the cyclebot entry. "Would you like some energon?”

"Yes, please,” Oil Slick murmurs.  He knows he's going to need every last drop he can get.

Megatron hands him a cube, the larger mech's servos lingering on his. "It is a special mix, my scientist." Megatron leans down, licking his shoulder decoration, then biting down on the blade horn, leaving a denta shaped dent, "It will help you keep up with me, especially with how small you are."

He sips delicately at the cube, shuddering when the energon hits his fuel tank. "This is,” he pauses, takes another sip, "a very nice blend, my lord.”  And a very /strong/ one.  It's a good thing he'll be burning it off quickly, or he'd end up overcharged as soon as his systems tried processing it.  Oil Slick only manages two more quick drinks before he's pulled up into Megatron's arms, a warm voice in his audio.

"It is /easier/ to touch you like this.”  Megatron's servo slips down to squeeze his aft.  "I would very much like to see your spark again.” Opening his plates instantly, Megatron lets out a soft chuckle, "So obedient," and runs a finger over his spark. Oil Slick just moans, almost dropping the cube of energon; Megatron catches it again, "Keep drinking, my scientist. You will need the energy, and I plan on working it out of you entirely before filling your tanks even more."

Oil Slick nearly chokes on the energon, but forces another sip down.

Megatron rubs his spark slowly.  "You are interested in Blitzwing,” he observes, and the sudden glow and pulse from his spark confirms it for him without any words at all.  "He is, unfortunately for you, rather picky about the appearance of his partners.”  Trembling, Oil Slick quickly downs the rest of the energon cube.

"I am not with /him/ tonight, my lord,” he reminds, and when Megatron takes the empty cube away, Oil Slick rests his servos on Megatron's chest.  "I wish to please /you/.”

His spark is rubbed harder, and Oil Slick writhes, electricity crackling high and sharp in the air.  "Use my name when we are alone like this, Oil Slick.”

He whines, high pitched and wanting, "Y-yes, Me-Megatron."

Megatron lifts him up to lick at his spark, giving two soft laps before pulling away, making him gasp and keen, "You even cleaned your spark chamber. I'm impressed."

"I, you,” his spark throbs with want, "you told me to clean myself.  I am always thorough.”  He breaks off into a long keen when Megatron licks his spark again, glossa curling against it wickedly.  Oil Slick arches helplessly, spark growing hot enough to kick all of his fans on full-blast.  Megatron chuckles at the sudden blast of hot air against his armor, and the vibration of it knocks Oil Slick into an embarrassingly quick overload.

He onlines on the berth with Megatron laying next to him, fingers playing with his headscrews, "You are surprisingly pretty when you overload, little scientist. Has anyone told you this?"

His spark pulses in time to the soft petting on his head, "Yes, Megatron. Most of my berth partners have said so."

"Only most?" The fingers drift down his frame, "I'd think that all of them would."

His engines purr at the touches, "Some were not so much interested in pillow talk as they were in 'facing again."

Fingers trace the edges of his sparkchamber.  "I can see why they would want to use you again.”

Oil Slick leans forward, giving Megatron's sparkplates a playful lick.  "You have overloaded me twice, and I have yet to even see your spark.”  He looks up, claws scratching the sparkplates he touched.  "I want to /feel/ your spark.”

Megatron chuckles, "Are you really so desperate for me to use you, my tiny scientist?" Fingers run along his arm, unknowing how much what Megatron said irritated him.

Offlining his optics, he murmurs, "Of course, my l-/Megatron/. I would be pleased to feel it on mine."

A soft click and hiss signal that the larger bot is opening his sparkplates, and he onlines his optics again to watch.  He's not surprised to see the secondary sparkplates inside—it's a common defense measure on important bots who are large enough to have them—but the purple color of them is rather unexpected.  And the spark underneath is . . . very large.

Reaching up, he touches it gently, making the larger mech smirk, "It isn't going to break, Oil Slick." His servo twitches in irritation at how smug Megatron sounds. "I /do/ interface Starscream; his claws are quite long and sharp, but that does not stop me fron letting him touch my spark." Giving Megatron a dark look, he drags his claws directly across the mech's spark. Megatron bucks over top him, and hisses his pleasure. "/Good/. I was hoping you'd show your Decepticon side, and not act like a little helpless Autobot."

"I am no Autobot,” Oil Slick says irritably, as he scratches the spark again.  He's /very/ glad that his servos are large for his size, because it makes playing with Megatron's spark much simpler.  It was hot and eager, crackling with charge against his claws.  To be honest, Oil Slick was a bit uncomfortable being /under/ Megatron like this.  If the larger mech offlined at any point, he wouldn't be able to employ his typical strategy for obtaining freedom.  Clawing the mech savagely until he onlines again, or severing off limbs to decrease the weight was simply not an option when 'facing the leader of the Decepticons.

He's trying to work out how to kiss Megatron as he claws at the mech's spark, and he's not really certian how to do it; his chest isn't even /as wide/ as Megatron's spark. It makes it more than a little difficult to get at the bot's lips. He's about to pull away, when Megatron, murmurs, "Enough. I think it is time we rubbed sparks, don't you think?"

He lets his arms drop to the side, claws scratching at the berth, "I'd say so, Megatron."

"It's been a while since I have interfaced anyone as small as you are,” he murmurs, lowering himself to slowly touch his spark against Oil Slick's.  Their sparks pulse together; Oil Slick is used to 'facing bots larger than himself, and he arches, rubbing his entire chest against Megatron's spark.  Frag, it's /so/ hot against his armor, and his spark sends wild bursts of pleasure racing through his sensor nodes.

Oil Slick mewls under Megatron, venting hard. He's spread out happily as they rub sparks, shoving into the crackling energy. He winces in pain from his audio sensors when there's a sudden loud shrieking from the doorway. Starscream is framed prettily, backlighted from the hall, "What the Pit is /this/, Megatron?"

Megatron chuckles, pushing his spark into Oil Slick a little more firmly, making him gasp and keen. "This, Starscream, is me 'facing the scientist that just made the virus that will lead the Decepticons into victory." Megatron shoves his spark even harder, and Oil Slick whimpers helplessly, "Didn't you see the video that's floating around? I was certain you'd get it by now."

"Oh, I saw about a klik of it, and destroyed the file,” he hisses.  "It was so heavily edited that /nothing/ in it could be trusted.”  The Seeker's wings tremble with anger, and Oil Slick can hear the quiet, sharp whine of his null-rays being powered.

Unworried, Megatron continues to grind his spark against the bot under him, "Edited?  What precisely did your sciencebots edit out, Oil Slick?”

Struggling to prevent his voice from fritzing out, Oil Slick answers him, "Just . . Bl-Blitzwing acting like . .an aft.”

Starscream hisses, "He seemed pretty cozy to /me/."

Oil Slick gives a happy whine as Megatron murmurs, "So they took out the part where he refused to even touch you, my scientist?"

"M-made it l-look like h-he w-as there th-the en-enti-entire time, Megatron." He runs his claws along the larger mech's purple sparkplates, having touble concentrating.

Starscream's claws click a rapid tattoo against his arm. "You mean to say that this little,” he pauses, seems to discard a word, "/Decepticon/ sciencebot truly created that virus?  And Blitzwing refused to pet his spark?”

"Yes,” Megatron answers, optics dimming with pleasure as he grinds down again, scraping Oil Slick's chest with one of his inner sparkplates.

"And you didn't rip a spike from his shoulder guards?”  Starscream scoffs, "You are growing soft in your old age, Megatron.”

"He hadn't seen what Oil Slick had done when he refused, Starscream. I was willing to give him a second chance." Oil Slick whimpers happily under him, and he continues, "If he had refused a second time, he would not be /online/."

Starscream crosses his arms, glaring at them both, "And why was /I/ not invited to this?" The seeker waves a servo at Megatron and Oil Slick, taking extra care to point directly at their sparks.

Megatron smirks, "You've made it quite clear that you don't interface with, what was it you called them? Oh, yes. 'Groundpounders,' I believe you said. And Oil Slick doesn't even have rocket boosters in his peds. He is quite firmly stuck on the ground." Megatron gives a incredibly smug look to Starscream, "You wouldn't be interested in joining."

"If he created a virus like that, then I can make an exception for him,” Starscream says, though his disdain is still rather evident in his tone.

Oil Slick can't bring himself to care at that moment—his spark is so hot and close to overload /again/ that all he wants is for Megatron to stop bickering with his lover and /pay attention/ to the bot he's rubbing his spark against.  He's smart enough not to say it.  Instead, he claws Megatron's sparkplates hard, leaving deep gouges on them, and the bot looks down at him, spark pulsing hot and strong.

"You are welcome to join if you want, Starscream,” Megatron murmurs, petting Oil Slick's frame as he uses his spark.

Starscream stares at them for a nanoklik before stalking to the berth, and shoving Megatron, "Budge over, I want to see how good he is with that tiny spark of his."

Megatron laughs and sits up, pulling Oil slick up as he goes. "Lay down, then. I want to watch."

Giving him a dark look, Starscream does as ordered, wings spread out beneath him on the berth.  When Megatron lays Oil Slick on top of him, Oil Slick rubs his spark against Starscream's cockpit glass, which feels blessedly cool in comparison to another spark.  Megatron chuckles, "You should open up, Starscream.  Unless you want him to overload against your cockpit.”

Starscream glares at them both, but his cockpit opens beautifuly, and Oil Slick moans as he practically falls on top of the seeker's spark. It isn't as large as Megatron's, thankfully, and he can prop himself up, so he can rub against it with significantly more ease than with Megatron's.

Energy crackles between them, and it is utterly unfair that all of his partners have such large sparks; Oil Slick almost always overloads before them, because those slagging things carry more charge than his own.  With two of them like this, he knows his spark is going to be /aching/ come morning.  Especially if they intend to use him as often as he thinks they will.

Megatron's servo rests on his back, pushing him down against Starscream's spark, watching as both bots writhe from the pleasure, Oil Slick's claws cutting up Starscream's chest, Starscream's slicing up the berth.  "You look good together,” he hums, and pushes down harder. Oil Slick jerks, his spark thrumming with charge, surging through his frame in overload.  Starscream screeches when he overloads, spark burning hot against Oil Slick's chest.

Megatron chuckles, letting up on the pressure so their sparks can separate. "Did the 'groundpounder' meet your expectations, Starscream?”

"He was,” the seeker pants, "adequate.”

Megarton pulls Oil Slick up with Starscream, kissing them both. "Which is about what I expected you to say, Starscream." Oil Slick is held up to Starscream's mouth, "Now kiss him your thanks, and we will continue." Starscream gives Megatron a dirty look, but presses their lips together in a small kiss, while Oil Slick remains impassive. "You can do better than that. That overload was worth much more than such an insincere kiss."

Starscream hisses angrily, "I said it was /adequate/."

Megatron's voice turns low and dangerous, making both Oil Slick's and Starscream's spark pulse with want, "Which is essentially saying you want to chain him to the berth. Kiss him, and mean it. Preferably with enough glossa you could call it obscene."

"As you wish, my /lord/,” Starscream mocks, pulling Oil Slick up for a proper kiss.  He tips Oil Slick's head up, brushes his lips against the smaller bot's, glossa flicking almost playfully against them.  A claw slips up to teasingly rub his spark a single time, and when Oil Slick gasps Starscream slips his glossa into his mouth.

"Much better,” Megatron hums in approval, watching them with dimmed optics.

Starscream starts to lay Oil Slick back on the berth, playing with his spark the entire time, only to get pulled back my Megatron. The seeker snarls, "Stop that!" Only to make an irritated face when the larger mech pulls the bot onto his lap.

Megatron kisses Starscream as Oil Slick pants on the berth. When Megatron breaks the kiss, he pets both of the smaller mechs. "I think you're both going to lick my spark, and then we're going to connect cables for the rest of the night."

Oil Slick /knows/ his spark is going to /ache/ tomorrow.

–

Oil Slick is never interfacing Starscream alone again.  He shifts again, trapped under the larger bot, sparks still in contact.  He's overloaded four times trying to free himself, because all he manages to do is rub his spark right up against Starscream's, and no amount of clawing at the other mech has gotten him to online.  And he can't reach any limb joints to try and sever them.

He stares up at the Seeker.  "I'm never interfacing you alone again.”

"I can see why," comes a voice at the door, and Megatron walks in, pulling Oil Slick out from under the seeker. The larger bot inspects the claw damage on Starscream, commenting slowly, "I'm glad you avoided his optics when you clawed his face. I /like/ those, and would be very upset if we had to go to the medic to replace them."

Oil Slick leans against Megatron's legs, spark aching, and his low fuel alarm blaring at him angrily, "I ... I know, Megatron. That's why they're undamaged."

Megatron drops Starscream's still offlined body heavily on the berth, and scoops up the cyclebot in his arms gently. "Are you okay, Oil Slick?" Megatron kisses him softly, "How badly did he damage you?"

"I'm not damaged,” he insists, though there are a few more dents and scratches on him than there were when Megatron had left.  "Just low on fuel.”  Extremely low on fuel.

He's carried over to the dispenser, and Megatron gives a cube of energon to him, "Drink, then.  You will need the energy.”  Oil Slick gasps when Megatron rubs his sore spark.  "I am hardly done with you yet.”

He gulps the entire cube down at once, uncaring that it is the specialty formula, and will get him overcharged if he drinks too much. The processor ache he didn't even notice he had fades, and the alarms about needing fuel cease entirely. He offlines his optics for a little bit before murmuring, "More?"

Another cube is in his servos instantly, and he drinks this one significantly slower than the first. "Would you like to tell me why there is a dead Autobot and a broken vial on my floor, my scientist?"

He onlines his optics to glance at said items, "Starscream wanted to see the virus in action, and not just by a video."

Megatron rubs a finger along his claws, "And was very enthusiastic afterwards, I see." The larger bot frowns, "Your claws are dull now."

"I have been using them on both of you,” he answers, finishing the second energon cube.  "If you want, I can file them sharp again.”

"I want,” Megatron purrs, rubbing his spark again.  "But I cannot stay.  Blitzwing wishes to talk strategy with me.”  He glances at Starscream's body. "And our Seeker will be offline for a while yet.  He always is after an excellent overload, like I am sure you gave him. You should sharpen them while I am gone.” He kisses the smaller bot, squeezing his aft, "So I may enjoy them when I return.”

He's set back down on the ground, "Of course," he purrs softly, watching Megatron's aft appreciatively as the mech leaves. Stretching a little bit, he pulls his file from his sub-space and leans on the wall. Humming gently, he sends Strika a text, not wanting to online Starscream anymore. /Thank you for telling me to sharpen my claws before I left. Turns out Megatron prefers that to dull./

The reply is almost instantaneous, /That would explain why he has tiny little claw marks all over his chest he hasn't buffed out yet./

Oil Slick huffs out a laugh, and focuses on trying to make his claws sharp enough to slice Megatron up the way he apparently prefers. /And Starscream is a fragging selfish slagger.  He offlined on top of me. Couldn't even work myself free.  Megatron had to pull me out when he got back.  Fragging embarrassing./

There's a long pause, which he is fairly certain is from Strika laughing herself sick. /And what body part did you cut off of Starscream? Or is the fact that Megatron pulled you out, and you aren't in the medical bay, showing you left him untouched?/

He tests his claws on Starscream, and works on sharpening them again, /I couldn't REACH the slagger's limbs to do it, but he's not going to like looking in the mirror until he cleans up his face./

/Ooh, talk about hitting a Seeker where it hurts.  They are so vain, I bet he spends megacycles in washracks, polishing himself./

He smiles at her message.  Starscream likely /will/ spend ages in the washrack.  He examines his claws, tests them again, finds them satisfactory.  Or he'll expect Oil Slick to help polish him, which could be entertaining.

He tests his claws again, smiling when they slice cleanly through a little bit of Starscream's armor. /He does spend forever in there, he likes to be clean and shiny before he leaves. Even if he's coming directly back in to get scuffed up./

/I showed the vid to Lugnut.  He was quite impressed by your invention.  I believe this is the first time he has not been horribly jealous of another bot ending up in Megatron's berth.  He even said you deserved it, for serving him so well.  Today is a solar cycle full of surprises, it seems./  she sends back, and Oil Slick laughs quietly.

/That it is, but I need to go. Starscream is FINALLY waking up. Tell the team they may not see me for a few days. I'll tell you when I can talk again./ He turns to the finally stirring seeker. "Have a good nap?" His tone is flat, and he's studying his claws.

"It was alright,” Starscream answers absently, closing his sparkplates. Oil Slick knows the moment the Seeker catches sight of himself in the mirror, because he screeches high and loud enough to hurt his audios.  "What in Primus's name did you /do/ to me, you horrible little bot?”

"I don't react well to being trapped under an offlined bot.”  He flicks his claws in demonstration.  "You'll remember that next time.”

The Seeker hisses at him, "I am going to have /words/ with you.  After I fix this awful mess you've made of me.”  He scoops Oil Slick up.  "After you /help/ fix this mess up.”

Oil Slick scoffs, "You'd think a seeker would know how to remove claw marks to the face."

Starscream leans in close, hissing in his audio, "Or maybe you're going to buff it out so I don't remove your legs."

Oil Slick puts a claw, just barely not touching Starscream's optic, "And Megatron would remove both of your's if you do." Starscream twists his head slightly, moving Oil Slick just a bit, an holds Oil Slick's servo in his mouth, dente pressing lightly as a threat. Oil Slick hisses softly, "And you wouldn't /dare/."

Letting go of his servo, Starscream leans to whisper in his audio again, "Megatron is almost certainly watching this now.  And you are going to help fix these scratches, or I will chain you to the berth and tease your spark until you offline without even achieving an overload.”  A hot glossa licks one of his head screws and Oil Slick's spark pulses.  "I know Megatron wouldn't intervene.”

Oil Slick gives Starscream a very flat look, and starts to reach into his sub-space, only to claw the seeker directly across the face, just missing the mech's optics. He jumps out of the screaming bot's servos, flipping so he lands lightly on his peds. Starscream is just regaining his composure when Oil Slick pulls out a can of polish and his polishing cloth from his sub-space. "Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

Starscream glares down at him. "Do that again and it's chained to the berth time for little Autobot-sized Decepticons.”  Oil slick decides to ignore that comment and leaps up, latching on carefully to Starscream's armor to begin polishing his chest.  He has extensive experience with how /not/ to claw up a bot if he doesn't intend to do so.

He is picked off with a little difficulty, and instead put on the seeker's shoulder. "I don't need /there/ fixed, you fragger. Fix the damage you did /here/." Starscream taps the clawmarks, optics flashing with hate.

Oil Slick leans over, servo petting the scratches almost lovingly, and kissing him softly on the largest one, "Can you not do this without me, Starscream?" His voice drops, whispering into the seeker's audio, "Are you really so helpless?" He raises his voice again, "Or do you just like me touching you?"

The Seeker hisses back, "Fix me.  I want the damage you've done fixed.  By your own servos.”

Oil Slick begins to gently polish the gouges, smoothing the metal out.  "You deserved each and every one of them.”  He wonders where the cameras in the washrack and berthroom are.  If he knew, he could pose a bit better for Megatron.

Starscream flutters his wings angrily, "/No seeker/ deserves to have his face clawed up, groundpounder."

Pulling a vial out of his sub-space, he dips a claw into it, and rubs the solution over the claw marks, "Call me that again, and I'm going to make it so your spark itches unless Megatron or me touch it." The nanite infused liquid quickly repair all the damage that wouldn't normally heal for another solar cycle or three, and Oil Slick starts to polish him softly.

"What an awful punishment.  How long would something like that even last?” When his claws get close to Starscream's mouth, he licks them, and immediately makes a face.  "That is utterly disgusting.”

"It's not meant to be /licked/,” he admonishes, dipping his claws in the solution again, wiping it one of the few gouges remaining on the very edge of his face, and then polishing once more. "And the spark-itch varies.  I've seen it last upwards of a decacycle, or as short as a few megacycles.”

The seeker's optics dart to his spark chamber, "And the smaller the spark, the longer it lasts?"

He cleans off the solution from his servos, "You'd think that, wouldn't you? It has far more variables than that, but I'd make a point of you having it last and last." He brushes a soft kiss on Starscream's lips. "If you never attempt to be on top of me again, I'll make it so just having an open spark chamber will shorten the time."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to end up suffering from this spark-itch?” Starscream considers him with narrowed optics.

"Because it sounds like something Megatron would love seeing you suffer?”

The seeker glares at him, "Damn you. And he /will/ know about it now." There's a small pause, "Okay, you get to remain on top, but only because I know you're too small to shove me off now."

Oil slick smiles, giving Starscream another tiny kiss, only for the seeker to shove in his glossa demandingly. When they finally stop, he pants out, "Deal."

Starscream carries him to the berth, "Now, little bot, the question is if we should polish up, or interface. Since Megatron won't /want/ us to leave just yet." The seeker bites him on the shoulder decoration, "Too bad you're such a boring black, or it would be no contest which I'd choose."

He laughs. "So you'd 'face me senseless if I had a flashier color scheme?”  Rubbing his chest against Starscream, Oil Slick considers the choices.  His spark is still a bit tender, but it's hard to turn down an interface with something as pretty as a Seeker.

Starscream nibbles on his headscrews, "Purple or green would look good on you, cyclebot. Nice decepticon colors that aren't boring. Green would most likely be better; to match your optics. Looking your best is very important."

Oil Slick can feel Starscream's spark pulse softly against his chest. Looking up at the seeker, he raises an optic ridge and smirks, "Would you like it more if I was shined up, then?"

"We'll only be getting you filthy again,” he murmurs, and sits on the berth, pulling Oil Slick up so he can lick his sparkplates.  "You should open up for me.  Show me that little spark again.”

"If you compare me to an Autobot at any point, I'm going to slam the plates shut on you, even if it dents your glossa.”

Starscream gives him an innocent look, "Would I do that?"

His plates slide open slowly, "I don't know, would you? It /is/ your glossa you're putting in da-" he gasps as the seeker twirls the tip of his glossa all the way around his spark chamber.

Oil Slick moans when that glossa teases his spark—without the intense charge of a larger spark, his own barely even registers pain or ache.  Primus, he's going to have to beg for a break from interfacing after a few solar cycles, or his circuits will fry.  For now, he's happy.  And trying not to claw Starscream's shoulders in pleasure.

--

It is several solar cycles later, and Oil Slick is still stuck in Megatron's berthroom. He's not really upset about it, more bored than anything. He hadn't thought anyone /could/ get bored from interfacing Megatron all the time, but he hadn't counted on all the dead time inbetween all the 'facing, and Starscream being a hissy glitch while Megatron is off doing something important. He really misses his lab, at least he could /do/ something there. Here, he's just bored out of his processor.

Laying on the berth, he watches as Starscream paces back and forth, muttering about... something. He thinks it involves Autobots and death, but that could just be wishful thinking.

"Is something wrong, Starscream?”  He'd built up something of a connection with the Seeker, after soothing his itchy spark when Megatron had left the two of them alone.  The Decepticon leader had taken great pleasure in watching Starscream rub his own spark madly, trying to get relief.

Starscream fixes his optics on him and mutters, "Nothing.  Everything is /fantastic/.  Or it will be, soon.  At least some bots aren't aftheads.”  He pulls Oil Slick into a deep kiss, glossa tangling with his, before dropping him and storming out the room.  Oil Slick blinks.  He'll never get used to that.

Checking his internal time, he mentally cheers; he'll have enoutgh time to /get out of the room/ and be back before Megatron is there to demand the use of his spark. Getting up, he does a quick clean up as he messages his team to meet him in his lab in a few kliks, giving Strika a little more time to grab an autobot prisoner.

He when he's finished, he still has a great deal of scratches and dents, but he's no longer covered in Starscream and Megatron's paint. He has to run, but he makes it to his lab without getting dragged back to the berth.

He slides smoothly into the lab, giving his teammates a little exaggerated bow.  "I am amazing.”

They laugh at him.  Loudly.

Oil Slick scowls. "No, really.  You bots have no idea how difficult it is to get away from Megatron's berth.  Every fragging time I nearly left, I'd get yanked back down by Megatron or Starscream. Or both.”

Strika comes in, dragging a autobot with her, "I know. I vas there one time it happened. You step out," She drops the mech, "/bam/, Starscream drags you back in. You vould think he likes you."

Oil Slick kicks the autobot, "Oh, he /does/ like me. That is sort of the problem." The autobot flinches visibly, "He even kissed me goodbye before leaving the room. He didn't do that before."

"I wouldn't have thought he'd go for a bot like you,” Blackout says, and adds, "No offense,” when Oil Slick glares at him. "Seekers like flashy colors.  And, well, /flight/.  Two things you've got in short supply.”

Oil Slick kneels down, messing with the bot's stasis cuff and ignoring the hopeful look, "Well, he likes how well I kill Autobots," He can't help the smile as the carbot's hopeful look dies a painful death, "and the fact that I helped him with something Megatron did."

"The thing that had Megatron smirking all through the solar cycle a while back?” Strika asks.  The Autobot tries to get up on his peds, but is still too weak from stasis.  Oil Slick pulls out a few vials.

"I would assume it was, yes. Now, would you like to see the disabling demonstration, or the one which offlines?”

"Offline!” Spittor cries, hopping enthusiastically.

Oil Slick smiles and shakes his head as he murmurs, just loud enough for the autobot to hear,"No one ever wants to see the disabling one, not that it matters, anyway." He waits until the hope comes back in the carbot's expression, "Because I'd kill you even if they asked for disabling." He pours the vial's contents directly in the mech's face.

His teammates cheer him on, and the Autobot sputters, before going into convulsions on the floor.

"I do love lab tests,” Oil Slick purrs, kicking the offline shell of the mech.  "They're always so much /fun/.”

Strika pulls him up into her arms, "I can see vhy our lord has taken you to his berth.  This is an amazing veapon for our side.”

He relaxes into her hold, "I'm just glad that they got so distracted by that Allspark energy they picked up that I could get /out/. Do you know how much I miss being able to work?"

The rest of the team comes closer, laughing softly. "Was interfacing the /leader/ of the Decepticons so tedious, Oil Slick?" Blackout asks jokingly.

Oil Slick snickers, "The actual interfacing? Not at all. The times that I had to deal with Megatron and Starsc-" he's cut off by a violent shaking of the ship. "What the Pi-" and again by a sudden explosion ripping off the side of the ship, yanking his entire team out into hard space, along with a great deal of his lab equipment.

What he can make out through the chaos is a much smaller ship—of Autobot make—and an enormous explosion's debris.  Then, the entire Nemesis and the Autobot ship are surrounded by swirls of light, and transwarped away.  Oil Slick curses, completely helpless out in space like this.  He has no idea where the explosion came from.  That other ship had been far too small for such a blast.

Cyclonus comes to his rescue, scooping him into large arms. Oil Slick flickers his optics prettily at the mech, wrapping his arms around the bot's neck, "My /hero/," he says mockingly before his tone turns harsh, "Do you have any clue what the frag happened?" He looks around, "And help me gather some of this equipment, I may be able to salvage some of it for later."

They gather a few machines and supplies, but nowhere near enough to make the virus.  Those machines are in pieces, or completely broken.  He vents a long sigh, clutching what he cannot put in his subspace.  "Do we have any idea where we currently are?  I have spent the last few solar cycles trapped in Megatron's berth.”

Blackout hums an affirmative. "There's a planet not too far from here that we can steal a ship on.”

"Neutral or Decepticon controled?" He pokes the machines in his arms unhappily.

Blackout sighs, "Autobot."

Oils Slick looks at his things, and over at his team, "... Seriously?" They all nod, and he makes a tiny broken noise, "How fragged are we going to be about this?"

Strika flicks his head dome, "Do not be so upset, Oil Slick. Ve vill get through this. They are just Autobots, and you have that vonderful virus!"

"Strika..." He hides his head in the machines, "I have only a /few/ vials left, and no way to make more."

"Ve vill not /need/ to use them, then,” she consoles him, as they make their way towards the planet. "You vill put on a nice little Autobot sticker, and vait with the machines and supplies until ve come and pick you up vith our nice new ship.”  She looks at the other bots, "I fear it vill be a bit cramped.  Most Autobot ships are not meant for bots as large as us.”

His claws tap against the lab equipment, "We'll have to make do." He pauses, "And I'm going to have to play medic again, aren't I?"

They all give him a stern look, and Spittor mutters, "You /are/ the one that knows how to make sure we don't break apart, sciencebot."

He wants to rub his forehead, "I hate doing medic things. I almost lost an optic that one time, and none of you had a damn clue what to do."

Strika flicks his shoulder decoration, "Hush. Ve have done vorse than this, and been just fine. Ve will do even /better/ than before." She smiles, "Now, let's go kick some Autobot aft, and steal a ship until ve get back in contact vith Megatron."

--

More than fifty stellar cycles pass before Team Chaar find their way back to Megatron.  And to Oil Slick's disgust, he is on an organic planet. A horribly organic planet.  He's going to get dirt in his joints every fragging solar cycle on this rock.  He wonders if they'll be required to assume new altmodes.

They kneel in his newly constructed throne room, and Megatron hums with satisfaction.  "Team Chaar, it is so very good to see you once more.” Intense optics focus on his, and Oil Slick feels a shiver race down his back.  "Oil Slick.” Megatron is almost immediately distracted when a flock of - Oil Slick blinks - Starscreams come swarming into the room, screeching at one another.

No, they all have the same helmet shape as Starscream, but they are clearly separate and unique bots, with their own color schemes. Did Starscream find a way to clone himself?

All of the seekers settle next to, or in the femme's case: on, Megatron. The grey mech pets her waist, and shakes his head, "Oil slick, I hope you are willing to make that wonderful virus you had before the... upset."

He watches as Megatron's servo pets the femme's wings and smiles, he doesn't think he'll get /stuck/ in the leader's berth again, "I am almost certain of it, my lord. I just need to inspect the labs, and I will be able to give you an accurate assessment."

"You will have the opportunity to do so, though I encourage you to rest and familiarize yourselves with our new base first.”  The orange Seeker nuzzles Megatron's shoulder, prompting Megatron to turn and give him a kiss. Starscream himself is hovering in the background, wings fluttering unhappily.

Oil Slick nods along with the rest of his team, and Megatron dismisses them.  He watches his teammates gravitate away—Strika to Lugnut, Blackout to a group of pretty bots, Spittor to bots that suit his tastes, and Cyclonus . . . stands exactly where he was.  Bots will approach him eventually.

"You are the scientist responsible for the virus our Lord Megatron has so proudly described to us?” a smooth, cultured voice says behind him, and Oil Slick turns to face the mech.  He can identify Shockwave from reputation and appearance.  The forked antennae are quite distinctive.

Oil Slick tilts his head, "That I am. And are you Shockwave? The double agent responsible for nearly offlining Ultra Magnus?"

Shockwave leans down, so they are face to face, "I am, indeed." The tankbot runs a claw along his head dome, "You're as tiny as they said you were," there is a small pauses as the mech's optic scans him from the top of his head to the tip of his peds, "But even more dangerous looking than I had imagined." Shockwave slips a claw in all of his on one servo, and tugs him a little bit closer, "Are you as dangerous in the berth as you look standing there?"

"I'm /more/ dangerous, if the bot I'm with is foolish enough to offline on top of me,” he hums, letting Shockwave pull him up for a closer inspection.

"Would you object to sharing my berth?” Shockwave asks, claw tips dancing over his frame, teasing at transformation seams while avoiding his sparkplates.  "I would very much like to see your little spark.” His optic dims, "And play with it until you offline from pleasure.”

Oil Slick hums softly, barbed claws playing with Shockwave's segmented ones, then looks over at Blitzwing; the Triple-changer doesn't even glance at him, and his spark sinks low in his chest. Mentally shaking his head to clear it, he looks back at the mech holding him, "Only if you don't rub your spark against mine if you're on top of me. If you do, I reserve the right to cut you apart."

"I would expect nothing less from you,” Shockwave answered, picking him up.  "Do you need to say farewell to your team, or can we move directly to my rooms?”  Now the claws choose to rub against his sparkplates, and Oil Slick's optics dim.

"They are all busy with their own pursuits.  We should go.” He glances over and sees Starscream slowly trying to extricate himself from the flock of seekers. "Before Starscream can come demand my time.”

Shockwave pauses, whispering in his audio, as they watch Starscream get caught by the wrist, "How badly does he want you, Oil Slick?"

He shrugs, "I don't know. The last thing he did with me was kiss me, not even under Megatron's gaze, if that helps."

Shockwave turns just as Starscream gets free, and starts walking rather quickly towards his room, "And I would prefer he not steal you away from me before I got to touch your spark."

Oil Slick traces his claws across Shockwave's chest. "I saw images of you in your Longarm disguise.  It must have been very uncomfortable, compacted down like that.”

"It was,” he agrees, and then locks them in his room.  "But it was far more unpleasant pretending to hold Autobot ideals.  Or to restrain myself from interfacing.”

Oil Slick kisses the mech's sparkplates, "No interfacing at all? From what I heard, you like the minibot model type. Wouldn't you have-"

Shockwave shakes his head, letting the plates slide open as they land on the berth, "Too tempting. What if I had broken character? Being in my apartment there was the only time I could be myself, and I couldn't let that go."

"There's a minibot on this planet. I know that from the briefing,” Oil Slick licks the spark below him, before sitting up to give Shockwave a better view. "You could always take him.”  His sparkplates slide slowly open, a deliberate tease for the other mech.  Shockwave's optic flares as he bares his much smaller spark.

Shockwave reaches up and barely scratches a claw tip over the little spark.  "We haven't caught him yet. And I'm not sure Lord Megatron would let me keep him as a pet even if we did.”

Oil Slick moves one of Shockwave's claws and licks it, "We'll catch him the moment I make the virus, so don't worry about that. Instead, focus on /me/, and be happy that I am stronger than a minibot." He shoves his spark into the claw that Shockwave had been resting on it, "And I will not /break/ if you are not gentle, Shockwave." Those claws wrap all the way around his spark and give it a gentle tug, making Oil Slick whine.  "Better.”  He shoves his own claws down into Shockwave's sparkchamber, pulling out a cable.  "The medic already cleared me, if you want to link up.”

Shockwave's spark flashes, "That would be quite enjoyable."

Oil Slick lets out a bark of laughter, "Have you really not interfaced the /entire/ time you were on cybertron?"

"It wasss-" Shockwave's voice statics as they connect from the charge, and Oil Slick pets the mech's face.

"You really /didn't/. You are so out of practice, aren't you?" He leans down, kissing the blank bit on the tankbot's face where his mouth would be lovingly, "That was barely any charge at all. We're just going to have to work up your endurance the fun way." He runs a claw up Shockwave's antler, smiling at the pleasurable feeling.

Shockwave hums, rubbing Oil Slick's spark.  "How long has it been for you?  Did you take the opportunity to interface other bots while you were searching for our Lord?”  Oil Slick's engine revs faintly; Shockwave has such long claws.

"Not long,” he answers, because he had seen no reason to not.  Megatron and Starscream were hardly viable long-term partners, and neither would expect him to remain faithful to a relationship that had lasted a matter of solar cycles.

Shockwave's antlers twitch back and forth, "You did not wait for them?"

Oil Slick laughs, then leans over and kisses Shockwave again, "Why would I? I had been in their berth for just a short while, and after a decacycle it was clear I was not going to get back." He pulls Shockwave's claws away from his spark, "Besides," He lowers himself over the bot's spark, "if I /had/, do you think that I'd be interfacing you right now?" He rubs their sparks together, hissing happily with pleasure and making Shockwave's optic offline.

Shockwave's servo rests on his back, pulling him down harder against his spark.  "Such a tiny spark,” he says, almost to himself.  Considering his affection for minibots, Oil Slick supposes that /is/ the major attraction Shockwave feels for him.

He's reaching in to link another cable when Shockwave's door slides open with an angry hiss of air, and an all-too-familiar voice screeches, "There you are, Oil Slick!  How dare you run off without even saying hello.”

Shockwave onlines his optic and stares at Starscream, while still rubbing his spark against Oil Slick's.  "Did you just hack my door open?”

Starscream steps in, and closes the door behind him, working on the panel again, "Yes, and now I'm hacking it locked, so Megatron can't get in and steal Oil Slick and me away."

He pulls out another of Shockwave's cables, kissing it softly to make the larger bot focus back on him, "You know, Starscream, this is oddly familar." He pulls out one of his own cables, "You at the door, me interfacing on the berth." He connects the cables, and Shockwave fritzes under him. "Did you find another video of me?"

Starscream hits the door, and it beeps angrily, "/No/, you little glitch of a cyclebot. I missed you. ... Your spark. I missed your spark."

Oil Slick leans back down, and drags his spark against Shockwave's, making the other bot claw at the berth and let out a soft keening sound. "Just my spark, Starscream? If that's all, you may as well just leave."

Hissing, Starscream crosses his arms over his chest defensively. "Fragger.  Alright, fine, I missed /you/, you tiny little annoyance of a sciencebot.  I missed talking to you.”

Given a satisfactory answer, Oil Slick looks over at the Seeker. "How touching. Is your clone army not competent enough for scientific discussion?”

Starscream watches as he plays with Shockwave's spark, "Only one, and /she/ is so frustrating to deal with it isn't even worth it."

Oil Slick runs a servo over one of Shockwave's antlers again, smiling as the tankbot stops glaring at Starscream, "Femmes are always touchy."

"And they /all/ flounced their way right into Megatron's berth!” Starscream screeches, shuddering dramatically.  "And he expects us to interface /each other/! I don't even have a spark anymore, and he wants me to touch those inferior copies.”

He pauses in his touches.  "You have . . . no spark?”

Shockwave's optic widens, "You didn't know? Megatron offlined him for his /treachery/, but he had a piece of the allspark jammed in his head."

Putting a servo over where Shockwave's mouth would be, Oil Slick beacons Starscream closer, "Prove it."

"It is in his forehead," Shockwave continues, unmindful of Oil Slick's servo.

He glares down at the mech, "Do you /want/ me to remove the cables? I want to see this, and if you push me, I will /stop/."

The spy goes silent under him, optic narrowed.  Oil Slick pats one of his antlers as reward, and watches Starscream approach.

"Would you like to see my empty cockpit as well?” Starscream sneers, but it's empty bravado.

"Only if you want to show it off.” Oil Slick's optics dim, "Or to link cables later.”

Starscream kneels down, a little happier than before, and moves a panel on his forehead, revealing the sparkshard. "It is larger than the other seekers' shards, because they only got a tiny part of mine," the jet murmurs.

Reaching over, he brushes a claw against it, making his pleasure nodes light up almost violently, and Shockwave bucks under him. Blinking rapidly, still touching it, he gasps out, "By Primus! How... how can you..."

Starscream smirks, then ducks down, and rubs it directly against his spark. He and Shockwave twitch in pleasure, Shockwave dangerously close to overload. "It acts like a spark, little scientist. ... One that carries far more charge than you'd ever think."

"This is,” he pants, venting hot air, "an entirely unfair advantage on your part.”  He keens as Starscream rubs the shard against him, before shifting up to lick his spark, breaking the contact with the fragment.

"It is an earned advantage,” Starscream insists against his spark, turning to lick playfully at the cables.

One of Shockwave's claws comes up to rub the shard fragment, and all three of them shudder with pleasure.  Shockwave, having gone so long without a proper interface, overloads first, and the charge trips along the cables to Oil Slick, pulling him into overload as well.

Starscream smirks superiorly at them. "You enjoy the AllSpark shard?”

Tugging Starscream down, he kisses the mech lovingly, "I certainly do, and I think that you should be connected to me when Shockwave onlines."

The seeker makes a face, but opens his cockpit, "I don't know why you want to keep 'facing him. Not when /I/ am here."

Pulling out two of Starscream's cables, he disconnects one of the ones connecting him to Shockwave and connects those to the seeker as he talks, "He hasn't had anyone in /vorns/. Don't you think he deserves it?"

Starscream climbs into the berth, sticking out his glossa in disgust, "Pity? Really?"

Oil Slick reaches over, and pets the seeker's shard, "He's also brilliant, Starscream." He kisses the jetbot again, "Just like you."

"Mm, flattery,” he hums, and squeezes Oil Slick's aft. "I've developed less of a taste for that after having to deal with Sunstorm constantly.”  At Oil Slick's inquisitive look, he continues, "The orange Seeker.  He . . . flatters.  To the point of excess.”

Kissing Starscream again, Oil Slick shakes his head, "And here, I had thought a seeker could /never/ get enough of being told how wonderful," he bites the seeker's neck cabling, "beautiful," he kisses the mech like a lover just coming back, "fantastic," he kisses him again, reaching up to touch the shard, "and brilliant," his claw pets the shard softly, making electricity crackle through the cables, "he really is."

Starscream's happiness and pleasure comes thrumming through the cable link, and the larger bot shifts Oil Slick up again, rubbing the spark shard against his spark.  "A bot should always be rewarded for saying those things and /meaning/ them.”

Oil Slick's engine purrs happily, and he clings to Starscream for a moment, letting the pleasure flow through him before pulling away. "I'd hate for you to have it said to you and /not/ mean it." He kisses the seeker again, then, starts petting the mech's helmet vents. Turning over to Shockwave, he kisses the tankbot softly, "When did you online?"

Shockwave blinks at him, buzzed with the charge running between the three of them, "About the time you called me brilliant."

He dips his claws inside Starscream's helmet vents, "We are some of the most brilliant bots alive.  I hope to work with both of you after we conquer Cybertron.”  He nods at Starscream's wings, "You could pet those. I can't precisely reach from here.”

Shockwave does as asked, rubbing his claws delicately against the jet's wings, watching him shudder.

Shockwave murmurs, "You're even more beautiful when you're like this, Starscream."

The seeker's engines roar happily, "A bot could get /used/ to this kind of treatment."

Oil Slick gestures Shockwave closer, and starts to pet the larger mech's spark. He murmurs mockingly, voice tinged with amusement and fondness, "Did Megatron ignore you? Didn't want to touch you unless it was to show you off?"

"Megatron,” he hisses, "prefers to touch my clones, who are too /glitched/ to know better.”

"I disagree,” Shockwave says, pinching the sensor clusters at Starscream's wingtips.  "Our Lord has shown significant fondness for opening you during meetings and having you overload on his lap.  Even when your clones are with you.”

Starscream snarls angrily, "He likes that I have the sparkshard in my /forehead/, where he can force me to open without having to deal with the fact that most bots get /upset/ that you are making another expose themselves."

Oil Slick kisses Starscream into silence, not wanting to deal with more of a rant. "He only wants to show you off, and you hate that." His claws twitch in Shockwave's spark, making the tankbot offline his optic. "I know you want him to just admit you're a talented bot in your own right, and he only sees a pair of pretty wings. You've said, Starscream."

"It bears repeating,” his wings go rigid with pleasure.  "Fragging spybot.  When did you learn to play with a pair of wings like this?”

"That would be telling,” Shockwave's claws tease an aileron carefully.  "And so many stellar cycles among the Autobots have left me somewhat disinclined to gossip.”

Starscream mewls under him, and Oils Slick tugs Shockwave down to play with the mech's antlers, "You could tell us, though. We /are/ fellow Decepticons."

Shockwave's optic squints happily as the bot's engines rev loudly, "I think not."

His claws dance on a single antler, and he starts to rub Starscream's sparkshard again so the charge crackles happily through them, building up quickly, "I'd like to know, though."

"Perhaps not knowing will give you,” he pants, "a reason to visit my berth a second time.”  Shockwave scrapes a claw along Starscream's wing, and the Seeker shouts in overload, shard sending extremely strong shocks of energy through the cable links.

Oil Slick barely has time to brace himself before his own spark is surging with overload, and he can dimly hear Shockwave scratching the berth wildly.  AllSpark overloads were . . . amazing.

He pants on Starscream's chest, letting the Seeker hold and pet him. After a half a klik, Starscream sits up, and gently disconnects all of their cables, spooling them in safely. Giving the mech a slightly confused look, he closes his plates. He frowns as the bot shoves Shockwave to the floor, then smiles tiredly as Starscream kisses him softly, "I missed you, Oil Slick."

The larger mech cuddles him close, essentially curling up around him, and murmurs back, "I suppose I missed you as well, Starscream."

Oil Slick falls into recharge like that, tucked up against the other bot's frame.  It's comfortingly familiar, even after fifty stellar cycles without it.

–

In the common room, Oil Slick collects his ration of energon and begins to walk back to the table where Starscream and Shockwave are waiting for him.  A few tables away from them, he's scooped up by familiar arms.  "Oil Slick,” Strika carries him out of the room, ignoring the screeching protests of a Seeker, and the quieter protests of their intelligence commander.  "I have a proposition for you.  It involves my Lugnut.”

He raises an optic ridge and says softly, voice dripping with disbelief, "/Just/ Lugnut?"

She gives him a dirty look, "He vants to interface you. Preferably vith me, but that is not a requirement. He vill be very loving if you say yes, Oil Slick."

Lugnut wanted to interface with him?  When the slag had that happened?  Oil Slick shifts in her arms. "/Why/ does he want to interface me?”  He'd somehow gained an exceptional amount of appeal.  He suspects it is the virus he built.

"You should already know vhy,” Strika admonishes him, but her servo has shifted up to his chest, right over his sparkplates.  Not rubbing.  Yet.  "He has a little crush on you.”

He sighs and sips on his energon, "It was the video, wasn't it?"

She nods, tapping on his plates, "He vas quite enamoured of you in the little time I vas with him for it."

He leans against her chest plates, "I wouldn't say no to you being there with me, Strika." He knows, since she's his team leader, she could just /order/ him into Lugnut's berth, and is just being nice about it and giving him a choice, "I just prefer if you /don't/ tear off my or his plates as we do this."

She clucks her glossa in dismay, "But you both have such pretty sparks. Can you blame me for wanting these awful plates out of the way so I can admire them?”

"Yes, I can, when interfacing ends in the trip to the medic.”  He kisses her chest plates.  "You are both much stronger than I am, and I do not /want/ to claw up a teammate.”

She smirks, "I vill not let him offline on top of you, and I vill not do that myself, Oil Slick. Do not vorry." She opens the door to Lugnut's room, and walks in.

The lights are down low, bright enough to see, but dim enough to be welcoming and -Oil Slick smirks at the thought- seductive. Lugnut is sitting on the edge of the berth, servos tapping together nervously, before the mech stands up. Lugnut hurries over, giving Strika a loving kiss, then looks down at him, "You /want/ to be here?"

"I do.”  Oil Slick crawls from Strika's arms into Lugnut's, and the mech immediately flushes red. "Strika tells me that you want to interface.”

Lugnut stutters a bit, still flustered from having Oil Slick pressed against him, "Y-yes.  You were utterly /glorious/ in that video.”  He ducks his head down, "I still watch it sometimes.”

Letting his claws trace across the larger bot's chest, Oil Slick smiles at him, "After I create more of the virus, I can give you a live demonstration, if you like.”

Lugnut flushes even more, and Oil Slick licks the blush as the mech talks, "I-I'd like that."

Nuzzling against Lugnut, he opens his plates slowly, "Or where you talking about me overloading?" He runs his claw under the mech's chin teasingly, "Because we could get started on that right now. Have me lay across your lap as Strika tells you what to do? Play with my cables until I offline?" He moves slightly, whispering in Lugnut's audio seductively, but just loud enough Strika can hear, "Connect cables?"

"I want you to know how much I admire you,” Lugnut's servo rubs against his back hesitantly. "You will assure our victory against the Autobots.”  His pincer fingers wrap around Oil Slick's waist, and his faceplates flush again.  "And you are beautiful.”

Oil Slick almost laughs.  He is /not/ beautiful, not even for his model type.  "Does he say things like this to you, Strika?”

She steps forward, kissing Lugnut softly, "And he means every vord." He /does/ laugh at that, kissing Lugnut as Strika gently shepherds the bot to the berth.

"You flatter me, Lugnut, but I know I am not beautiful." He wraps his arms around the other mech's neck, nuzzling him, "Dangerous and small, yes. Pretty, no."

Lugnut opens his mouth to protest, but Strika shushes him, ordering the both of them. "Lay down, Lugnut.  And open your sparkplates.  I vant to see both of those pretty sparks shining for me.”

He almost laughs at how quickly Lugnut's plates snap open.  Strika has her mech very well trained.

Laying on top of the mech, he looks over at at Strika, who sits next to them. She pets him along the back as she strokes Lugnut's head. "Lick his spark, my Lugnut. You vanted to see him overload on top of you, and this vill be a good vay for it to happen."

Lugnut leans up, but stops short of his sparkchamber, "Are you alright with my doing this?”

Whining, Oil Slick grips the back of Lugnut's head to pull him closer, "Primus, why would I /not/ want you to /lick/ my spark?”  The larger mech flicks his glossa out, and Oil Slick's spark pulses with want against it.

Strika kisses Oil Slick softly on the temple, "He vanted to make sure you are doing this because you /vant/ to, not because I said you had to."

Oil Slick moans as Lugnut's glossa flicks around his spark, and his engine purrs in response, "I w-wouldn't have sa-said no to th-this."

"/I/ know that,” Strika tips Oil Slick's head up, kisses him, glossa delving into his mouth.  She breaks away with a small, satisfied sound.  "But my Lugnut is more stubborn about this.”  Oil Slick writhes when Lugnut's glossa shifts to play with his cable bay, and Strika chuckles.  "He is very talented, yes?  I vould have him do this all day if ve could get avay vith it.”

Petting Lugnut's head, he gasps happily, "I don't th-think Lo-lord Megatron wo-would let us."

She nods, "He vould more likely order you to /his/ berth."

Oil Slick trembles, electric charge crackling shard against Lugnut's glossa, "And then I would have a, a hard time making my way back to my lab.” He arches and cries out, overloading when Strika reaches down to play with his peds. The treads there have always been sensitive.

He clutches Lugnut as he rides out the aftershocks, and gets pulled down slowly into a kiss. Leaning against the mech's chest he pets the larger bot's spark as Strika murmurs, "Very good, Lugnut and Oil Slick." She leans down, "Now you play vith my Lugnut's spark, Oil Slick. To show how thankful you are."

He slides down, joints loose and liquid-like after his overload.  "Want me to lick it?” he asks Lugnut, dragging his glossa along the edge of his sparkchamber. "Or would you rather I use my claws?”  He smirks, "Since I'm small, I could do /both/.”

Lugnut's spark flares brilliantly with want, "Whatever you want to do.”

Nuzzling into the mech's spark, he flicks out his glossa and smiles at Lugnut's small gasp. Running one servo's claws along the spark chamber, he uses the other's claws directly on the spark. He licks between the spaces of his claws, rubbing gently, not wanting to accidently cut any wires apart.

Lugnut rests a servo on his back, holding him gently, "Oh, Oil Slick, you are /magnificent/ at this!”  Oil Slick is glad his glossa is occupied, or he would laugh at the praise the other bot is heaping on him.  "Your glossa is-”

The rest of his words are muffled by Strika's servo. "Do I need to get out the mouthclamp, Lugnut?”

He feels more than sees Lugnut shake his head. Strika moves away, and the larger mech says softly, "But he /is/ very good at this."

He sucks on Lugnut's spark, making the mech pant, while Strika's rolling optics are clear in her tone, "He has been vith a great deal of bots. Of /course/ he is."

"Am I not allowed to tell him how brilliant his glossa is, or how it makes my spark /ache/ with need?” Lugnut rocks up against him, spark crackling with energy.

"I am sure he does not vant to hear such praise. It vould please him better, I think, if you vere to overload for him,” Strika kisses her mech to silence any response he might try and make.

The cyclebot pulls one of Lugnut's cables free, and takes the tip between his denta, nipping at it carefully.  His claws dip into Lugnut's spark, working the pulsing energy to a frantic peak, until Lugnut shudders and moans into Strika's mouth, spark releasing its charge.

Kissing the spark, he pulls away slowly. Lugnut pulls him up and nuzzles into him when Strika lets the mech out of the kiss. They are both pulled into Strika's arms, and kissed softly on the head. "You are both so vonderful," she murmurs, "but now it is time for you to lick /my/ spark."

This his has more practice with—Strika's spark is just as he remembers it: hot and large and thrumming with charge.  They'd interfaced as a team, all five of them, but had ultimately decided that sort of connection wasn't meant for them.  Still, it had been fun.  "Only your spark, Strika?” he asks, glossa sliding wet and hot against her chest armor.  "What if I want to lick more than that?”

She flicks him gently in the head, "Do vhat I told you, Oil Slick. I expect Lugnut and your glossa to be touching as much as you can vhen you lick."

He's about to retort when Lugnut gently pushes his head against her spark, and the larger mech extends out his glossa, clearly expecting Oil Slick to join in. He vaguely considers refusing, if only to frustrate Strika, but knows how /disappointed/ Lugnut would be. He starts licking in time with the other bot, being sure to flick his glossa over to touch the mech's every so often.

Strika rests a servo on each of their heads, holding them close to her spark.  "Lugnut has better manners than you,” she scolds him, and pushes him back down when he tries to pull away to comment.  "No. No vords now.  You can talk /after/ you overload me.”

He starts to make a face, only to get shoved back against her spark. Sighing, he pushes his claws into her chamber, careful of her wires and Lugnut's glossa. He turns his head to kiss the other mech quickly, and returning to her spark.

A few kliks of licking, and Strika's spark is pulsing hard, close to overload.  Oil Slick's glossa is carrying a residual charge by this point, and each kiss he steals from Lugnut tingles with it.  He is almost certain that Strika will overload any second now, so he turns back to licking her spark, trying to get his licks timed with Lugnut's—not a particularly easy task, but one he manages well enough.  She overloads for them just as he predicted, optics offlining, engine roaring against his frame.

Pulling away, he licks his lips before pulling Lugnut into a demanding kiss. If he was larger, he'd push the mech on his back, but he is really far too small for it, and just clings to him tightly, claws inbetween the other bot's plates to keep him still. After a klik, he is pulled away by Strika's gentle fingers. "Very good, the both of you." She kisses Lugnut, then him, "You vill entertain each other as I go see vhy Starscream has stopped sending me text messages demanding Oil Slick back."

Strika approaches the door and it slides open to reveal Starscream hunched over a disassembled mess of wires on the outside.  She blinks at him, and he straightens, shoving the wires back into the door frame.

"Good. You saved me the trouble of hacking my way in.”  Starscream strides into the room, approaching the berth.  He sits down beside Lugnut and gives Oil Slick a stern look.  "You didn't even give me a goodbye kiss, Oil Slick.  I'm very disappointed in you.”

Oil Slick looks at Starscream, claws playing with Lugnut's spark, "And if I kiss you, does that means you will leave?"

Starscream reaches over, adding seeker claws to Oil Slick's on Lugnut, "Oh, Primus no. Don't talk stupid. It just means that I'll stay here with you." The seeker makes a face, "Even let Strika do with me what she was doing with you and Lugnut." He flashes her a smile that is all dente and sarcasam, "What a wonderful deal, three mechs in the berth that she can do whatever she wants to."

Strika taps a finger against her lips, before nodding, "I have always vondered vhat my Lugnut would look like, 'facing a Seeker.  You may stay.”  She joins them on the berth and Oil Slick vents a little sigh.

His spark is going to be so sore.  But it's worth it.

–

He's in the common room again the following solar cycle, hoping to get lab time.  If he'd stayed and taken his energon from Strika's dispenser, Oil Slick /knows/ he would have been pulled back into the berth.  He desperately needs to get work done.  So he's sitting with his energon cube off in one corner, trusting the group of larger mechs at the surrounding tables will hide him from any curious Seekers.  Or Megatron.

He's also scheduled to get a new vehicle mode at some point, and suspects that Starscream will be there waiting to accost him the moment he leaves with his shiny new form.

Sipping on his energon, he hears the distinctive sound of Seeker peds on the ground, and spots the bots fluttering around Megatron, while Starscream slouches in behind them. He taps his claws on the table, then disappears instantly into the ceiling when he sees Starscream perk up to look for him. He rubs his temples when he sees Megatron look around as well.

He makes his way across the ceilings to the lab he's been told is his. Landing lightly on the ground, he looks around to see who all is there. Raising an optic ridge, he walks over to one of his lab minions, "Autoclave."

The mech jumps straight into the air, "Sir!"

"Do I need to go back to calling you black and purple?" The mech shakes his head, "Good, then act like a bot that /earned/ the privilege of me calling him his name. Do we have all the equipment we need?"

"We do,” the bot gestures at the devices. "The last machine arrived just shortly before you did.  We could have been making the virus a few solar cycles ago, but,” he gives Oil Slick a significant look, "you were busy.”

"And why /didn't/ you start making it as soon as you could? I dont' need to be here to hold your servos like you're all sparklings."

Autoclave looks away nervously before returning to optic contact. "Lord Megatron said not to begin production until you had given the okay."

"Lord Megatron is not a scientist.”  Oil Slick shoves the bot towards the equipment. "Get started immediately, or I will be testing things on you again.”

Autoclave ducks away, to get the necessary supplies for the virus production.  Oil Slick eyes his other minionbots.  More than half are entirely unfamiliar.  They will be the first bots to explode.  Or melt themselves.

He glances through all the various projects up and running, throwing out all the ones he knows are flawed from the very begining. He's about part way through them all when one of the new bots grabs him by the wrist, just barely missing his two spikes. "That was my project, what the frag are you doing, you Autobot whor-"

Oil Slick smashes his ped in the minionbot's face, shutting the mech up handily. "I am your /boss/, you glitch, and you will treat me with respect." He jams his ped into the idiot's throat, "Autoclave, purple and red here just got demoted to labrat."

"Got it, boss,” Autoclave arranges the supplies on the table, sorting through them automatically.  "Hope you only have to test a few things before you offline,” he says conversationally to the other bot.  "Since you're not gonna earn your way out of labrat after that stunt you just pulled.”

Ignoring purple and red's stuttering, he goes through the rest of the projects. By the end of it, only a third are salvageable. "Autoclave, where is Thunderwing?"

"He has the solar cycle off. If you want me to, I'll tell him to get down here."

Shaking his head, he waves a servo neligently, "That's fine." Looking over the projects, he frowns at how /few/ there are. "I want all the bots that are working on these to come with me, the rest of you are helping Autoclave."

He steps to where he knows his office is; he has a lab to run, and only about ten competent scientists to do it. This is going to be a long solar cycle.

-

The alt form he's been given is . . . significantly different than his Cybertronian form.  He has a seat now, and his generic shoulder guard has been swapped out for the skull of some organic creature. There are handlebars he keeps trying to fold away, and his claws have been reshaped and segmented.  Perhaps the seat's placement is the most bizarre change; those cyclebots he's seen on this dirtball with seats all tend to have them located on their back.  Oil Slick's is on his peds.  And his treads have all been swapped out for wheels.  He likes the new paint job, though.  Very toxic.

His team is either going to laugh at him, or drag him off for another attempt at team bonding of the interfacing variety.

He's thankful that Starscream is being held firmly in Megatron's lap for this; from the way the seeker looks, it is clear that his team would have a hard time dragging him away /first/. He steps back and forth on his peds, the /toes/ he suddenly has feel odd, but not as much as the wheels. Moving slightly, he spins all four of them experimentally.

He's suddenly picked up, and and carried off. He's about to start cursing and breaking things when he sees /who/ picked him up. Looking up, he whispers softly, "Blitzwing?"

"I hope you are still interested in interfacing wiz me,” Icy says casually, making steady progress towards his quarters, "because I intend to tease zose wheels for megacycles,” he flips to random, and an obscenely long glossa licks across Oil Slick's sparkplates, "and zen I am going to lick your tiny little spark until you are so drained you cannot even move!”

Oil Slick's engine purrs happily, and he curls up against Blitzwing's chest, claw scratching lightly on the jet-tank's sparkplate seams, "Is this just going to be a one solar cycle thing?"

"Oh, not if I have anyzing to say about it,” Random cackles, tipping the smaller bot's face up for a kiss.  It takes a klik to get used to it—he has a very unusual glossa, but the servo squeezing his aft distracts him long enough to grow accustomed to it.  He only breaks the kiss when they reach his room, and Blitzwing nips on the tip of the horn on his shoulder.  Oil Slick absently wonders how long it will take Starscream to free himself and demand a place in /this/ as well.

He nuzzles into Blitzwing's chest plates, kissing them with far more glossa than needed. "I want to stay with you if you'll have me."

The mech flips to Icy, and pulls him into another kiss, this one with a far more standard glossa. "Zen, in my berz you will stay."

Oil Slick freezes, "If you mean that literally, I'm going to end up offlining you after awhile. I /need/ to work. I was getting close to murdering Megatron in his recharge by the point I got blown out of my lab."

Blitzwing brings the sciencebot's servo to his mouth, nibbling on the wheel, "Nein. I have work as well, and neizer of us would like being stuck waiting for ze ozer, ja?"

His claws twitch happily and he murmurs, "Yes." Blitzwing licks the wheel on his servo, moving to the flat of his claw, and Oil Slick laughs softly, "You like my wheels?"

"Very much,” the mech purrs, taking the opportunity to /spin/ the wheel he was playing with.  "Zey are gorgeous little zings, and you have /four/ of zem for me to play with.”  The triple-changer lays him on the berth.  "I know you enjoy being on ze top, but it is easier for me to play wiz your wheels like zis.” Blitzwing's servos slide down and spin his ped wheels.

Oil Slick gasps at the touch, almost yanking his ped away. "That's... very sensitive."

Icy runs a finger along his seat questioningly, and he twitches again, "Ze good or bad kind of sensitive, Oil Slick?" His engine revs as Blitzwing licks his toe, making the larger mech smile, "Zat answers zat question, zen."

It isn't entirely fair, seeing as his peds have always been sensitive, and are only /more/ so now that he's in his fresh new alt form.  Blitzwing's fingers tease the treads of his tires, slipping around to brush the textured metal on the sides of his peds.

His spark jumps in his chest, pulsing hotly, while his claws dig into the berth. He feels like he's falling while still solidly on the berth, "Blitzwing," he reaches over to the mech.

Icy smiles down at him, a tiny quirk of the lips, and take his servo, letting him wrap his claws around a sturdy finger as the mech plays with  his wheels. "Do you need somezing to ground yourself, Oil Slick?" it is said almost mockingly, but there is an undercurrent of affection.

"New alt is /sensitive/,” he hisses, and his spark feels like it is trying to leap out of his chest.  "I want to overload against your /spark/.”  Oil Slick tries to pull his ped away, but the triple-changer holds it more tightly, playing with the spiked clamps on the side.

"You can have zat later,” he hums, glossa flicking against his toe again, "I am not done wiz playing yet.”  Oil Slick whines, spark throbbing harder and harder, crackling with charge inside his closed sparkchamber.  If Blitzwing keeps this up, he's going to—he shudders, optics offlining claws scratching gouges into the berth.

Blitzwing stops and looks up at him. "Did you just overload?”

He blushes in embarassment, and he can't get the program doing it to /stop/. "... Maybe?"

Blitzwing gives him a studying look, "You /did/. How utterly-" the triple-changer's head spins, landing on Random, "wonderful! I am going to do zat /again/." The mech's glossa flicks out, wrapping around his ped.

Oil Slick trembles, and his engine sputters, spark starting to charge up again.  Considering Starscream's history of stalking him, Oil Slick wasn't surprised at all when Blitzwing's door slid open and the Seeker walked in.

"Why is your door harder to hack than Shockwave's?” he asks Blitzwing, who doesn't stop teasing Oil Slick's ped.

"I had reprogrammed it earlier," Random laughs gaily, and flips to Icy, "But do not expect me to be able to repeat it." A flip to Random, "Most of ze things I program," and to Hothead, "normally end up scrap!" And back to Icy, all while still playing with Oil Slick's ped. "But when it does work, it is very nice, ja?"

Starscream approaches slowly, sitting on the edge of the berth, taking Oil Slick's other ped in his servos.  "It was quite irritating.  Most of the code was utterly insane and redundant.  I'm not sure /how/ it actually functions, even after breaking it open.” He drags a claw along Oil Slick's tire tread, watching the cyclebot arch and writhe.  "What are /we/ doing to him?”

Blitzwing chuckles, licking a long stripe up his ped, nearly to his knee.  "He overloaded from just zis, before you arrived.  I want to make him do it again.”

Starscream's optics widen in amazement, "Did he /really/?" Blitzwing nods, nibbling on Oil Slick's toe, making him whimper and claw at the berth in want. The seeker's optics narrow, glancing back and forth suspisciously, and his voice lowers, "Megatron must never know of this. He'll just take Oil Slick away randomly to make him do this in meetings."

Oil Slick manages to force out, "J-just li-like you?" before his head hits the berth, unable to really concentrate as they play with his peds.

Hissing, Starscream nods. "Yes, just like /me/. Do you /want/ him to overload you in public whenever he pleases?” He leans down and licks Oil Slick's ped, nipping sharply at his tire.  "We keep this to ourselves.”

Oil Slick whines as Blitzwing matches Starscream's movements, "I have no problem keeping zis a secret from our lord.  So long as I-” he flips to Random and cackles, glossa teasing his toe, "get to do zis to him /a lot/.”

Starscream smirks, "Since he likes you so much, you will be." The seeker runs claws along his seat, playing with it lovingly, "How long have you liked him, Oil Slick? A trimara, you said?" Oil Slick whines as Blitzwing licks up his leg while Starscream talks.

The seeker pulls Blitzwing back, and yanks the triple-changer into a demanding kiss, making Oil Slick's spark heat up hotly. He starts to crack open his plates, only for the Jet-tank to put a servo on them to force them closed, "Nein. We do not want you playing wiz your spark when we want you to overload from zis."

"Fragging hard to keep them shut,” he complains, because they aren't meant to stay closed when a spark was as hot as his is.  His vocal unit shorts out with static when a claw dips into one of his exhaust pipes, finding a bit of delicate wiring inside to tug on.

"He does seem very close to overload,” Starscream murmurs, lifting the ped he's playing with to lick at the rim of the pipe, glossa flashing wet and lewd against his claws. When Blitzwing /bites/ the sharp jut of the seat on the back of his ped, Oil Slick's engine revs out of control, and his spark surges in another overload.

Starscream slides down next to him, tugging Blitzwing to the other side. The seeker kisses him softly, playing with his plates, "He always looks so nice when he overloads. Even more now that he has this vehicle mode." claws drag down to his waist, "Do you see this? You'd think he's a femme if his hips were wider."

Blitzwing's fingers join Starscream's claws, both of them fondling Oil Slick shamelessly, "It is very pretty, but I am more pleased zat he no longer has treads. I can not /stand/ treads on my lovers."

"Is that why you were always rejecting me?” he asks, vocal unit still not entirely functional again, keeping his voice very quiet.  Oil Slick wonders if they are trying to discover how many overloads he can withstand in a painfully short time period.

Blitzwing wraps his servo around Oil Slick's waist, "Ja.”  He turns to Starscream, "He /does/ have a lovely little waist.  Pity zat his hips do not complete ze illusion of a femme-frame.”

"I could widen them a bit,” Starscream murmurs, claws teasing at the joints where his hips connect. "He would look utterly gorgeous for us.”

Oil Slick mewls, "But then Megatron would /never/ let me out of his berth. Isn't that what you're trying to avoid?"

Starscream scrunches down, arm wrapped around him protectively, "You're right. Don't want /him/ taking you away from me."

Blitzwing pulls Starscream's servo into his own, and kisses both the seeker and cyclebot, "Us. From /us/. If you can not remember zat, Starscream, you will leave my berz."

The seeker waves a servo negligently, "Yes, yes, us. Of course.  Both of us.”  He strokes his claws down Oil Slick's waist.  "Still, I could modify you a /bit/.  Smooth these curves out.”  Apparently, Seekers spread their vanity onto their berth partners.  "It wouldn't interfere with your transformation.”

Oil Slick kisses Starscream lovingly and full of familiarity. "We'll see." He smiles softly, "I would have thought you'd point out my paint job. I'm no longer a boring black."

Starscream runs a claw along his face, "And it is green to match your optics. You /do/ look so much better now." Oil Slick tugs Blitzwing closer and into a kiss, making Starscream murmur unhappily, "And you're happier, too."

Oil Slick gives the seeker an irritated look, "I'm not forgetting you, you self absorbed slagger," and yanks him into another kiss.

When they separate, Starscream teases a head screw with a claw. "You would be perfect if you appreciated Seeker frames more than triple-changer.”  He gives Oil Slick a little smirk, "But I suppose we all have our flaws.  I'll be generous, and stay with the both of you, to help teach you.”  He leans in, murmurs in Oil Slick's audio, "And /I/ will still be interested in you if you choose to take your old form again.”

"And as you pointed out, I was interested in Blitzwing long before you ever were in /me/," Oil Slick whispers back, making Starscream scowl. "I will be keeping my wheels."

Blitzwing flips to Random and cackles, "You will be staying pretty for me?” He pulls Oil Slick close and rubs his sparkplates.  "Let me lick your spark.  It is so little and cute, and I want to see if it tastes as good as it looks.”

He opens them easily, and Starscream follows suit, his cockpit unfolding so the seeker can pull out cables. Starscream reaches over to connect up with Oil Slick, only to get slapped away like a bad pet by Blitzwing. The Seeker sits up, snarling, "What is that for?"

Blitzwing sits up as well, flipping to Icy, "/None/ of us are using cables unless we are tested for viruses first."

Starscream levels a dark look at him, "I wouldn't risk infecting Oil Slick with a virus.  More than that, do you think Megatron would risk infecting himself? I get scanned more than any bot on this base.” He pauses, then adds, "With the possible exception of Sunstorm.  He has been known for accidentally inciting orgies.  Megatron might require him to be scanned more often than me.”

Blitzwing stands up, "I stand by what I said." The triple-changer flips Oil Slick and Starscream closed before picking them both up; Starscream by the waist, and Oil Slick tucked in his arm. "We are going to ze medical bay. Oil Slick, call ze medic and tell him we are coming."

Oil Slick looks over at Starscream, who has lifted up his peds and arms so they don't drag on the ground, "I don't have his frequency."

Oil Slick shakes his head and enters the frequency, and a harassed voice answers him, "Yes? What the frag do you want? Is it an emergency?”

"Blitzwing, Starscream and I will be stopping by for a virus scan,” he informs the bot calmly.

"Oh, slag,” the bot moans, "fragging Starscream. I hate scanning him.”  He sighs audibly. "I'll be waiting.”

The bot hands up before he can reply, and he absently plays with Blitzwing's helmet. "Want to say /why/ the medic hates checking you, Starscream?"

The Seeker makes a face up at him, "Because Megatron is a fragger, and makes him yank out /every/ virus. Even the ones that are meant to trap bots trying to hack me."

Oil Slick shares a look with Blitzwing, before turning back to Starscream.  "That seems paranoid, even for a bot with a legitimate concern that you might try offlining him.”

Starscream taps his claws against his arm, "It's irritating.  And part of the reason it was so easy for the Autobots to steal part of my code when they had me captured.”

Oil Slick sighs, "Well, if you want, I can help you in-"

He stops talking at the sudden lack of movement from Blitzwing, and Megatron walking toward them. The triple changer puts Starscream down, letting the seeker stand gracefully. Starscream wraps his arms around Blitzwing, stepping behind the larger mech, and starts to play with Oil Slick's head screws. "Yes, my lord?" Starscream purrs sarcastically.

Megatron ignores him to focus on Blitzwing, "Ah, Blitzwing. I'm so glad you managed to find Starscream and returning him. We have important ... business, and he hadn't been answering my com calls."

The Seeker's claws slip up to play with Blitzwing's shoulder guards, "I'm afraid our business will have to wait, Megatron.  I am going to the medic.  For the scans you have ordered me to have twice a decacycle.”  He smiles and spreads his wings out, "Perhaps I will see you later?”  Starscream turns and kisses Blitzwing, glossa flicking into his mouth. When he looks back, Megatron is tense.

Starscream hangs off of Blitzwing's back, snickering meanly when they are out of hearing range. The triple-changer sighs, "If he punishes /me/ for zat, I will not be happy."

Starscream kisses the mech again, wrapping his legs around his waist, "He's more likely to blame me, since he'll just think that we're all getting scanned because I said that now." Leaning in close, Starscream smirks at the both of them, "And he's used to me running off to 'face pretty bots.  He hardly has room to complain when he's being entertained by my clones.”

Oil Slick arches up and kisses Starscream, "Still going to be doing that constantly, or have I occupied your attention for now?"

Starscream's engine purrs softly, "Well, if a pretty bot offers, I will not say no." He pauses, playing with Blitzwing's shoulder rivets, "But, yes, you do have me quite distracted. I'm unlikely to want to leave."

When they arrive at the medbay, the medic coughs loudly to interrupt their kissing.  "You three want scans.  Hop up on one of the medical berths, and stop touching each other.  And open an access port for me.”

Blitzwing puts Oil Slick on one of the berths, and sits beside him.  Starscream sits opposite of them.  While Blitzwing and Oil Slick both open panels on their arms, Starscream slides his cockpit open, and the medic attaches a datapad to him first.  Oil Slick gives Starscream an inquisitive look.  There was no need for a sparkchamber scan.

The Seeker shrugs back at him, "Easiest way to get as deep as Megatron requires with a medical pad.”

The medic growls, but it doesn't seem to be directed at anyone, "And you're clean. I'm a bit surprised you didn't even put back in the traps you're fond of."

Starscream's optics go dim, looking directly at Oil Slick, "I got distracted."

"I'm sure you did,” the medic taps a command in the pad.  "There.  Results sent to Megatron.  I'm sure he'll be as surprised as I am that you didn't come back with a positive for a dozen different viruses.”  He disconnects and goes to Blitzwing next.

Blitzwing flips to Random, and runs a servo along the Medic's arm, "You will not find anyzing wrong with me, will you?"

The medic gives the mech a very flat look, and looks through the pad. "Have you been trying to code while overcharged again?"

Random flickers his optics, "Would I do zat?"

"According to these results, yes,” the medic blinks at the datapad.  "I have no idea what you were attempting to do, but you're lucky I still have that medical lock on you to prevent you from altering your core programming, or I'm sure you'd have offlined yourself long before now.”  He taps a few more times, "There.  You're as fixed as you'll ever get.”

"Zank you, medic,” Blitzwing purrs, long glossa flicking out to lick the medic's helmet.  The medic slaps it away irritably.

The datapad is transfered over to Oil Slick, and the medic frowns at it, "You know, from the gossip I'm getting, I'd think you were so bogged down with viruses that you could barely think." The mech smiles, "It is nice to find out they're wrong."

Oil Slick snorts, "I haven't been 'facing my way through the ranks.”  Thinking back over the previous solar cycles, he amends, "No more so than any other Decepticon around here.” When the medic disconnects the pad, he adds, "I have excellent firewalls.  And virus detecting software.  With the chemicals and viruses I create, I would be an idiot not to.  An offlined idiot, at that.”

Snapping his access panel closed when the medic removes the pad, he rolls his optics as Starscream and Blitzwing both cuddle up to the medic. He does his own inspection of his code, as Starscream whispers loudly, "You know, medic. You just /proved/ how clean and responsible we are."

The medic ducks away from the both of them. "I wouldn't 'face the two of you if you were the last bots functioning.”  He waves a servo at them, "Go. Go and interface until your fans break.  But do it where I don't have to see it.”

Blitzwing scoops the medic up and kisses him, and the medic snarls into the kiss, thumping on Blitzwing's shoulder until the bot puts him down.  "Perhaps you will agree to zis anozer day, medic.”

The medic wipes his mouth, "You have ten times more glossa than you need.  I'd appreciate if you never tried shoving that in my mouth again. Or I'll do something horrific to your sparkplates the next time you come in for a routine tune-up.”

Oil Slick slips off the berth, and takes Starscream's servo in his own before doing the same with Blitzwing. "I would not like that to happen, so we'll make our leave." The larger mechs make kissy noises over their shoulder until they leave the medical bay.

He is swiftly scooped up into both of their arms, and given a kiss full of glossa by the seeker, and his servo wheel nibbled by the triple-changer. There's the distinctive sound of flipping, and Icy's cultured tones float into his audio, "I zink we should take ze less used hallways to my berth. So zat ... our Starscream does not get stolen from us too soon, ja?"

"Oh, yes,” Oil Slick says, scraping his claws along Starscream's chest.  "I can hardly wait to have my cables linked with both of you.”  He dips his claws into the chest vents, teasing them carefully. "You could even play with my peds again. It's only fair that you both /feel/ what you do to me.”

Pulling the both of their heads close, he kisses them, and when Starscream pulls away, the seeker murmurs, "It is... nice. To have two bots that want me enough to risk Megatron's wrath."

Blitzwing starts to walk, dragging Starscream with, "Who said anyzing about wanting you? You have not let me play with your landing gear, and you will be doing zat if you plan on staying with us for any length of time."

Starscream squawks out, "The Pit you will!" The seeker wraps his arms around Blitzwing's neck, forcing the other mech to carry him, "Those feel /terrible/ to get touched."

Oil Slick kisses Starscream, "Well, we'll just make sure, and be /careful/ about it. Maybe the problem was that Megatron was too rough."

The seeker looks back and forth between Blitzwing and Oil slick, finally muttering, "Fine, but only if you stop if I tell you to."

Blitzwing kisses Starscream, almost lovingly, "If it is zat important to you, zen we will."

---

Picture Perfect Partners is a very special company that Blitzwing has been stalking for several decavorns now, saving up the credits to buy one of their very special products. For a sum that would make a wealthy weaver blush, he is guaranteed his own special-order, custom product.

Blitzwing sends the credits over, and waits patiently for the company to contact him to discover what he wants his product to look like.

While he waits, he scrolls through images of the different options available to him. Picture Perfect prides themselves on making the 'most realistic partners' available on the market. All Blitzwing knows is that there's not a live bot capable of standing all three of his wildly different personalities, and one of the dolls that the company makes is his only true hope for companionship.

And his best bet at getting the perfect partner.

There's a ping back to him, and he smiles brightly when he finds out it is a com frequency. One for the console. He inputs it, and the bot there smiles at him, "Hello! I'm here to help you decide on the Picture Perfect Partner," Blitzwing can almost /hear// the trademark as the mech says it, "And draw it to your exact specifications while we talk!"

The bot is very cheerful. He flips to his Icy personality, not as enamoured due to the bot's false cheer. "I have ze datapad wiz ze pictures in it..." He's a bit confused by this, not expecting it. He thought he'd get a form or something.

The mech grins, "That's fine! We use that to work off of, and go from there! You wanted the one /just for you//! That means an actual person that knows what they're doing! We want you to be happy with your Picture Perfect Partner!"

That means they are very happy with the amount of credits he sent over, a ten-percent increase over the absolute top rate they list on their information site, because Blitzwing wants everything to be the absolute best it can be. "I want very specific zings." He pulls up a sketch he'd done of the basic figure he wanted his bot to have. "I see ze listings on your site for ze smallest waist size. I want it smaller zan zat."

The bot's smile turns even faker somehow. "It may snap in half if you aren't careful! We have it so that the smallest one we have is the one that won't snap and-"

He points at the sketch, "Like /zat//. I want it like zat."

The bot's smile slips for an astrosecond, and then, "We will be reinforcing it just for you." At least the mech is no longer sounding like he's been stuffed full of anti-depressant coding. "I see you want a cyclebot. Would you like to have /four// wheels instead of the two you have there? We could do in the peds and servos."

That sounds utterly delicious. "Yes. Ped and servo wheels. Boz. And I want him to have claws. Sharp claws, cut like zis." Another picture. "And toe pipes and a head jar." He's planned his bot out thoroughly, and has rubbed his spark to the imagined bot thousands of times now.

The bot's smile twitches, "Are you sure, sir? Here, let me sketch up what you're suggesting, so you can see if you like the way the /very nice// individual parts all come together."

He can tell the bot doesn't think what he wants is good, but he knows it will be beautiful. "I'm certain." He watches the mech sketch it out, and he frowns, "You made his head dome wrong. You must make it longer, He is not some silly minibot. He is a cyclebot. Like a... like a scientist. He would have it so zat it can withstand anyzing. Solid and pretty."

The mech does as he bids, "Like this, sir?"

It is even lovelier than he thought it would be. He touches the screen, "Yes. Like zat." It is lovely. Perfect. The doll isn't done, but it is shaping up nicely so far. "I want cuffs built into ze frame."

"Ah. You want one of our bondage models, then? We have several special mods that you might be interested in adding. With ped and servo wheels, we can wind chains into the wheelwells, and have them built right into his frame. We can also install locks for his sparkchamber, to keep his plates clamped open for your pleasure." The bot seems more sure of himself now.

Blitzwing likes those ideas a lot. "Ja. I want zose." He pauses, "And zose locks will work to keep zem /closed// except for me if I want zem like zat?"

The mech smiles widely, "Yes, of course. We can do that easily."

He smiles, "I want a gascap on his back." He shows another picture, "To just zese dimensions." The perfect place for letting his Random personality's glossa slide in to lick to his spark's content.

"Of course. And what other decorations do you want for him? Your Perfect Partner should have a personality as unique as any bot's."

Blitzwing thinks, and then nods to himself, "I want him to have handlebars on his shoulders, and on one of zem, a decoration. An organic skull, with curly horns."

The bot pauses, and then draws one on the diagram. "And his paint colors? Something bright and cheerful, to contrast with the-"

"Muted olives and toxic greens and blacks. And a bit of lime." Blitzwing licks his lips. "I want him to look dangerous."

The bot freezes, trying to process what he said. It takes a moment, but the mech is back to cheerful, "Yes, of course!" The bot shows the picture, "What do you think?"

He studies it, humming softly, "I want to have nice mesh netting on his arms and legs." He does a quick drawing, illistrating what he means, "See?"

The bot does corrections, cleaning up his messy sketch. "How is this?"

He nods, "Ja, much better zere." The bot looks lovely. Just... not quite finished. "More spikes."

The bot draws quickly, putting it up, "Normally bots only want one, but we-"

"/Nein//! Not an interfacing mod! I do not /want// zat! Just a spark. He would break if I gave him a valve! Nein!" He scowls at the mech, and the interfacing mod is quickly removed. "I mean /spikes//." He points at his shoulders, where his spikes are, sharp and pointy. "If I wanted an interfacing mod, zat would have been ze first zing I said! I will /not// be having one!" He has no interest, not when he wants the intimacy of sparks. Just sparks.

"Then you'll be interested in our most advanced model of spark?" The bot adds the spikes to the cyclebot's frame. "If you're not going to install a valve, I can make his waist a bit narrower."

Yes, yes, he wants it as small and dainty as possible. "Do zat. I have no spike, and no interest in getting one. I want my mech to be perfect for me." Fragile, but dangerous.

The mech nods, and does the adjustments, "How does this look?"

He grins, flipping to Random out of delight, "Ja! He is perfect!"

The bot smiles more genuiney, "Now the face." The bot pulls up a blank face, and starts drawing basic things on it, "Would you like special colored optics? The rainbow spiral is very popular right now."

"Green," he decides, thinking of beautiful green optics staring at him while they interface together. Neutral enough that Megatron won't make him recolor them. "And I want headscrews, zat I can untwist and retwist, to drive him mad with desire."

The bot nods, as though talking about a doll this way is completely normal. To the worker, it must be. "Any spikes?"

He shakes his head, "Nein. Not zere." He thinks about it, and says, "I want ze helmet to not be a /helmet//. More of a hood. Flexible." He does a quick drawing of it, showing it off. "See? Like zat."

"It covers the neck cabling, is that what you want?"

He nods, "Ja. I do." He smiles, "Removable, of course."

"Yes. You are going to have a," the bot seems to search for a polite words, "unique Perfect Partner."

Another nod. "Ja." He studies the drawing the bot shows him. "You need to make his hips a bit wider. And his claws longer." A sigh of satisfaction when he sees the finished product. "Oh, ja. That is /perfect//."

The mech returns to the face, "Now, the nose is-"

He flips back to Icy, "Not big enough." He wants to show how /Decepticon// his newest mech is. Not just a pure berthtoy. Megatron will be disappointed in him if his mech isn't. He /is// the main tactician general in the army. He must show his support in many ways.

"Big . . enough?" The bot sighs, "Yes. We can make it bigger. Are you going off of a real mech's faceplates as a template?"

"Nein." He watches the worker increase the nose size. "Zere. Zat is lovely. He looks very distinguished now. Lord Megatron will like to see him around."

The bot gives him a shocked look. "You'll be . . . letting Megatron see your Perfect Partner?"

He nods, changing to Random, "Ja! Lord Megatron is ze one zat told me to go zrough wiz buying from you! He got tired of me not able to keep a partner for very long!" He grins happily, "And now, meine mech is /just right//!"

The bot looks pained for a moment, but nods, "Yes, of course."

He touches the screen with longing. "How long will it take to get him to me?"

The bot smiles again, a little wider, "Since you've ordered a fully custom model, it will take up to one stellar cycle to complete the work. We'll send you progress shots, so you can ask for any alterations while we work on him, when it's easiest to change something."

He nods, "Ja, zat makes sense." He grins, "Is zat all, zen?"

The bot nods, "Yes. We will com you on the next step we need, and customise it even further. For now, this is all. You have a good sol, sir."

He nods, "You, too!"

He turns off the com, and grins in excitement. He needs to tell Megatron right away!

--

The company checks with him over a dozen times while they work on the bot, but this is the most important call of all. The last one. "You've paid for a model NX3 spark," the construction bot informs him, holding it in his servos. It looks just like a real spark, pulsing soft and blue. "We'll be installing it this sol. I just wanted you to examine it on the com to see that there are no manufacturing defects on any side."

It gets spun around slowly, and he stares at it intently. He can't see any problems. "Does it come out?"

The mech smiles, "If you want it to come out, it will. We encourage you choose that option. It makes cleaning much easier. You could just take it to the washrack, but it is simple enough to take it out and clean. And, if you accidentally damage it, you can replace the spark easily enough. Otherwise, you need to send your doll back here for us to repair."

He never wants to send his doll back! "Make it removable, zen. I will not be sending him back for repairs. I will be a good lover wiz him." No damaging his perfect lover. "I want to register his name now. I have zought of one for him. Oil Zlick."

"Oil Zlick?" the bot hums in question.

He scowls. "Neine. Wiz an 'S'."

The bot spells it out, putting it up on the screen, "Oil Slick?"

He nods, "Ja! He is meine Oil Zlick, und I love him."

The bot just nods at him, "Sounds wonderful. I'll make sure that it is registered. The spark will be removable as well. Now, do you like the one we chose out for you? You specified you wanted a normal looking spark, no colored ones."

"Ja. I want him to be normal. He is meine mech. Not a toy." Blitzwing smiles happily, his Random glossa flicking out. "Meine beautiful bot!"

The construction bot stares at his glossa for a while. "I see why you had us install a gas cap on his back."

He nods, "Ja. I will be licking him a lot!"

The bot holds up the spark, changing the subject back, "But do you want this?"

He looks it over, "... Ja, it looks okay." He guesses? He can't see anything wrong with it that he can tell.

"We have it fully insured. If you /do// happen to find damage, you can exchange it for a new one." The bot gives him a sly look, "For a small extra fee, we can put a layer of weaver film over the spark, to simulate a first time for your mech."

He shudders, "Ja. Do zat."

The bot smiles, making a note, "We can also give you a few replacement sheets along with it. If you want."

He's about to reject it, but, "Give? Are zey free?"

The bot nods, "Yes, since you ordered the film on top. It comes with more. Some bots doesn't want that, though."

He will just make it into a game of sparkfilm taking later. Like how all lovers do when they want to. "Ja. I'll take zem."

He giggles with glee, and turns off the com then, laying on his berth to rub at his sparkplates. His bot is going to be /perfect//. No one else will have such a perfect bot with them, ever.

--

Normally, visiting Lord Megatron when he is in his throne room is a boring or very plain task. Lord Megatron is pleased with him right now, for having destroyed an Autobot encampment on a planet that they just claimed, but that means little. Lord Megatron's affections move quickly from bot to bot.

He is normally very favored, just as a general rule, but he is not stupid enough to think that he will be /as// favored as he is this sol, next sol. It is just the way things go.

He wishes Lugnut and Shockwave understood that. Getting Megatron's attention and like is never something that will happen for extended periods of time. Starscream knows that, and resents it a great deal. Especially since Megatron's attentions stem to the berthroom for seekers, and then pushing them away when he gets bored.

Blitzwing thinks this is a rather foolish tendency for his Lord. If he could just commit to Starscream, the seeker would be far more obedient. There would be less talk of mutiny, and more of laying eggs and picking a nesting site. Seekers in love were ruthless and loyal.

Seekers in love with a bot that did not love them back were. . . well, Starscream-like.

Megatron tugs on his wings, pinching the tip of it absently, "A package came for you, Blitzwing."

He looks at Megatron, "A package, my lord?"

The mech rubs his wing, fondling it, "Yes. It seems Shockwave thinks it is suspicious, but I'm fairly sure it is something you've been looking forward to. However, since Shockwave /is// worried about it, I expect you to open it here. And use it in front of me to demonstrate just how safe it is."

His spark pulses with joy. Is it . . can he really hope that his bot has shown up already?

His Perfect Partner?

Blitzwing leaps over to the package, cackling with glee as he shreds the delicate paper outsides, and opens the crate. It's shaped like a stasis pod inside, but it's only for looks, because the bot inside is his Perfect Partner. He carefully pulls Oil Slick free from his packaging, letting the wonderful weight of him rest against his chest. His sweet Oil Slick.

He cuddles Oil Slick happily, while he lays limp in his arms. Megatron smiles at him, looking amused, "Well? Aren't you going to show me how safe... Oil Slick is?" He had been telling Megatron about Oil Slick whenever prompted, and he's so glad he did. His lord is calling his Perfect Partner by his /name//, and not insulting his Oil Slick.

"Yes, my lord!" He exclaims happily, clearing a spot on the floor like how anyone does when claiming their new lover in front of Megatron.

Only, his lover is not some squirming Autobot captive, or a little Decepticon housemech, but a dangerous, toxic-looking cyclebot. A bot that could probably rip half the mechs in this room in half if he tried. If he was alive, of course.

He traces a finger down his bot's plates coyly, wanting him to open on his own. Oil Slick's plates slide open shyly, the doll clearly reluctant to be claimed so publicly so soon. He loves the sparkfilm, and Megatron speaks up, "I can see no one else has dared touch him before this, Blitzwing. How lucky."

He grins at his leader, "Yes, my lord." He's so happy that Megatron approves.

He runs his servos along Oil Slick's frame, glossa flicking out to taste and see. His Oil Slick is a neutral flavor, and he will need to take care to apply polish that he'll delight in licking off. He's bought many polishes, so Oil Slick can find one that is the best for him. Nothing but the best for Oil Slick.

"He's fragging a doll," Starscream says, his voice bored as he lounges in a chair beside Megatron's throne. A seat normally occupied by a Lady or Queen, which Megatron has no interest in obtaining. "Do we have to watch?"

Megatron waves the seeker off, "This is Blitzwing's sol. If you're so opposed, you may leave."

The seeker huffs, "He shouldn't be fragging it in /here//, anyway. It is a doll, and shouldn't be-"

Blitzwing bristles, "He is meine Oil Zlick, und-"

Megatron holds up a servo, "Everyone I favor claims their chosen partner in front of me first. Even more so if said partner is... untouched. Blitzwing's chosen is no different."

Blitzwing pulls Oil Slick close to him, stroking the bot's frame to soothe him. Just in case he can get upset.

"I understand humoring him in some things, Megatron, but this goes too far." Starscream's wings raise up in a show of dominance. "You encourage his madness. I thought you were encouraging us all to spark to build up your ranks. How does this work to that goal?"

Megatron raises an optic ridge, "/You// have not sparked yet. Neither have any of my other favored generals. Not even Lugnut and Strika. How is this any different? You may protest when you have eggs in your chamber, seeker."

Starscream's wings go even higher, and Blitzwing keeps Oil Slick well protected in case the mech decides to do something like attack his Perfect Partner.

"There is only one bot that I would allow to sire eggs on me, and he is not potent enough to give them to me," the seeker hisses at Megatron, giving him a significant look.

He ends up sprawled across Megatron's lap, the bot gripping Starscream's wings tightly enough to dent them. "Cease your mutinous talk, seeker, or I will find something to occupy your mouth with."

Blitzwing sets Oil Slick back on the floor, taking care not to damage him, "Should I continue, my lord?" He's a bit worried about it, since if he's told not to, he knows Megatron will demand he not touch Oil Slick until tomorrow. And he wants Oil Slick so very badly.

Megatron nods, "Yes. Go on. Take Oil Slick's sparkfilm."

He smiles, spreading Oil Slick out lovingly, climbing on top of him, "Yes, my lord."

Oil Slick's spark glows prettily under the film, and Blitzwing lowers himself onto it. The sparkfilm sizzles pleasurably against his spark, and he cries out, clutching his Perfect Partner to him. The spark pulses hotter, and swells as he grinds down on it, the best model of false-spark available, reacting just the way a real spark does to pleasure. He can even give Oil Slick overloads without spark contact if he wants!

He pants in pleasure, rubbing his spark down harder, and Megatron hums appreciatively from his throne, "Does he warm to you, Blitzwing?"

He nods, "Th-the spark is... the best available, my lord."

He glances over as Megatron squeezes Starscream's wings, "Very good. Keep going."

He wonders if Megatron wants to try Oil Slick sometime. He would be upset, but honored if his liege wanted a go with his bot. Oil Slick is /his//, but it's natural that other bots will realize what a hotaft his mech is. He groans, and shoves down harder, claiming the bot with paint scuffs and dents.

Starscream hisses and squirms, "Disgusting."

Megatron stuffs large fingers in the seeker's mouth, "You'll be /silent// for this. Do you want something larger in your mouth to make /sure// you stay quiet?"

Starscream struggles, but shakes his head. The seeker doesn't want to help Megatron get off on watching Blitzwing pleasure his Oil Slick, it seems.

His loss.

Blitzwing offlines his optics to enjoy the heat of Oil Slick's spark, and then shudders in overload, charge pulsing through him. His mech overloads too, with a tiny gasping vent and a reflexive movement, chest pushing up.

Such a wonderfully expensive model.

Megatron nods, "Very good, Blitzwing. You may take Oil Slick to your room, and spend more time... getting acquainted."

He grins, closing up, "Yes, my lord."

He picks up Oil Slick, and Megatron holds up a servo, beckoning him over. He does so reluctantly, but not with any visible hesitance in his step. His leader touches Oil Slick absently, and then takes the cyclebot's servo, moving to the wrist and snapping out the cuffs into full visibility. "Ah. I thought so. You're really going to enjoy him."

"Oh, ja, my Lord. He will be ze most wonderful mech for me. He is lovely, ja?"

Megatron gives him a strange smile. "Oh, very lovely. Don't you agree, Starscream? I think you should kiss our newest Decepticon hello." Then he dims his optics, "Would you like me to brand him, Blitzwing?"

He holds Oil Slick against his chest, flipping from Random to Icy, and saying softly, "He has green optics, my lord." He cannot protest if Megatron insists, and he knows it. He just hopes his leader doesn't insist.

Megatron pushes Starscream closer to Oil Slick, forcing the seeker's dermal plating to pucker into a kissing mouth. "Well, we can see how loyal of a Decepticon he is later, Blitzwing. Since he's staying in your room, there won't be any problem. Kiss him, Starscream."

The seeker hisses, and leans in for a quick peck of a kiss, barely enough to sate his wild Oil Slick. "Nein. You must use your glossa if you are going to kiss him," he insists. He won't let the seeker humiliate his new love.

"He's a /doll//," the seeker hisses louder, and groans when Megatron squeezes his wings and pushes him forward. "Fine, fine! I'll do it."

The seeker's engine growls angrily, but he kisses Oil Slick with his glossa. The seeker is lewd about it, but he can tell that Oil Slick likes it. His mech is very wonderful. Megatron slaps Starscream's aft sharply, making the seeker yelp and pull away. "Very good, my scientist." The mech kisses Starscream possessively. "You may leave, Blitzwing."

"Ja," he murmurs, taking Oil Slick with him. His mech is so limp and tired after his overload, slumped against his chest, in desperate need of recharge. "We will let you get some rest, meine love. You will need your energy for ze coming sols. I will introduce you around ze base. I zink you might like spending some time wiz Dreadwing. He is Scalpel's mech. You would like to play togezer, I zink."

His mech is in recharge, unable to respond. That is just fine.

He stays silent, and goes to recharge with his new lover in his berthroom.

--

Blitzwing smiles at Straxus, and says, "So... how are zings for you wiz team Chaar?"

The mech looks at Oil Slick with distaste, "It is fine." The mech looks away, "Did you need to bring that... thing to-"

Strika smacks the mech in the head, "You vill be polite. Megatron himself approves of Oil Slick. Blitzving brought him out so zat ve can see. You vill not act like this." She smiles at him and offers him a cube of energon, "Vould you like some? Meine Lugnut made it himself. He is getting very cosy in our home, but it is hard to get him to spark. It is very sad. Ve are trying hard, but no results yet."

He takes the cube and sips, and then pours a bit into Oil Slick's mouth. The doll has a tank that he can empty later, though it serves his purposes fine to use the energon to help power his delicious false spark. "Zank you."

She smiles at him, "How are you getting along vith Oil Slick?"

He cuddles his doll happily, "Very well. He is happy wiz me." They are very happy together. He loves how Oil Slick shudders in overload with him, or when he plays with the spark.

She nods, "That is very good, Blitzving. Ve have a new member in the team. Did you meet Cyclonus yet?"

"Ja. He is strange. He keeps looking at Megatron when he zinks Megatron is not watching him." Blitzwing is rather bothered by it. No bot should look so blank when staring at their liege. Adoration or respect, and sometimes jealousy or contempt. Not the strange blank fixation that Cyclonus has.

"Ah," Strika sips from her cube, and gestures at the strange bot, who is sitting in the corner, staring at the wall. "Ja, but he is very good at fighting."

He shrugs, "Would he be willing to show me?" He hasn't seen the mech fight.

She shakes her head, "He is too distracted now. He may not look it, but he is absorbed in the vall, so he vill not be doing much unless ve drag him out. Then he gets vorked up. It is barely vorth it, ja?"

He nods, "Ja." Blitzwing frowns at his mech. "Oil Zlick, you must take more fuel. Do not be so stubborn." He pours more into the bot's mouth, and a bit dribbles out. He wipes it away with a finger. "Messy fueler."

Strika coughs, and Blitzwing knows she's not entirely comfortable with his doll. "Perhaps you should fuel him in private?"

"Nein. He must learn to fuel properly, wizout making such a mess."

She pauses, and then nods, "Still, if he vill be spilling. Maybe a napkin?" She holds one out, and he takes it easily. As he tucks it under his Oil Slick's chin, she says, "I vas informed zat you vanted to speak to Scalpel about a photoshoot vith Dreadving and Oil Slick."

He smiles, nodding, "Ja. Zey vill be so pretty togezer. And a nice contrast, as well. Oil Slick is very much a pretty Decepticon, while Dreadwing is just pretty in a classical way."

"Ja, I suppose so." She sighs. "You must share the images vith me, yes? I vant to see."

He will share the images with her and with Megatron. "Of course. I want to put him in some of ze dresses zat I made. A naughty one, which shows off his pretty spark under it. I zink I might ask if Dreadwing will play wiz him a little."

She nods, "If Scalpel tells him to."

He nods, "Ja, ja." Scalpel may refuse entirely, or have Dreadwing interface Oil Slick. He doesn't know how he feels about that just yet. But if Scalpel does want to have the mech interface his cyclebot, he will be recording the entirety of it.

Oil Slick lays back against him, and he strokes his mech, soothing him. He knows Oil Slick doesn't want to go be with another bot, but it's for his pleasure, so his bot will do it. Oil Slick is a good mech that way.

Strika pushes a tray of energon crumbles over. "You should take these. Lugnut made far too many for us."

He takes it delicately, placing it in his subspace, "Zank you, Strika."

She pats his side, "You should go visit Scalpel. He vill vant to see Oil Slick. He only heard about him, ja? You asked him, und he vas confused?"

He nods, "Ja. He was unsure, but when he heard zat Megatron approved, he was much more willing."

"Go, then. Take the treats. He vill like them." She pats his helm. "Have fun. Be careful not to touch Dreadving yourself, of course. Scalpel is very possessive of his modded mech."

He's not a glitch. "I know." He lifts his delicate Oil Slick and carries him out into the hall, walking towards Scalpel's labs, an area not frequented by willing bots very often.

When he gets there, Scalpel hears his walking, and says angrily, "Vhat is it? You vill /leave//! I vill have no visitors zis sol! None! None! I vill not-" The mech sees him, and tilts his head, "Blitzving? Who is zis in your arms?"

He smiles, moving to the counter where the weaver is, "Zis is meine Oil Zlick."

He lays Oil Slick carefully on the table, beside the half-dismantled bot that Scalpel is dissecting. The bot on the table groans. Blitzwing tips his helm to one side, not sure how the mech can still be online.

"You did not tell me you would be working zis sol." He pats Oil Slick's frame. "I zought you might want to see meine lovely mech before I brought him over to play wiz Dreadwing."

The mech hums softly, hitting a button, and the dissected bot goes into a drawer, sliding away. "Put him on ze counter. I do vant to see him."

He sets down Oil Slick carefully, and rubs his servos over his mech. "He is very sturdy, but I am still not wanting him to be damaged."

Scalpel skitters around Oil Slick, tilting his head thoughtfully. "If he is damaged for any reason, I can fix him."

"Or you will pay to have him fixed, if you cannot." Blitzwing won't tolerate his precious mech being damaged. "Isn't he lovely? So dangerous looking, but as sweet-sparked and gentle as a trained fiber-rabbit."

Scalpel pokes the mech and skitters in a circle around his frame. "I vill fix him so you do not have to send him in for repairs."

He blinks at the mech, "Really?"

"As long as I get to play viz him as vell. I like him. He is pretty." The mech runs his servos over Oil Slick's tiny waist, "Very pretty." The bot clicks his mandibles together, "I vant him to pose viz meine Dreadving right now."

He blinks, not expecting that. "I do not have ze dresses zat I made for it."

"Zat is fine. Dreadving has many pretty zings. His vaist is nearly as narrow as your Oil Slick's. It is one of meine masterpieces, ja? To have him be so narrow zere vhen he started out as such a big mech." The weaver makes gestures with his servos. "I like how he looks now much better. Very pretty. Your Oil Zlick vill fit in some of his cloze."

"I have ozers zat I vanted him in."

"You vill try ze clozing /here// first," the mech insists, a slight edge to his voice.

He knows that means if he refuses, the mech will deny him anything at all for decavorns. "I can do zat." He supposes. It won't hurt him to try.

He picks up Oil Slick, and Scalpel climbs on his mech's lap. "Ja, ja. It vill be lovely."

The weaver pokes at a panel on the wall, and it slides back to reveal the entrance to Scalpel's hidden rooms, where few bots are ever invited. A beautiful bot comes out from behind a curtain. "My Scalpel? You are back early this sol."

The bot looks like a dozen model types mixed together, and none of them at the same time. It's clear that the mech transforms into some mess of parts, not useful for anything. Other than beauty in bot form.

He walks in, and Scalpel says, "Ja, ja. You vill be meeting Blitzving's berzbot. You und him vill be doing ze photoshoot, remember?"

The mech looks at him with that pretty multicolored optic, "You said it would be next sol."

"I changed it, you vill be doing zis now."

The mech practically glides over, and looks at Oil Slick. "As you wish, Scalpel." The mech touches Oil Slick cautiously, "He is not venting." The bot gives him a strange look, "Is he offlined?"

"Nein." Blitzwing pushes Oil Slick into Dreadwing's arms. "He is zis way always. He vents a little when he overloads, but zat is all." Dreadwing studies him, claws gently tracing over his frame.

"He is lovely. How long did his modifications take?" The bot turns Oil Slick a bit, to look at his gascap.

"He is a doll," Scalpel informs him. "Not a bot."

The pretty bot blinks, looking Oil Slick over, "He's lovely."

Blitzwing smiles, "Ja. He is perfect."

Dreadwing nods, "Where will we have the pictures taken?" The bot looks faintly hopeful, "The common room?"

Scalpel shakes his head, "Nein. I vill not have anyvone zat can not behave zemselves touch you. Und zey /vill// try to touch you."

"Yes, Scalpel," the bot says softly, as if used to being denied that. "Lord Megatron contacted me last sol. He wants to visit us for evening fuel next decacycle. Or have us go to his quarters."

Scalpel huffs and spins in a circle, "Nein! You should not be answering ze com!" the bot goes over and pinches at Dreadwing's frame. "You vill not answer it again!"

"Yes, Scalpel," the bot agrees peacefully. "It answered automatically. His calls do that."

"Zen you vill not go /near// ze com! You pretend zat you are not zere! You know zis!"

"I was watching the shows on the com when it happened." The mech looks down, "I am sorry. Next time, I will just read the datapads."

Scalpel doesn't look convinced, but Blitzwing talks before the weaver can chastise the mech more, "Where will we be taking ze pictures? I zink Megatron would like it if we asked him if he wanted it in his room, so zat you could have zat as a way not to go tomorrow."

Scalpel pouts. "Neine. I want ze pictures here. I have a special room set up for Dreadving to play in, und he vill be cute viz your mech zere. Take him to ze playroom, my bot."

Dreadwing nods, and picks Oil Slick up, heading back gracefully, hips swaying. He is a very shapely mech, made that way through many decavorns of modifications.

He follows along, and Scalpel nods approvingly at Dreadwing. "Ja, ja. You are doing very vell. Set him down."

Blitzwing watches worriedly as Dreadwing places Oil Slick on a chair before sitting himself. The mech looks at them carefully. "Should I pour the energon, Scalpel?"

"Nein. You must get dressed for ze party first," Scalpel informs him, almost kindly. "Und put your friend in somezing nice too. Good bots share zeir clozing wiz ozer good bots. Put on your best party finery."

Dreadwing goes over to a cabinet and pulls out deliciously frilly garments and puts them on, and brings out another set to dress Oil Slick in.

He watches happily as the mech delicately dresses Oil Slick, recording the entire time. He loves it, and hopes that the mech plays with Oil Slick's spark.

When the bot is done, Oil Slick is practically swimming in the dress, but it gets pinned up so it is even more ruffled and poofy than before. It looks beautiful. Blitzwing sighs happily, "Shall we start?"

"Yes." Scalpel takes a seat. "You vill pour for us, meine Dreadving, und serve ze energon crumpets zat you baked." The look he gives the mech says that the bot had better have made them far in advance.

Dreadwing doesn't seem bothered, and goes to the cupboard, pulling out dainty cubes and a tray of iced energon crumpets. "Yes, Scalpel."

When the bot puts them down, Blitzwing pulls out the energon crumbles that he was given. "Here are zese as well. Strika gave zem to me."

Scalpel perks up, "I vill try zem. Lugnut makes ze best vones sere are, ja?"

He smiles, setting them down in fromt of the weaver, "I certainly zink so."

He has to help Oil Slick take his fuel, but that's normal, and he wipes a dribble of energon away from Oil Slick's mouth. Scalpel studies him, "Does he not enjoy sveets?"

The bot has rudimentary dente, but not functional ones, for obvious reasons. "Nein. He only likes energon." He gives Oil Slick another sip. "But zat leaves more sweets for us."

Scalpel nods, "Ja, ja." The little bot picks up one of the crumbles, nibbling it adorably, "I vill need to zank Strika for zese. Zey are so delicious."

He nods, taking one himself, "Ja. I like zem a lot." He takes one of the crumpets, tasting it, "Zese are also delicious."

"Thank you," Dreadwing says soflty, nibbling on one carefully. When he reaches for another Scalpel slaps his servo.

"Nein. You vill overfuel. Your tank is small." The bot pulls the tray away. "Zese are for me. Not you."

Dreadwing nods, and sips instead from his energon cube. "Yes, Scalpel. Do you want me to pose with Oil Slick now?"

Scalpel tucks his tiny peds under him, looking at Dreadwing with dim optics, "Ja. You vill pose on your couch, und ve vill be recording it."

Dreadwing heads over to the couch, carrying Oil Slick with care. Scalpel hits something, and three recording drones come out, spinning around Dreadwing and Oil Slick to get everything.

They are beautiful together, sleek bots in frilly gowns, cuddled together on the couch, their touches growing naughtier. He likes that Dreadwing is so good at posing with his Oil Slick, helping his shy mech by moving his servos where they should go. He /loves// the scene where Oil Slick is perched atop Dreadwing, servos on his sparkplates like he's about to frag the pretty mech.

He rubs his own plates, and Scalpel presses against his side. "Sexy, ja?"

He nods, "Ja."

Scalpel jerks his head a little bit, "You vill be 'facing him, Dreadving."

The pretty mech flickers his optics, "Yes, Scalpel. Do you want us in our dresses, or should I take them off?"

"Keep zem on. You vill rubbing your spark on Oil Slick. Make sure zat ve can see your sparks."

"Yes, Scalpel." Dreadwing lowers his spark and starts to slowly rub against Oil Slick. Oil Slick's delicate plates slide back from the stimulation and energy, and the two lovely sparks rub together, bits of cloth getting in the way, making it more erotic.

Blitzwing lifts Scalpel and curls his glossa around him.

Scalpel screeches and whacks at his glossa, "Nein, nein!"

He laughs happily, Slipping his glossa back, "Ja. Zey are so lovely."

Scalpel scratches at the air while Dreadwing works himself and Oil Slick hotter. "You are terrible! See if I let you come back!"

He rubs Scalpel's back, right where he knows the mech loves it. "But look how Dreadwing loves it. You know you want it to happen again."

Scalpel squirms happily at the petting, "Nein. Not if you are going to be a disgusting brute about it. I vant nozing to do viz you."

Blitzwing cackles, knowing the bot will eventually give in for a second round, even as both of their mechs overload with soft cries while the camera drones watch, recording every moment of it to be enjoyed later on.

Dreadwing pants softly, holding himself above Oil Slick. "Do... Do you want me to go again, Scalpel?"

"Nein." Scalpel pushes into his servos, and Blitzwing rubs even more to make the mech chirp happily. "You vill come back to ze table und fuel. You must not be such a slutbot, viz your plates open, und clozing rumpled."

Dreadwing tidies himself up, and then smooths out Oil Slick's rumpled dress as well, and carries the bot over to the table. "It is hard not to get rumpled during that, Scalpel."

Scalpel narrows his optics at the bot, "You vill do a better job next time, ja? I vill make you practice viz one of our dolls."

"Yes, Scalpel," the mech murmurs, taking a small cube of energon to sip. "Does Oil Slick need more energon?"

He shakes his head, "Not for now." A single overload will not deplete the energon that is in Oil Slick's tank.

Scalpel nods, "If you like, I could make it so zat he is alvays venting air zrough him. Like a normal bot."

"Nein. I like when he is quiet. Oil Slick is a shy bot, and he is very quiet around ozers." Blitzwing pulls Oil Slick onto his lap, the frills of his dress fanning out like crystal icing on an energon cake. His bot is so pretty, even if the skirt is a bit too large, and doesn't show off his delicate peds enough.

The other bot shrugs, "If zat is vhat you vant. I like my Dreadving alive."

He shrugs, "I paid enough for Oil Zlick. If I decide I vant more, I vill let you fix him up." He doubts it, though. He likes Oil Slick how he is. Silent and lovely.

Scalpel nods, looking pleased. "Ja, you vill tell me." The bot says nothing for awhile, and they fuel slowly. Then the mech says, "You may use Dreadving's spark if you vant, Blitzving."

He shakes his head, "Nein. His spark heat is much too low for mine."

The bot has a spark that barely flickers most of the time, kept stoked low and weak because that is the heat that a weaver favors, because their own spark is so small and fragile in comparison to a larger bot's.

Thankfully, Oil Slick has a very flexible spark. It heats up in response to the bot using him, so Blitzwing doesn't worry about Dreadwing being uncomfortable during that frag.

Scalpel looks pleased, nodding. "I zought I vould offer." The bot only did it because he knew Blitzwing would refuse, and because it is /then// polite for Blitzwing to offer the same.

And he knows that Scalpel will /not// refuse.

"Would you like to try Oil Slick?" he asks, because he must. "I would like a recording of zat as well," he adds, because this way he gets more out of it, and it is a completely reasonable request. Especially since they both had their berthbots get recorded together when they fragged.

"Nein. Not now. Maybe later, vhen you have him prettied up more?" Scalpel waves at Oil Slick's face. "I am surprised you accepted him like zat, viz vhat you paid for him. To take a defective Perfect Partner . . ."

Blitzwing scowls, "He is not defective. He is just how I ordered him. Distinguished and dangerous."

"But zat nose . . ."

"Zere is /nozing// wrong wiz ze nose," he says sharply. "He is ze perfect Decepticon. Even Megatron agrees, short of ze optics."

Scalpel clicks, shaking his head, "Vell, it vas your credits. I am glad zat you like him. He is lovely ozervise."

He kisses his bot, and stands up with him. "I zink it is time for us to go. You were a lovely host, Scalpel. It was very nice spending some time wiz you and your bot. We should do it again later."

But he has several missions coming up, off planet, and it won't be for some time.

"Ja. Zat sounds good."

He takes Dreadwing's servo, kissing the delicate claws, "You have a good sol, Dreadwing."

The mech looks down shyly, "You as well, General."

He leaves the room, and walks back to his room. Well, tries to, since Megatron stops him in the hallway. His leader puts an arm around his shoulder, and says, "Blitzwing. I see you're taking Oil Slick for a walk. Let's go for a walk together."

He wonders what this is about, "As you wish, my leige."

Megatron takes Oil Slick from him for a moment, holding the bot up by the shoulders, his frame limp. "What is this dress on him? It's . . . rather silly looking on a bot like him. And the wrong color for his paint."

Blitzwing pouts, "It was all zat Scalpel had. I do not zink he keeps darker garments, when Dreadwing looks best in light colors."

Megatron strips off the dress, and stuffs it in his subspace. "He won't be wearing this, not when it looks wrong." Oil Slick is given back to him, and he's lead to the crystal garden. "How does that false spark react to red cora?"

Oh, dear. He's not sure he likes how this is going. "I do not know, my lord." He hopes this doesn't end with him shoved down as he's dosed up on the crystal. He's never fond of the ... humiliation of it. Not since Megatron likes to insist on him remaining in his Icy personality.

"I think we'll find out," Megatron says brightly, and pushes him down into the softer crystals, snapping off a piece of red cora before he stuffs it quickly in Oil Slick's chamber, and then puts the bot directly on top of his chest.

Blitzwing's world goes hazy then with lust.

"You know my rules. Stay in your Icy form, or you will have a punishment."

He writhes, disliking not being on top. When he's Random it is just fine and wonderful, the feeling of need to be in control not there. And Hothead can stand another bossing him around. He only follows Megatron because the mech is his leader and he's loyal when he's Icy. This is just so very unfair.

Megatron kneels next to him, smiling at him with lustful and dim optics, also reacting to the close proximity of the cora. "You look lovely like this, Blitzwing." His leader pushes Oil Slick down on him firmly, "Kiss him."

He kisses Oil Slick hungrily, spark trying to pulse up and out of his chest with how heavily charged it is.

Megatron rumbles and pushes between his legs, "Remind me why I have not /required// you to get a valve yet?"

Because he's managed to slip away and avoid it every time it's been brought up. "I . . you would get . . bored with me too quickly."

Megatron hums softly, shoving Oil Slick against him, and forcing his cyclebot to ride him harder. "Are you sure? I always come back to you and my other generals in one way or another. I could have you install one just for me. Codelocked, since you dislike the idea of ever using it otherwise."

That is the worst idea ever, and he knows it, even with his processor as hazy as it is. "N-nein, my... my-" He gasps, clutching at the crystals under him as Megatron pushes harder.

"The idea of being the only mech to take your valve is intoxicating," Megatron rumbles, and his spike comes out and rubs against the smooth panels between Blitzwing's legs. "We will have one installed on you as soon as you come back from your next mission."

He squirms unhappily, and joyfully at the same time, disgusted by the idea, aroused by the hot spark of his Oil Slick above him.

Megatron forces a kiss on him, glossa shoving in, and he kisses back hungrily as Megatron rubs Oil Slick on him with his form, shoving their sparks together while rubbing that massive spike over him. His leader's engine revs in hot need, "You will have it done by Hook, since Scalpel will figure out some way to explain why you don't need one."

He's done that before. Bribed Scalpel into covering for him when Megatron got it into his head Blitzwing needed some insane mod.

They overload together, and Blitzwing gets soaked in the awful fluids from Megatron's spike. They're slick and sticky, and turn into flakey silver nastiness when they dry. To make matters worse, he gets it all over Oil Slick as well.

At least the bot is kind enough to toss the red cora shard to one side, to let them recover. "Yes. A valve for you."

He lays under Megatron, the mech braced above him still. "My lord, I know zat you would not want me. Remember when you decided to put seeker wings on me?" Those temporary mods were horrendous. They itched, and rubbed his plating raw and painful.

Megatron pauses, looking unhappy as he remembers. "You looked /nothing// like an actual seeker."

He nods, "Just like with when you had Lugnut fragging Shockwave for you. You won't /like// me in a valve. You see me for awhile, decide zat you need me to prove my loyalty in the berz, and zen are unsatisfied when I do not live up to your standards like Starscream does zere."

Megatron smiles, shaking his head, "No, I liked seeing Lugnut frag Shockwave. It gets them to stop fighting."

It really doesn't. They just fight outside of the main rooms instead. "You won't enjoy me wiz a valve. It will be too small for you."

That was the wrong thing to say, as Megatron revs and pushes against him, "I enjoy a nice, tight valve. Hook will install a model on you that fits my spike perfectly, and then lock it so that only I may enjoy it."

He shudders, "You-"

"Do not argue."

He touches Megatron's chest, deciding to try negotigating the best he can to minimize the damage. "May I have it set so zat it only turns on when you open me up and touch it?" He doesn't want to deal with any... fluids when he must do other things.

Megatron revs, looking at him with lustful optics. "Yes. I'll be sure to inform Hook to do exactly that. No one else may use it other than me, and only I will be able to get you aroused by it. Even if you cut off the plate to play with it, it will be ineffectual, and you will come to me for it."

He won't be fragging himself in the valve. The idea of it is incredibly distasteful to him. Valves and spikes are for organic creatures, or for the Magnus and his Primes only, to dominate them with. He dislikes the idea of Megatron dominating him that way. If he /had// to have an organic-like part, he'd prefer a spike. Or tentacles. No valve. No hole to have things jammed in.

Megatron tugs him down to his crotch. "Until then, you should show your respect with your glossa."

He sets Oil Slick to the side, glad that his cyclebot turns away so he doesn't watch this humiliation. "Yes, my lord."

He looks forward to Megatron turning his attention to the other generals.

--

Blitzwing likes being away from the base. Missions just feel far more comfortable when he's not being stared at hungrily by Megatron. He's hoping the mech will lose interest, and he can just avoid the whole interfacing mod thing.

But one thing he will be happy about if he /does// get it. He won't be forced to be fragged by Lugnut, Starscream, or Shockwave. He knows they paid to install spikes on their own credit. Blitzwing just has no interest in it, so got left out of those... games when it happened at Megatron's insistance.

But now, he is laying in a hotel room, Oil Slick curled against his side, and being wonderfuly comfortable.

"You are so lovely," he murmurs to his bot, and Oil Slick seems to curl closer to him, as if agreeing. "And so vain. I bet you would polish yourself all sol if I let you." He strokes servos down Oil Slick's sides, the bot just as shiny and wet looking as his name implies. "What will zey zink of you when we go out for fuel zis evening?"

The mech just smiles blankly at him.

"You silly brat. You don't even care, do you?"

His mech lays next to him, saying nothing. They're comfortable in their silence. How he adores Oil Slick. Loves him. He tilts his mech's head up, Oil Slick reluctant, but he kisses the cyclebot, glossa pushing in lovingly.

He runs his fingers along Oil Slick's chest, continuing his kissing. Oil Slick opens up slowly, and he tisks, closing them. "Nein. You are distracting me, you sparkslut. I will not allow zis. We are going out soon, and you can not let me get you dirty."

The plates try to open again, because Oil Slick is such a sparkslut for him, and he has to activate the lock, to keep them shut. He has such a naughty mech.

"I have a wonderful sol planned for us." He's finished his mission here, turning the Autobot recruitment center into slag, much to the joy of the neutrals, who had thought it was an opticsore. "A wonderful evening."

His mech looks at him pleadingly, and he knows Oil Slick wants him to allow him to open up. To have Blitzwing overload him a few times before they go. But he will not. Oil Slick does not have enough fuel for that. Only enough for the very basic things in him. The warmth of his frame, and things like that.

He may take up Scalpel on that venting option, but he wants to give it time. Time to figure out if he needs that or not. He isn't even sure if the vents on Oil Slick work when his sparkplates are closed.

He pats Oil Slick's chest lightly. "Do not give me zose looks. I am not going to be swayed. You are not going to trick me wiz your pretty optics."

Oil Slick just continues to look at him pleadingly, practically begging him for an overload. He won't get one until after they go out for evening fuel together.

At a nice restaurant that he made reservations at.

He's looking forward to fueling his mech the nice energon. He was told that any energon fuel works, as long as it doesn't have additives in it. A high grade just means more fuel for overloads. He can't over fill it, though. Or Oil Slick will purge.

He doesn't want his lover sick, so he won't do that.

Oil Slick gives him an accusing look now. "Shush. I know you want to go now, but ze reservation is not for anozer megacycle. If we go now, zey will not have our table ready." And he had asked for a romantic table, set with delicate crystals. For bots in love.

His mech relents, and lays against him quietly, patient as he ever is. But trying to tempt him once more. "Nein," Blitzwing complains. "We will not frag now."

Oil Slick cuddles him, trying to encourage him. He is so very tempted, Oil Slick warm and inviting against him. He knows that if he had not locked the plates, his mech would be open and wanting for him. Oil Slick is always so swollen, no matter what.

He could open Oil Slick's chamber right after an overload, and he would still be as hot and wanting as ever.

His little sparkslut.

Wonderful sparkslut, though.

Reluctantly, he gets out of the berth so Oil Slick will stop tempting him. "You are terrible," he informs his love, for taunting him with his lovely frame. "You should not try to get me to ruin your polish. I spent so long polishing you this sol."

Oil Slick rolls onto his back without Biltzwing to support him, sparkplates making a soft clicking sound, trying to open against the lock.

/Such// a sparkslut.

He moves his mech to a more comfortable position, patting those tempting plates. "Nein. You are ze one zat got yourelf so hot. You worked yourself up. It is not my fault."

His mech stares up at him, pleading and wanting. Oil Slick's servo is even brushing his plates, touching them just enough to invite, but not enough to do anything.

"Nein. You can wait." He taps Oil Slick on the nose. "We will have a wonderful evening out, and zen I will bring you back here. Do you want me to bring back a spark tickler to try on you? I bet you would like zat, to have my spark energy against your slutty spark all sol long, even when I was busy wiz ozer zings."

Oil Slick shifts a bit against him with longing.

"Zen I will. Only because you want it." It will be a nice treat for Oil Slick, he thinks. His mech can have his energy over him, getting better synced.

Oil Slick must be thinking the same thing, since he leans against him, looking at him longingly, a servo draped over his chest in want.

"Nein." He shakes his head,"No sparklings. Not yet. Lord Megatron will wonder how you even got sparked."

Some sol, he will spark Oil Slick, but not yet. They are not ready for sparklings yet. And he knows he will need to bring a third bot in, to help them spark. There is no shame in that. But he will need to make Oil Slick frag the bot, and then he will, and their shared energies will make a sparkling in the third bot's chamber.

Maybe a nice truckbot surrogate.

Oil Slick cuddles up against him, and he smiles. "You'd like zat, wouldn't you? A nice clearplated truckbot, open and as hot as you. He would be so happy to be carrying. Just ze zree of us, ja?"

Oil Slick looks pleased at that, happy at the thought of sparklings running around their peds. The little petbot in the berth, resparked repeatedly, and only given a rest when it is too dangerous to spark again.

But he would have to pick a petbot carefully. They would need to be just as quiet and respectful as Oil Slick, and understand that Oil Slick is his love. He'll ask Megatron discreetly if he has any such bots listed as potential botnap subjects.

Perhaps one of the Primes.

Then Megatron could enjoy the Prime's valve, and Blitzwing his spark.

Maybe that will distract Megatron from installing one on /him//. He would like that a great deal.

He will need to hope that having Oil Slick there will calm his rage at petbots when they misbehave. He's offlined a great deal because they did /something// that angered him. He then flips to hothead, and they offline.

It is very frustrating.

Perhaps it will help, to only see the bot when they are sparking him, and then occasionally after to share energy with him. Megatron could have him the rest of the time, since Megatron would never think of siring a sparkling on a petbot when he has Starscream and his generals around to do the honor of carrying for him. A pure Decepticon heir.

He's just glad that he and Megatron have the same taste when it comes to Autobot petbots. The same adoration of the clearplated truckbot frame. Especially when removing the useless metal backing of them.

Oil Slick leans against him, distracting him from his thoughts. He frowns at his bot, "Nein. We will /not// be 'facing. Not until after. I told you zis."

His bot is such a sparkslut. Always after a frag with him.

"Show proper respect, meine leibe, and we will be together soon enough. You cannot delay us with your desire to be taken." He props Oil Slick up against the wall. "You stay there for a klik, while I get ready. I spent all zat time polishing you, and none on myself."

His mech looks at him pleadingly, but he will have none of it. He moves away, and works on polishing himself so he looks perfect. The restaurant is very nice, and if they show up smeared, the staff will not let them in.

With that in mind, he glances at his mech and sighs. The time in the berth just cuddling made a few streaks on his mech. He'll need to polish him again.

Not that he minds. Even if his mech is a coy little sparkslut, always trying to coax him into an interface with his pretty frame. Coy slut.

He gets them both polished up properly with enough effort. "Alright, now we need to hurry to get there on time. You are going to make us late, getting so messy."

His mech stares at him, begging for a kiss, and he can not refuse. He kisses his Oil Slick, glossas touching, and his mech remains shy as he does it. Oil Slick is never confident enough to explore his mouth with his glossa. But that is fine, he likes that.

He manually transforms his mech into his cyclebot mode, and transforms himself. His mech magnetized to his tankbot frame and he rolls out of his room, feeling happy and pleased at being able to celebrate. His bot is so cute and shy, having to be magnetized to him like this in order to go outside. Sometimes he rides on top of Blitzwing, sprawled out on him. It depends on how they are both feeling.

When Oil Slick is feeling particularly naughty, he rides on top of Blitzwing with his spark exposed, rubbing against Blitzwing's plating, trying to tempt him into a public interface, which is not allowed on this planet.

Naughty sparkslut.

He makes his way along the streets, feeling wonderful. They are both polished to perfection, and it is the best feeling there possibly is. He will be having a nice date with Oil Slick, and he'll enjoy it so much. Then Oil Slick and him will go home, being happy.

Well, to the hotel. Still happy.

Maybe they'll stop at a tailor on the way back. Get his mech a nice set of lovely clothes. Maybe something more timid, to reflect Oil Slick's shy nature. Or something hot, to show off what a sparkslut he is.

He wants to take Oil Slick to a dance club later, and have naughty interfacing with him on the stage there.

He is a bot subject to his whims, and he knows it. He'll decide when he goes. Maybe he'll find another thing he wants to do. Like play near that fountain he just passed. He'll figure it out.

He rolls to a stop in front of the restaurant, and transforms. He takes his time fixing Oil Slick, so his lover doesn't embarrass himself by trying to stay in vehicle mode. He even has to carry Oil Slick to convince him it is fine to go to here for dinner. Oil Slick thinks /this// is the fanciest place he's seen since Megatron's throne room.

Silly cyclebot. He'll need to take him to the best place on New Kaon, just so he knows what real dining is. This is just an evening out.

But his little cyclebot is so innocent and new to it all. The bot in the entryway smiles at him, "Your designation, please?"

Blitzwing nods, "General Blitzwing, Decepticon, and guest. I have a reservation, and I was told it would be a romantic table wiz sweet fuels waiting for us."

The bot tries to keep a neutral expression, "Will you need an extra chair for your . . . doll?"

He frowns, "Oil Zlick /is// my second bot here. I only need ze two chairs."

The bot stares at him, and then at Oil Slick. "... Oh." The bot visibly contains a shudder, "Of course, General Blitzwing. Right this way."

The mech leads him to a tucked away area, filled with romantic lighting, and set perfectly.

Oil Slick takes the chair with the view out the window, into the night. Blitzwing sits with his back to it, trusting that his love will warn him of any possible danger. Besides, the only view Blitzwing needs is his Oil Slick's lovely face.

"What can I get for you?" the waiterbot that comes a klik later asks, and Blitzwing intends to give him a big tip for not asking anything rude about his love.

Blitzwing says, "Quadruple refined high grade for meine Oil Zlick," since his love can not have anything in it, "and ze rust and crystal mix in twice refined energon for me. Do /not// put anyzing ozer zan energon in Oil Zlick's cube. He can not fuel on it. It hurts him to have it."

The bot nods, "We understand allergies here, sir. I will personally make certain it will not happen at all." The mech is earning his tip, and Blitzwing approves.

"Good. Now let me have some time alone wiz my mech." Blitzwing takes Oil Slick's servo in his. "He needs some time to rest. It was a long drive here, and he is tired. Do you have any cushions, so he could rest his helm on ze table for a breem?"

The bot shifts on his peds, "We don't carry things like that, I'm sorry."

He nods, "I see." He squeezes his mech's servo, "Zat is fine. Just get our energon, please."

The mech nods, and leaves quickly. Oil Slick looks at him, head tilting a little in question.

He smiles, tapping his mech's lovely nose, "Ze fuel will be here soon enough, meine Oil Zlick. You do not need to wait for it long." He rubs his servo on his lover's cheek, and his mech leans into it.

He has a perfect mech. So perfect.

Blitzwing wants to pull his bot across the table and kiss him, but this is not that kind of restaurant. Later, when they are back on New Kaon, he will do just that. Drag Oil Slick over and frag him on the table, while bots watch with hungry optics.

He rubs Oil Slick's claws, taking them and kissing them. His glossa flicking a bit to lick them happily. Oil Slick watches him intentely, and he knows his mech is thinking of his glossa on his hot little spark.

He will need to open up his mech's gasscap to play with his mech happily.

He knows Oil Slick loves that.

And he can do it subtly, too. He carefully slides his chair closer, under the pretense of wanting to help Oil Slick fuel when it comes. He really wants to open his gascap and slip one finger in, rubbing at his spark without any bot knowing about it.

Oil Slick is such a coy little sparkslut, leaning against him, practically begging to be taken.

He keeps his servo hidden, playing with the spark as the waiter comes back. The mech glances at Oil Slick, and then places the fuel down in front of them. "Would you like me to get you any ruststicks?"

He shakes his head, "Nein. We are fine how we are. Zank you."

The bot nods, "I'll come check on you when you're finished." The bot leaves again.

They are alone, and he rubs slow, teasing circles on Oil Slick's swollen spark. "You are a naughty little mech, meine Oil Zlick. Teasing me so. You filzy little zing."

Oil Slick pushes back into his touch, and takes the fuel that Blitzwing gives him, providing him energy for his lush spark. His mech is so easily aroused.

He loves it so much.

He works his mech hotter, fueling the both of them slowly. His mech can not have as much energon as most bots, since he has a much smaller tank. He'll need to work Oil Slick up so that he can fit the entire cube into him.

He thinks the tank will stretch a bit, if it gets lots of practice holding more fuel in it. And his hot little spark uses so much energy, since he's always going around with it pulsing and eager. So very hot and tempting. He wants to nibble the tender spark for megacycles, until Oil Slick is whining and writhing in a way he rarely does.

His bot is so demure in public.

He sips on the energon, crunching down happily on his crystals. They are sweet and delicious. Adding texture he normally ignores when he's just at home. It makes it easier to share energon when he doesn't add other things. And Oil Slick so loves sharing his energon. It is just that this is a special occasion.

They won't be sharing currently. Unless Oil Slick really can not fuel on more.

His poor bot. He strokes Oil Slick's cheek. "It was a good idea to bring you here."

They share energon for the next megacycle or so, and then he picks his beloved up. It is time for them to return to the hotel for the evening, or to stop at a shop to buy him a dress. He's not sure if he'll find something worthy of his lovely mech, though.

He makes his way out after leaving a generous tip, and manually transforms Oil Slick. His mech is a bit overcharged, unable to do it alone without mangling himself. Better to have Blitzwing do it safely, so his lover doesn't get embarassed.

He puts Oil Slick on top of him, and when his bot almost topples over, he decides that shopping for clothing just isn't viable. It is better to return to the hotel room and work that extra charge off of his mech. He thinks Oil Slick is a bit overcharged, to be so wobbly and unsteady.

But he likes when his mech is a little tipsy. His mech is sweet and wobbly when he's overcharged. And so very, very cute.

Blitzwing pulls him into the hotel. "Naughty bot."

He carries his lover in, kissing him as he makes his way up. They will enjoy this very much.

--

Blitzwing glares at the stupid valve plating on his pelvic armor. He knows that it is barely visible, but it is all he can see when he looks. He glances down, and there the seams are. He hates it.

Even more so, since Megatron had it installed, and hasn't even touched him at all. If he has the fragging thing, he may as well see what all the fuss is. He was promised by Megatron that his first frag with it will be with him as Random, just so he can learn to /enjoy// the feeling. Rather than it being a violation.

But their leader has been busy lately. Busy with Starscream, who has declared to all and sundry that he is sparked, and has claimed a dozen different mechs as the sires. Notably not Megatron.

It was likely Megatron, of course. Starscream wouldn't be receptive for any other bot.

He can't tell if Megatron is pleased or not.

He glances over his shoulder, and Oil Slick is laying on the berth, reading a datapad. He doesn't remember /giving// Oil Slick one, but his mech must have gotten it somehow. He may have left it laying on the berth, and absently put it in his lover's servos.

But his attention seems to have caught Oil Slick's, and his mech looks him over. Blitzwing comes over obligingly, flipping to Random, "What do you zink?" He takes his love's servo, pressing it against the valve cover to better show what he means, "Terrible, ja?"

The servo seems to twitch a little, and he stares at it, and then up at Oil Slick.

"You like it?"

Oil Slick's servo doesn't twitch again, but Blitzwing frowns. "Ja. You /would//. Zey installed zat useless spike on you on purpose, I know it. But it is locked away, and you will not be using it on me. Zis valve is codelocked to Megatron only."

Oil Slick gives him a longing look, clearly thinking about them removing the plating.

He shakes his head, "Nein. Megatron went a step furzer zan I zought he would. If it is opened wizout his permission and a bot puts a spike in it, my valve will cut ze zing off. He likes ze idea of being ze only one zat can use it. He told me zat he was zinking of doing ze same wiz Starscream when he had ze valve installed on ze seeker. Ze only reason he didn't was because he likes watching Lugnut and Shockwave take Starscream's valve."

He finds it rather distasteful himself, not wanting to watch Starscream shriek when the spikes were put in his too-small valve. At least they won't engage in that behavior now that the seeker is sparked up, chest growing heavy with a clutch of eggs.

The seeker was puffed up with pride about having nine eggs. Three trines, a magical number for a seeker, especially for a first clutch.

He supposes it is nice enough. He looks forward to the first sparklings to live in the base. Megatron will not be able to be anything but excited once the eggs come out, of that he is certain. Truthfully, Blitzwing will like the sparklings as well.

Any bot that hates sparklings is a bot not worth keeping.

Sparklings have the effect of wanting to pick them up and hugging them. Blitzwing will just avoid them as Hothead, so he doesn't do something to hurt them, even accidentally.

Besides, they usually bring out his Random side, the playful one that wants to sit down and have tea parties with them and let them pull on his glossa. They're just too cute for their own good.

He'll have some with Oil Slick eventually. The sparklings would love their shy papa very much, Blitzwing is sure of it.

His mech looks at him hungrily, and he shakes his head, "You sparkslut. Nein. You will not be fragged just yet. You have not fueled yet zis sol. You refused any zis morning, since I was so busy. Zat means you must wait for your overloads."

His mech gives him a pleading look, and he almost breaks down. But he knows he can't.

"We will have a teaparty first." He heads to the closet, looking through it for the clothing that he wants.

He perches a tiny hat atop the organic-creature's skull that decorates Oil Slick's shoulder, and another atop his glass dome, and then puts the ruffliest, floofiest dress he owns on Oil Slick, making him look like a layered crystal cake iced by an overenthusiastic baker.

He poses Oil Slick in his chair.

He puts on his own dress, and starts to set up the table when the door to his berthroom opens up, and Megatron strides in. His leader doesn't look up from the datapad he's reading, and says, "Blitzwing, stop playing with Oil Slick and look at..." Megatron trails off, actually looking at him.

"Yes, my lord?" He asks, looking at Megatron.

Megatron's optics drag along his frame, and his leader walks over to him, touching it. "You made this?" At his nod, the mech smiles, "You did very well." Another chair is dragged over, and Megatron sits in it, holding the datapad out for him. "Keep serving. We will talk about this as you and Oil Slick fuel. I'll wear one of the hats to be properly dressed, but only if you have a tray of tarts."

"I do." He pulls the tray out, hopeful because he does not wish to end up face-first over the table, the bot pumping away at him. Megatron usually gets lazy after polishing off a tray of tarts. He's glad the dress he's wearing hides the valve plating. "Zey are very good. Made by Lugnut."

Megatron nibbles on one. "Delicious. I have brought you a pad to select from. Now that Starscream is sparked, I expect my other generals to follow suit. You will select a bot from the pad to sire a sparkling on."

He takes the pad cautiously, and pulls Oil Slick onto his lap so the both of them can look it over. "Are you sure, my liege? I only just got meine Oil Zlick. I would like to get more comfortable wiz him. I want to have sparklings wiz him und a pretty truckbot."

Megatron eats another tart, licking his dermal plating happily, "There are quite a few truckbots on the pad. There are also cyclebots, tankbots, and a few jetbots. I am hoping that you will sire more triple-changers for me, Blitzwing."

"Ja, but some might be cyclebots," he warns. "Zey might take after meine Oil Slick."

Megatron gives him an amused smile, "Perhaps. But I hope you do try for triple-changers. They please me the most in my armies." The bot studies him, and then revs a bit, "Is your valve installed now?"

He hunches in on himself, holding Oil Slick against him protectively, "J-ja."

Megatron revs, reaching over, and pushing the skirts of their dresses so Blitzwing's valve cover is exposed. His leader touches it lightly, not enough to move it away. "Did Hook install the sealed one?"

He shifts a bit, feeling uncomfortable, but not wanting to go back to his Icy face for this. He keeps Oil Slick held tightly, "J-ja, my lord. He said zat you like popping zem, and he wanted you even happier about it."

"There is nothing like breaking a valve seal," Megatron rumbles, and rubs harder on the plating. "I-" he stops, pressing a servo to his temple. "Yes?" A frown, "What do you mean, Starscream is setting up his nest on my throne?"

Salvation. "If you go now, you may be able to stop him. Nest building takes zem several sols, after all."

Megatron stands up, nodding. "Yes." His leader's large servo rubs his valve cover possessively, and kisses him, glossa flicking in. "I want you to look through that datapad, and tell me who you like. You don't need to choose just one. You can have as many as you want, and we will select them all as we go. Choose the best of the ones you want."

"Yes, my lord."

Megatron presses a soft kiss to Oil Slick's head dome, and leaves his berthroom.

He vents a sigh of relief, safe again. He pulls Oil Slick closer. "I do not want you to see it when he takes me ze first time, meine Oil Slick." His mech gives him a long look. "Ja. I know. You want to be ze one to take zat seal. I already told you zat is not safe."

He likes the idea of Oil Slick being the first to comfort him and soothe him through it. He knows Megatron will be brutal with him.

He does not look forward to it. Even if Megatron assures him that he will enjoy it. He just knows that Starscream absolutely hates it, and even Shockwave complains about how big Megatron is. And Shockwave is regularly told to let Lugnut frag him for Megatron's entertainment. The idea of it in him is not the least bit pleasent.

He cuddles his mech, not really feeling up to a teaparty now. He just wants to curl up with Oil Slick and be comforted.

He takes off their dresses, and climbs into the berth, cuddling his mech, and reluctantly opening the datapad so they both can see it.

The first batch is rejected because they will produce ugly sparklings. He wants his sparklings to grow into lovely bots.

He ends up narrowing it down to three bots, all clear-chested truckbot models. One of them is clearly unsuitable because there's no chance of getting him. Optimus is a /Prime//. And not just any Prime, but the Magnus's First Prime, the one he holds more closely than the Allspark itself.

He still would love to have the bot. He's all bright colored and delicious.

The other two are also pretty tempting, since he likes how they look quite a bit.

Toxitron is green and toxic, matching Oil Slick. They would have lovely sparklings together. Really, he's the next highest choce. Surely, they will have lovely scientist sparklings, since his lover is so very smart, but so shy.

And the third one is Nemesis, a black truckbot with teal and purple accents. And his chestplate is /red//. A lovely Decepticon color, and very lickable. And the pad informs him that the bot is currently under the guidance of Straxus!

How could the bot hide such a wonderful bot from him for so long, munching on crumpets and crumbles that Blitzwing brought without even hinting that he had the perfect surrogate carrier for Blitzwing to use?

The nerve of that mech!

Well, he has a choice of two bots, and he will decide on the /best// ones. And that is that.

He kisses Oil Slick, who looks at the choices in silence. His mech clearly wants to test out their sparks first, but he will /not// let his sparkslut of a lover near them until he makes sure that they are suitable.

But he looks forward to seeing them.

--

Blitzwing sits uncomfortably in Megatron's lap, his leader stroking his frame possessively as Toxitron and Nemesis stand awkwardly in front of the throne.

"One of you will carry Blitzwing's sparklings," Megatron informs them without any hint of tact. "He will select which of you he prefers this sol."

Blitzwing squirms and tries to avoid the servo pushing at his valve panel. "Ja. I have a few questions to ask. Zey are important, and you will not lie to me about zem. First, how healzy are your sparks?"

Toxitron answers first, "Me am having the healthiest spark!"

And... already he thinks he's not taking the one he /thought// he wanted most. He wants smart sparklings. The bot speaking like that is not something that fills him with confidence.

Nemesis glares at him, "My spark is healthy enough." The mech crosses his arms, "Nothing wrong with my spark."

He has to force himself to keep from flipping to Random so he can better deal with Megatron's touching. He /must// remain Icy so that he can ask the questions and better see Nemesis's reactions.

"How many partners have you had in ze last vorn?" he asks, because he doesn't want a bot with a thousand spark viruses. Or a bot inclined to cheat on him and Oil Slick.

Toxitron makes a strange face, "Me am having . . . thirty partners. Thirty am this many?" the bot holds up seven fingers.

Nemesis gives the other clone a disgusted look, "No. It is not."

He squirms, trying not to react to Megatron's possessive fingers more than that. "And you, Nemesis?"

The mech glares at him, "None."

He severely doubts that, but the mech /is// under orders not to lie. "Not even Straxus?"

"Straxus is a /fragger//, and-" The bot cuts himself off, glancing over to where Strika is, and then says, "Not even Straxus, no. No one at all."

Megatron nods, "Open up your back plating, Toxitron and Nemesis. Show us your sparks."

Toxitron does so instantly, his clear chestplate folding back as well. The mech juts it forward proudly, and Blitzwing is not very happy with it. The bot says it is healthy, but it is ... not. There are bruises on it, and he's worried about the state of the chamber, which is dripping with green sludge.

Nemesis keeps his arms crossed, "I can't open it. Straxus put a sparklock on the inside of my chamber."

Megatron dims his optics and revs, "I . . . see. Well, I will have Hook fix that. I assume you will want him after I take his film, Blitzwing?"

He frowns at his liege, "I was hoping to be allowed zat, my lord. Wiz my Oil Slick. We-"

"I'll have him first. After that, you can spark with him as much as you want. I'll have him collared. He's known for trying to offline bots in their recharge."

He tries not to slip out of his leige's lap, "Yes, Lord Megatron."

His leader snaps his fingers, and Nemesis is grabbed by Strika, an obedience collar placed on him. The truckbot looks shocked, "I'm a /Decepticon//! You can't-"

Megatron looks down at the mech, "And I won't have you trying to kill me or any of my loyal generals. You get to earn back the lack of collar. You only were taken out of it because I wanted to see you not trying to destroy things and failing at it."

The mech snarls as he's taken to Megatron's quarters, fighting the entire way. Blitzwing picks up Oil Slick and goes to Strika. "I am not happy zat you kept him a secret from me. You know I want bots like him."

She wrinkles her nose, "Straxus is a strange bot. I had assumed he vas taking advantage of him, und you vould not vant his leftovers."

Normally Straxus leaves his lovers... damaged. Beyond repair. "I saw zat ze picture was recent, and zat he was handsome. Just ze type zat I like." He wishes he and Oil Slick could have shared the sparkfilm, but he accepts that Megatron always gets to go first.

This also distracted his leader from using his valve, thankfully.

Strika waves a servo, "If I had known vhat vas happening vith him, you would have gotten him first. Maybe you would have taken him instead of Oil Slick."

How terrible of a thought.

"Nein. Oil Zlick is meine perfect bot." He clutches the mech and soothes him with gentle servos. No need for Oil Slick to worry about being replaced when he's not. "He is meine love."

Strika pats his back. "I understand. And I think Nemesis vill be good for you."

He shrugs, "Nemesis will mostly be staying wiz Megatron. Once he is sparked, anyway. I will just be taking him every so often to contribute spark energy, so zey know Oil Zlick und I are zeir co-creators. I worry zat I will flip to Hothead and offline ze mech. Ze idea of doing zat when he is carrying... It is...."

She nods, "I know. Ve vill make sure zat he is safe. You do not need to vorry."

"I may have you help raise ze sparklings as well," he says cautiously, "when I do not zink I can control my Hothead side. I will not risk zem, even if I have to send zem to stay at zeir Aunt Strika's more often zan I would like."

Strika pats his servo, "It vill be alright. I am more than villing, and perhaps having a sparkling around vill help Lugnut to spark."

He nods slowly, "Maybe." He is worried about this. He just... he doesn't know how well this will go. He's hoping for the best, but he can't tell until it happens. For all he knows, he won't be /able// to spark with Nemesis. It takes so long for bots to work up spark resonance like that, and even more difficult with three.

Megatron may demand he stop fragging Oil Slick, since his leige wants triple changer sparklings.

He doesn't like that idea.

He will cospark with Oil Slick.

Blitzwing knows of the ancient ways, taught to him by his creators. Things that he will never share with another bot, no matter how many times Lord Megatron has hacked him for pleasure. The ways that triple-changers originally sparked, mingling their energies together before pushing the forming sparkling into a third bot, where it gathered more coding.

He'll have to take Nemesis offplanet somewhere to do that.

He'll make some excuse about needing Nemesis to help him relax after a mission or something. Both Oil SLick and Nemesis will be with him, and he'll get a triple-changer for Megatron. It will make their leader very happy. Or, he hopes it will. If not, then he is slagged.

Possibly Nemesis and Oil Slick as well.

Megatron is a good leader, but he has a volatile temper, and is quick to action. It's too easy to make a mistake and upset him, which generally results in several visits to the medic for emergency repairs.

So far, Oil Slick has not upset Megatron, which is good. His naughty sparkslut is always taunting other bots silently.

Strika slaps his aft, making him jump slightly and stare at her as she says,"Now, you vill need to head back to your room. I am sure that Megatron vill be dropping Nemesis off either after he's taken the sparkfilm, or tomorrow morning."

He sighs, knowing the truth of her words. "Ja. I'll just spend my time wiz Oil Zlick."

He heads off, carrying Oil Slick in his arms.

--

It is the next morning when there's a knock at the door, and Megatron opens it up and shoves Nemesis in. His leader doesn't leave the hallway, "I expect you to get to work on sparking him up, Blitzwing."

The door slams shut, and Nemesis stands there, staring at him awkwardly. Megatron apparently hasn't even given him the time to clean up. The bot is covered in paint and dents from Megatron's berth, and has a noticable limp when he walks.

Oh.

Nemesis has a valve?

Oil Silck will like that.

He pats the couch, and the mech limps over to him irritably. "I am in /no mood// to frag," the mech snaps at him.

He sighs, pulling out his repair kit, and pulls the bot onto his lap, fixing his newest litle bot up. "Zat is fine. Oil Zlick and i were just watching ze vidscreen. Do you have any prefrrence for what you like to watch?"

"Not Shambles," the mech says quickly. "I'm not getting you revved up so you think that my spark can be convinced that-"

"No Shambles, zen." He touches the mech's hip, which is crumpled from Megatron's rough servos, and he smooths it out. "But anyzing you /do// want to watch?"

"Straxus doesn't allow me to watch anything else, other than the news. He is very cautious about what I see."

Well, he doesn't belong to Straxus any longer. "You're going to do ozer work wiz me, and I expect you to watch many zings, so our sparklings will be educated, starting in ze chamber. You will have to keep your backplates open. I want zem to have ze experience zat sparklings get when zey can see out."

The mech scowls at him, "I'm not going to be-"

He twists the leg, and there's a pop. The leg settles back into the joint comfortably, and Nemesis shrieks in pain, only to drop down on him, no longer tense and in pain. "It is so zat ze sparklings learn faster. When you are not sparked, zen you can keep zem closed. In fact, until ze sparklings have optics to look out, you can keep zem closed. I do not mind."

"You're a fragging slagheap," the bot rumbles, and groans when Blitzwing pops out a few of the more serious dents between his thighs, including the valve cover, which is a complete mess.

"Ugh. You will wash. I see he did not let you clean yourself after he took you." There were streaks of silver along his thighs. "I have a washrack zere. Go, clean up. Come sit on my lap when you are done."

Nemesis lays along his lap, not moving. "In a bit."

He spanks the mech's aft sharply, and nudges him. "Go. You will clean up."

Nemesis gives him a very dirty look, but slips off and does what he is told, grumbling the entire way. At least the mech is no longer limping. He doesn't like seeing his lovers in pain.

He may tie them up, but it is a sign of bad bondage practaces if his bot gets damaged. He has to tie them securely so they can't hurt themselves.

So they can't do anything but squirm and fight the bonds, unable to move more than a few microns if he's tied them properly. He's always careful to tie them so their venting is unhindered, not wanting his lovers to overheat.

Not many bots are willing to let him do that to them, though. Much to his disappointment.

Sometimes he touches himself at night, thinking of Megatron and the command staff tied up and beautiful.

Maybe some sol, but only if Megatron tells him he can have /anything// he wants. He will set it up so that everything is recorded, and codelocked so only he can see it. He knows it would only happen /once//.

He would possibly even reward Megatron for it by riding the mech's spike, but....

He sighs, petting Oil SLick's side. The thought is only a fantasy. He knows that it will not happen, and riding Megatron's spike will /not// mean he get to do it a second time, if he ever gets a first time.

Nemesis comes out a few kliks later, and settles on his lap reluctantly. "Megatron said he'd offline me if I hadn't sparked with you in the next vorn."

That was troubling. Sparking often took decavorns of syncing up. Perhaps Megatron was riding the high of having sparked Starscream without even trying. Still, it was hardly fair to the rest of them.

He wraps his arms around the mech awkwardly. He barely knows the bot, and Nemesis isn't like his perfect Oil Slick. "I will talk to him about zat. You will likely need to hide in Lugnut's room when i tell him, so zat he does not offline you out of rage at me if he does not understand." He runs a finger on the mech's headfin, letting the mech relax against him, "You will also be wiz meine Oil Slick."

Nemesis looks at Oil SLick worriedly, "Straxus told me that Oil Slick is a bot you offlined on a mission and brought home to have Scalpel modify."

"Nein. Oil Slick is a Perfect Partner." The one thing he dislikes about his mech, he shows to Nemesis now. The tiny PPP stamp placed just underneath the sparkchamber on Oil Slick's protoform. Picture Perfect Partner's stamp, to show that the bot was made by them. "See?"

Nemesis relaxes. "Good. I didn't want to end up like him."

He makes a face, "I do not frag offlined bots."

The truckbot touches him, and then very cautiously touches Oil Slick. "Are you going to frag me now?"

He shrugs, "If you want. Like I said, we were watching ze vidscreen. I am very willing to have you join us, even if Oil Zlick is a sparkslut, and may try to tempt you into a frag."

"He's a doll," Nemesis says giving him a strange look. "You make him sound sentient. It's why bots worry that he used to be a real bot."

Blitzwing rubs Oil Slick's sides, "Do not say such zings to him. Oil Slick is sensitive, and you will be helping us spark. If you insult him, I will take you to Lord Megatron and tell him to offline you now, before you can raise our hopes and zen dash zem to ze ground."

The mech shudders, "No, no. I'm ... I'm good with trying to spark." The mech stares at Oil Slick. "I'm kind of surprised you didn't want Toxitron, with how Oil Slick looks."

"Just from looks, he was my first choice of ze two of you. Zen, he opened his mouz, and I knew he would /never// work. I'm not having sparklings zat even putting educational vidscreens in ze chamber won't help zem."

Nemesis snorts, "I'm glad you recognize that I'm smarter than that glitched clone. I'm more surprised that Megatron did not offer to catch Optimus for you. He's been lusting after the Magnus's toy for decavorns."

That was a well-known fact, but Megatron would never get the truckbot. Ultra Magnus guards him too closely. "You are more loyal."

Nemesis nods, "I'm a /Decepticon//."

He smiles, touching the mech cautiously, fingers toying with sensitive seams, "Ja. I like zat quite a bit." He moves so that he's laying down, his trukbot on top of him comfortably. "Meine Oil Zlick is a Decepticon." He pulls Oil Slick up as well, so his little bots are cuddled together. "We will watch a cooking show, I zink. Maybe I will make you a crystal cake. I was informed zat you are a crystal eater."

"I am." The bot accepts a piece of crystal from him and nibbles on it slowly. "Straxus wasn't fond of the habit, though, and rarely let me have any. They'll make my protoform bulge out."

He pulls Nemesis over so he's cuddled against Oil Slick. "Nein. If you are a crystal eater, zey will only make your plating shine and give you a healzier look overall. You would have to eat many to get a bulge."

The mech looks away, "... I sometimes snuck into the crystal garden, because the mech refused me /any// crystals."

He frowns, "And it is /Straxus's// fault for starving you, zen." He squeezes both of his little bots's afts, making Nemesis give him a dirty look, and Oil Slick click unlocked. He reaches in between them, and makes sure that oil Slick can't open up, locking him up completely, "/Such// a sparkslut."

Nemesis pretends he said nothing. "As soon as I give you the sparklings you want, I am leaving. I won't be your . . your housemech, or something. I'm a valuable Decepticon. After I do this duty for you, I'm gone."

He pinches Nemesis's aft. "You will help raise ze sparklings. After zey are fully grown, you will be allowed to do whatever you please." He rubs the mech's back, squeezing so the mech squirms. "And Megatron will favor you because of it. Carrying sparklings is somezing he fully approves of. You see how he totes around Starscream like a prize now. If the seeker is not in his arms, the bot is in ze nest."

Nemesis gives him a dirty look, only to gasp in pleasure when he pinches a headfin. He can feel the mech's spark pulse, and the bot starts rubbing against him, not realizing what is happening. "I'm a Decepticon, and I'll be doing what I /like//."

"Zen it will be best for you to learn to /like// being a co-creator." He gives Nemesis a little pat on the aft, just enough to sting. "And you will not argue about it. Lord Megatron has decreed zat he wants his bots to spark. I zink he will be announcing it to ze public soon as well. An order to spark, unless zere is a medical reason not to."

Nemesis shifts, "Bots won't like it."

He gives the mech a sharp look, "You zink zat /I// like zis? I wanted to wait, but you do not see me complaining. It could be far worse for /you//. You could end up sprking wiz someone like Spittor. Be glad zat I am certain zat job will go to Toxitron now. You and I will have triple-changers. Be happy for rare sparklings, und be glad zat I am not going to force you open like some ozers would."

"I never wanted sparklings," Nemesis admits in a quiet voice, because to admit that is treasonous on many planets. "Megatron hacked my anti-sparkling protocols away when he took me."

That was standard fare for a 'face with Megatron. He always hacked. Most of the time it was pleasurable, if you did not fight it too hard.

He rubs the mech's side, pressing a soft kiss to the bot's forehead, even though he can tell it irritates the mech. "Well, zink of it as... making it easier to sync. Ze sooner you spark, ze sooner you get to leave. I will not be able to keep you in my rooms when you are carrying, and I get angry. I may hurt you very badly. I do not want zat, even now."

Nemesis shudders, "Hothead."

"Not right now. I am very happy here. Wiz meine Oil Slick laying on me. ... And ... meine Nemesis on me as well." He rubs Nemesis's frame. "We will bring you to our berz at least once a decacycle to share energy wiz you and ze sparkling."

Nemesis gives him a look like he wants to argue, but does not. "Fine. Just not too slagging often. I have other work. Megatron deploys me on missions sometimes. Makes me paint up in Autobot slaggin' colors for them."

He licks the bot's neck, and Nemesis squirms against him, unsure if he likes the feeling. "You know zat he will not send you when you carry. Any carrying bot is kept safe on planet, not allowed to leave unless the planet may blow. If ze Autobots attack wiz zat planet ripper, zen ze carrying bots are ze /first// to go, along wiz medical staff. You know zis."

Nemesis makes a face, rubbing their chests together, "I'm not going to be stuck on the planet. I can do covert operations in a way that Toxitron just gets caught."

"I'm afraid not," Blitzwing strokes his frame. "You will be kept on planet until ze sparkling is out of your chamber. Megatron is strict about zat. He does not like carriers in danger."

Another unhappy expression, "Yeah. I know that. But it'll be different for me."

The bot is so foolish and stubborn. "If I have to, I will tie you up to protect my sparkling."

Nemesis stops rubbing their chests together, "I was told how you like that. I'm not gonna-"

"Our first time will be a normal interface. You have nozing to worry bout. I know how to work a new lover up to ze sort of zings zat I like best."

The mech returns to rocking against him, Oil Slick leaning on him. "I don't think I'll like-"

"It is not like I will be installing cuff points in you." He taks Oil Slick's servo, flipping out one to show it off. "You are not like meine Oil Zlick. We will start slow. Maybe you will learn to enjoy it."

Even if he doesn't, that won't stop Blitzwing. He likes his partners restrained. He has to tie Oil Slick less often than a normal bot because his mech is so demure and stays posed just like he wants him. He can tell that Nemesis will be more difficult.

The bot squirms as Blitzwing rubs his sensitive spots, and Oil Slick watches with greedy optics. His sparkslut wants a go.

Nemesis makes a soft sort of mewling sound, and keeps rubbing against him. The mech murmurs softly, "This is much... much better. I don't like the damage that was done before."

He moves to sit up, his bots in his lap, and held closely. "I will not damage you while I am in zis personality. My Random one is much more subject to whim, and my Hothead one is much angrier. When i am like zis, you will not be damaged. When i am in my ozer ones, you will need to be more cautious as well. Do not say anyzing zat might upset eizer of zem. Go along wiz Random's orders, and be submissive to Hothead, and you will not be damaged badly."

The bot seems to take the warning seriously, "Slaggin' lot of work, bein' your sparkling carrier." Nemesis rumbles, "Makes a bot consider defecting."

He rubs at the mech's sparkplates, "Tease. You never would."

Nemesis gasps softly, and unlocks, the click soft, but he can hear it clearly. The mech pushes into him, "You don't know that. I could."

He gently pushes the clear chestplate open, leaving the metalbacking closed, but petting it softly, "But you will not. You want to go up ze ranks. Being one of ze favored generals's lovers is an easy way to do it. Carrying for me is an even easier way to make it even higher. You will be valued if you carry sparkling."

"Didn't wanna climb the ladder the easy way," Nemesis grits out, and then moans when Blitzwing licks his sparkplates. "Pervert."

He pulls the bot against him. "Be good, or I will let Oil Zlick do what he wants and frag your valve wiz his spike. He wants it very badly."

Nemesis squirms, "No."

"Zen be good." He squeezes that small aft, rubbing possessively. "It is not zat hard, ja?"

The mech holds onto him, squirming with need. "Y-yes, it is." The mech gasps and moans at another lick, opening for him.

He smiles, moving to pet the edges of the mech's chamber, "Do you want me to frag you? If you don't, we won't. I can wait." He will expect the mech to be receptive tonight if the bot isn't now, though.

"You might as fraggin' well," the bot rumbles. "Spark's a bit bruised though, from Megatron."

He rubs the spark with his servos. "You look fine. You are simply not used to interfacing. I bet you were very hot, underneaz him. I will ask for ze recording later." With the spike parts blanked out, hopefully.

Nemesis pushes into his fingers, groaning. "I didn't like him fraggin' me."

"You learn to accept it." He opens as well, spark not terribly hot. He likes Nemesis well enough, but if the bot had chains on him, it would be better. Too bad this is a purely dry sort of frag. Nothing fancy. Nothing more than spark rubbing.

He pushes the mech against him, and Nemesis cries out in pleasure, rubbing as hard as he can to get off. The bot is fragging himself against him more than anything, while Blitzwing just holds him steady.

He can tell the mech is new to interfacing from how eager and wild he is, grinding away like he has no other cares in the entire world. Silly fragger. It feels good though, the heat of his spark, and Oil Slick watches with hungry optics, eagerly awaiting his own turn with the bot.

He kisses his truckbot, and Nemesis grabs him, glossa not even moving from his mouth. Mech must not be experienced in that, either. How wonderful. He pushes his glossa in, and Nemesis mewls, fragging himself even harder. The bot is having a hard time controling himself, and he loves it.

Slagging hot.

He revs and clutches at the bot's aft until they both overload, and then pushes him on top of Oil Slick. "Now it is his turn. You make sure he overloads."

Nemesis trembles, weak from his previous overload. "Fraggin' weird. . . fine. I'll make sure he overloads /hard//."

He nods, "Good." Oil Slick opens when he stops keeping his cyclebot locked, and he nods. "I am sure zat you will enjoy him."

Nemesis drops on top of Oil Slick's spark, grinding down slower than before, his engine revving happily. "F-first time I fragged. I offlined after the overload. Then each time after. Whats different about this?"

Blitzwing teases the mech's frame, "Megatron likely hacked you so it would be more satisfying for him." As usual.

"Ah. . . I . . I see," he groans, and rubs a little harder as Oil Slick's naughty spark reacts. Blitzwing loves watching his Oil Slick claim a new bot. They're always so surprised by how potent and wonderful his spark is. He's a good lover.

He'll think about letting Oil Slick spike Nemesis later. Maybe when he doesn't have to watch.

Encourage Nemesis to enjoy his valve mod, and ride Oil Slick to their completions. Even if the idea is distasteful to him.

Nemesis makes a helpless sort of sound, rubbing harder and harder. "Oh... Oh Primus, it's just like a real spark!"

He smiles, "Ja. Keep going."

He lays back to watch, enjoying their enthusiasm together. He likes that Nemesis enjoys it. Bots should always enjoy his Oil Slick. The bot was made to be enjoyed, not kept aside like a toy. Oil Slick is perfect in every way, except that he can't carry.

His one sorrow.

Nemesis bucks on top of Oil Slick, making delicious sounds, working hotter and hotter. He considers rubbing his spark, but he will not. He needs to save his overloads for Nemesis, since the bot will be carrying. He may need to step up his plan to take both of the bots offplanet, but he's not sure how well that will work.

Oil Slick looks at him longingly, wanting so many sparklings as well. He will make sure that there is their sparkling in Nemesis. Make his love so happy.

Megatron isn't going to want them to leave the planet until they're sparked, and then not at all after, but Blitzwing needs to take them to a sacred place in order to spark a triple-changer. Only sacred places will allow for a triple-changer to be sparked. That's just how it works.

He thinks of a plan.

Maybe bringing up things that Megatron does not like will help.

Give him an excuse to leave with his lovers for the sparking. Something.

He kisses Nemesis, glossa flicking into his mouth, and murmurs softly, "Kiss Oil Slick. Show him how grateful you are that he's such a sparkslut. Show him how happy you are that you can use him how you please."

Nemesis mewls, speeding up his rubbing of sparks more, and kisses Oil Slick, glossa moving lewdly.

He dims his optics and rubs their frames, encouraging them to get filthier with each other. They overload at the same time, and Blitzwing watches with dim optics. They are so hot together. So very, very hot.

He tugs them both onto his lap. "Now, we will watch ze rest of the ze news, and zen take a nap, ja?"

Nemesis clings to him, panting heavily and curling against him. "Y-yes. I'd like that. Fuel?"

He pulls out a small slice of crystal cake, "Here, meine Nemesis. You can have zis. It is just for you. Lugnut made it, and we knew you'd love it."

The truckbot stares at the cake, and then at him. "... just for me?" the bot asks very softly, as if expecting him to yank it away and eat it in front of him.

"Just for you."

The bot takes the plate and eats it quickly, barely enough time to taste it as he crunches his way through, as if expecting Blitzwing to pull it away and toss it out half-finished.

"Slow down," he advises the bot. "No one will take from you here. Not your fuels. You will need to be very well fueled. I want a triple-changer sparkling, and zat takes much energy." More energy than anything else. It will be hard to keep fueled.

Nemesis slows down reluctantly, "I get it taken away if I don't eat it fast enough. I-"

He kisses the mech softly, a press of their dermal plates. Nemesis has those spark sucker dermal plates, just like Optimus and Toxitron. He approves of it, and will be putting them to use later. But for now, he needs to reassure him. "You get to savor it. No one will /ever// take away your fuel again. You are meine Nemesis now, remember? You are going to be /very// highly favored by Megatron. Straxus can not touch you wizout getting in trouble."

The bot gives him a disbelieving look. "Sure. And you'll say that until you're done with me. But I'm a warrior. I managed to offline dozens of Autobots without any help in the last battle I was in. I can protect myself."

He tips the bot's helm up. "Zat has little to do wiz how you're treated in ze privacy of your home."

Nemesis gives him a distrustful look. "I'm not gonna-"

He picks up a tiny piece of the cake, pressing it in the mech's mouth. "Fuel. You overloaded twice. You need more energy, and I want you to be so full, you don't know what to do wiz ze crystals. You will be carrying sparklings soon enough." In a few decavorns, maybe. "I want you happy. I want to take you on one of my missions, and I will tell Megatron zat you will be in ze safehouse or wherever I am staying. You will come wiz me and help. I will not have a fully functional bot left to be bored."

Nemesis gives him a hopeful look, "You mean that?"

"I do." And of course Nemesis would keep Oil Slick's spark warm while Blitzwing was busy, if there wasn't anything for Nemesis to help with. That was how it would be. The bot would be happy to help at all, or he would go do other things. Period.

Nemesis finishes up the cake, and curls against his chest, Oil Slick next to him. "I would love to do that. So much better than being tied to the berth, and forced to 'face an offlined bot like I thought I'd be."

He squeezes his little bots afts, rubbing them possessively. "Good. Let's watch ze news, zen a nap."

Nemesis nods, and they settle in to look at the vidscreen.

--

"No," Megatron informs him, stroking Starscream's bulging cockpit. A seeker's eggs build up fast.

"But my liege, I must take ze mission, and I want Nemesis along wiz me. He will be kept in ze safehouse, to keep Oil Zlick company while I work. If I leave zem here, zen I miss out on time to try to spark him." Blitzwing is determined.

Megatron shakes his head. "No. He will be carrying, and that means he will be kept safe. You have shown over and over that you are capable of defending yourself. Nemesis will be staying with Lugnut."

He looks up at his leader, tone pleading, "But he will be in ze safehouse. Nozing will go wrong. /And// if he is wiz Lugnut, zere is a chance zat Straxus will get to him. I do not want Nemesis to try offlining ze mech now zat he no longer has ze coding keeping him from doing it."

Megatron watches him with narrowed optics. "I am not certain that is wise. What if he is offlined while he is on the other planet? You will have lost a sparkling."

Blitzwing shakes his head. "He will be safe, meine Lord. We will have him paint up in his Autobot colors, and no one will zink anyzing of it, even if zey walk right into ze safehouse. He will be protected."

"And what about Oil Slick?" His leader keeps rubbing the seeker's chest, the mech dozing in Megatron's arms. "You have him so he looks /very// Decepticon." There's a small clang, and Blitzwing determinedly does not look at Megatron's pelvic armor. "I approve of that, of course. It is just that the two of them together, even with Nemesis in disguise, will mean that your carrier will be in even more danger."

"It is a neutral planet. I am to destroy the Autobot recruitment center. My bots will be safe. I only ask zat you allow zem to come wiz me, so I may have some entertainment wiz zem while I am away."

The planet has a holy place not too far from the city, where they can spark together, too.

Still, his leader denies him. "No. It is too much of a risk. I am not letting potential carriers leave the planet now."

"My lord, /please//. I want him wiz me, and-"

"This is /final//, Blitzwing." Megatron shifts a bit, "If you keep pushing, I won't allow you to have Oil Slick, either. Shockwave will be taking care of him the entire time you're gone. Him and Starscream."

He freezes, not liking that at all. "Zey... zey will tear him apart, my lord."

"He will be fine." Megatron waves a servo dismissively. "Go prepare for your mission, and do not bother me with your petty concerns again."

Starscream gives him a lazy, dangerous smile, "We will take /good// care of your toybot. Why don't you leave them both with us?"

He shudders, "I will return swiftly from my mission, my liege." And take Nemesis with him.

How unfortunate that his Random personality had taken over and gone against Megatron's orders. And taking Oil Slick as well. He will /not// allow either of his lovers to be damaged. Which is exactly what will happen if he leaves them here.

He hurries away, flipping through his personalities in worry about being caught. He's Hothead when he walks into his room, slamming the door behind him. Nemesis stares at him worriedly, holding Oil Slick close.

He looks at the mech, and flips to Random out of delight, "Were you fragging him, meine truckbot?" He can see Oil Slick is open in Nemesis's lap, and his truckbot is touching Oil Slick worriedly.

"No. I," the bot swallows around a dry intake, a hollow sound. "I thought I saw his arm move. I wanted to make sure he wasn't-" he can almost hear the word 'alive' in there, but Nemesis finishes with, "malfunctioning."

"He moved?" He sits down beside them, flipping back to Icy. "Zat is very unusual. He only moves when he is being fragged."

Nemesis nods, "I know." The truckbot looks at him, "But I was so sure..."

He kisses his mech, glossa moving into Nemesis's mouth, pushing the mech flat on the couch, and rubbing his chest. "Maybe he did. I need to go to meine mission, Nemesis."

The mech kisses him back, looking excited, "I have everything packed!"

He picks his lovers up, Oil Slick curled on top of his truckbot. "Ze teaset?"

"Yes. That too." Nemesis hates tea parties. Hates them with a fiery passion that Blitzwing thinks is rather immature. Teaparties are /wonderful// things. "Are we ready to go now?"

He is. He holds them closer to his chest, cackling madly as he goes to his ship. Let the cameras see him in his mad face, so Megatron can be less upset with him later for defying his orders.

He kisses them both, glossa over each of them, and Nemesis makes a face at him, only to stop as he pushes Oil Slick against the bot. He makes Nemesis kiss the truckbot, and they step into the ship. When they get in, he pushes them on the berth, and says cheerfully, "I want you to ride his spark, meine Nemesis. Oil Slick is starving for you to use his spark. Remember to tie him down like I showed you. He loves zat most."

Nemesis pulls out the ropes that Oil Slick loves best, and chains his servos up over his helm, and his legs spread apart. "Can I . . . ride his spike too?" Nemesis has taken a liking to that, if only because it gives him 'control' of the frag, with Oil Slick chained up beneath him.

"Not now. You can do zat later, when I am busy."

Nemesis looks at him with dim optics, "Are you sure? I can entertain you, and-"

"Nein." He starts up the ship, setting it on autopilot. "You will use his slutty spark, and zen I will use yours. We will be trying to spark on zis mission. You will enjoy it, of zat, I am certain."

Nemesis tightens the ropes, rubbing Oil Slick seductively. "If that is what you want." His mech is getting used to the idea of sparklings. It helps that they read or watch stories where there are sparklings in them.

Nemesis is much more willing to think about them now.

But... now is time for fragging, and he dims his optis as his two little bots get down to rubbing sparks.

--

He onlines the next morning with Nemesis staring intently at Oil Slick. "What?"

Nemesis whispers, "Look."

He turns his helm, and blinks.

Oil Slick is moving slightly, servos twitching as if having a recharge memory purge.

He stares in confusion, wondering what is going on. He wants to touch, but manages to restrain himself. They watch in silence, and after half a klik, the movement stops entirely. He sits up slowly, and tugs both of his little bots into his lap, "I zink... zat I will be buying a medical datapad when we get to ze planet. I do not know if it is safe for us to interface Oil Zlick here." Even if the idea of having to /not// frag Oil Slick is terrible.

Nemesis nods reluctantly, "Yes. Do you think someone came in when we weren't in your rooms, and did something?"

He doesn't know what kind of viruses or hacking can be done to a Perfect Partner to make them move like that. "I do not zink so. I would know if he had been hacked." And Perfect Partners were not offlined bots. They were built from scratch.

So why was the bot moving?

A part malfunction, maybe?

He may... ugh, have to com them and ask them what the frag they did. He has no /want// to send Oil Slick back. He wants to keep his cyclebot safe. This is very worrying.

Nemesis kisses him, glossa flicking in. "If he /is// hacked, we can be almost certain that Shockwave is the one that did it."

He nods, feeling a bit better. "He is very jealous of Oil Zlick."

"And, you could play with my valve, if I can't interface Oil Slick." The bot rubs against him, and there's a small click of the valve cover unlocking. "Or you can get me a valve toy to use."

He has several toys, and he pushes one into Nemesis's servos. "Take zat one. I do not wish to touch your interfacing mods. You know zat."

Nemesis crawls off a bit and drives the toy into his valve, making obscene, wet noises with it while Blitzwing gets up to prepare the ship for landing on Laylora. The planet is far from Decepticon territory, but close enough that Autobots feel the need to recruit there.

The sound of Nemesis is disgusting, the bot clanking as the toy is driven into him, and his truckbot moaning like a whore. He doesn't approve of it at all.

So he keeps his focus on piloting the ship.

--

Blitzwing pulls out the paint that Nemesis packed for his disguse, and smiles. "Pink, meine Nemesis?"

The truckbot crosses his arms, "Light red."

He chuckles softly, "/Pink//. And a lovely green."

"It's red." The bot takes the paints and goes into the washrack to change his colors. He watches Nemesis go, and wonders if the bot's hips have gotten bigger. They certainly fill his servos a little better when he holds them. The bot had been underfueled before. It's a good change.

The sparkling will need twice as much fuel as a normal sparkling will, and Nemesis will need to have plenty in his reserves to give.

He watches Nemesis paint himself, and gives into temptation, walking in to kiss him, glossa shoving in possessively. The mech is delicious, and he hopes will last longer than any other truckbot he's gotten.

Nemesis pushes him away lightly, "You'll /ruin// my paint. Go scan Oil Slick to make sure we can keep fragging him. I want to watch as /you// take his spark."

"Don't argue wiz me," he warns, giving the bot a sharp pinch. "Now, go get ready for ze trip down. We must set up in ze safehouse. It is a nice little place near ze edge of town." He'd picked it because it was closest to the sacred site that they will create their sparkling at.

Hopefully.

If Oil Slick isn't damaged.

He goes to his cyclebot, picking him up and cuddling him. He had hurried out when they landed and bought a datapad, but he's not sure if he will be able to read everything on it as it scans. He just hopes this works.

Placing it in his mech's sparkchamber, he runs it.

And it scans up completely normal from what he can tell. No glitches, no defects, nothing.

Except the energy scan on the spark shows that the spark is putting out energy a few measures higher than it used to.

He hopes that means the spark isn't in danger of . . exploding or something. He needs to call customer service.

He's put on hold for a breem, and then a friendly bot answers him, "Picture Perfect Partners customer service, how can I help you?"

He holds up his medical datapad, "I am worried zat ze spark for my Perfect Partner is malfunctioning. It-"

The bot looks at the datapad, interrupting him. "That's within perameters. You said you're General Blitzwing, and you have the top of the line fake spark installed in Oil Slick. It is just fine."

"But it is higher than it normally is, and we saw his servos moving earlier," he interrupts back. "Zat is not normal. I don't want him injured."

The mech smiles brightly, "The energy readings fluctuate at times. Have you recently done anything unusual with your Perfect Partner?"

He thinks, "We traveled, and we are trying to spark wiz anozer mech right now."

The mech gives him a confused look, but doesn't question him. "The mech you're sparking with may have an odd energy signature. Could you scan him, or is he not near you?"

He sighs, turning his head and calling out, "Pulley," the name they are using to keep Nemesis secret, "come here. I need to scan you, meine truckbot."

His mech comes out, in his lighter colors of paint, with blue optical lenses temporarily installed over his others. "Yes, Blitzwing?"

"Ze mech wants to see if you have an unusual spark reading. To see if our Oil Zlick is alright." He pushes Nemesis onto his lap and pushes the device into his sparkchamber.

Nemesis squirms under his touch, and the mech on the com says, "You may want to work him to high heat to make sure."

He frowns at the mech, "You will /not// watch." He's not sharing how Nemesis whines and mewls for overload. Just for him. Not even Megatron gets the same reaction as he does from his truckbot. That had fragged Megatron off enough to make the bot take Nemesis in public several times before giving up.

Nemesis is happier under Blitzwing's servos. He's a gentler lover, if more demanding. He doesn't allow his mechs to become too aggressive with him. /He// is the top bot. Not them. They do well to remember that, and most of the time, they do it well enough.

He only has to swat their afts occasionally. Oil Slick more than Nemesis. His cyclebot does not know when to keep his slutty plates /closed//. Nemesis is much better behaved when it comes to that.

He makes sure the datapad is on, and rubs Nemesis's spark possessively. "What do you zink of zis?" he asks his mech softly, optics dim as he plays with his spark, making it hotter. "What do you zink?"

His truckbot whines, wiggling under him, "More. Please."

Nemesis reacts so wonderfully for him. It could only be better if Oil Slick was there too, helping get the bot nice and hot for him. But Oil Slick is possibly damaged. His mech overloads, and the bot on screen hums, studying the readings.

"His energy seems normal. A bit odd in the resonances, but normal. It shouldn't be making your Perfect Partner do anything unusual."

Nemesis cuddles against him, optics dim and happy. The mech is always so pleased after an overload, and he loves it. He pats his mech, and says, "but we saw Oil Zlick moving." He sends the recording of it, and holds his truckbot loosely. "See?"

The bot looks at the recording, and shifts uncomfortably, "I'm not sure what to say, sir. If you want to send him in, we can, but I'd say nothing is /wrong// with your Perfect Partner. Sometimes they move, but that could just be because you put in odd fuels. Have you been putting in crystals, maybe?"

"No," Blitzwing says, even as Nemesis gets a guilty look on his faceplates. Blitzwing gives him a little shake. "Have you?"

"Just a tiny piece. I just wanted him to taste some of the cake you made for me." Nemesis ducks his head, embarrassed. "I thought he'd like it. He keeps looking at it."

"You cannot give zem to him. He is a sparkslut, and he will try to sway you wiz his optics and frame, but you cannot give in."

The bot on the com smiles at them, "There you are. The crystals must have caused a bit of a problem, but it really isn't anything serious. If you don't give him anymore, that should fix it. If you /do// give him more, you will want to send him in so that we can empty out his tank!"

He nods, frowning at his truckbot. "Zank you, we will not be fueling him on crystals again." He turns off the com, and shoves his servo against his mech's spark, rubbing harshly, "You /slutty zing///. You can not /do// zat!" He kisses his mech, glossa flicking in. "See if I let you frag Oil Zlick. I will lock away his spike from you."

Nemesis whines, "I just wanted to share with him. You're . . you're always getting on me about treating him right."

"That doesn't mean stuffing him full of things he is allergic to!" he accuses, and then carries his bot back into the berthroom, freezing in shock.

Oil Slick is sitting upright on the berth, staring at them with fully sentient optics.

He stares at him, and says, "Oil Zlick?"

His cyclebot shakes a little, and says in a surprisingly deep voice, "Where am I?"

He thinks he is even more in love, just from the sound of his cyclebot's voice.

Nemesis squirms in his arms, slipping off, and walking over to their cyclebot. "You're on Laylora, in our ship."

Oil Slick stares at them, and starts to stand up, only to fell over, looking wobbly. "Ugh. I feel all weak." His mech gives them an irritated look, "And who are you two?"

"Do not play coy, my love," Blitzwing purrs, pulling both bots into his arms. "Primus seems to have . . blessed you with life. I am your Blitzwing, and zis is Nemesis, who will carry our sparkling soon."

The mech pushes free from his servos. "I have never met either of you before. You have botnapped me. I demand that you take me back to Haydon IV at once!"

He frowns, "Haydon IV?" That place is way away from much civilization. "Zere are only a few bots on zat planet anymore. Too hot for any sort of place to live since ze factories ruined it." A good example for why they can't over work the planets.

The mech scowls, "No. It is /freezing// there. There's always snow, and-"

Nemesis leans in close to the mech, "How did this happen, Blitzwing? I only gave him a little crystal cake."

The mech rubs at his arms, looking haunted, "The medics told me that I shouldn't trust the things I see. You're part of it. You've stolen me. Or you're not real."

Blitzwing gently touches his shoulder, "What do you mean, the medics? We have not taken you to any medics lately, meine Oil Zlick." Had some other bot been messing with him?

The bot shakes his head, "No. I'm not going to-" The mech squirms a bit, moving and trying ot get up. The mech manages to make it to his peds, only to fall forward, into Blitzwing's arms. The bot stares at him, touching his chest. "You feel... familiar."

He smiles, "We /have// been fragging, meine Oil Zlick."

"No. I've been in St. Gentlecare's for . . . no. I don't know you." The bot pushes away again, shaking his head. "This is a cruel game you're playing. Crueler than the others. They never pretended to know me."

He pulls his mech close. Is it possible that some waylaid spark has made it into his bot?

He pets his mech's side, feeling incredibly worried. "It is no game, meine Oil Zlick. Nemesis and I are-"

"N-no." The bot shoves him away, "I won't let you do this. I wo-"

Nemesis touches Oil Slick cautiously, "We aren't playing a joke on you." His truckbot rubs against Oil Slick, grinding a bit on his pelvic armor. "Not at all."

His cyclebot stiffens, and grinds back. "What... I know that feeling... Wh-" Oil Slick shakes his head, "No. Stop this."

"Shh. We'll just get on ze com wiz ze bots zat made you." He lifts his mech up to carry him.

"My creators?" the mech asks, surprised. "Why would you . . you /are// botnappers! You're going to demand ransom for me!"

What a strange personality his mech has, now that he is speaking.

He cuddles his mech, who reacts to him like a lover should, cuddled against his chest, happy to feel his spark heat. "Nein. I will not do such a zing. You are meine Oil Zlick. We will be having sparklings wiz Nemesis. I love you very much."

Oil Slick looks over at Nemesis, and touches his own pelvic armor without thinking about it. "You're botnappers."

"We are not," Nemesis says, and then pauses, "this sol. We have done many things for Lord Megatron, but we have not botnapped you."

Rather than reassure him, it only makes Oil Slick stiffen unhappily, "No. Not-"

He has the com connected then, and gets routed to the same bot, "We need to speak immediately. As you can see, meine Oil Slick is alive."

Except the bot is now limp and lifeless against him, optics unseeing.

He frowns, "How did zis happen? Pulley," he just barely remembers to use the codename, "did you have a recording of him?"

Nemesis moves over, rubbing Oil Slick's chest, "Yes, I'll send it over."

The mech on the com smiles at them blankly, reviewing the footage. "I'm sorry, this seems to be corrupted. Could you try again?"

Nemesis frowns, doing so. "There."

"You are sending me corrupted files." The bot smiles weakly, "Perhaps you would like to gather yourselves up and send a file at a later date, when you have something to show? We will be happy to fix any problems you may have with your Perfect Partner if you can document them for us. Or simply send him back and we will restore him to the condition we sent him to you in."

No. Absolutely not. "We will com back wiz ze files later."

The mech nods, "Of course. have a good sol, sirs." The com is turned off.

He turns to Nemesis, and says, "Send /me// ze files." He gets them instantly, and they /are// corrupted. Nothing but a mess and unwatchable. "Can you see ze recording?"

Nemesis frown at him, "Yes, of co-" The mech blinks, looking worried. "No. They're corrupted."

This was . . . strange. "Perhaps we might have better luck at a temple?" Sometimes Primus did strange things. That was well-known. "We should take him zere. Zey might know what is wrong wiz him."

Nemesis nods slowly, "But they might try to burn him. He's a . . . creature. Not a normal bot."

He shakes his head, "Nein. He is our Oil Zlick. You know zis." He taps Nemesis's pelvic armor, "You know it very well, you little spikeslut. You can not get enough of riding him."

His truckbot rubs against his servo, revving a bit. "I'd also be a finger slut if you'd use yours on me. You can do that right now."

"Nein. We need to get to ze safehouse." He doesn't like the way the fluids gum up his joints if he doesn't wash immediately. He needs to get the safehouse set up before they can do anything else. He'll get it set up and then take them to a temple. And then do his mission. And then spark his Nemesis up.

So much to get done in so little time.

He shakes his head.

He kisses his truckbot, and then his cyclebot. "Let's go."

Nemesis follows him eagerly, and he knows that his lover is thinking about riding Oil Slick's spike, and fragging sparks. He has two very slutty bots to care for, and he is not looking forward to the mission because of it.

He wants to stay and use them as much as possible.

--

He grunts, and stumbles back towards the safehouse. The mission had been a disaster. The visit to the temple hadn't yielded anything, so he'd gone to his mission.

He'd destroyed the outpost, but the Autobots there had gotten a lucky shot in, and he was leaking energon heavily from his side.

He manages to get in, and lands heavily on his knees when the door closes. He's too hurt to do more than this.

He thinks he's going to offline, but then Nemesis rushes over to him, pulling out a repair kit to work on him. His armor yanked off roughly to get at his protoform to repair. The mech looks incredibly angry at him, working as he speaks. "You're /all over// the news! I'm just glad they don't know who you are! They just say 'a large jetbot terrorist'! You're so fraggin' lucky I'm here to help you patch this up."

He pants, venting a bit obscured from his crushed side, "A-at least they zink I am a /jetbot//. Not what entirely I am, ja?"

"You're an idiot. You shouldn't have been so public. And was it necessary to /freeze// half the Autobot guards? When they thaw out, they'll know exactly who attacked them. You're not an unrecognizable bot. You're General /Blitzwing//."

He lays back, letting the bot work on his injury with nimble servos. "Ja, ja. But it was . . fun."

Nemesis kisses him, messy, fast, and clearly done to disguise worry. "You fragging /idiot//. I'm going to kick your aft when you're all healed, you know that?"

He offlines his optics, letting the mech work. "Ja. You do zat." Primus, he hurts. It feels like he's burning up inside. "Did zey fry my protoform?"

His mech has energon up to his elbows, all over his front, "You're almost slagged inside, but your outer armor looks fine to me. I'm not sure-"

"There is a small hole in the armor," a deep voice says, and he instantly knows Oil Slick is back.

"Ja." He watches Oil Slick carefully, the mech approaching just as cautiously. "You are back wiz us."

The bot shakes his head. "The medics increased my medications. They said I wouldn't see you again, and if I did, I'm supposed to ignore you. But I don't think I can ignore a bot with a hole in his side like that. Who attacked you?"

He laughs, only to stop at the intense pain of it. He offlines his optics, laying prone while Nemesis works on him. "Autobots zat did not approve of me getting rid of ze recruitment center."

Oil Slick moves next to Nemesis, touching him gently. "Well, I don't blame you for wanting it gone. The one on Haydon IV is an opticsore. I wished once that someone would destroy it, but then I got locked away, and now I don't see it anymore, anyways."

The bot says it so casually. "You get locked away often?" he asks, and feels a second set of servos helping with the wound treatement.

"No. Just this once. I was having fits, and seeing things that weren't there. Sometimes my creators would catch me speaking to the illusions that were around me. They sent me to a place to get treatment, and I haven't been out since."

Nemesis asks, "So, how long have you been there?"

The mech's claws are nimble, "Since I was a teenbot."

Blitzwing can't imagine being locked away in what he is certain is a mental institution since he was a teenbot. He's crazy, and he knows it. But he's never been put in an /institution//.

Nemesis pulls out a datapad, connecting it to Blitzwing, and poking at it awkwardly. "So about a couple thouand decavorns?"

"Oh, no. Longer. I was a very /young// teenbot." The mech takes the datapad, and Blitzwing relaxes at the mech shunts away the pain. "There, that should help a bit." He gives Blitzwing a smile, "I'm good at dealing with pain. They tried shock therapy for a while, before my creators found out, and banned them from it. It really was the best treatment, though. Disappointingly enough. I saw no visions for a full vorn."

"But zat treatment is cruel." Blitzwing gently rubs his servo. "I would never let zem do zat to you."

The mech smiles at him, "Well, you are all the most solid ones I've been with." The mech runs a servo along Nemesis's back, landing on his aft and squeezing. "And the hottest." His mech touches him with his other servo, "But you seem close to offlining right now."

Nemesis growls, "Not if /I// have anything to say about it. Grab me the repair kit. In the storage cube on the table."

Oil Slick stands up, but not before rubbing the truckbot's valve cover. "Of course."

Nemesis shudders, and gives Oil Slick a hot look. "Hurry. We can play afterwards. Blitzwing needs the nanite salve in there. I don't want him offlining on us, do you?"

Oil Slick smiles, and heads off to get what he needs.

Nemesis leans in close, "My recordings of him are corrupt, even now. This must be a test of Primus."

He nods, "Most likely. Once you fix me, we need to go to the temple to try sparking." He watches Oil Slick, the mech walking in a way to show off his hips and aft, wiggling back and forth. "We have to do it before they realize it was me who destroyed it."

Nemesis kisses him, "Are you sure this will spark me?"

He shakes his head, "Nein. It /should//, but we have not even been togezer for even a stellar."

The temple visit will help. Then, they will need to go to the holy solvent spring in the forest, and wash themselves in the solvents to cleanse their frames. Another interface, and then Nemesis should be carrying a triple-changer in his chest, which would please Megatron to no end.

And he wants his liege happy with him, since he will be most upset that he took Nemesis with him against his orders.

But he /needed// to. He could not just ignore it. Not when he got this mission. Not when he's on this planet. Not-

Oil Slick slinks over, and starts to rub the nanite salve over his protoform. "I want to try your valve as well, Blitzwing. I see you have one."

He scowls, "No. I am ze one on top, und you will be in /chains//."

The mech looks at him, and revs loudly. "Chains? Really? You'd do that?"

"Yes." He taps on Oil Slick's cuff points on his wrists, and they fold out. Oil Slick gazes at him like he is magic. "You are built for being restrained. And you will never take my valve, ja? You can frag Nemesis, but not me."

"If you chain me up, then I won't need to," the bot revs louder. "I got in trouble with the staff for letting one of them tie me up and take me."

He puts a servo around his cyclebot's tiny waist, squeezing just a bit. "You will not let zat happen again. You will /not// frag anyone but ze bots zat I approve."

Oil Slick gives him an amused look, helping put the bandages on his side. "I was planning on training to be a ninjabot, but then I turned out insane."

"Zat does not matter. You will frag no bot zat I do not approve of." He won't have his bot getting infections. "You will stay away from any of zem."

Oil Slick smiles wider, "I have a spike here. As long as you two keep me satisfied, I won't need to turn to any of the staffbots." He sighs, "Besides, the last one got fired for taking my sparkfilm."

He sighs in pleasure as they put his armor back on him. He tugs both of his mechs in his lap, kissing Nemesis first, and then Oil Slick. The cyclebot kisses back, making happy revvy sounds that make his spark pulse. "Well, /here//, I am ze one zat took it." He rubs their frames, "I still have more sparkfilm zat I can add to you boz zat we can play wiz when we get home."

Nemesis rubs their chests together, optics dim, "I liked that much more than when Megatron took mine."

Megatron tended to be brutal, claiming that it made a bot remember it better, but Blitzwing knows it's just the savage gladiator in Megatron that does that, reveling in the way his opponent cries out in agony before giving in to the pleasure afterwards.

Oil Slick nuzzles against him, and he frowns as the bot's spike comes out and rubs on his thigh. "Stop zat."

Oil Slick cocks his hips, showing it off better. "I wish it had a few piercings. Lots of bot have spikes, covered in decorations. A few staffbots do, and I wanted one forever. Now I have one here. It's so wonderful."

He pushes it down, "Nein. No using it wiz me. You wait until you are alone wiz Nemesis, and he will tie you down and ride you."

"Can I get it pierced later?" Oil Slick asks eagerly, wiggling his hips and his spike, and Blitzwing puts a servo over it, forcing it back inside the bot, locking the panel shut.

"Possibly. Not now." He chains Oil Slick's servos over his head. "For now, you will behave and get some recharge. I am not up for a frag wiz my wounds. Perhaps in ze morning."

Oil Slick revs helplessly, "You /can't// do this, and not frag me." The mech looks at Nemesis, "You frag me. Frag me as hard as you can."

Nemesis stares at Oil Slick, "/I'm// going to get cleaned up. Blitzwing is getting cleaned up. And so are you. After that, we are going to all fuel. Blitzwing lost a lot of energon."

Oil Slick squirms in his bonds deliciously, "You can't chain me up and leave me!"

Blitzwing nods at Nemesis, who seems to understand his meaning. "I'll wash you up. If you're good, I'll frag your spark. If you're /really// good, I'll ride your spike too, if Blitzwing allows it."

He might allow it.

Oil Slick whimpers.

He makes his way to the washrack with his mechs, feeling a little better already.

--

Blitzwing sits down in the solvent pool, using the blessed solvents to clean up his frame, and starts to work on Nemesis. Oil Slick is back to being a doll, since it seems the only ones that can see him when he'd functional are him and his truckbot.

He rubs his fingers over Nemesis's pelvic armor, and his mech gasps happily, opening his legs wide. "Do I open?"

He shakes his head, "Nein. We are not cleaning /mods//. We are trying to spark."

"Then I should let my spark be exposed to the solvents instead?"

He shrugs, "It cannot hurt. It is not part of ze ritual, but it won't hurt ze ritual eizer."

That's when Oil Slick comes back online, with Nemesis exposing his spark to the solvents, hissing as they fizzle against it. "Ouch ouch ouch. . . slagging stings."

He shrugs again. "It helps burn away impurities on ze frame, and ze spark."

Oil Slick curls against them, looking at them with dim optics, "Are we going to frag soon?"

He pushes at his mech's chamber, and the cyclebot opens for him instantly. "We will be sparking up Nemesis. Ze boz of us, so zat we have a triple-changer."

Oil Slick revs. "Can he ride my spike after?"

He sighs, "Is zat all you zink about?" He kisses both of his little mechs, "We will see."

"Triple-changers aren't made that way," Oil Slick says then, laying against him.

"Nein. But I am a triple-changer, and I know ze rituals. We will make a triple-changer togezer easily enough. Zen we will have Megatron pleased wiz us." And maybe some proof that Oil Slick is /alive//, since no recordings will stay.

The bot offlines his optics. "I like it here better than in the hospital."

He smiles as Nemesis kisses Oil Slick. "Well, we like zat you are here." He rubs his mech's hip softly, "Now. We are clean, and we need to go to ze berz I set up." A temporary one, sadly. He knows that he can't head to a temple to frag, since that will get them dirty.

Oil Slick smiles as Blitzwing carries both of his mechs over. "I get to be on top, then?"

"For a while, yes." But only on top of Nemesis. There is some small element of truth in the fact that sparklings tend to form on the bottom bot most often, though not always. It is not a foolproof plan. There is a chance that Blitzwing himself might get sparked from this.

Oil Slick snuggles against him. "You bots are the best hallucination. I never get fragged so much in the other ones."

"Do you get fragged very much in ze ozer ones?" he asks, setting Nemesis down. He kisses his truckbot, "Put up ze encouragers I installed on you. Ze special ones."

Nemesis nods, "Yes Blitzwing. Done."

Oil Slick huffs softly, "I haven't gotten fragged lately /at all// since they put me under better guard. Fragging annoying."

Good for his bot's protection. "I will donate ze energy first. Zen, when ze energy starts to form a sparkling, you will donate energy, meine Oil Zlick, and ze sparkling will be confused enough zat it will take in all zree of our codes. If zat does not work, we will try it ze ozer way, putting it in you first, but zat rarely works."

Oil Slick flickers his optics at him, "You said I have a fake spark here. I won't be /able// to carry a sparkling."

That's something he's incredibly worried about. Not that he'll admit it. "Nein. Zis will work."

He climbs on top of his truckbot, kissing him, and his mech sighs happily, "Frag me /hard//, Blitzwing."

It's important that he focus on /giving// energy during this, taking in as little as possible, so when he pushes his spark down, he pushes against it with all his willpower, not letting energy come back to him. A sparkling is created out of mixed energies, but there has to be a large amount for the sparkling to form.

So he can't soak any of it up on his own.

He explains that to Oil Slick and Nemesis as he does it. Pushing and rubbing the spark. He kisses his lover, and Nemesis whines under him. "Really hot."

He shakes his head, "No overloading, sweetspark. You keep still."

Nemesis has so much trouble with that direction, squirming and struggling against him, trying to overload, but he can't until Oil Slick overloads. So Blitzwing grunts and lets his energy fill the bot's sparkchamber when he overloads, but pinches Nemesis hard enough to stop him from overloading at all.

"Let me . . let me," the bot groans, and Blitzwing ignores him, putting Oil Slick on top.

He shoves Oil Slick down, and his cyclebot sighs in pleasure. "You're pretty when you're like this, Nemesis."

He swats Oil Slick's aft, "You will do what I told you. Push your energy into him. Take as little as possible back."

Oil Slick huffs, "I don't nee-"

He spanks him again. "Do it."

Oil Slick slowly grinds, scowling at him. "It's not very good this way." The energies swirl between them, and Blitzwing can see that Oil Slick is ignoring him, so he slaps his aft again, and then tugs Oil Slick's servos behind his back, cuffing them together.

"If you will not behave, we will help you," he promises in a low voice, and moves Oil Slick the way he needs to move.

His mech whines, "No /fair//. I get to frag, and now you make me do it a stupid way. I ha-" The bot yelps when he spanks him again. "Fine! I got it, I got it!" The bot mutters, "Slagger," but Blitzwing ignores it.

He continutes to move the mech in the correct way, and Nemesis stares up at him hungrily, "Now?"

"Yes, now." He shoves Oil Slick down, and both bots overload, crying out with pleasure. He pulls them apart before Oil Slick's slutty spark can soak up too much energy, and watches hopefully. The swirls of extra blue energy get pulled into Nemesis's spark.

Now all they can do is wait and hope, and pray to Primus that Nemesis was successfully sparked from this.

He kisses his mech softly, glossa shoving into the truckbot's mouth. "Good bot. We must go back to the ship now, and leave. After you've fueled and recharged, we can interface normally."

Oil Slick squirms in his arms, looking irritated, "And /what// are you going to do with me?"

He holds the bot in his arms, "Frag you, if you stay wiz me long enough. Ze ship is top priority."

Oil Slick smiles a little bit. "Gonna give me a proper frag then? I-" the bot goes limp then, and Blitzwing looks up angrily at the group of bots that have walked into the clearing to use the spring and the surrounding caves.

They wave at him, and then slip into the solvent spring, unconcerned with his anger.

He has to fight to keep from flipping to Hothead, since he knows that he will attack if it happens. Instead, he scoops up the temporary berth, putting it away, and then picks up Nemesis, carrying both of his lovers out. Once he's away from the blessed solvents, he allows his anger to hit, and flips. "Zose /fraggers//! Zey never should have come!"

"It's alright," Nemesis soothes him. "We got the thing done. And Oil Slick will come back eventually, you know. We just have to wait. And keep him safe in our rooms when we get back to New Kaon." He touches his own chest. "If I'm sparked, Megatron won't slag either of us. If I'm not, it was nice knowing you."

He kisses his mech softly, "He won't slag you. He wants you to be sparked. He will blame my impulsiveness, and punish /me//. You will not be hurt, meine Nemesis."

His mech sighs, leaning against him, "I doubt it."

--

Megatron stares at them from his throne, and then waves a servo at Hook. "Scan them. If Nemesis is carrying, I will have you imprisoned for risking him, Blitzwing."

Blitzwing holds his mechs tightly. "If he is sparked, zen it was while we were away, enjoying ourselves, my liege. I would not take a sparked mech offplanet. I know of your new laws." The ones forbidding carriers from leaving, and forbidding any anti-sparkling protocols unless there was a medical reason to avoid them.

"He would /not// be allowed off planet. No matter what. I told you this, and if you do not listen, then-"

Hook connects the datapad, "And if he's sparked with Blitzwing's sparkling, my leige? You know that if another provides the energy to a new spark, they offline the sparklings."

Megatron frowns, looking at him, "Then we lock you in your rooms, Blitzwing, and you won't be leaving until I decide to let you free."

"I could not leave him here, my liege. Shockwave and Starscream would have damaged him, and we would be desynced, and not spark for many more decavorns." He pleads for understanding. "I took him wiz me so I could follow your true desire, to have many sparklings roaming ze base and ze planet."

Megatron's optics narrow. "Do not play word games with me."

He clings to his mechs, holding them tightly. "I love meine mechs, my leige. I asked for zem to come. I was worried for zem, and-"

"Nemesis is carrying a triple-changer," Hook says. "A jet-cyclebot."

Megatron stares at him, "Neither of you have /any// cyclebot in your ancestry. Nemesis is a clone that has been modified to be pure truckbot, and we've traced your coding for as far as we could, Blitzwing. /No// cyclebots. Explain this."

"Oil Slick is alive," he offers, holding his mech up. "When we are alone, he comes to life. He donated some coding."

Megatron shakes his head slowly. "Both of you will be confined to your quarters, Blitzwing, until the identity of your sparkling can be determined. How long will that take, Hook?"

The medic shrugs, "About a stellar cycle. I can look at code scans then. If you want me to do protoform testing, you'll need to wait a dozen stellars or so, until I can take a sample of the sparkling blob."

Megatron points at the door, "Lugnut, make sure Blitzwing and Nemesis go to the correct rooms."

"Yes, my leige!" Lugnut says excitedly, and ushers them out into the hallway. The mech makes sure they keep walking, but says, "A sparkling is the greatest blessing." The mech touches him, looking sad, "Especially when sparked so soon."

Lugnut has been trying for ages now. Blitzwing pats his servo, and slips a datapad into it. "You will succeed eventually, Lugnut." He likes Strika quite a bit. Hopefully the pad will help. It has a list of holy springs the couple could visit, to wash themselves clean before trying to spark. Being pure and clean was most inviting to a potential sparkling.

Lugnut looks at the pad strangely, and tucks it away. "You are blessed. I am sorry that our Lord wishes to lock you up."

He smiles at the mech, "It just means zat I get to give Nemesis more energy for our sparkling, ja? Better zan how it /could// be."

Lugnut nods. "I guess." The bot takes him to his room, ushering him in. "We'll see about getting you things you need. Bots with sparklings are very important."

The door is shut before he can reply, and Oil Slick wakes up in his arms instantly, screaming. Blitzwing winces, and sets him down. "What is wrong, meine Oil Zlick?"

He's grabbed tightly, and the mech shakes, "My mamas want me to try a new medicine! I don't want it! I don't /like// it! They injected it, and now it feels like my armor is melting!"

"Shh." Blitzwing strokes his frame gently. "Do you feel the burning here? Do you?"

Oil Slick stops, and stares down at himself, still trembling a little. "N-no. It doesn't hurt here. Not when I'm with you."

"Then you do not need to worry here." He kisses Oil Slick's frame gently. "Your mamas will see your pain and have them stop it." He would prefer if they just . . . stopped everything. So Oil Slick would stay here. With him. Where he belongs.

His mech clings to him, shaking. "I don't like the new medicine."

He sits down, cuddling both of his bots, "Zen you stay here." He smiles, kissing Oil Slick, "We have ze /best// news."

Nemesis gives Oil Slick a pleased look, "We're sparked."

The cyclebot stares at them, "Really? So it worked?"

"Yes. And it's a cyclebot-jet. Zat means you gave some of your code to it," Blitzwing says proudly, kissing him deeply, glossa thrusting into his mouth, claiming it. "You have made Megatron and Hook very confused."

Oil Slick sighs, "/I// am very confused. This is all a hallucination."

He chuckles, "Nein. You are really here."

The mech leans against them both, and says, "Well, this place is way nicer than the institution, at least." He looks around, "Better than the other places we were at, actually."

He nods, "Zis is my set of rooms on New Kaon."

Oil Slick hums appreciatively, "I like it."

"Good. We'll be spending some time here," Nemesis says sardonically. "We're confined to quarters until Megatron has an explanation for our miracle sparkling. No one else believes you're a real bot, no matter what we do to prove it. The recordings don't do anything but fizzle out, and you turn back into a doll whenever someone else comes in and sees you."

"Quite troubling," Oil Slick agrees.

He kisses his mech softly, "But you are here for now. I am glad. You need to contribute energy to ze sparking. You are much more fun like zis, and not as much when you are a doll."

Oil Slick's spike pops out excitedly, "I can-"

He pushes it back in. "Do I need to lock zis away?"

"No. But I can use it while I give him energy. It's good to stimulate a bot with. And carriers that are pleasured are more receptive to energy donations." Oil Slick nods sagely, as if this is some great wisdom.

"You can spike him later." He locks the plate shut for now. "For now, focus on ze spark energies."

Oil Slick scowls, "I /like// spiking him. I want to spike you, too."

He shakes his head, "/My// valve is codelocked to Megatron. Even if you got ze plate off and tried, it would be a bad idea."

His cyclebot climbs onto Nemesis, "Why is that?"

Nemesis sighs happily, tugging Oil Slick down, "His valve will chop it off of you."

The cyclebot pales. "What? Why would you get something like that?"

"Megatron did not want ozers taking my valve." It meant that he was not subjected to Lugnut or Shockwave's groping, which he was thankful for. They were awful bots in the berth, even if Lugnut made delicious treats and Shockwave was excellent for blackmail material.

Oil Slick shudders. "/Terrible//."

He pushes the mech down, forcing his bots to frag. "You will be giving energy to our sparkling. No more complaining."

His lovers don't reply, too busy paying attention to each other. Which is exactly what he wanted.

--

A stellar later, Blitzwing lays on the berth, Oil Slick is perched on the chair, and Nemesis is sitting next to him, sparkchamber open while Hook runs a scan on the creator of the sparkling. Rather, to find out who provided the cyclebot coding.

Oil Slick, even as a toybot /does// have code. It doesn't look the same as normal bot code, but it is a code, and he knows the bot will find it in their sparkling.

Hook frowns, and scans a second time. And then a third. He doesn't like the results.

Blitzwing gives him a smug look. "It is all zree of ours, ja?"

Megatron frowns at him, "Don't be ridicuous, Blit-"

"Yes." Hook sounds so /bitter// about it. "It is."

Megatron stares at him, "How is this possible, Hook?"

The medic shakes his head, "I have no fragging clue. /None//. This shouldn't be possible, but here we are. Maybe it has an actual spark instead of a fake one. I /don't know//."

Megatron pushes Oil Slick's plates open and stares at his spark. "This is not a real spark. I have seen enough to know. /You// have seen enough to know. This cannot have created a sparkling."

Hook shrugs, "I don't slagging know, my liege. I only know that the coding matches, and it's not normal bot coding."

Megatron scowls, "I do not appriciate being made a fool. Explain it, Hook."

The medic sighs, "I /can't//, my lord. You want to know, and so do I." The bot looks at Blitzwing, "You'll explain it."

He smiles brightly, "I told you. When you are not around, he comes alive."

Nemesis says softly, "Sometimes. He's sometimes off in the mental institution."

Megatron stares at them, not sure what to say.

"It's true," Blitzwing adds helpfully.

Megatron shakes his head slowly. "I know that strange things are going on here. Shockwave reports that about half of the time you're in your rooms, his cameras record gibberish and corrupt data. And your sparkling clearly has the code of this toy. I do not know how."

He smiles, "We told you zat-"

Megatron holds up a servo, "You will still be here for at least another stellar. Do you understand? I will not have this sort of thing happening. You are being punished for taking a carrying bot off planet. It does not matter if he was or was not carrying when you did it. I had ordered you to keep him here, and you ignored me. You will be punished for it."

"Yes, my liege." Another stellar of his bots and fragging is not a terrible thing. It's relaxing, and they're giving good amounts of energy to their sparkling, even if Oil Slick and Nemesis insist on sharing their interfacing mods far too often.

Megatron studies him, and then pulls him up. "And when you finish your punishment, I will reward your loyalty. Do not think that I have forgotten you, Blitzwing." He strokes his frame, and fondles the valve plating. "I will break your seals when you are free."

That is /not// a reward, and make him think of doing something to make this 'punishment' last longer. He just isn't sure how to do that without making it obvious that he's avoiding it.

"Yes, my liege," he says softly.

Megatron kisses him, glossa pushing in possessively, and he's pressed against the wall while Megatron keeps fondling him. When he's let go, Megatron smiles, "And I /will// allow you to be Random for the first time I take your valve." His side is rubbed, "I have not forgotten at all." The bot dims his optics. "I'll expect you to be whatever I want after that. Preferably Icy."

The one frame that would never want it. Random might learn to enjoy the random, beastly thrusting, but Icy never would. He nods sharply, "Yes, my liege. May I be with my mechs now? I have a sparkling to energize."

He gets a stinging slap to his aft. "Sound more enthusiastic about my favors."

He doesn't think he /can// be. The idea is not the least bit appealing. He makes a try, anyway. "Yes, my leige." He thinks it sounds very fake, but Megatron doesn't force him to try again.

He's squeezed again, and Megatron and Hook leave the room.

Slagging glitches.

Oil Slick looks at him with concern. "You can't possibly take a spike from a bot that big, can you?"

Of course that would be his first worry. "It does not matter. No matter what, you are not getting my valve."

Oil Slick scowls. The mech slips off the chair, slinking over seductively, "But I /want// it. I want it a very great deal." The bot's claws dance across his valve cover. "It will be much better than h-"

"You will have it /cut off// if you try. Stop trying to convince me when neizer of us want it."

Oil Slick frowns at him, "We could /try//."

"You could test it first," Nemesis says, sprawled out on the berth. "Put a toy in it. See if that does the job. It's better to be broken open by a toy, I hear. Makes it hurt less." He shrugs, "Wouldn't know myself."

Oil Slick scowls again, "But I want his seal."

"It does /not matter//," he says sharply. "I am codelocked. And if ze seal is broke, zen Megatron will not be ze least bit happy. You will drop zis."

"But I-"

He pulls out a length of chain, wrapping Oil Slick securely, "You will be learning a lesson, meine cyclebot."

Oil Slick groans and shudders, his spark pulsing hard from the stimulation of the chains. His mech is a sparkslut for this. "Yes, yes!"

He gives the bot a swift spank. "Zis is a lesson. Not a reward. You will focus on ze zings I teach you. I want you to be better behaved, darling."

Oil Sick shakes in the chains, beyond caring, "Yes!"

He pushes his mech on the berth, petting Nemesis absently. "Let's get started."

His truckbot dims his optics, cuddling close with a nasty grin, "I'm sure we will enjoy this quite a bit."

--

Blitzwing can tell that Nemesis is happy to finally be allowed out of the rooms, because the sol that Megatron allows it, he's running free, with a promise that he'll be back in a few megacycles.

Blitzwing watches him go, and shakes his head, hoping the bot won't get /too// overcharged. A little bit of overcharging while carrying is alright. But too much may harm his mech. At least he knows that any bot fueling Nemesis will be policing it so that he's not given a very great deal.

Unfortunately, being free means something he has /not// been looking forward to.

Megatron stares at him from the doorway, optics dim. "Now then, Blitzwing. Let's go to your berth, shall we?"

He does not want the memories of it here. And not where Oil Slick could watch. "Nein. I would prefer to go to /your// berz, my liege."

Megatron pushes him gently up against the nearest wall. "My berth is occupied with a cranky seeker at the moment, and I doubt you wish to be spiked by the both of us."

He absolutely does not. "Zen anozer berz somewhere? Oil Slick is in recharge."

Megatron rubs his hips, squeezing the seams. "I am not going to be going to another berth when one is here already. Unless you /want// to be spiked by Lugnut or Shockwave as well."

"My lord," he says, reluctantly putting his arms around Megatron's neck loosely, "I am codelocked to you, and ze valve will cut off any spike zat is not yours."

Megatron revs, rubbing their pelvic armor together, "I cannot believe I had forgotten. We can frag right here, then."

"Zen at least allow me to move Oil Slick to ze living room, so he may watch some zings on ze screen." He doesn't want Oil Slick's accusing optics staring at him the entire time, as if asking why he will yield this to Megatron and not to him. "I do not want to get him messy wiz ze fluids."

Megatron laughs, "Yes. Move your doll."

He hurries to Oil Slick, picking his mech up, and passes by Megatron. Oil Slick shudders in his servos, and onlines just before the door to the common area of his rooms can close. Oil Slick sits up quickly, yelping, and then clinging to him. "I don't /want// to go back there!"

Oh dear. This is not good. "Lord Megatron is here, and I need to be wiz him. You can stay here and watch a show."

"No, no," the bot moans, holding on so tightly that his claws leave sharp cuts in his armor. "No, I won't go back!"

He strokes Oil Slick to soothe him, "Shh, meine liebe. I must be with Lord Megatron. Stay here on ze couch." He bundles Oil Slick up in blankets. "Nemesis will be back in a while, and when I am done wiz my liege, I will come cuddle you as well."

"I'll offline there! They say I'm lucky my spark isn't snuffing out! All they do is make me worse and worse, then they blame you! I don't /want// to go back! I don't!"

He hates this. He hasn't seen Oil Slick as bad as this before. Normally his mech just yelps when he comes back, or shakes a bit, then stops and looks at them with that come hither gaze. This is terrible, and it tears at his spark.

"I /must// go to Megatron," he says softly, kissing his lover's claws. "I can not avoid it any longer, my sweetspark. Please."

Oil Slick curls up tightly in the blankets, and sobs, "F-fine. Go to him. Abandon me."

He leaves his bot with a heavy spark, and steps into his berthroom. Megatron is sitting on the berth, staring out with a strange look on his faceplates. "I saw him move. So, there is some truth to what you've been saying about that doll."

He looks back at the door, "He is not doing well, my lord. I k-know zat you zink I am just trying to avoid you, but I must be wiz him if you will let me. I will go straight to you tomorrow of you allow me zis." He knows he'll be rejected, though.

Megatron shakes his head, "Absolutely not. You've had that valve sitting unused for over two stellars. More than time enough of not realizing how nice it feels." The bot tips his helm thoughtfully to one side. "Invite Oil Slick back in. If I saw him, perhaps I will see him fully mobile now."

That paralyzes him with fear. "M-my liege, I do not zink zat is a wise idea. He is in bad condition back where he comes from, and I do not want to send him zere-"

"I saw him move. Bring him in. Perhaps he will help you not be so tense."

He does so reluctantly, scooping his mech up. Oil Slick grabs him, and says sharply, "That's what I /thought//! You stay with /me//! Tell this Megatron fellow to leave this instant!"

Megatron stares at Oil Slick, and says, "You are lucky I'm so amazed to see you talking and moving, or that would be an automatic death sentence for anyone else."

Oil Slick stares at him, shaking a bit. "You can see me? Slag. What does that mean?" He clings possessively to Blitzwing. "You keep your spike away from him. /I// should be the one to break his valve open. I love him."

Megatron laughs, "You? No." He pulls Oil Slick into his arms, and pushes open his spike panel. "Not with this little spike."

Oil Slick squirms, pushing up into Megatron's servos. "Yes." His cyclebot squirms, "I /should//. He is mine, and he has a valve. I get to break his seals instead."

Megatron laughs even louder, squeezing that gross spike, "You are very funny, little bot." Megatron shoves a finger into Oil Slick's mouth, "But no. I am taking Blitzwing's seals. I am the one that had them installed. I am going to take them. And your spike would be snapped off if you tried."

Oil Slick gnaws on the finger angrily. Megatron nods at Blitzwing. "Chain him up. He can watch, and if he's good, I'll take his spark afterwards."

He obeys, chaining Oil Slick to the berth, which makes his cyclebot rev, even though his expression is outraged at the act. Blitzwing forces himself to flip to his Random face, because this will end up a less than pleasant event otherwise.

Megatron pushes him flat on the berth, putting a finger to his mouth. "If you stick that glossa in my mouth, I will not be happy."

He licks the finger, "Yes, my lord."

His leader pushes his legs open, and kisses him, "Good. Let's begin."

--

Blitzwing scowls down at his truckbot, "You are /overcharged//."

"A bit," Nemesis giggles, and he has some bot's energon and oil splattered on him. "Just a bit."

"More zan a bit," he grumbles, and carries Nemesis to the berth. He'll clean him up later.

Nemesis watches him, and giggles again, "You're limping. Did Megatron finally manage to get you in the berth? It was awful, wasn't it?"

He's just glad Megatron left after taking him and Oil Slick. "Yes, it was." Too harsh, too fast, too everything.

His truckbot kisses him, glossa flicking into his mouth, "Frag me?"

"Nein. I must get cleaned up. Interface Oil Zlick." He puts his mech next to Oil Slick, who is scowling at them. "I am going to fix any damage done to me."

There's remarkably little damage, other than dents and a few broken wires. Megatron is rough, but he knows what his bots can handle. It's disappointing, really. So much mixed pain and pleasure, and very little damage to show for his suffering.

He scrubs himself clean, and then comes out with a bowl of solvent and a few rags to clean his bots.

Nemesis pushes against him, "No! I'm gonna recharge."

He ignores the protest, cleaning out his mech's joints. "You are filzy. I will clean you."

His mech scowls at him blurrily, too overcharge to complain more. "You won't 'face me. It is not fair."

He pats Nemesis absently, finishing up, and then moving to Oil Slick, who is covered in that silver fluid. Megatron made sure to /cover// his little bot, just because of the lack of valve.

They both get cleaned up thoroughly, and then he lifts them to put a fresh mesh on the berth, crumpling the old one into a ball, tossing it into a corner. Oil Slick's spike does not gush such a ridiculous amount of fluids.

Thank Primus.

Nemesis cuddles against Oil Slick, nibbling on his armor. "I love you."

Oil Slick glares, and Blitzwing pats his mech softly. "I zink zat it is time to recharge."

Nemesis giggles, "I want a crystal cake. Do you want a crystal cake, Oil Slick?" His truckbot moves Oil Slick's head up and down manually to nod, "He /does//! Let's get crystal cake, Blitzwing. The sparkling must have it."

"You can have a crystal cake later, meine darling. When you are no longer overcharged." He kisses Nemesis's helm. "Who did you offline zis sol?"

Nemesis's cheerful expression turns dark, "A pervert. He kept giving me more fuel and then groping my aft. Like I was just gonna bend over for him. So he's with Primus now. Or more likely with the Unmaker."

He kisses his mech, "He deserved it. You are carrying, and are so very dangerous. You left his frame as a warning, ja?"

Nemesis nods, "Yes." His mech cuddles Oil Slick, and says tiredly, "So Megatron fragged Oil Slick? He's getting over the dislike?"

"Our Oil Zlick came to life, and Megatron /saw// him!"

"That's . . . good, right? A sign that he's staying with us for longer." Nemesis touches Oil Slick's cheek. "Gonna find a way to keep you here, mech. You think those mamas of yours would wanta come too, if we find a way to get you to stay with us?"

Oil Slick stares at him. "You aren't even real."

Nemesis licks Oil Slick's chest, "Oh, but I am real. And you are beautiful. Put out your spike, and let me frag myself on you."

Oil Slick scowls, "I /can't//. I got it locked closed. Megatron put the lock on it, and won't let me engage it until the next time he comes visiting, and I'm here. I doubt that will happen. I'm put on new medicine, and-"

"Ze medicine sends you here," Blitzwing says softly. "Maybe you will stay next time."

Oil Slick trembles. "I want to get better. I want to stay here. I can't have both."

Blitzwing strokes his frame. "Shush. You are fine wiz us, ja? We are not imaginary. You are in some . . ozer reality. And you have found a way to slip here to be wiz us. I should have Scalpel come and see if he can figure it out."

Oil Slick looks away, "I suppose." The mech kisses Nemesis, "It is lucky that I /really am// allergic to crystals and things like that when I fuel. They found I did worse if I fueled on anything other than energon. Makes it easier here, I suppose."

He kisses his mechs, "Ja. Do you want a cube, sweetspark?"

"Please."

He fetches one of the sweetened energon cubes that Oil Slick prefers, a concentrated energon that helps him get the fuel he needs with his small tank. Oil Slick sips from it, and pulls on his chains.

"Going to let me up?"

He taps the bot's nose. "No."

"You should. I like it more if I can do things. I like it if you unchain me."

He snorts, "Now, we boz know zat is a lie." He climbs into the berth, cuddling his little mechs, "It is time to recharge. Maybe you will still be wiz us in ze morning, Oil Zlick."

His cyclebot squirms, "Take me out of the /chains//."

"Nein." He likes how hot it makes Oil Slick's spark. The bot is such a slut for chains. "You will stay in zem, and we will reward you in ze morning."

His bot squirms again, and then goes silent.

--

Scalpel prods Oil Slick with a ped. "I do not know if I approve of zis. He was nicer when he was not moving so much."

"Frag you," Blitzwing's cyclebot says.

Blitzwing sighs softly, "Well, /I// like him better zis way. He is lovely, and can move around. He overloads so prettily, and-'

Oil Slick puts a servo against his mouth, "Okay, that's enough of that. I'm not letting this crazy little bot hear about these things."

Scalpel prods him again. "You are a bad sparktoy."

The cyclebot scowls, and then makes a series of tiny chirping sounds at the weaver. Scalpel darts back, optics wide. "Vere did you learn zat?"

"Had a weaver tutor when I was little."

Scalpel taps his peds on the table nervously. "V-vell, you are /still// a bad-" Oil Slick makes the chirping noise, and Scalpel ducks his head, trying to hide his audios, "Stop! Stop! You vill not do zis! You vill not!"

"Stop calling me a sparktoy! I'm a /bot//!"

"You ver bought, und-" More chirping cutting the mech off, and Scalpel whines unhappily. "Do not do /zat//."

Blitzwing pinches Oil Slick's aft. "You are upsetting him. You should not, meine love, if you want him to help us. You want your mamas to come here wiz you, ja? He is your best bet. Scalpel is our resident expert at mad science."

A tiny glare, "It is not /mad// science simply because you are too stupid to understand it."

Oil Slick flickers his optics, "But if it is mad, you'd fit in with the rest of us."

Scalpel growls, "I do not vant to be grouped viz ze crazy bots. You are all terrible. /Terrible//. Ze only reason I'm agreeing to zis is because you said zat Nemesis vould let Dreadving frag him. I vant Dreadving to frag a carrying bot, but Starscream stays stubborn."

"You could always spark Dreadwing up," Blitzwing offers helpfully. "He would be good for it. A very good, loyal carrier, ja?"

Scalpel stamps his peds, "Nein, nein, nein! He is my toy, und not vorzy of carrying my sparklings. I will only clutch viz a vorzy bot." The mech huffs, "Besides, his chamber will not support sparklings anymore. I made sure of zat."

Oil Slick touches Scalpel's back, messing with the seams, "I'm sure Lord Megatron doesn't approve of that."

Scalpel hisses, "I vill only spark up a bot zat I zink is worz it. I may ask Megatron if I can spark Lugnut. He is big enough for such a zing." The mech flails his arms at Oil Slick, "Stop touching me! You can not touch-" The weaver squeals as Oil Slick peels up the armor, revealing... wings.

What the frag?

Oil Slick cackles, pulling Scalpel into his lap and playing with the wings. "Yes! I love this."

Scalpel kicks and screeches, and then turns into a melty little puddle of satisfied bot, legs twitching as Oil Slick rubs the tiny, delicate wings.

"Vestigial wings," Oil Slick explains, lifting one to show off how thin and transparent it is. "They aren't useful anywhere but up in space, or on extremely low gravity planets anymore. My tutors used to show them off because they were from a line that had unusually strong wings, and could fly in normal gravity."

Blitzwing joins in on the petting. "Very lovely." He'll be telling Megatron this. In fact... /Lord Megatron? I have something you want to know.// He sends a text.

/Do you really? If it is something I don't think is important, I'll be doing something you don't like at all.// As if Megatron rewards or punishes him with anything but fragging right now.

/It is about Scalpel.// He pauses for a moment, and then sends, /He has wings.//

/What?// The com flickers to life a moment later, Megatron gazing into the room. "Show me."

Oil Slick lifts Scalpel up, displaying his tiny wings. "Most weavers have them. There are a few clans that don't, where I come from, but they're the ones that deliberately bred them out of their lines."

Megatron runs greedy optics over Scalpel. "I'll be over in a klik."

Scalpel stamps his peds, "Nein! Nein! Now he vill...." The bot sighs in pleasure, Oil Slick playing with his wings. "He vill..." Scalpel blinks slowly, relaxed. "He vill rub zat terrible mod on me. I do not like zat mod."

Blitzwing joins in playing with the wings, "I will be reminding him zat Oil Zlick's spike must be unlocked since he is online right now. He may take ze boz of you zen. You can continue ze inspection aftevards."

Scalpel squirms, "Nein. You are terrible bots und I hate you." His legs twitch again, and he shudders. "Oh, ja. Zere."

Blitzwing watches, amused, and then flicks his glossa against the base of the wings, making Scalpel squeak with pleasure. "I wish I had known zat you were so easy. I would have done zis ages ago."

"I... I /hate// you. Oh.. Oh, yes." Scalpel moans, rubbing his chestplates against oil Slick's lap, and then clicks unlocked as they keep petting the wings. The bot mewls softly when Oil Slick squeezes the base of one, and then the weaver opens up, rubbing his spark against the cyclebot's armor.

"You have a pretty spark," Oil Slick murmurs. "Much prettier than most weavers."

Scalpel's wings flutter, and the door slides open, Megatron striding in. "How long have you been hiding this from me, Scalpel?"

Scalpel hisses, "Zey are vings. Not toys. I will . . . mm.. always hide zem." The bot wiggles in Oil Slick's servos.

Oil Slick rubs them gently, squeezing and massaging. "You need to unlock my spike, my lord."

Megatron hums softly, looking at them, "I think... I will be taking you both. Blitzwing."

He straightens, "Yes, my lord?"

His leader pats his aft possessively, "Oil Slick will be staying in my room tonight. Go to the Conquest Garden, and treat Nemesis to the best crystals possible."

The Conquest Garden is the most exclusive crystal garden on the planet, and it has a tour that is filled with all sorts of test tasting. At the end of it, a crystal cake topped with lacewing is served. Nemesis will adore it.

"Ja." He kisses Oil Slick's cheek. "Be good, meine liebe. We will be back later, and we will save a cube of sweet energon for you."

Oil Slick scowls, "Fraggers."

Megatron scoops him and Scalpel up and carries them out of the room, sheltered against his chest, where other bots cannot see them.

He flips to Random, smiles, and puts a servo to his temple, "Meine lovely Nemesis? Ze prettiest and most dangerous truckbot in ze universe?"

"What do you want, Blitzwing? Kinda busy, and I'm in no mood to-"

"Lord Megatron has said zat we are to go to a crystal garden. I am to take you right away!"

"Oh." The bot pauses for a klik, and then responds, "Alright. I'll be ready in a bit. Just give me a breem."

Blitzwing puts on his best finery, a tiny tophat and a cloak, and pulls out a gown for Nemesis to wear. Nemesis hates the fluffy gowns, but he looks so adorable in them, with his naughty sparkplates just peeking out from the top of the ruffles of lace.

He meets his mech in the base's main common room, and dresses his lover in it. Nemesis sighs softly, "So... What garden are we going to?"

He runs his servos over his mech's frame, giving into temptation, and kneeling down to slip his glossa under the dress. He licks his mech's leg and says, "Conquest Garden."

Nemesis stares at him. "Are... are you serious?"

"Yes. Megatron nearly ordered us to go. He is playing wiz Oil Slick and Scalpel. We will have to bring back some gifts, meine liebe." He lifts the bot then, and carries him out of the base. "You will be a good bot, ja? No sneaking crystal samples unless you are allowed to." He doesn't want to end up kicked out.

"I don't steal."

He laughs, picking up his mech, and swinging him in a circle excitedly. He throws Nemesis in the air, catching him. "You will not steal ze crystals. None at all. I want to have you fuel on ze cake at ze end. If you are /really good//, I will share my slice wiz you, and not take any of yours." Since Nemesis is a crystal eater, his mech will like it more.

He lover sighs against him, cuddling close, "I will eat all I want. I will expect you to care for me if my tank gets bloated. You are making me fat with all these fine fuels."

"You will not get fat. Our sparkling soaks up most of your energy." He pats the mech gently. "You are a healzy mech. Wiz a good size. Not so teensy anymore." He likes his cyclebots teensy and his truckbots sturdy. The way they should be.

"I don't have a waist like Oil Slick does."

"I do not /want// you to have a waist like him. You are meine truckbot." He dims his optics, flicking his glossa against Nemesis's neck, and murmurs very softly, "I will want you to pull zat trailer I bought you when we get back. Show me how much you can carry."

Nemesis revs, optics flickering in lust at the thought. "I can pull /so much//."

"Ja. You are such a strong truckbot." He knows how to stroke a truckbot's ego. They're all about pulling and showing their strength with their trailers. Typical of truckbots, really.

Nemesis nods, "I'm the strongest truckbot. Better than Optimus by double."

He pinches the bot's aft through his lacy gown. "Oh, ja. You are much sluttier und better."

Nemesis moans like the slutty thing he is. "I... I want to pull /now//."

"Nein." He squeezes that delicious and tempting aft, "You will be going to Conquest Garden wiz me. I will stuff you full of crystals. Zen we go home, and you pull ze heaviest zings you can, showing me how strong you are. I will be fragging you right after."

Possibly let his mech climb on top and use him if he stays as Random.

He loves his truckbot and cyclebot.

Loves Oil Slick a bit more, of course, but there's no surprise there. His cyclebot is perfect in every way. He smiles to himself and puts Nemesis down when they reach the garden. Nemesis stares at everything with hungry optics, like he wants to lick everything.

His mech keeps hold of his servos, squeezing his fingers, and then whispering, "So... we get to have samples, right?"

He smiles, "Ja."

A mech comes out to them, looking confused, "G-General Blitzwing! Is there any reason you're here after hours?"

He rubs Nemesis's shoulders, "We want a tour, ja?"

The bot glances at him and Nemesis. He nods, "Let me contact the owner, sir. We'd /love// to have you, but everything is just getting closed up. Once I contact her, she'll give you an option on what is going on. Would you like to sit down while you wait?" The mech gestures at the benches, which are carved out of a giant crystal growing in the ground.

"Ja. If we must." He sits, and pulls Nemesis onto his lap. "You will hurry, ja? I do not want to wait forever. We would like to get back in time to play wiz our Oil Zlick. When Lord Megatron is done wiz him."

The bot nods, and hurries inside.

Nemesis leans against him. "I want to lick everything here."

He laughs gaily, kissing his lover happily, and pinning him down on the bench, "But zen you would not be behaving!" He runs a servo along the mech's sparkplates, rubbing possessively. "Don't you /want// to pull ze trailer?"

Nemesis's venting hitches, "Oh, Primus, yes. I do. I want to pull it now. Fill it with crystals."

"We will buy some when we go, and you can pull zose." He pats the bot's aft. "Don't be such a sparkslut for it just yet. You have to wait."

Groaning, Nemesis squirms against him, "You should hook the trailer up to me right now. Let me pull it around the garden. Show everyone what a strong truckbot I am!"

The bot must be unusually hot for an interface right now, to be so easily worked up.

He licks his mech, and then nibbles on Nemesis's neck cabling. "Nein." He giggles, nuzzling him. "Not unless you want me to take you in front of all ze staffbots."

Nemesis shakes his head, "N-no." His bot is surprisingly shy when it comes to public fragging. He supposes it is from the mech he was cloned from. Optimus must be almost terminally sparkshy.

But a complete whore in the berthroom, if Nemesis and Toxitron are anything to go by.

But enough thoughts of some random Autobot. He has Nemesis in his arms. His sweet sparkslut. Carrying his sparkling. Few things are better than knowing a bot is carrying your sparkling.

Having Oil Slick here would make it perfect.

But he can wait for his other bot later.

He drags his glossa along his mech. Long, slow, leisurely licks that have his bot mewling in need under him. He knows that if it wasn't for the dress, he'd have given in to temptation, and Nemesis would be open already. Being used against a wall on on this bench.

There is a cough, and he turns reluctantly to see who it is. The bot that spoke to them earlier smiles at them, "I have very good news! You are getting a private tour! If you wait a little bit, the owner herself will be showing you around. If not, I am here right now."

"We can wait," he purrs, and licks his bot again, letting his long glossa slip up under the bot's skirt. The valve clicks open, but he avoids that, flicking his glossa into seams instead, cackling with glee as the bot squirms for him, gasping with need. He likes having an audience for this!

The only thing better would be if his bot was with Oil Slick, the two squirming together, tightly tied with chains.

Nemesis holds his head, hips pumping up and down. "Please. Please."

He loves how his mech begs like this. It is tempting to give in, but so much /more fun// to have Nemesis whine in want and need. He loves this so much.

He keeps teasing his bot, and there's a soft touch to his shoulder a breem later. He turns, snapping to Hothead, "What? What do you wa-" He flips back to Random seeing a femme, "Ja?"

She smiles, "I'm Nightbird, the owner of the garden. Would you like to start the tour?"

"Oh, ja." He stands, flipping to Icy, and makes Nemesis stand up on shaky legs, weak with desire. "Take us on ze tour. Meine Nemesis enjoys ze crystals, and he is sparked. If you have suggestions on which ones are best for sparked bots, I would like to hear zem. He is so hard to keep properly fueled."

She smiles at him, "I know he's sparked, that's why I offered to do the tour myself. I wanted to showcase what we're growing, due to our Lord Megatron's order for sparklings."

Oh, Primus, she's going to show him the crystals femmes /insist// are made for sparking a femme. There is no proof that the crystals provide a femme, but they still think it is true.

She smiles even wider, "I set up a special section of femonite, just for that purpose."

And there it is. The stuff is disgusting.

"Zat is nice, but meine Nemesis has no need for it. He is /already// sparked."

"Yes," she purrs, "but there are documented cases of a sparkling that has not code-locked into femme or mech being pushed into femme status after enough femonite was consumed. I would be happy to give your mech a supply of it, to help him urge the sparkling into choosing to be a femme."

He stares at her. "Nein. It is a stinky crystal and I will not have any of it in my home."

She pulls out a storage cube with an airtight lid, "But that is why I have this. You could put it in here, and-"

"Nein."

Nemesis clings to him, rubbing his chest and pelvis against him desperately, "I... I... I could try tasting it? I love crystals, and-"

Nightbird's optics light up, "Of course! I'll give you a sample."

She pushes a piece of stinky crystal at them, and Blitzwing flicks it away. "Nein. I will not have him polluting his tank wiz zat slag. Keep it away or we call ze tour over now, and I tell Megatron what horrible service you provide."

She stiffens, "There's no need to take that attitude, General Blitzwing."

Nemesis rubs against him, "I /would// like to taste it. You know Hook scanned me, and said that there was no mech or femme coding. He's worried that Oil Slick's coding did something to it."

He wants to refuse again, but sighs at his mech's pleading look. "Fine. If you do not like it, zen we give ze rest of ze sample to Strika."

Nightbird looks delighted, "If you're buying for her, then is a ninety percent discount!"

"She will be happy to have it." Femmes don't find the scent nearly as putrid. It's like dipping his helm into a vat of slag and rotting sweet oils.

In a sealed cube, to reduce the smell, because he hates carrying it.

Nemesis nibbles a tiny piece and gags. "Ugh . . it's .. . good?"

Blitzwing shakes his head, "Nein. It is disgusting. I will get some for Strika, zough. I gave her zat list of places to spark, and zey said to me zey will be trying on zeir next mission. I will give her zis cube of crystals, and she will know zat I encourage her, and we are not mocking her and Lugnut's lack of sparklings."

Nemesis wipes his mouth, "I'm fine with a sparkling that doesn't know if it is mech or femme, as long as I don't eat that."

The femme looks disappointed. "That's too bad. You would have had a cute femme sparkling. But I suppose not all mechs are strong-willed enough to make femmes." She pats his shoulder. "We'll move to the sweeter crystals to make up for it. I bet you have a sweet dente, right?"

He nods.

She smiles brightly, "Then you'll love this." She reaches into a cluster, and snaps off a tiny bit, "Here. This is fauxbeau. Delicious and sweet."

Nemesis takes a tiny, cautious bite. His mech tilts his head, chewing on it. "It is okay."

She looks disappointed, and Blitzwing says, "He is a crystal fueler. Keep zat in mind when you offer samples."

"Ah." She plucks a different crystal. "Then he'll like this more. With his . . refined tastes." She pushes it in his servos.

Nemesis crunches into it, whining softly, "Oh. . the texture is /perfect//."

He gropes his mech between his legs, under his skirt, just because he can, and he likes the way Nemesis squirms, shifting from ped to ped, distracted from his sweets.

Nightbird smiles, "Let's go on."

She leads them through the garden, giving them crystals from every single batch. She explains them happily, and Nemesis ends up needing to be carried, since his tank is getting full. Just the way Blitzwing likes it. His truckbot will be full of sweets, so he is all the better to frag after pulling a heavy trailer.

If his bot even has the ability to pull a trailer with his tank bulging with so much fuel in it. He likes his bot this way. Soft and bulging. He can hardly wait for the sparkling to start developing.

Though truckbots don't 'show' much when they carry. They already have such large, broad chests for it, so they don't bulge unless the sparkling is very large.

He presses a kiss to his mech's chest, and Nemesis moans like a whorebot, touching his helmet. "Stop /teasing// me."

He smirks, "Nein." He squeezes his mech, "You refuse to be fragged in public. Unless you want me to take you on ze street when we leave ze garden, you will get no overload."

His mech huffs, and cuddles against him. "I'm carrying your sparkling, and you refuse to give it energy."

"I give you plenty of energy at home. You are just a tease, tempting me in public and zen refusing to let me take you while bots watch." He pinches his bot's aft. "So you will deal wiz ze charge build up. Or beg me to have you while ozer bots watch. Take your pick."

Nemesis gives him a disgruntled look and moves away. "Fragger."

He smiles, "Zen you get no overloads."

Nightbird interrupts gently touching his shoulder, "We're done with the tour. Would you like the crystal cake here, or to go?"

Nemesis is clearly much too full to fuel, but he would be able to fuel on more. His tank is much larger. "We would like it to go. And we want an order of ze..." He hates that he's ordering this slag, "Of ze femonite for Strika. Zen ze list of ze crystals zat Nemesis said were perfect in a seperate cube. Fill zem up. Ze ones in meine mech's cube in equal portions."

"Of course." The femme smiles at him, and disappears to do just that.

He strokes his lover, and Nemesis groans, "Oh . . I think it was a bad idea to have so many crystals. Look at my tank?" He puts a servo over the gentle bulge of it. "So full."

Blitzwing grins, glossa lolling out. "Ja. You are as lovely as meine Oil Zlick!"

His mech squirms, "Even if I wasn't built just how you like me?"

He licks his lover, loving the taste, "Ja. So full, carrying my sparkling. You are beautiful, meine truckbot."

His mech looks at him happily, "I'm glad."

They take the crystals that Nightbird gives them, and return to the base. Nemesis keeps pulling little crystals out to nibble on, groaning as it fills his already full tank. "Primus. Shouldn't taste so good."

He pats the tank. "You should save some for later, you greedy zing. You will regret having too many in ze morning."

"Noooo," his truckbot whines, nibbling more. "Too delicious."

He licks his mech's fingers, "I zought you wanted to pull ze trailer."

"I do!" His bot cuddles against him as he sets the bot down. "I /do//! Where is the trailer? Give it to me, so I can pull it. I will pull it all over the hallways. Show how I'm the best truckbot."

That is a terrible idea, and he knows it even as Random. There are other truckbots here. Large, Decepticon truckbots. Who will take Nemesis with a trailer as a challenge to pull more and more. And will humiliate his mech, even if this is just to show Blitzwing how much his mech loves him.

"I want you to show just for me, meine truckbot. You will pull all over our room, and show me your skill. I do not want you showing off to ozers zis sol. It should be about us only."

Nemesis wiggles, "Get me the trailer!"

His bot is so predictable. "I will, meine impatient truckbot."

They get into the room, and his mech rushes to the closet, looking around it. "Where did you put it? I need it! I need-"

He kisses his mech excitedly, pulling it out, "Here, meine truckbot." He takes the dress off of his lover, optics dimming in lust. His mech's tank is bulging, he's scuffed up from all of Blitzwing's molestations, his valve dripping, and his backplates are completely open.

Nemesis takes the trailer excitedly, "I'll show you how I'm the best truckbot there is!"

He sits on the couch and watches Nemesis back into his trailer and start pulling it around, asking Blitzwing to pile more and more things into it. Blitzwing keeps several heavy cubes in his subspace just for this. "Do you zink you can take zis one?" he hefts the cube, and Nemesis revs as he puts it in.

"I can take anything!"

He drops it on, glad that he delibrately bought the sturdiest trailer possible for that size of bot. "Do you zink you can take anozer?"

"Yes! I can take all of them! Fill the trailer! I can do this!"

He puts on a second, "Move. Prove zat you can."

Nemesis's wheels squeal, but then he starts moving again, rolling around his common room. Primus, he wants to frag the mech.

He strokes his chestplates, watching Nemesis struggle under the weight of his heavily burdened trailer. He adds more weights when prompted, and stops only when Nemesis can barely move, groaning and grunting as he tugs along a trailer filled with as much weight as it can safely hold. "I can . . can do this!"

He nods, rubbing his servo on his mech. He needs to self service badly. "I am going to ze berzroom. Join me when you want."

He walks to his berthroom, and flops on the berth. He opens his plates instantly, and lets his glossa snake out to wrap around his spark. He squeezes it, and pauses when the door opens.

Nemesis comes in, pulling the trailer, and he groans in pleasure just seeing it.

"Oh, ja," he moans, the words slurred with his glossa around his own spark.

Nemesis lets go of his trailer and pounces on top of him, "You call me a sparkslut, but at least I've never /sucked my own spark//," the bot rumbles, and then slams his spark down on top. Blitzwing shudders and wraps his glossa around the both of them in response.

He lets the mech shove their sparks together on top of him, and winds his glossa around the both of their sparks. He squeezes his mech's aft possessively, and his bot groans in pleasure. Nemesis tries valiantly to hold him down, and they rub togther faster and rougher, sending pleasure through his frame.

Overload is quick and powerful, sending shocks of electricity through them both. Nemesis doesn't let that stop him, gearing up for another round.

He loves his mechs.

--

Oil Slick comes into his room with a blank look on his faceplates.

"Fragging Megatron with a weaver is . . . strange. And messy."

He's glad his mech is clean, though. No silver fluid or anything like that. He pats the couch, and pets Nemesis's head. His truckbot is still recharging, recovering from the extended amounts of fragging, and from how full his little tank is. "I bet it is, meine Oil Zlick. Come. Sit. I bet you will be returning back to ze institution soon, ja?"

Oil Slick slides under his arm, clearly demanding cuddles. "Maybe. I dunno."

"You will tell your mamas zat we are trying to find a way to take zem wiz you. Tell zem zat General Blitzwing is very in love wiz you, ja?"

"Blitzwing in my world is bonded to Starscream."

Blitzwing leans back, boggling at that. "Starscream?"

"Yes. My mamas told me, when I said you were with me." Oil Slick lays against him. "Megatron forced them to bond, to make Starscream more loyal. I don't see how that would help him any."

He makes a face, "I would /never// bond to zat mech." He kisses his lover, "You are meine perfect bot. Lovely, and /perfect//. You said zat ze only difference in zis body to ze one in your ozer place is zat you have handlebars and you are green." He licks his mech, "Meine delicious bot." He smiles, "I should play wiz your handlebars, ja?"

His cyclebot curls against him. "No. Did you know that my spark comes out here?"

That was unexpected. "Why would you know zat? Did Megatron attempt to offline you?"

"No. He just . . was experimenting. With the both of us. Did you know that a weaver can be put on his back behind a bot's spark and then another bot can frag the larger bot, and they'll both be unable to overload until the bigger bot does?"

He shakes his head, "Nein. I did not know zat. I suppose zat Scalpel und you boz hated zat."

Oil Slick nods, "I know I did." His sparkplates open, and he pulls out his spark, which is covered in sticky candy and rolled in crystals. "Here. You deal with this. I can't fuel on it without getting sick."

It is disturbing to see his lover like that. The lack of spark is creepy as slag.

He washes the spark quickly in the washrack, and comes back out to find Nemesis poking around in Oil Slick's empty sparkchamber. "Slaggin' weird. You're like a zombie. A monster mech from a sparkling scary story." Nemesis grins. "Zombie Oil Slick, the spark eater. You consume sparks to fill up the void in your chest, right?"

Oil Slick lays there placidly, "If you say so."

Nemesis kisses Oil Slick, their glossas fighting for dominance, and Blitzwing revs to see it. He loves how they get along. When they pull apart the truckbot rubs Oil Slick's empty chamber, "All this space makes me want to fill it up. I can put in crystals, and just pack you full."

"Nein," he says, placing the spark back. "I want him to be able to frag how he pleases. Do you need more fuel, Nemesis? Or are you still full?"

"Full," the bot complains. "My tank is still bulging." He rubs his tank. "I'd like to fuel Oil Slick, though. I bet he's underfueled. Bots always are after Megatron uses them up."

Oil Slick shrugs, "I'm pretty good. Other than the spark thing. I'm more worried about Scalpel. He wasn't moving much when I left, but Megatron wouldn't let me take him."

"He will not be hurt for it. Megatron likes Scalpel too much. Ze worst zat happens is zat Megatron finds a way to keep his little wings on display at all times as punishment for hiding zem away for so very long."

Oil Slick looks uncomfortable, "So... I shouldn't have shown them off?"

He shrugs, "I do not know. What is done is done. We go on wiz ze world."

"I suppose so." Oil Slick lays against him again. "I hope he doesn't end up injured." His mech cuddles closer. "I don't want to go back. My creators keep crying when I tell them about how happy I am here, with you."

Blitzwing rubs his back gently, and says nothing.

Nemesis kisses Oil Slick, saying happily, "I want to pull you in the trailer. I'll go get it, and you will step onto it as I pull."

The cyclebot smiles, "Typical truckbot." He stands up, optics dim, "I can do that. Go get your trailer, and-"

Oil Slick falls over, and Blitzwing catches him just as Shockwave walks in. "I am /fixing// your fragging cameras. Whatever it is that ruins them is /going//. I'm throwing it out!"

He keeps Oil Slick clutched in his arms, "If you take meine Oil Zlick, I will tear out your minibot lusting spark."

The bot narrows his optic at Oil Slick. "It is most likely that doll. Megatron's cameras fritzed out when he took it into his chambers. I know it is a spy device of some sort."

Blitzwing strokes Oil Slick gently. "He is not a spy device." His bot is just a normal mech. But a bit different. Nothing more than that. "You touch him and I will offline you, ja? And Megatron will not be upset about it."

"It is a /spy// device, and I will be getting rid of it. If it turns off cameras, it must be disabled. I will be getting rid of it, and Megatron will not be protesting it. Now /give it to me//."

He keeps a firm grip, "Nein. Oil Zlick is ze co-creator wiz me of ze sparkling. You will do no such zing. I will offline you."

Shockwave reaches over and strokes one long claw down Oil Slick's faceplates. "I will not destroy your toy. Megatron is fond of it. I will disable the spydevice within it, and then return it to you. Surely you know this if for your own safety."

He knocks the claw away. "You keep your filzy servos off meine Oil Zlick or I will have Lord Megatron order you to."

"Lord Megatron will agree with me. I must remove the-"

Nemesis climbs on top of Oil Slick, guarding him with his frame. "Frag off. Oil Slick isn't going to be taken apart at all. You might destroy him, no matter /what// you say."

Shockwave's optic twitches. "I will be comming our liege, and he will tell you to give the doll over."

"He will not." Blitzwing gives Oil Slick's aft a squeeze, and then gives in to the sparkling-like urge to stick out his glossa at the spybot. "He likes meine Oil Zlick too much to do zat. You will see."

The mech, taking it as a challenge, goes to the com.

Megatron answers, irritable, holding a squirming, shrieking Scalpel as Hook does something to his wings. "Settle down. He numbed your entire frame. You are being dramatic."

"My lord," Shockwave says, looking at Megatron longingly, "I am in Blitzwing's room to get rid of a spying device, but Blitzwing refuses to give it up, guarding it stubbornly."

Megatron sighs, "Then give it over, Blitzwing. I don't have time to-"

"He wants meine Oil Zlick, my leige."

Megatron scowls, "Oil Slick isn't a spying device, Shockwave. He seems to be blessed by Primus, so-" Their leader glances over to Blitzwing and Nemesis, then frowns, "He went back to Haydon, did he?"

"Yes." Nemesis sighs. "It happens sometimes. Obviously Primus does not intend to let Shockwave see him yet."

Megatron waves a servo, and then winces, "Don't you stab me with your peds, weaver. I am doing you a favor, punishing you so lightly for hiding this from me." He tightens his grip. "You will look lovely with wing piercings." He turns to the screen again, "You will help them research a way to keep Oil Slick here, Shockwave. And I forbid you to try and steal any minibots from this other reality."

Shockwave stares, "Another... reality? My liege?"

Megatron waves a servo, "Blitzwing can explain. I had a very nice night, and Oil Slick must be rewarded for showing Scalpel's treachery by hiding th-" Megatron scowls down at Scalpel, "Stop that. Do you want me to have Hook turn /off// the numbing coding?"

"Nein," Scalpel says, the word slurred and uneven. "Put me . . down."

Hook takes a device and clamps it onto a wing, and it makes a sort of chnk-sound, like metal hitting metal, and when he pulls it away, there's a perfectly even hole in the wing, which Hook decorates with a small crystal ring.

Megatron toys with the wing, "Lovely. Add a few more. He will never be hiding these from me again."

Hook just nods, doing as he is told.

Shockwave says softly, "But what if ... Oil Slick /is// a spying device? I must be allowed to check. It will not be-"

"He. Oil Slick is a mech, Shockwave. Get it correct."

"He," Shockwave grits out obediently. "He may be a security risk. Consider it, my liege. What if there is another . . Megatron in that reality? It would not be beyond the realm of possibility that you might have sent a spy device to test this reality before sending your army."

Megatron looks thoughtful. "He is not, but I do see your point. I want you to look into making one of these possible devices for me."

"Yes, my liege."

Megatron nods, "Maybe I will take over /their// reality. It seems like it would be simple enough."

Blitzwing does not point out that taking over another reality will be much harder than what is going on currently. Their liege hasn't even taken over /this// reality. Why would destroying or ruling another be simpler?

"Perhaps you should control this one fully before venturing into another," Nemesis suggests quietly.

Megatron studies him for a klik, "Perhaps. You will still research it, Shockwave. See if there is any use in taking control of that reality, or if it would only result in pointless losses for us."

His spybot nods, and then reaches for Oil Slick. "I must have him to study."

He keeps Oil Slick tight in his arms, glad that Nemesis is still using his frame to sheild. "Nein. If you want to look at him, you will not /take// him. He is our Oil Zlick. Meine leibe. You will not take him."

Shockwave looks over at Megatron, "My liege..."

Megatron shakes his head, "You can spend time together in a lab to work. Oil Slick comes alive near Blitzwing most of all. Separating them will not help."

The bot lets out a long sigh, "Yes, my liege. Then I will need Blitzwing in my lab with his spy device for several megacycles each sol until we discover the secrets of it. Him."

Megatron nods, "You will have it. I wish to know more of this other reality. Oil Slick tells me that his world is arranged quite differently from ours. What little I spoke of it with him last night. We were rather . . busy."

Shockwave looks put out, "I wouldn't know, my liege."

Megatron looks amused, "Go research. Blitzwing will explain things to you, and I have to take care of Scalpel." Their leader pinches one of the wings, and Scalpel squirms. "You will be staying in my lap until you are healed, Doctor. Dreadwing will be allowed to sit at my peds in the throne room."

"Nein," the little bot whines, wiggling around unhappily.

Megatron pats him gently. "You will learn to like it, Doctor." He pinches a wingtip, and Scalpel writhes, rubbing against him. "Ah, the numbness code is gone now. Excellent work as always, Hook. I commend your skill."

"Thank you, my lord," the medic says just on the edge of irritated. "May I go back to the medical bay? I'm sure everything is piling up, and-"

Megatron swats the mech's aft, "Yes, go on. You're finished here."

"Thank you, my lord." The mech leaves, and Megatron gives them all a significant look before turning off the com.

Blitzwing holds his mechs, and says after a moment, "You will not damage him."

"I will not. Our liege seems fond of him, and I would do nothing to hurt something our liege adores." Shockwave looks disgusted by the idea, though. "Perhaps in the future, he could choose a more . . worthy object of fixation. This is less than ideal."

Disgusting? Worthy? Blitzwing holds Oil Slick against his chest. "You shut your mouz."

Shockwave points at him with one long claw, "You will be coming with me, so I can do research. You will be explaining everything that Megatron missed."

He stands up, both of his little bots in his arms, "Fine. You head out, and I will follow." Reluctantly. He likes working with Scalpel more.

Scalpel usually has Dreadwing bring out a tray of crumpets. Delicious crumpets.

Shockwave won't have any crumpets.

--

What Shockwave /does// have is a minibot in a cage, on his desk. A white and grey minibot that looks up hopefully when Shockwave comes in, but says nothing, sitting quietly in the cage. There's a tiny berth in there, and enough space for the minibot to transform, but not much else. A datapad or two.

Primus, that mech is creepy as slag. Blitzwing doesn't know how Shockwave can stand it. Even if /Shockwave// is creepy as slag.

The frame shifter slinks over to the bot, touching the cage softly, and taking the bottle that hangs from the side. "You are out of energon, sweetspark. Why didn't you tell me?"

The bot doesn't move from where he is, just looking at them, "I sent you a text this morning, but you did not answer. I had thought you were too busy."

"I was busy, but I never got a text from you." Shockwave fills the bottle with energon, and reattaches it. "Com me next time, sweetspark. If I can't get your fuel, I'll have another come and give you some."

Now the mech looks less coma-like, a frown crossing his faceplates, his visor growing dim, "I do not like taking fuel from other mechs, Shockwave."

"I know you do not, Sedan." Long claws dip into the cage, and the minibot moves in close so that Shockwave can stroke the mech's frame. "But next time you must com me if I do not respond. I don't want to come home to you with an empty tank again. You are much too precious to me for this."

"An empty tank is a small inconvenience." Sedan nuzzles the claws. "Did you have a good sol? Why did you bring these mechs back with you?"

Shockwave taps the bot's mouth, and Sedan falls quiet, sitting on the berth again. "Questions later, little one. Be a good bot for me while I do my work. I do not want to be interrupted again, understand?"

Sedan lays down, nodding in silence. The mech takes one of the datapads, and starts to read.

Shockwave turns to them, frowning, "I need to scan Oil Slick, and find out how he travels. Let's get to work."

Blitzwing nods reluctantly, setting his mech down on the berth. "Hurry, zen."

--

Blitzwing watches as Oil Slick cackles in glee. Scalpel is laughing with him, so it is even better. Both of the little bots are working on... something. Blitzwing isn't certain, except that it seems to have something to do with the traveling between dimensions thing.

They start talking about everything that is involved, and he kind of goes blank.

He pats them both, and then focuses on Nemesis, who is grumbling, rubbing at his chestplates like they're sore. The bot is just angling for sweet crystals, because Hook cut back his consumption, stating that the bot had to get a good amount of energon as well, and not so many sweets. It's too early for the mech to be feeling any spark discomfort from the sparkling.

Nevertheless, he goes over and pulls Nemesis on his lap. "Are you feeling well?"

"No." Nemesis pushes up his chest at him, demanding more touch. "The sparkling needs energy, and my two co-creators ignore me because of this. It is not the least bit fair to our sparkling."

He flips to Random, licking his mech's chestplates, "We will give you more tonight, ja? It is still early in ze carrying. You do not need /so much// energy zat you should not be leaving ze berz."

His mech pouts a little. "I want energy now. The sparkling saps so much of it."

He flicks the bot's helmfin gently. "Do not whine so. It is not becoming, meine liebe."

The mech sulks, and lays against him quietly for all of a klik before whining again. "I just want some crystals and a frag. That's not too much to ask for, is it? I don't think it is."

He rubs his mech's chest, licking him lovingly, "You will get ze frag. Hook says you must fuel on energon."

"I hate energon now. You gave me good things, and now you take them away."

"You purged just a few sols ago since you fueled on too many," he reminds his lover. "We don't want zat to happen again, ja?"

Another scowl aimed at him. "Shut up. I didn't purge because there were too many. I purged because . . because of the femonite. It upset my tank."

He pats his bot. "Of course. Ze femonite." Doesn't buy it even for a klik. His mech overindulged and got sick, plain and simple.

"-and zen ve can hook up ze accelerator, und ve should be able to make it go /bang//!" Scalpel cries with glee.

Blitzwing wishes he understood what the frag they're talking about. He's happy that his cyclebot knows, but he is still very confused himself.

Oil Slick is delighted, "We'll be there in no time! I'll get this set up on my side, so it goes faster, but soon enough, you can possibly do it from just here."

"Ja." Scalpel nuzzles against Oil Slick, his wings fluttering. The crystal charms and trinkets that dangle from the rings make soft chiming sounds against his plating. Scalpel seems to have decided to embrace the mods.

He's bought little decorative things to hang from the metal loops that keep his wings out in the open.

Oil Slick rubs the mech's back, and they are both back to talking about things Blitzwng doesn't really understand.

Megatron chooses to walk in now, and looks around, pleased. "Ah, Oil Slick. Good to see you up and about again." Their leader walks over, touching Oil Slick and Scalpel before turning to Nemesis, and rubbing his chestplates. "Have you been fueling on energon like Hook says you should be?"

"Yes," the bot answers grumpily. "More than I need. Blitzwing won't let me frag unless I prove I have a full tank anymore."

Megatron pats his plates. "Good. Your sparkling needs much energy." He turns to Blitzwing, "Do you know why Strika has requested to visit the planet you went to when you sparked?" The mech wrinkles his nose, "With a box of femonite?"

He nods, "Because she zinks zat it will possibly help spark." He's not explaining more than that.

Megatron sighs, "Sparking on the same planet you did isn't the same thing. She likely will not be able to, and be disappointed again."

Blitzwing knows she will. He advised her to /stop// ripping off Lugnut's plates as she does it. He also advised her to tell Megatron that Lugnut is /not// sparked when they come back, even if Lugnut is. So they are not locked up in isolation for two stellars.

"Will you make zem try to spark wiz ozer bots if zey are infertile too long?" he asks, knowing the answer.

"Of course. I will provide a list of possible carriers, just as I did for you. It worked for you, Blitzwing. If they cannot spark on their own, I will find them help." Megatron picks Scalpel up. "I need to borrow the good Doctor for a few megacycles."

Oil Slick reaches for Scalpel, "We are working on the travel device. Are you sure, Lord Megatron?"

Megatron pets Oil Slick's face, "I can take you with me. I certainly don't mind that." Megatron revs, "In fact, I will." Oil Slick is scooped up, "You both will tell me when you are working on as we spend time in the berthroom. You can explain things to Starscream, as well."

Oil Slick wrinkles his faceplates up, "I don't like talking to him. He just ends up making me suck his spike."

"You should bite it next time," Blitzwing advises him. "Zen he will not do zat again."

Megatron narrows his optics, "No biting. That is a firm rule in my quarters, for good reason. Perhaps you should come next sol, Blitzwing, if you need the remedial lesson."

He holds Nemesis like a shield, "I am fine, my liege."

Megatron walks over, shifting Oil Slick and Scalpel to one arm, "Maybe I should take you /and// Nemesis as well. Have all of you in my berth at once."

He shakes his head, "You like carrying all ze bots you are fragging at once, my lord."

"Of course I do." He hefts Blitzwing and Nemesis up, and carries them out of the room, towards his quarters.

Where Starscream is laying on the berth, sipping idly from a cube of energon. "Oh. Wonderful. You've brought back a circus with you." The seeker sprawls out further, taking up even more room. "Send them away. We are not in need of clowns this sol."

Megatron puts all of them on the berth, and climbs on top of Starscream. "We are /all// fragging this sol. You need the energy. You are full of eggs, and it will help to be energized."

The seeker makes a face, "I'm not in the mood for laughter, so you can tell them to roll off and-"

Nemesis is yanked over, "You will be sharing energies, just to make the sparklings happy."

Starscream strokes Nemesis's plating, "With you, I will. Not with the others. You are a carrier. You deserve my perfect energies."

Oh, yes. Starscream was not conceited at all.

Nemesis kisses him, flicking his glossa in. "Them too. They're good at donating energies. Especially Oil Slick. He's got such a hot spark."

Starscream makes a face. "I'm not fragging a /doll//. No matter how animated you bots make him. If I can do this," the seeker reaches over, forces Oil Slick's plates open, and sends the cyclebot's spark tumbling. "Then I'm not fragging it."

Megatron 's engine growls, "You will be interfacing with Oil Slick."

Blitzwing carefully picks up Oil Slick's spark from the ground, dusts it off, and puts it back in his chamber. "You should not do zat to him. He is sensitive."

Starscream gives him a disdainful look, "He's a toy. A strange, Primus-infused toy, but a toy nonetheless. He has no real spark, and is not a real bot."

Megatron pushes Oil Slick's spark down on Starscream.

Oil Slick sighs in pleasure, rubbing against Starscream while Megatron forces their sparks closer and closer, pressing even harder. "You will overload, Starscream. Oil Slick is blessed."

The seeker screeches, trying to shove them away, "No! Stop that!"

Oil Slick grips the seeker then, lively and active, and grinds down on him without help. "I'm not a toy."

Starscream shrieks and overloads with shock.

Megatron laughs.

--

It's been an incredibly long time since Oil Slick had seen something outside of the infirmary walls when he was in his home dimension.

It had taken a lot of effort to convince his mamas to take him home.

They'd done it not out of belief in his words, but pity and sorrow.

They think he's going to offline soon, since his periods of coma are longer and longer now, and want him comfortable at home with them when it happens.

But he is so fragging happy now. He is provided with pretty much anything he asks for. His mamas stare at him worriedly a lot, but he doesn't mind. Even if he has to be bundled up in all sort of clothing all the time here.

Haydon IV is so very cold.

His mama Wildstar pokes her head into his room, looking worried. "Oil Slick? Sweetspark? We made crystal cake. Would you like a slice?"

He sighs, shaking his head, "I can't, mama. Remember? I'm allergic."

His mama's shoulders hunch in a bit, "I forgot. You used to be able to eat them when you were little. I'm sorry. I'll . . make an energon souffle next time."

Oil Slick adjusts a part on the device he's building. "That would be nice, mama. Thank you." But instead of her going off as she usually does, Wildstar comes in and sits beside him.

"We're worried for you, Oil Slick. You work on this machine all sol long."

He nods, adding a small part to it, "I know. I told you. It is so that we can go be with Blitzwing and them." He misses his lovers when he's not with them. Nemesis is just so perfect, riding his spike. Blitzwing knows the exactly right way to tie him up.

Wildstar touches his servo, and it takes quite a bit of effort not to yank away. He wants to show his mamas he's stable and serious. Not scare them. She hugs him, "Blitzwing is with Starscream, sweetspark. Would you... put the machine away. Just for a few megacycles?"

"I can't, mama. I don't know how long I have here, before I end up there again. I want to get this done as fast as possible." So he and his mamas can go to a better place. A world where Haydon IV isn't a frozen iceball. A place where he is loved. Where his mamas would have a nice home, provided to them by Blitzwing.

And not the small apartment they have now, because they spent all their credits on sending him to the hospital.

She hugs him tighter, "Just... a single megacycle? You know we miss you. Please?"

His first instinct is to shove her away. To just shove her away, and tell her to leave. But... "Just a megacycle." He can't refuse her for long. He loves his mamas, and this is why he's doing it. "I'll be back to working after that. It will be okay, you'll see."

His mama lifts him up and carries him into the common room, where mama Glitterfrost is sitting on the couch, knitting a scarf in front of the vidscreen. "Come sit with us," she beckons, and they sit together, Wildstar spreading a warm blanket over the three of them. "Timber is on, sparkling. Do you want to watch it?"

Timber the Turbofox is for sparklings. "No." He looks at them, "I'm not that young. How about we watch... Of Cybercats and Femmes?" A femme oriented program that Blitzwing explained is likely something his mamas will watch.

They give him a confused look, "Sparkling... that's an Autobot only program. They don't allow it on Haydon."

He frowns, "Then what /do// you normally watch?" He's not going to stare at Timber this entire megacycle.

"Shambles is nice, but I don't think you're mature enough for it," Wildstar says gently. "And it's not really allowed either, but it's too popular to completely ban. How about we put on Clank and Girder? It's a nice comedy show."

"Fine." He just doesn't want to watch sparkling programs.

They set it up, and his mamas hold him, cuddling against him. And this is the reason he can't refuse them. Their sparks warm him, making him feel safe and loved. They care about him so much, and he adores them.

He just hopes he can make the machine, so they will be safe with him.

From their calculations, when he finally leaves, it will be in one of two ways. Either without the machine, when his frame offlines here, or with it, and his frame will . . merge with the one there. He's found out from Shockwave that his mamas had offlined young in that world, so they won't have any trouble joining it.

He hopes they don't harbour any anti-Decepticon feelings.

They watch the show for a megacycle, him kinda bored through it, but willing to suffer to make his family happy. When it is over, he extracts himself from their grip, and then hugs them. "I need to get back to work. I love you, mamas."

They look at him worriedly, "Love you too, sweetspark." Glitterfrost touches him softly, "I'll bring you a cube of energon. Plain, like you always drink."

"I like sweet energons." He kisses their cheeks and heads to his room, settling down his with dimensional travel device. This is the first time in a long time that he /doesn't// want to get taken back to Blitzwing's world anytime soon. He needs to get this machine built properly.

And that's going to take time.

--

Oil Slick stares at the machine, and puts the very final adjustment on it. It isn't /pretty//, but it is more than functional. He knows for certain it will work, and-

"Oil Slick?" his mama Glitterfrost asks from the door. "Will you-"

He holds out his arms, "Mama! Just the one I wanted to see!" He tugs her over, hugging her tightly, "Where is mama Wildstar?"

She stares at him worriedly, "In the common room. I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me to the marketplace. We need more fabric materials. So I can make some more blankets. The drafts are getting in again. I worry about you not moving around enough. We can go in vehicle mode."

"Bring mama Wildstar in. I want to show you both something. We can go buy fabrics after."

There won't be a need for it then. New Kaon is warm and temperate, with good weather most of the time. He sits and waits for his mamas to both come in, looking worried.

"I have finished the device," he tells them. "I don't know if we can bring anything with us. Or if you want to come. But I'd like you to come with me. When I hit the switch, I'll be gone."

They look at him worriedly, "Oil Slick, sweetspark..." His mama Wildstar touches his frame, "I don't want you to-"

Glitterfrost shakes her head, "I'm willing to indulge him, Wildstar. If it doesn't work, then it doesn't work. But if it does, it is better to go with."

He takes his mamas' servos in his, and guides them closer to the machine. "We just have to push that switch, and then wait."

They smile at him, and he flips the switch.

There's a cold blue light that washes over them, and then . . . they're up in space. He can recognize New Kaon below them. Hm. Slag. "That wasn't supposed to happen." He presses his servo to his temple. "Blitzwing, can you come and . . pick us up?"

"Oil Zlick? What is going on? You are-"

"I'm up above New Kaon. My machine is kind of off frequency, I think. It spit me out in space, over the main city, most likely. Since I helped out Scalpel with his, and we synced the frequencies. I'm not sure why I'm up here, though."

His mamas cling to him, looking terrified while Blitzwing says, "I will get a ship and grab you, meine leibe."

He pets his mamas gently. "It will be alright, mamas. Blitzwing will be here soon." He glances down at the planet. "New Kaon is pretty from space, isn't it?"

Mama Wildstar twitches, "This . . isn't fragging real, is it? Mass hallucination, maybe? Or is this the Well?"

He shakes his head, "No, no. This is really happening. Isn't it wonderful? I managed to take us to the reality I've started visiting. It is wonderful."

They keep hold of him, as tight as possible. Glitterfrost says worriedly, "That reality where you're a frag toy? I don't think this is a good idea, Oil Slick. What will we /do// here?"

"Blitzwing promised to set you up in a house, and get you a loom. You can weave and spin to make credits, if you need to. There are no weaver clans here, so you have no competition for weaving." He pats them again. "You'll be fine, mamas. And I . . I have a family. I helped spark up a bot here."

They stare at him, "What?"

He nods, "The sparkling will be a triple-changer. A jet-cyclebot. No one can tell if it will be mech or femme yet. Because of the, uh, well, garbage coding that is used in the frame I have here."

"Garbage coding?"

He nods, "Since my frame was a doll here. It won't be anymore, though. I'm here now, and-"

"I can't believe this is happening," mama Wildstar says, looking faintly ill.

"It's alright, mama. We'll have a good life here." He pats his mama gently. "Just relax. Blitzwing will be here soon. Then we'll go meet Megatron, and our new lives will start. Better lives." His frame is healthy and whole here. His mamas will be able to make a living. They'll be happy.

He hopes, at least.

They just cling to him, but it is thankfully not too long before the ship shows up. The door to it opens up, and Blitzwing flies over to them, gathering them in his arms. He's happy his lover is in his Icy personality. His mech says, "Meine Oil Zlick. it has been much too long since I've seen you moving. We missed you as you worked."

He kisses his mech softly, "Well, I'm here to stay."

"I can see zat. Ze doll is acting strangely. I zink we should take you to it quickly, before somezing happens." Blitzwing nuzzles him, and then smiles at his creators, "And you must be ze lovely Wildstar and Glitterfrost zat I have heard so much about. I am happy zat Oil Zlick managed to bring you. I already have a home set up for you, but I zink you should stay at ze base until we get you settled in."

His mamas just nod mutely. He takes his mech's servo, kissing it softly, "Well, let's get to the doll, then. I'm really here now, so we want to hurry."

Blitzwing nods, and they hurry down to the planet. They land easily, of course, and his mamas are turned over to Lord Megatron. The giant mech hums softly at the sight of them, picking his mamas up, "Normally, I would insist on a brand to one of you. just to ensure your loyalty. But... I will forego that because Oil Slick has proven his so very thoroughly right now, just by being here. I will test your's in another way."

He doesn't like the way mama Wildstar gazes at Megatron with hungry optics, and chooses to look away. That's just . . he's happy for his mamas, but he doesn't need to know what they get up to with other bots.

Ever.

Blitzwing carries him away. "Ze doll keeps twitching. We were worried about you."

He curls against Blitzwing, "Well, I'll see what I can do. I'm sure you want me to frag it now that I'm here." He smiles up at his lover cautiously, "Maybe... maybe it is /another// Oil Slick coming through it. Just like how I did."

Blitzwing looks at him, and revs loudly. "Do you zink so? I will have all of meine Oil Zlicks? So many I can not count zem?"

He smiles, "Maybe." He will murder each one. Blitzwing is /his//.

But no need to upset Blitzwing with that information just yet. He'll let the bot think that others might come through. Oil Slick is going to try and merge with the frame, to see if they can meld into one being. If not, he'll destroy it while Blitzwing is in recharge, so no other Oil Slick's can try to horn in on his mech.

Blitzwing is /his//, one-hundred-percent.

Though he'll share with Nemesis, of course.

He's taken to the room, and Blitzwing sets him down. Nemesis perks up at the couch, rushing over to him and rubbing inquisitive servos all over his frame, "Oil Slick." The mech kisses him, and he kisses back just as enthusiastically. He lets the mech break the kiss, and the bot murmurs, "I missed you."

He smiles, squeezing the mech's aft, "I missed you, too." The bot is just so hot and dangerous looking. Red optics, black paint... He loves it. "I need to see the doll, though. Where is it?"

"It's in the berthroom." Nemesis's chamber is starting to bulge just a little, and Oil Slick loves it.

He pats the chamber, and then goes into the room. The frame is indeed twitching, and it's strange to see himself. He sits down, and touches the frame, which vibrates harder. He hums, and lays on top of it, and offlines his optics. It feels /right// to be here, like this.

When he onlines his optics again, the frame is gone.

He grins, and then stands up. "Blitzwi-" He's scooped up in the mech's arms before he can finish.

His larger lover kisses him happily, long glossa licking him. "You are green and have ze handlebars again, meine Oil Zlick! You are so much better like zis, ja?"

He looks himself over, and he does seem to be back in the doll body. "I guess?" He pauses, and then grins as the interfacing mod he has pings his system, "Yes! It /is// better!" He loves it.

He loves his spike." He reaches down and curls a servo around it.

Blitzwing slaps his servo away. "Zat is all you zink of now? You are wiz us forever, and you zink to let out your spike? You filzy zing."

Pouting, he pushes his hips forward, "I want you to suck it for me. Now that I'm here /forever//."

It gets pushed back inside of its housing, and the mech /locks it//! His horrible lover locks it away from him. He hates how it gets him hotter. His stupid mech knows how he likes being pushed around, and takes so much advantage of it.

"Nein," Blitzwing says. His plates are pushed open, and his spark tugged on. It comes out easily in a way a normal spark would fight being removed. When it is gone, his chamber is empty. Blitzwing hums softly, "I see zat you are still a doll now." The spark is returned safely to his chamber, and his armor removed so that the fragging Picture Perfect Partner stamp can be shown.

Rather, it would if it was there.

It's gone.

His spark is some strange mixture of toy spark and real spark, and it doesn't need to be in his chamber.

But when it was out, he could feel Blitzwing's servos on it, so he'll need to protect it still. "But I can feel your servos. When you were touching it. I couldn't feel it before, when it was out of me." He rubs at his plates. "And I'm putting off heat, and you can hear my engine, even now. I'm not just a doll."

Blitzwing carries him to the common area, "Well, you are meine Oil Zlick no matter what." He's set next to Nemesis, "I am sure zat now you will certainly have ze same sort of coding as our sparkling, ja?"

He revs, touching Nemesis's bulging chamber again, "Yes." He kisses the truckbot, letting himself get pinned to the couch. He stares up at his mechs, "Is the sparkling a mech or a femme? You should know by now."

"It is neizer," he says, and Oil Slick stares.

"It can't be /neither//. That's not how sparklings work. By now, it should have gone to one or the other."

Nemesis shrugs. "Your sparkling doesn't want to decide. It's going without femme or mech coding. The medics say it will look more like a femme than a mech, though. Smoother curves. And claws."

He rolls his optics, waving at his own frame, "Just like me? I'm a mech, and they didn't get that wrong when they scanned me in the chamber. I don't see how-"

Blitzwing kisses him, "It is fine, meine Oil Zlick. I am fine wiz having a completely unique sparkling. It will just be a little more difficult to name it, ja?"

"I'm not calling them an 'it,'" he grumbles. "We'll just use 'he' until the sparkling is old enough to decide if he wants to be a femme or a mech."

Blitzwing cackles, flipping to his Random face, "Oh, ja. Und we will dress him in ze prettiest dresses und teach him to fight dirty, like a femme, ja?"

He nods, "My mamas will encourage him to be a femme, I'm sure. But he can be whatever he wants."

Blitzwing kisses him and Nemesis, "It is time for tea, ja?"

He relaxes, "Yes, Blitzwing."

Nemesis scowls,"Only if I get crystal cake, and no slagging energon."

Oil Slick pats him. "You need to fuel properly. You aren't putting him in a crystal frame, so there's no need to eat so many crystals."

The bot sulks. "I want crystal cake. I crave it like you wouldn't even imagine. And Hook says it's not bad if I get crystals now and then. So give me my cake."

Blitzwing picks them up, carrying them to the closet full of dresses. "Oil Zlick is finally here to stay. Zat is a reason to celebrate. Crystal cake for meine Nemesis, so zat he can grow even fatter and more delicious."

Nemesis looks pleased, "Good. I want it, and I deserve it. All of it."

Oil Slick prefers energon sweets. Just pure, condensed energon baked down into dense, gooey squares. Not that he'll admit that to Blitzwing. He has to have a few secrets for himself.

And he melts too much from sweets like that, turning into an eager sparkling for them.

"We will find somezing for you to enjoy too, meine Oil Zlick."

He nods, "Of course."

They are put in the sluttiest, ruffliest dresses possible, and Blitzwing sets them in chairs before putting fuel in front of them. "High grade for meine Oil Zlick. An entire crystal cake for meine Nemesis."

Nemesis is very clearly trying not to drool. "Good. I deserve it."

The bot starts to fuel hungrily, scarfing down all the fuel he can fit in his tank. Pigbot.

Oil Slick sips from his cube, enjoying the rich flavor of the high grade, which makes his glossa tingle just a little bit. He loves how high grades do that for him. A tingle to the glossa, so wonderfully pleasant.

He missed it with his mamas. They could not afford it, and had supplemented the lack with crystals from their indoor crystal garden, or with rust shavings. Both things he could not touch.

Well.... He stares at the cube, "I only drank plain energon for the longest time. Because I am allergic to others. But... I may not be now. I hallucinated when I fueled on other things before. Do you think that is still going to be true now that I have this new frame, and am no longer going into comas?"

"You will be fine," Blitzwing rumbles, holding him tightly. "You will have ze best fuels, and you will be healzy and happy and perfect, ja?"

He lays against his mech. "Yes. I hope so." He sighs. "I suppose I'll just have to trust that this is real. That this is where I'm going to /stay//, and fight to stay here with you both."

Blitzwing cuddles him, rocking him back and forth. "Ja. We are /very// real. You are meine Oil Zlick, and you will not leave us. We have a sparkling togezer. You can not just run off."

He takes Nemesis's servo, squeezing it, "Yeah. You're my /family//, and I love you both very much. No one will keep me away from you."

"Ja." Blitzwing nuzzles him, and then gets a wicked smile. "I cannot wait to show you off to all ze bots zat doubted you were real, meine liebe." He strokes Oil Slick's aft. "Frag you in front of zem. Zey will be so jealous."

Oil Slick snorts, "You just want to frag me in public."

"You say zat like I don't already."

He sighs, shaking his head, "Well, now I'll react to it, at least. More than just the doll overload you showed me." It seemed like a boring frag to him, really. He's glad that Blitzwng bought the doll, though. It means he's here now, and he loves it.

It's a bit . . . creepy, that he's Blitzwing's /absolute ideal// in what he wants in a bot, though. That Blitzwing had /made// him from scratch. Flattering too, of course.

Blitzwing pulls them both into his arms. "I zink we should go show meine bots off. Boz of you. While Megatron is busy wiz your mamas, so he will not interrupt us and try to make you suck his spike in public."

Oil Slick grinds against him. "You should suck my spike in public."

"Nein. I will do no such zing."

He wishes Blitzwing /would//. It is annoying that he has it, and Blitzwing tells him it was a manufacturer's mistake. His mech should let him frag that valve, too. He is the one with the spike in this relationship. What is the point of Blitzwing's valve if he can't use it over and over?

Blitzwing can do what Nemesis does, and ride him. He likes being chained down as it happens, so it isn't like Blitzwing is giving up control for it to happen.

But he . . . understands that Blitzwing associates his valve with being submissive to Megatron. As much as he hates that, Oil Slick isn't sure he'll be able to train that out of his mech.

It's just disappointing that Blitzwing had made Oil Slick the /perfect// size to fit in Blitzwing's valve, and still have their sparks touch. He's actually a little bit taller, and a little bit narrower in this world.

His lover is so unfair to him.

He's carried out of the room with Nemesis, and he smiles happily, Taking the truckbot's servo, he kisses it and dims his optics. "Looks like everyone is going to see me donating energy to our sparkling, then. Isn't that perfect?"

Nemesis frowns, "Slag no. You know I don't like fragging in public. I'd rather not."

He slaps Nemesis's aft. "You're a Decepticon. Act like one."

The bot only frowns, and rubs the dent on his aft. "I'd rather stay home and get more crystals. I'm starving all the time now that he's building his frame."

"Maybe zat means we will be lucky and get a crystal bot, ja?"

Nemesis shrugs, "Hook says no, but Scalpel says maybe. I don't know."

Oil Slick kisses his truckbot, nibbling on his frame, "I bet it is. You should be given more crystals in addition to the energon."

The mech's optics light up in pleasure. "Yes, exactly. I should. At least one slice of crystal cake a sol. Instead of one every other decacycle."

"Greedy bot," Oil Slick teases, reaching down to fondle his valve cover. "Look at you. You're leaking already." He wipes up a bit of lubricant slipping out from under the panel."

Nemesis wiggles, "Blitzwing won't play with my valve very much when you're away. I have to make do with toys. They just aren't as good."

"You could have ridden me as a doll."

Nemesis pushes him against Blitzwing's chest, grinding against him possessively, "But you move when you're there. When you were a doll, you lay prone until the overload. Now I don't need to deal with that ever again. You should open your spike cover."

"Blitzwing locked it away from me." He both hates and loves that. Hates it since he loves playing with it, but loves it since it means he has to ask /permission// to frag.

"He shouldn't." Nemesis scowls at Blitzwing. "Open the lock. He's not a doll anymore, and we should be able to frag whenever we want. You know Hook said it was good for the sparkling to get the extra energy boosts that having my valve fragged gave me."

Blitzwing answers stiffly, "He said zat it was good for /Megatron// to spike you because Megatron told him to tell you zat."

Oil Slick gives them an amused look, "But Nemesis will be fragging in public this way. Even if his spark isn't exposed."

"Nein." Blitzwing puts them on a couch in the common room. "Oil Zlick, go get us energon from ze dispenser."

He scowls, "What? No. I'm not gonna-"

He gets put on the floor, "Go."

"Fine." He strides over to the dispenser, glad that he's so tall, even if he's narrow and skinny as slag. He's used to that, at least. He gets three cubes, putting a disgusting about of rust in Blitzwing's and an equally disgusting amount of crystal in Nemesis's. He carries them back, stacked carefully so they won't topple.

"So," a bot drawls awkwardly, and Oil Slick looks up, . . and up, at the enormous bot. Blackout, if his name recall is correct. "You're real after all?"

He nods, "I am." He keeps walking, and the bot walks with him. He scowls, "I'm going to be sitting with Blitzwing and Nemesis. You can leave us be."

The mech takes two of the cubes from him, so he's only carrying one, "I'll help you. You're struggling to carry them, and-"

His optic twitches, "I didn't /ask// for help!"

Blackout reaches down and gently brushes his aft with his fingers, giving it a light squeeze. "You know, Blitzwing used to share his partners with me, back when he had more trouble keeping them. I kept him from doin' anything too crazy to them."

Oil Slick scoots away from him. "He doesn't need that now."

"But he always does this. He will be-"

He snatches the cubes back, and hurries back to Blitzwing, yelling over his shoulder, "Frag the Pit off!" He's not dealing with this mech. He doesn't want to frag that bot, either.

Blitzwing takes the cubes from him, "You met Blackout, I see."

"Yes." He sits beside his mech and sips sullenly from his cube. "He's a fragger, isn't he?"

"He is hot in ze berz, if you like zat type, I suppose." Blitzwing shrugs, and takes his rust filled cube, gulping it down. Blitzwing always drinks his fuel quickly. He wonders if the bot had a fuel shortage as a sparkling.

It would explain why he's always hungry, and drinks his fuel so quickly most of the time.

Nemesis takes the crystal filled slag happily, dipping his fingers in and sucking the crystals off noisily. That just makes him want to put edible crystals on his spike and spark, forcing the bot to suck and lick. But he can't, since Blitzwing has locked him up entirely.

He sips his own energon slowly, leaning against Blitzwing's side. "I don't want him in the berth."

"Blackout is skilled in ze berz, but I do not wish to share you anytime soon. And I zink zat our lord may be considering having him carry for Scalpel, since his chamber is large enough for ze weaver to clutch in."

Weavers tend to have little swarms of sparklings, dozens all at once, instead of spreading them out the way reasonable bots do.

"He was told by Scalpel that Scalpel would be willing to clutch with him, and Megatron refused." It happened when he showed off those lovely slutty wings. Scalpel is even more susceptible to the massages than most others he's ever seen. Likely from the wings not being exposed much. Now that they're out all the time, the sensitivity will either intensify, or go away.

He imagines the piercings will make it intensify.

"Megatron will let Scalpel clutch when he is ready," Nemesis says softly. "You know he likes to control everything. When /Megatron// is ready for them to clutch, they will clutch. Probably have a dozen sparkling. A small clutch at first."

"Don't let Scalpel hear that." Oil Slick knows just how temperamental weavers get if their clutch size is insulted. The size is a direct link to how virile and strong they are considered.

Which is why Blackout would be acceptable, since the mech is completely capable of carrying enough for several clans of weavers.

He still doesn't like the mech, and his grabby claws. That fragger.

Blitzwing rubs his chestpates, fingers in Oil Slick's seams. "Open up."

He tests his locks, and they're stuck firm. "I can't."

Blitzwing cackles, and then pushes the plates open, the locks sliding apart at his command. Oil Slick glances down at his chest, and then scowls when Blitzwing . . . takes his spark out, while bots around them gasp with shock and horror.

And then he spasms with pleasure when Blitzwing pushes the spark into Nemesis's chamber and locks the mech shut.

He writhes around in pleasure while Random cackles in glee. "I zink I will /always// do zis! It is just so perfect! Look at ze boz of you!" Blitzwing rubs Nemesis's chest, "And now you will 'face in public all I want. So your spark is not exposed. How nice, ja?"

Neither of them answer, writhing around. The heat and pressure is constant, and Oil Slick's spark is assaulted on two sides. One side is hot against Nemesis's spark, the other squished by the inside of the bot's sparkplates, which keep it pressed tightly against the truckbot. He groans and thrusts his chest up in the air uselessly, unable to increase the pressure or try to rub against the bot.

Blitzwing cackles again, "Oh, ja."

He whines, trying to get more movement, but unable to. Nemesis is writhing around with him, unable to do much about it at all.

So, of course, that's when Strika comes over, looking amused. "I see zat ze rumors of you finally being here to stay are true, Oil Slick."

Blitzwing touches her servo, "Ja. I got zem, and now meine Oil Zlick will never leave unless zere is a mission."

He shudders and whines, reaching for her servo, hoping she'll help him get his overload. Strika smiles and pats his shoulder, "Nein. You vill be a good bot for your mech and enjoy the torment he makes you go through. It is character building." She leans in, "They look vonderful like that. I vish Lugnut's spark could do that."

Blitzwing smiles, "I will let you borrow Oil ZLick to energize your sparkling if you want, Strika. Only a few times, zough. Nemesis needs ze energy for our sparklings, too."

Strika sits down, taking Oil SLick's energon, "Oh, ja. I vould not say no to that. He vill be so pretty vith the spark in his chamber, the both of them like this."

Nemesis manages to whine, "Pl-please. Overload!"

Blitzwing purrs, "Ja, I zink I will." He opens his sparkplates and tugs Oil Slick and Nemesis's helms to him. Oil Slick can barely think with his spark so close to overload. "Suck me. If you bots give me a good overload, I will let you boz overload too."

They bot lick at the same time, whining in need and want. Nemesis starts to suck, and Oil Slick joins right after. The feeling of another spark in his mouth in addition to the spark on his drives him hotter, but not nearly enough to overload. He whimpers in lust, but it does not help him overload.

Blitzwing revs, shoving their faces against the spark harder. "Keep going, meine little bots."

Oil Slick sucks until his glossa is numb from the charge and when Blitzwing's overload pulses against his faceplates, it's /nearly// enough to set him off too, but not quite.

Blitzwing sighs, and strokes them. "Mm. Ja. Alright." He opens Nemesis's chamber and wraps their sparks with his glossa, squeezing them together until both bots shudder with completion.

Blitzwing puts Oil Slick's spark back in his chamber, and kisses the both of them. "You are boz such /good// bots." They are cuddled closely, and the mech says to Strika, "Is zere anyzing you wanted to ask?"

She nods, "I had been thinking about adding Oil Slick to Team Chaar. Vhat is your opinion on that?"

"Nein," Blitzwing hisses, and Oil Slick gets crushed against his chest. "Nein. He is mine. He will stay wiz me and ze sparklings. You will not get your servos on him."

Strika arches an optic ridge, "You are very possessive. I hope that vears off. I vill ask again later, vhen you are not being a madmech."

Oil Slick peeks his head out of Blitzwing's arm. "/I// don't want to be part of Team Chaar just yet. Maybe later. For now, I'd like to work in the labs with Scalpel. He and I have been doing so much together, and-"

Blitzwing kisses him forcfully, "Nein. You will stay wiz us."

He laughs, curling close, "I have been gone for awhile. I need to make sure our sparkling knows I am one of his papas."

Strika perks up, "So you know it is a mech now? I knew you should have fueled on more fe-"

Blitzwing shakes his head, "Nein. it still has not chosen."

"Oh. Then you should be fueling on femonite, Nemesis. That vay you can encourage it to be a femme."

Nemesis wrinkles his nose, "If there's any truth to that, it's /only// because femonite tastes so slagging awful that the sparkling turns femme to avoid the taste."

The femme gives him a sharp pinch. "You should be thankful that there is a vonderful crystal that helps. Lugnut has been fueling on it for three vorns now."

And Oil Slick is certain that the mech is so fragging happy that he's carrying a femme, so he doesn't have to fuel on more.

Nemesis makes a face, "I'm still not fueling on it. I don't want any of it. It tastes too gross."

"I vill bring you a storage cube of-"

"Nein. You will do no such zing."

"I-" Strika stops then, and stares over their helms, transfixed by something.

He turns to look, and sees Lugnut coming in, enough to catch her attention normally. But Lugnut is not alone. He's with another bot of the same model type, but in a brighter blue color, with a more traditional helm shape.

"Excuse me. I must go speak vith my mech." She moves to the bots.

Blitzwing smiles, "I see she is finally meeting Sky Byte. I zought she would want to meet him."

"I don't know who that is," he says.

"Zat mech." Blitzwing kisses him and Nemesis, "but it does not matter. We are going to go back to ze room, and spend time togezer. Just us. No one else."

Oil Slick lays against him, happier than he's ever been in his entire life. He's got a sparkling on the way, his mamas are here and safe, and he's not going to offline alone.

Nothing could be better.