HUNTER [.iii]
Title: HUNTER
Fandom: Transformers
Rated: NC-17
Wordcount: 6977
Pairing: Devcon/femme. The femme is canon. Yay!
Warnings: Un-beta'd. Sticky. Mech/Femme. Femmes with spikes, mechs with valve. Cybertronians with double equipage, period. Reference to past torture. Angst. Devcon in all his glitchy glory.
Disclaimier: Don't own, don't sue.
A/N: HUNTER is set in G1 contuinity, exploring Universe 03's take upon "Devcon the Bounty Hunter." It's also my first NaNoWriMo story, which rounded 162+ pages. The story follows Devcon from the end of issue Enter the Wreckers - Betrayal and through The Wreckers - Disclosure to meet up with canon at the start of Wreckers Finale 1. [ Prologue]. [ i]. [ ii].
SWIFT
.III
As Devcon lay upon the cold stone slab, the sound of whispers reached his sluggish processor, disturbing his light recharge. He turned his helm and tried to follow the conversation audios only, since he wouldn’t be bothered with opening his optics. There was something going on there, but his programming detected no danger, just… chatter.
”Why can’t I just take a peak? Come on, Ram, it’s not like he’ll stop me!”
”His cannon would make a short process of your helm and sadly, I wouldn’t put you together. I’d sell you with the rest of the junk in here.”
”Oooh, you just-”
”Shut it,” Devcon murmured, lifting a heavy hand to swat at the chattering ’bots. There were hands on his right arm and some pad connected to his medsection. He ran scans, but he wasn’t being hacked nor was he being molested. A finger nudged his vents and the hunter grunted in annoyance and shifted. He touch didn’t go away, forced him to look up.
There were two faces hovering above him, looking at him with strange… things on their faces. Huge optics pleered back at him. Devcon’s processor pointed out the logical explanation. Lences. Devcon made a face, optics mere slits. Whatever, both were ugly looking ’bots anyway. The smaller one leaned over him, moving a hand in front of his face. His cannon trained itself after the offending limb, but didn’t shoot. Devcon growled and the face moved away. He winced as the great bulb of light blinded him again. He shuttered his optics and allowed his intakes to slow down again.
”See? He would shoot you if you started poking around where you don’t belong. Besides, allow mech a bit of mystery, will ya?”
”As if you aren’t itching to take him apart!”
”This one? You insane. Keep working, will ya? And no more groping him, is that clear? We are proffesionals, after all.”
Devcon muttered a fond oath and returned to his light recharge, not fully awake, yet on the verge of sweet darkness. He was in good hands. Sort of, anyway. Trust Ram to keep it proffessional - the mech had a reputation to be the most honest son of a glitch in the quadrant, after all. If he told you he’d take you apart, you would find yourself in bits and sold quicker than you managed draw your last intake. If he said he would help you…
The hunter stirred as he sank into the awaiting darkness, barely concious. Hunters were said be seen napping when ever they could and it was the mere truth. Even Devcon wouldn’t let such an opportunity go by. While the inventor and the sparepart merchant worked with the last few adjustments he allowed himself much needed rest. Forced to keep his optics shuttered due to the blinding light, he drifted back and forth between searing light and utter darkness.
It had felt strange, the upgrade - if it even could be called an upgrade. Yet, no matter how small the addition, Devcon had felt it as a huge, strangely vast… echo. That would be a fitting word, indeed. He’d been asked to access to the software and suddenly, his processor had gotten quite a different view of the world. For the first time in his life he’d been able to get an actual visual on what his inner working operated after. It had been… big. Dizzying at first, but overall a perfectly logical upgrade. It fitted him and blended perfectly with the rest of his base coding, fitting like a glove.
He’d tried to follow the delicate work a few times, but the big ball of light above him threatened to blind him each time he unshuttered his optics. He’d soon given up, since the light was needed for further work and Ram wouldn’t have allowed himself to work in semi-darkness. Devcon understood as much. It still annoyed him greatly.
He sighed and moved his helm to the side, seemingly passive. How long had he been on the move? It was difficult to judge without the access to his internal chronometer. He tapped his fingers to the stoneslab as he recalled the different places he’d visited. He’d made a few jumps in between, right? Four. No, wait… six?
Devcon bit his lower lip and shooke his helm slowly. No wonder he was starting to feel fatigue. Six jumps with nothing more than the fuel he’d had that last night with Rodimus and the slag they served in the various pubs he’d haunted lately? Insanity. His inner working demanded refined energon, strong good booze that would zizzle the processor of lesser mechs. He smiled ruefully. Well, there it was, the reason to his weariness. He would be in need of some fine energon, sooner than later.
Work, work, work… and such a lovely kind of work, as well. There was no other mech able to move the way he did. Oh, there were other flyers, but the combination of his sub-light speed and his port drive made him fully adequate to hunt Cyclonus. Even if the ugly bastard was his to kill, he’d been speaking the truth when he’d explained himself to Apelinq and Rodimus. The Wreckers had their own business to see to and as a team they would be able to do well. They just didn’t have the right kind of… equipment for a hunt as this one. No other mech who could move across space like he did, with little or no rest at all.
Nevertheless, no matter how light, this rest would do him well. And, if he never woke up again, then… too bad.
~
They woke him up much later.
Devcon growled as his chronometer indulged in explaining just how much of a rest he’d gotten. Frag! He needed to get on and-
”Oi, slow down, hunter! You need to refuel before running off!”
Bolt pressed him down, none to gently, restricting him. Devcon snarled, furious for having lost good time for some fraggin’ sleep and pushed back.
”You let me fall into a full recharge! I needed to get on, the trail might get cold and if I get surrounded by all those merc then I’ll have to start all over again! Frag, where is Ram? I need to get my aft out of this place and-”
His olefactory sensors suddenly gave a jerk and Deccon turned his face towards the cube that was being offered to him. Ram stood there, looking his old odd self, but there was a slight frown in his face. He gave Bolt a level stare and she moved away, giving the hunter space. The little mech grabbed a chair and sat by Devcon, the light softer now.
”You were exhausted, Devcon. I don’t need to poke inside your beautiful systems to understand that you’ve been pushing yourself harder than usual. Here, have some of that toxic blend you like to sip. Drink slowly, give your CPU time to sort things out and I’ll get you out of the planet in one piece.”
It wasn’t a bad idea and the cube with the golden drink looked perfectly imopossible to resist. He’d had a cube with Welder, but that was a few jumps back and all the other flying he’d been up to…
”Perhaps I should do as you say,” he muttered, giving in. He sat up, slowly at Ram’s command, and rubbed his midsection. Not a scratch. Good. There was a pad attached to his left arm and he gave the pad a curious look. Bolt smiled and held it up; it showed a nice diagram, otherwise, they were still running scans to find eventual bugs in the newly upgraded software. He shrugged and let her work. He wasn’t a medic, had no fraggin’ idea what all those glyphs meant. He had other things occupying his processor anyway.
”Will it work, Ram? I don’t feel the echo anymore. I thought…?”
”Nah, you’ll get the visual feeds when making the jumps, that’s all. We just needed to see if it was compatible as it was. A few small readjustments was all it needed.”
Devcon reached for the cube and took it between his hands. He sniffed and shuttered his optics; oooh, yeah…
”I never understood your fascination with Liquid Death until today, mech. You’ve got some expensive bits and hardware in there. They keep you running on basically nothing, even though the ”nothing” would be a cocoution strong enough to make most mechs melt. Shuttle formers wouldn’t react that way, but they don’t have your port drive. That thing is a work of art.”
Devcon snorted and sipped the Liquid, engines revving hard. He needed it now, didn’t he? The golden drink was generally only sold in fancy places or in the bigger spacestations. It wasn’t difficult to mix, but held a certain reputation. Also, it made weaker mechs a perfectly good target for smugglers. He grinned at the thought; he’d done that a few times and he’d become pretty good at getting a mech drunk. It made the hunt easier when said prey wasn’t exciting enough.
”So… I’m good to go as soon as the scan is done?”
Bolt nodded, her vocals crisp and businesslike. ”That would be correct. I’d like to see the chart in use, but we’ll have to trust it’ll work. Ram can take you up to the surface while I distort your signal.”
”…eh? I can do that all by myself, merchant. Never had any problem with it.”
”It’s not you I’m afraid of falling into the wrong hands - it’s Ram. You know how the merc guilds treat their prisoners. I’m perfectly aware of the fact that Ram isn’t able to get away quite as fast as your own handsome self, hmm?”
Cube half empty, Devcon glared at the femme. She had a way with words, didn’t she? And, he had to admit, she was attractive, even as odd as her frame and armour might make her look. He’d always enjoyed intelligent berth mates, but this wasn’t the time for that kind of conquest. The annoyed look he gave her, however, had no effect at all. She ignored him and got on with work.
Ram cleared his throat and the hunter tore his fierce gaze from the femme. ”What?”
”That Cyclonus. A ’Con, isn’t he?”
”The worst kind; the old kind. He’s been around for quite a while.”
”Old enemy, huh? Well, I still keep to my own code; no weapons for either fraction. That includes you too.”
Devcon shrugged and downed the cube, his systems practically burning with new energy. He felt restless, in a good way and he rolled his shoulders. He was good to go. He checked his weapons systems; fully loaded, good. The missiles were still in place and so were the blades. He didn’t need new weapons, he had… Well, he could use them. He’d rather not to.
”I don’t need your inventions, Ram. I have my speed and my blaster, the cannon. That’s all I need. I’m grateful for the chart, however. Tell me a bit about it?”
Ram nodded, his vocals droning on about several dimensions to space, things Devcon already knew. He listened anyway, nodding now and then. With his port drive came the knowledge of space travel and quite a few other things, but what Ram was talking about still made him shutterblink a few times.
”So, basically, you’ve just installed every known chart there ever was… and that will ever be? How the frag did you manage that? Wait, don’t tell me. It’ll just give me a processor ache.”
The merchants laughed at his suffering face and even Devcon cracked a smile. Well, it wasn’t too bad. An ’everywhere-sensor’, huh? It would give him a good sense of location at least. His sensors were good enough, sensitive to the smallest change…
He frowned all the sudden and looked at the pad attached to his arm. A look of alarm came over him.
”What is it?” Bolt didn’t sound like she cared beyond the risk of him tearing her precious pad apart.
”Has this little chart of yours heightened my… I mean, what about my sensory-net?”
The femme’s smile was vicious as she cocked her helm. Devcon could have shot her, but he wouldn’t mess things up with Ram, frag no. Still, that smile welcomed a bit o’ murder.
”Let’s put it like this - you ever get topped, hunter, it might get quite… intense~.”
Devcon’s faceplate’s tinted and he turned away, growling, ignoring her grin.
~
”You don’t like my partner, do you?”
They were sitting on top of some abandoned docking area, sharing a cube of mid-grade. Ram had insisted they talk a bit before departure. Devcon had agreed and gotten a few things he might need for his hunt. Creds for decent energon, some smaller gadgets to trade along the way. The merchant gone inventor seemed protective of his precious software. He wanted Devcon to survive.
”Damn right. She’s the kind of ’bot I would kill, sooner than later.”
The mech snorted. ”She would have been troublesome, hunter. Did you see her frame? Designed for picking Cybertronians apart. Don’t mess with the surgeon, Devcon. I think she likes you, anyway. Pleasing to the optic and so on.
Devcon surpressed a shudder; a surgeon. Why hadn’t the thought of that? Not just a sparepart merchang, a slaggin’ medic as well. Ram watched him with amused optics and went back to his stargazing.
It was a lovely night sky, it truly was. Ram had been right about that. Why not spend a few mega-cycles just looking at it? Devcon seldom did that, since he mostly was out in it, on his way to this and that. He was always busy, if not in a hunt, then on his way to one. Perhaps he should do this more often; find a high structure and sit down, just… look.
”…beautiful,” he whispered and leaned back on his outstretched arms. The merchant nodded and grinned, looking like a newspark.
Time passed and Devcon lost himself in the moment, the grace of space a healing sight. He’d been locked away for Primus knew how long. He’d been put through things most mech would have killed themselves over. He’d… survided. It was good to know he still could feel anything else but hate. The stars were always there, a soothing presence in his core. They called out and he responded with longing, deep and throbbing.
”Time to go?”
Devcon shutterblinked, embarrased all the sudden. Frag, I wasn’t… was I?
”Never met a mech that would purr at some stars,” Ram commented with a pleased grin. ”Ah, don’t deny it, hunter.”
Devcon sighed and shifted, getting onto his thrusters. He lifted his face towards the sky and nodded. Well, there was nothing wrong with it, if you were a space cruiser, right? He felt a tug in his spark; it was time to leave. Fully rested, with high-quality energon clearing his systems and a nice little addition to his starcharts… Yeah, life could be worse.
”They are what define me,” he said with some afterthought. ”I’m not imune to beauty, after all.”
On the contrary, he seemed attracted to it. He snorted at himself and stretched, a movement both languid and gracefull. He caught Ram looking at him with calculating optics.
”You should do something about that hunger, Devcon.”
”Hunger?”
”Bolt wasn’t wrong about you. You are too tense. Do something about it, to clear your processor. If I’m right, you have quite a journey ahead of you. Perhaps some… distraction would do you well. I’d offer if I thought I would survive your attention. Which reminds me - remember Swift? She’s still hovering around in one piece. Perhaps you should find her and do something about that programming of yours before you encounter Cyclonus. It would be unfornutate if your programming glitched and had you hump him instead of killing him, eh?”
Devcon’s optics widened and an outraged snarl left him; had they poked around in his… in his…?! Ram laughed and ducked as he shot. The merchant waved and hurried down the stairs, becoming one with darkness. Glitch. A sudden processor-ache, followed by an explosion of data forced him to kneel over. The hunter growled and grabbed his helm, hissing as firewalls he hadn’t been aware of crumbled to dust.
He gasped and forced himself up, kicking his thrusters to life as if his life depended on it. He left the ugly planet with roaring engines and a new set of memories.
~
Swift?
Oh, he remembered Swift, all right. She’d been a part of his life long before the badge ever was. He’d… he’d forgotten about her, but her designation had triggered the codes he’d set up in his own processor. As he retrieved all the files, he steered around in a field of meteorites, keeping his sensors occupied with the annoying task of watching out for small, yet deadly debris. His shields were strong enough to tackle most of it, but he needed to conserve some strength for his jumps. They wouldn’t drain him too much, but just in case, he kept his pace reasonable and most of all, safe.
The files flooded his CPU. Designation: Swift. Neutral. Altmode: hover bike. Sonic-weapons. Excellent sharp shooter with a taste for knives in hand-to-hand combat. Good at survailance duty, with an uncanny ability to blend in among other thughs. Tall for a femme, strong and sleek. Pretty as a nova. Blue. Had never told him her real designation. Had teamed up against him more once. Successfully kicked his aft… countless times. In which she’d been gracious enough to take his prey, his creds and nothing else, even though she’d groped him a little.
Those were some good memories. Devcon made a sharp turn to the left and avoided a rock out of control, happily turning it to dust. He got out of the field and darted towards a planet, preparing a small jump to gain some time, remembering…
~
”Liquid Death? Trying to impress much?”
Devcon turned and gave the tall femme a mocking, wounded look. He didn’t answer her, though. Too many Cybertronians often meant unnecesary friction of different kinds. He wasn’t up for any kind of game, either. He had work to do. Glorious, joyjous work. As he left, he felt a scan - it was like being emerged in mud. He turned around and growled, but the femme was gone.
Later, he would learn his mistake of not tracking her signal down.
~
Devcon laughed at the file and discarded it. She’d tracked him down, instead. Oh, the fight… At first he’d thought her to be a merc, but her fightingstyle - and more importantly - lack of croonies, said something else. She’d been an awesome combatant, though. Kicked him good, left him dented and sweetly aching.
That time she’d gotten the upper hand due to his stupid belief of smaller Cybertronians being weaker. Just where and when had he learnt that stupidity? She had left him wounded, grounded even. She’d gone for his thighs, too. A big slash across his knee, damaging his wing-shields. He hadn’t cared about it. He’d been excited and left wanting. Lusting. She’d fought dirty, just like any hunter, would and she had known how to take him down. No games, just brutal strength, quick peds and a processor that left him in awe.
This was the first encounter of many, and she’d tought him a lesson or two. She’d hacked his mission, stolen the coordinates and left with the names of the criminals he was hunting. Blast her, but she’d done a good job. Had she been a merc, he would have hunted her across the universe, but she was a fellow hunter, and thus, free to go from his ire. He’d kept an optic out for her, though. She had impressed him greatly.
Over the countless stellar cycles she’d never told him her disignation, so he’d just called her ”the femme” for ages. And, as ages do, they passed. He hummed, and dived into another memory.
~
”I think this demands a celebration,” the femme said with a lazy, slow grin. ”I mean… you found me, not even trying to, and hey… look at this. I’m cuffed! Now, what could a handsome mech like you do about this situation?”
Devcon hadn’t really meant to find her at all. He was sneaking in a huge building, searching for a couple of escaped prisoners when he’d stumbled over a Cybertronian in a box. The signal had been vagualy known, but his face had been slack with surprise when he’d seen who it was. The femme had been less surprised.
”Well… are you going to do something about this? For old times?”
”You messed my thrusters up and you stole from me. You even groped my frame while I was down. Why the frag should I let you go?”
The femme laughed at that, her peds bound, immobilized, her hands cuffed. She lay like a prize, sparkling in the strong light of the warehouse. Devcon kept his optics the femme in her seemingly helpless state, which was a fraggin’ lie. He knew that by spark. She’d been able to take him down once, which meant she would be able to do it now as well. A mech could learn new tricks, but it was difficult to keep his thrusters away from her if she wanted a little dance.
”Aw, is the big hunter feeling indecisive? Lemme see, I could make the decision for you, handsome. I could scream…”
And she did. The sound threw him back and away from her, his sensors screaming just as loud. Within moments, the warehouse had become a battle field; him shooting and trying to get the ringing out of his audios. He got shot twice, but it was nothing bad, nothing piercing. He couldn’t get the ringing out of his processor and as the fight went on, he couldn’t stop staring at the box either.
He should shoot her… but, when confronted with the box, hiding behind it, he just knew she wouldn’t be there anymore. As the fight continued he managed to get a look and just as he thought; no femme. She was gone. He growled, annoyend, feeling cheated. She had gotten away, again.
~
He’d just collected his payment when he saw a tall, sleek femme dissapear behind a pillar. He found himself running after her, grabbing her and turning her around.
A knife poked him in his vents. He hissed and pulled back, but she smiled, lifting her face to his, standing on her toes, boldly tasting his lips. Devcon growled, but kissed her back. It was a hard kiss, nothing soft, nothing sweet. It was a battle for dominance and neither of them backed down. She chuckled and bit his lower lip, looking at him with tinted lips and the same kind of shit-eating grin he usually directed at prey.
”Happy to see me, then?”
”The frag I am! You messed my audios up! I had that ringing in my processor for cycles before a medic checked it!”
The femme caressed his vents with sleek fingertips, smirking.
”The sensitive type, then? It wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t so very nicely atuned to your envirement. Mmm, makes a hunter wonder how it would be to take a bite.”
Devcon took a step back, annoyed and embarrassed both. He knew she was baiting him, but this was the wrong place in which to engage in battle. She looked pleased with his reaction, her red optics raking over his bulky frame. His frowned. It wasn’t often Cybertronians gave him that kind of look. Seldom, really, since he wasn’t around long enough and didn’t seem interested in that kind of game. ’Facing wasn’t a part of the gig, even if his hunter programming could glitch now and then. He wondered if this was one of those times; he’d been trying to find her for quite a time now, hadn’t he?
”I’m going to have a drink,” he grunted. ”You follow me, do it for the drink and not for the sake of stealing my paycheck, got it?
”Hunter, I just got my own paycheck.” She lifted her arm, a small screen apearing amidst the pretty, light blue of her armour. ”See? Ah, there’s no pay like Council-pay, is there? Mmm, good creds to use everywhere.”
Devcon snorted, but silently agreed.
”Oh, by the way… thank you for saving me back at Tri-42.”
”Save you? I was gonna shoot you,” Devcon replied and she burst out laughing. ”Besides, I got the ’Con I was looking for.” He shutterblinked; wait a moment… ”What were you doing there? I got my prey, what did you get?”
”Nothing bigger than a nice little bomb. I sold it to the mercs in Moran, got a fair price, robbed them and got away with the bomb again only to take it back here.”
He laughed long and hard, the femmes softer vocals echoing around him.
~
Booze had come in plenty; not his favourite drink, but other things. Sweets, too. The femme was good company, telling him stories of some of her hunts and how big messes she had escaped from. Devcon told her some of his own, carefully keeping classified stuff away. He imagined she did the same.
”…you know, Cybertron might not be too bad if I get to meet you like this,” he commented.
”It’s too bad I never seem to meet you outside work, eh?”
”Well, now and then, there’s always payment to pick up. We could make this a, uhm, a-”
”A honourable hunter-tradition?” She grinned, wiggling her opticridges at him. Devcon snorted, still steady on his thrusters.
”Honour? In our trade…? That’s fragged up, don’t you think?”
”Bah, I say there’s more honour to bounty hunters than… than politicians! And mercs, remember, m’lad - watch out for those mercs. They would gang up on you and bye bye pretty, hulky hunter.”
Devcon decided to kiss her and she pushed herself closer, nothing of the delicate femme-business here, just deep throbbing want. She was a hunter, nothing more, nothing less.
They were kicked out of the bar for their little display of want and soon they were roaming the busy streets. Here, among the richer, no mech was starved, no mech was in need. Well, Devcon was. He kept touching the curvy hunter, still not knowing her designation. Pit, she didn’t know his either, albeit he was pretty sure she actually did. If she did, she didn’t use it, only called him all those nice things…
~
The berth was big, so was the room. Spacious, a nice little alcove. Goodies, energon, sweet and potent high grade.
He dipped his helm between the femmes legs, pushing her thighs apart. She massaged his helm at first, then pushed his face closer to her interface panel, lifting herself to him. She growled in need, worked up, demanding. Devcon moaned, hands kneading her shapy thighs. She was strong, she was so very very strong and gorgeous. He told her so as his glossa licked the heated, smooth plating.
”Yes, yes… I know,” she panted hoarsly, vocals tight with lust. ”Come on, big mech, you know what to do. Pop it open and get to work, mmm, now.”
Her words ignited yet another fullbody shudder and Devcon arched his back, lying between her thighs. He suckled the seams, his fingers clawing the thighs. She shifted and growled, then a hiss was heard and she withdrew her panel, impatient. He didn’t wait either, but pressed his lips against her valve, pleasuring her with glossa and lips, suckling hard. She tasted sweet, tangy, the lubricant hot.
His glossa was made flat as he lapped, raspy against her softer components. She nodded, then there was another little sound as her spike pressurised. She purred at his gasp and then arched as he pushed his glossa deep inside her valve.
He was bigger than her, reached deeper than expected. He licked and pressed against the upper walls, finding soft membrane, sensitive nodes and bundles of sensors. She squirmid, tugging her spike with hard tugs.
”…f-frag, hunter, nngh, you are… Ah, good at this!”
Spike pushing agains the panel, Devcon chased her overload like any prey. This was sweeter, headier, stronger than a hunt. He groaned, needy and restless. His fingers found their way to the valve and he rubbed her outer nodes, paying attention to the hitch of her moans. She knew what she liked and told him as much; he followed her vocals, almost entranced. She growled and nodded, optics shuttered, helm thrown back, frame taut, tense.
A finger carefully breached her and she cried out, hips snapping. Almost there, Devcon knew, she was on the verge, yet he eased yet a finger and suckled the base of her spike. She let go of her spike and grabbed the back of his helm, locking optics with him. He cycled a broken intake; she looked feral.
He swallowed, his lips wet with her lubricant and licked his way up her spike, taking the tip of it into his mouth. He wasn’t any good at this; most of his lovers never asked for it since he would bring them beyond pleasure, but the femme… She was perfect. He took her deep and suckled hard, fingers thrusting deep and hard, once, twice and thrice.
Her scream echoed around him and he moaned, drinking her down, allowing her to fuck his mouth with selfish, hard jerks. Her valve pulsed around his fingers, tightening, making her spasm and close her thighs around him. He didn’t let her and kept her open, his fingers turning, pressing harder onto the delicate membrane. She arched her back and shouted again, coming hard one more time before slumping down onto the mattress, a look of bliss in her face.
”Oooh, frag, hunter. Nnnnghh… t-this is gonna be a good tradition.”
He sucked the last drops, his face a proper mess and let go of her spike with a purr. His hands kneading her curves, Devcon only licked his lips at her words. Oh, he so very much agreed; it wouldn’t matter how many times she kicked his aft or how often he made sure to fool her and get away with prey and bounty both. Frag, he liked the idea… fighting each other only to meet up in good ol’ Cybertron to collect bounty and then, mmm, then this.
”My turn,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed her chestplate. He released his spike and rubbed it against the craddle of her legs, letting her feel the full size of him. He smiled deviously at her surprised gasp and moved to let her see. She licked her lips, optics round and pleased, an unmatched fire burning right there. She reached down and stroke him, purring all the sudden.
”This… was a perfect idea,” she chuckled, kissing him hard. Her hand, delicate looking yet never dainty, grabbed his spike more fully and lead the way, rubbing it hard against her valve. She moaned and Devcon shuttered his optics, panting hard. Once in a blue moon, this would be their reward, to use up all that energy that seemed to crack and sear when they met. He nodded and let her press him down.
”Sweet P-Primus! Oh, frag me… !”
”Aaaha, d-doing it, hunter, mmm…”
Peds around his hips, locking him in place, the femme moved her hands all over his armour. She didn’t stop there, but kept touching him as he pumped slowly at first. It was good, so good… Oh, he’d had his fair share of lovers, exotic looking mechs and sweet femmes. This was something else. There was a hunger in her than he could match, a dark excitement for anything that scratched deeper than necessary. He gritted his denta and slid deeper, then pulled back in one flowing movement. She cursed and nodded, hands making his sensors sing.
Devcon moaned and picked up the pace, moving languidly but hard. She liked it, nibbling his neck cabling, cursing him fondly. He bit her helm and pumped harder, grounding hard. She arched neneath him and cried out, demanding more and Devcon, hissing, gave her all she wanted. It was rough pleasure, bites and scratches, but the sweetness of her tight, wet valve kept him captive and he moaned, feeling his own overload stalk his systems.
”Gonna come, h-hunter? Mmm, that… aah, gotta be a sight…” She hissed as he growled and fucked her harder, circling his hips then snapped forward, making her scream, sending her into a violent overload.
He curled on top of her, shifting onto his knees. He grabbed her hips and snapped, moving faster and harder, yet never deeper than she liked, the rhythm changing every now and then. She grabbed the sheets and bit them, undulating her own hips, never the passive one. His hands held hard enough to dent, but he would kiss the dents later, would see to make up for his rough lovemaking. The femme didn’t complain, her face a set into a scowl of rapture. She pressed her hands onto the berth and pushed herself up, meeting him halfway. He pulled her upp the rest of the way and held her tight, hips rocking, chassis to chassis.
The heat was almost unbearable; there was condensation forming all over them, the sounds of whining, exhausted vents a constant lullaby. Devcon moaned into the fierce kiss, a hand scrambling over the sleek form, rubbing her tyres until she nipped his lips with a tiny growl. Devcon laughed and grabbed her aft in both hands, kneading while he pumped slower, drawing the maddening pleasure out. He kept the rhythm, then suddenly gave a jerk and howled.
/comm: Ooh, sensitive much?/
He writhed, her spike now fully pressurised and hard again, left a wet trail against his abdominal plating, caressing his vents. But, it wasn’t what had him crying out; her lips were sealed around his cannon. The danger involved made her wet, so wet, so deliciously wet, and now that she had accomodated to his girth and length, he could press deeper. It was almost too much, but he wouldn’t beg, frag no, wouldn’t…
Desperation won and he pulled his cannon away, getting a glipse of her trumphiant grin before rolling them over. She laughed breathlessly and followed, limbs gracefully curling around him as she straddled him with a wicked grin.
”…looks nice,” Devcon commented with a purr, his hands moving all over her chassis. He liked her curvy, pretty frame. It was sleek, yet so strong. He liked her paintjob as well, as for those optics… red, fiercely red. He was sure they triggered some sort of glitch inside him. Oh, well, he knew what glitch that was; the kill or ’face-glitch. He curled his fingers around her spike and rubbed it, watching her face cruch up in a look of ecstasy. He drew a laboured intake and pumped his hips, feeling her thighs tense and relax, take him fully.
She moved, her optics shuttered, her hands splayed over his broad chestplate. A tiny gasp fled her red lips as Devcon arched beneath her and she looked down at him, devouring the sight of him.
”Frag, hunter… mmm, it’s gonna be difficult to do the job when you’re around, for sure. Heh, perhaps I should.. aah!”
Devcon growled, understanding perfectly well. He kept rubbing her spike, his other hand heavy around the bold, curved line of her hip. She dug her fingers into his plating, leaving marks or her own and with a feral snarl, started to ride him hard. He threw his helm back, allowing his sensors to fully enjoy it, relaxing now that she had the control. He whispered dirty things, curses and sweet pleas and she picked up the pace. Soon she was bouncing ontop of him. He cried out, writhing and arching, keeping his ovearload at bay.
”Oh, frag frag frag… ”
She did something with her internals, squeezing him rhytmically and Devcon had no other choice than to give in, hips snapping desperately, hand wet with the femme’s transfluid. She grabbed his helm and kissed him hard, snarling, coming with him, her fields rolling like a thunderstorm over his sensors, sending him wailing into another overload. She seemed to understand what it did to his sensors and as resourceful as only a hunter would be, found a new way of making him surrender to her.
He screamed into her devouring kiss, hands taking hold of her hips, slamming her up and down his straining spike; she only answered with tightening up and making him work for it, still tormenting him with her energy fields. He was on fire; warmth, heat drowning him, manipulating his sensors until he couldn’t take anymore and arched, overloading so hard he barely heard her cries above the sound roar of his engines.
Afterwards they clung onto each other, trying to cycle intakes and cool down. The femme pushed down, her spike spent between them. Devcon smelled energon and winced, but she didn’t mind and merely licked his neck cabling, nibbling softly.
”So doing t-that again,” Devcon whispered, giving her access to his vulnerable cables.
”Mmm, a-as soon as….” She yawned and nuzzled him, purring with a sated look upon her face. She shifted and pushed closer. ”Mmm, sleep first…”
Devcon shook his helm in amusement and stroke her back with gentle fingertips. He was tired and needed a shower, but she was so very warm and felt so good, small vibrations lulling him softly to sleep. He sighed and kissed her helm, feeling her fingers stroke his shoulders. Not a moment later, he followed her lead again, this time, into recharge.
~
Devcon flew slower as his jump took him closer to the planet than expected, the gravity pulling at his wings. He got himself out of the atmosphere and shot away towards the moon hidden behind the planet, lost in the momery of the femme.
Over the countless Stellar cycles to follow, it had been their routine when collecting payment for various hunts; they never knew when the other would show up, but rules of the game were clear - the first to spot the other would spend a smaller fortune of good booze and sweets and then, there would be some private time spent between cool, smooth sheets.
In the field, they more often than not met on opposite sides and the friction was unbearable. Wounds were never more dangerous than to put distance between them, and as for battle, there was a silent agreement upon knocking each other out instead of permanent damage. It was… interesting, and not so little dangerous. It was far better than the option, however, and Devcon had done his outmost to outsmart her.
It was the perfect set-up, and then Cybertron started to waste away, the poverty reaching all the way to the higher casts of society. War came not long after and basically killed their tradition. The hunter hadn’t been more than fond of the femme, but he still missed the one Cybertronian that seemed perfectly happy about his kind of attention, and the lack of promises or romance. Theirs was a harsh life and it fit him well to keep it that way, but the death of their tradition and losing tracks of her had been a sad thing.
The war, however, brought a new dimesion to his hunts. He wasn’t late to sign up to hunt for the Autobot High Command and thus, gotten a badge. He smirked at the memory of it. It had been a good deal; he was allowed to kill the bastards responsible for deaths of many innocent civilians and at the same time, get a few, nice creds. His reputation grew, but still no femme. By now, his quarters in Cybertron had wasted away, but he’d moved his stash of fine booze and creds both to other locations.
Later still, there was nothing for him left in Cybertron and his constant annoyance with the Council only made things worse. The Autobots, Primus bless their idiotic values, were fools, the lot of them. Thus, he left for good and killed any ’Con he saw. He would chase them and kill them or simply send them in stasispods towards Cybertron, demanding no payment. The bounty wasn’t important, had never been.
The Decepticons might have been right about how corrupt society had become, but Devcon knew their nature and it was far worse than his own. It didn’t help their cause that many ’Cons were delinquents and murderers, hiding behind their own idea of a ”cause”.
For Devcon, it had become personal. He loathed them. Oh, he deeply disliked the corruption in Cybertron as well and the unnecesary deaths of many. Megatron had tored everything apart and had let monsters to do his dirty work. And thus, he forgot all but the swift, easy hunt and became death for them. His badge preached no justice, nor did it demand peace; it only promised death.
”The faster you run,” he would tell them, ”the slower you die.” Most still ran and then, there was nothing but the hunt, the beautiful hunt. He took down the dangerous ones, those trying to reach Megatron’s strongholds. The High Command still contacted him and gave him names, dates and other bits of information he found usefull. There was never any talk about compensation; they all knew who they were dealing with.
He hunted, he killed. Sometimes he captured, but he never ever returned to Cybertron. The femme was long gone, or so he thought.
It wasn’t he ended up in a nameless little dustball, millions of years later, that their paths crossed again.
Fandom: Transformers
Rated: NC-17
Wordcount: 6977
Pairing: Devcon/femme. The femme is canon. Yay!
Warnings: Un-beta'd. Sticky. Mech/Femme. Femmes with spikes, mechs with valve. Cybertronians with double equipage, period. Reference to past torture. Angst. Devcon in all his glitchy glory.
Disclaimier: Don't own, don't sue.
A/N: HUNTER is set in G1 contuinity, exploring Universe 03's take upon "Devcon the Bounty Hunter." It's also my first NaNoWriMo story, which rounded 162+ pages. The story follows Devcon from the end of issue Enter the Wreckers - Betrayal and through The Wreckers - Disclosure to meet up with canon at the start of Wreckers Finale 1. [ Prologue]. [ i]. [ ii].
SWIFT
.III
As Devcon lay upon the cold stone slab, the sound of whispers reached his sluggish processor, disturbing his light recharge. He turned his helm and tried to follow the conversation audios only, since he wouldn’t be bothered with opening his optics. There was something going on there, but his programming detected no danger, just… chatter.
”Why can’t I just take a peak? Come on, Ram, it’s not like he’ll stop me!”
”His cannon would make a short process of your helm and sadly, I wouldn’t put you together. I’d sell you with the rest of the junk in here.”
”Oooh, you just-”
”Shut it,” Devcon murmured, lifting a heavy hand to swat at the chattering ’bots. There were hands on his right arm and some pad connected to his medsection. He ran scans, but he wasn’t being hacked nor was he being molested. A finger nudged his vents and the hunter grunted in annoyance and shifted. He touch didn’t go away, forced him to look up.
There were two faces hovering above him, looking at him with strange… things on their faces. Huge optics pleered back at him. Devcon’s processor pointed out the logical explanation. Lences. Devcon made a face, optics mere slits. Whatever, both were ugly looking ’bots anyway. The smaller one leaned over him, moving a hand in front of his face. His cannon trained itself after the offending limb, but didn’t shoot. Devcon growled and the face moved away. He winced as the great bulb of light blinded him again. He shuttered his optics and allowed his intakes to slow down again.
”See? He would shoot you if you started poking around where you don’t belong. Besides, allow mech a bit of mystery, will ya?”
”As if you aren’t itching to take him apart!”
”This one? You insane. Keep working, will ya? And no more groping him, is that clear? We are proffesionals, after all.”
Devcon muttered a fond oath and returned to his light recharge, not fully awake, yet on the verge of sweet darkness. He was in good hands. Sort of, anyway. Trust Ram to keep it proffessional - the mech had a reputation to be the most honest son of a glitch in the quadrant, after all. If he told you he’d take you apart, you would find yourself in bits and sold quicker than you managed draw your last intake. If he said he would help you…
The hunter stirred as he sank into the awaiting darkness, barely concious. Hunters were said be seen napping when ever they could and it was the mere truth. Even Devcon wouldn’t let such an opportunity go by. While the inventor and the sparepart merchant worked with the last few adjustments he allowed himself much needed rest. Forced to keep his optics shuttered due to the blinding light, he drifted back and forth between searing light and utter darkness.
It had felt strange, the upgrade - if it even could be called an upgrade. Yet, no matter how small the addition, Devcon had felt it as a huge, strangely vast… echo. That would be a fitting word, indeed. He’d been asked to access to the software and suddenly, his processor had gotten quite a different view of the world. For the first time in his life he’d been able to get an actual visual on what his inner working operated after. It had been… big. Dizzying at first, but overall a perfectly logical upgrade. It fitted him and blended perfectly with the rest of his base coding, fitting like a glove.
He’d tried to follow the delicate work a few times, but the big ball of light above him threatened to blind him each time he unshuttered his optics. He’d soon given up, since the light was needed for further work and Ram wouldn’t have allowed himself to work in semi-darkness. Devcon understood as much. It still annoyed him greatly.
He sighed and moved his helm to the side, seemingly passive. How long had he been on the move? It was difficult to judge without the access to his internal chronometer. He tapped his fingers to the stoneslab as he recalled the different places he’d visited. He’d made a few jumps in between, right? Four. No, wait… six?
Devcon bit his lower lip and shooke his helm slowly. No wonder he was starting to feel fatigue. Six jumps with nothing more than the fuel he’d had that last night with Rodimus and the slag they served in the various pubs he’d haunted lately? Insanity. His inner working demanded refined energon, strong good booze that would zizzle the processor of lesser mechs. He smiled ruefully. Well, there it was, the reason to his weariness. He would be in need of some fine energon, sooner than later.
Work, work, work… and such a lovely kind of work, as well. There was no other mech able to move the way he did. Oh, there were other flyers, but the combination of his sub-light speed and his port drive made him fully adequate to hunt Cyclonus. Even if the ugly bastard was his to kill, he’d been speaking the truth when he’d explained himself to Apelinq and Rodimus. The Wreckers had their own business to see to and as a team they would be able to do well. They just didn’t have the right kind of… equipment for a hunt as this one. No other mech who could move across space like he did, with little or no rest at all.
Nevertheless, no matter how light, this rest would do him well. And, if he never woke up again, then… too bad.
~
They woke him up much later.
Devcon growled as his chronometer indulged in explaining just how much of a rest he’d gotten. Frag! He needed to get on and-
”Oi, slow down, hunter! You need to refuel before running off!”
Bolt pressed him down, none to gently, restricting him. Devcon snarled, furious for having lost good time for some fraggin’ sleep and pushed back.
”You let me fall into a full recharge! I needed to get on, the trail might get cold and if I get surrounded by all those merc then I’ll have to start all over again! Frag, where is Ram? I need to get my aft out of this place and-”
His olefactory sensors suddenly gave a jerk and Deccon turned his face towards the cube that was being offered to him. Ram stood there, looking his old odd self, but there was a slight frown in his face. He gave Bolt a level stare and she moved away, giving the hunter space. The little mech grabbed a chair and sat by Devcon, the light softer now.
”You were exhausted, Devcon. I don’t need to poke inside your beautiful systems to understand that you’ve been pushing yourself harder than usual. Here, have some of that toxic blend you like to sip. Drink slowly, give your CPU time to sort things out and I’ll get you out of the planet in one piece.”
It wasn’t a bad idea and the cube with the golden drink looked perfectly imopossible to resist. He’d had a cube with Welder, but that was a few jumps back and all the other flying he’d been up to…
”Perhaps I should do as you say,” he muttered, giving in. He sat up, slowly at Ram’s command, and rubbed his midsection. Not a scratch. Good. There was a pad attached to his left arm and he gave the pad a curious look. Bolt smiled and held it up; it showed a nice diagram, otherwise, they were still running scans to find eventual bugs in the newly upgraded software. He shrugged and let her work. He wasn’t a medic, had no fraggin’ idea what all those glyphs meant. He had other things occupying his processor anyway.
”Will it work, Ram? I don’t feel the echo anymore. I thought…?”
”Nah, you’ll get the visual feeds when making the jumps, that’s all. We just needed to see if it was compatible as it was. A few small readjustments was all it needed.”
Devcon reached for the cube and took it between his hands. He sniffed and shuttered his optics; oooh, yeah…
”I never understood your fascination with Liquid Death until today, mech. You’ve got some expensive bits and hardware in there. They keep you running on basically nothing, even though the ”nothing” would be a cocoution strong enough to make most mechs melt. Shuttle formers wouldn’t react that way, but they don’t have your port drive. That thing is a work of art.”
Devcon snorted and sipped the Liquid, engines revving hard. He needed it now, didn’t he? The golden drink was generally only sold in fancy places or in the bigger spacestations. It wasn’t difficult to mix, but held a certain reputation. Also, it made weaker mechs a perfectly good target for smugglers. He grinned at the thought; he’d done that a few times and he’d become pretty good at getting a mech drunk. It made the hunt easier when said prey wasn’t exciting enough.
”So… I’m good to go as soon as the scan is done?”
Bolt nodded, her vocals crisp and businesslike. ”That would be correct. I’d like to see the chart in use, but we’ll have to trust it’ll work. Ram can take you up to the surface while I distort your signal.”
”…eh? I can do that all by myself, merchant. Never had any problem with it.”
”It’s not you I’m afraid of falling into the wrong hands - it’s Ram. You know how the merc guilds treat their prisoners. I’m perfectly aware of the fact that Ram isn’t able to get away quite as fast as your own handsome self, hmm?”
Cube half empty, Devcon glared at the femme. She had a way with words, didn’t she? And, he had to admit, she was attractive, even as odd as her frame and armour might make her look. He’d always enjoyed intelligent berth mates, but this wasn’t the time for that kind of conquest. The annoyed look he gave her, however, had no effect at all. She ignored him and got on with work.
Ram cleared his throat and the hunter tore his fierce gaze from the femme. ”What?”
”That Cyclonus. A ’Con, isn’t he?”
”The worst kind; the old kind. He’s been around for quite a while.”
”Old enemy, huh? Well, I still keep to my own code; no weapons for either fraction. That includes you too.”
Devcon shrugged and downed the cube, his systems practically burning with new energy. He felt restless, in a good way and he rolled his shoulders. He was good to go. He checked his weapons systems; fully loaded, good. The missiles were still in place and so were the blades. He didn’t need new weapons, he had… Well, he could use them. He’d rather not to.
”I don’t need your inventions, Ram. I have my speed and my blaster, the cannon. That’s all I need. I’m grateful for the chart, however. Tell me a bit about it?”
Ram nodded, his vocals droning on about several dimensions to space, things Devcon already knew. He listened anyway, nodding now and then. With his port drive came the knowledge of space travel and quite a few other things, but what Ram was talking about still made him shutterblink a few times.
”So, basically, you’ve just installed every known chart there ever was… and that will ever be? How the frag did you manage that? Wait, don’t tell me. It’ll just give me a processor ache.”
The merchants laughed at his suffering face and even Devcon cracked a smile. Well, it wasn’t too bad. An ’everywhere-sensor’, huh? It would give him a good sense of location at least. His sensors were good enough, sensitive to the smallest change…
He frowned all the sudden and looked at the pad attached to his arm. A look of alarm came over him.
”What is it?” Bolt didn’t sound like she cared beyond the risk of him tearing her precious pad apart.
”Has this little chart of yours heightened my… I mean, what about my sensory-net?”
The femme’s smile was vicious as she cocked her helm. Devcon could have shot her, but he wouldn’t mess things up with Ram, frag no. Still, that smile welcomed a bit o’ murder.
”Let’s put it like this - you ever get topped, hunter, it might get quite… intense~.”
Devcon’s faceplate’s tinted and he turned away, growling, ignoring her grin.
~
”You don’t like my partner, do you?”
They were sitting on top of some abandoned docking area, sharing a cube of mid-grade. Ram had insisted they talk a bit before departure. Devcon had agreed and gotten a few things he might need for his hunt. Creds for decent energon, some smaller gadgets to trade along the way. The merchant gone inventor seemed protective of his precious software. He wanted Devcon to survive.
”Damn right. She’s the kind of ’bot I would kill, sooner than later.”
The mech snorted. ”She would have been troublesome, hunter. Did you see her frame? Designed for picking Cybertronians apart. Don’t mess with the surgeon, Devcon. I think she likes you, anyway. Pleasing to the optic and so on.
Devcon surpressed a shudder; a surgeon. Why hadn’t the thought of that? Not just a sparepart merchang, a slaggin’ medic as well. Ram watched him with amused optics and went back to his stargazing.
It was a lovely night sky, it truly was. Ram had been right about that. Why not spend a few mega-cycles just looking at it? Devcon seldom did that, since he mostly was out in it, on his way to this and that. He was always busy, if not in a hunt, then on his way to one. Perhaps he should do this more often; find a high structure and sit down, just… look.
”…beautiful,” he whispered and leaned back on his outstretched arms. The merchant nodded and grinned, looking like a newspark.
Time passed and Devcon lost himself in the moment, the grace of space a healing sight. He’d been locked away for Primus knew how long. He’d been put through things most mech would have killed themselves over. He’d… survided. It was good to know he still could feel anything else but hate. The stars were always there, a soothing presence in his core. They called out and he responded with longing, deep and throbbing.
”Time to go?”
Devcon shutterblinked, embarrased all the sudden. Frag, I wasn’t… was I?
”Never met a mech that would purr at some stars,” Ram commented with a pleased grin. ”Ah, don’t deny it, hunter.”
Devcon sighed and shifted, getting onto his thrusters. He lifted his face towards the sky and nodded. Well, there was nothing wrong with it, if you were a space cruiser, right? He felt a tug in his spark; it was time to leave. Fully rested, with high-quality energon clearing his systems and a nice little addition to his starcharts… Yeah, life could be worse.
”They are what define me,” he said with some afterthought. ”I’m not imune to beauty, after all.”
On the contrary, he seemed attracted to it. He snorted at himself and stretched, a movement both languid and gracefull. He caught Ram looking at him with calculating optics.
”You should do something about that hunger, Devcon.”
”Hunger?”
”Bolt wasn’t wrong about you. You are too tense. Do something about it, to clear your processor. If I’m right, you have quite a journey ahead of you. Perhaps some… distraction would do you well. I’d offer if I thought I would survive your attention. Which reminds me - remember Swift? She’s still hovering around in one piece. Perhaps you should find her and do something about that programming of yours before you encounter Cyclonus. It would be unfornutate if your programming glitched and had you hump him instead of killing him, eh?”
Devcon’s optics widened and an outraged snarl left him; had they poked around in his… in his…?! Ram laughed and ducked as he shot. The merchant waved and hurried down the stairs, becoming one with darkness. Glitch. A sudden processor-ache, followed by an explosion of data forced him to kneel over. The hunter growled and grabbed his helm, hissing as firewalls he hadn’t been aware of crumbled to dust.
He gasped and forced himself up, kicking his thrusters to life as if his life depended on it. He left the ugly planet with roaring engines and a new set of memories.
~
Swift?
Oh, he remembered Swift, all right. She’d been a part of his life long before the badge ever was. He’d… he’d forgotten about her, but her designation had triggered the codes he’d set up in his own processor. As he retrieved all the files, he steered around in a field of meteorites, keeping his sensors occupied with the annoying task of watching out for small, yet deadly debris. His shields were strong enough to tackle most of it, but he needed to conserve some strength for his jumps. They wouldn’t drain him too much, but just in case, he kept his pace reasonable and most of all, safe.
The files flooded his CPU. Designation: Swift. Neutral. Altmode: hover bike. Sonic-weapons. Excellent sharp shooter with a taste for knives in hand-to-hand combat. Good at survailance duty, with an uncanny ability to blend in among other thughs. Tall for a femme, strong and sleek. Pretty as a nova. Blue. Had never told him her real designation. Had teamed up against him more once. Successfully kicked his aft… countless times. In which she’d been gracious enough to take his prey, his creds and nothing else, even though she’d groped him a little.
Those were some good memories. Devcon made a sharp turn to the left and avoided a rock out of control, happily turning it to dust. He got out of the field and darted towards a planet, preparing a small jump to gain some time, remembering…
~
”Liquid Death? Trying to impress much?”
Devcon turned and gave the tall femme a mocking, wounded look. He didn’t answer her, though. Too many Cybertronians often meant unnecesary friction of different kinds. He wasn’t up for any kind of game, either. He had work to do. Glorious, joyjous work. As he left, he felt a scan - it was like being emerged in mud. He turned around and growled, but the femme was gone.
Later, he would learn his mistake of not tracking her signal down.
~
Devcon laughed at the file and discarded it. She’d tracked him down, instead. Oh, the fight… At first he’d thought her to be a merc, but her fightingstyle - and more importantly - lack of croonies, said something else. She’d been an awesome combatant, though. Kicked him good, left him dented and sweetly aching.
That time she’d gotten the upper hand due to his stupid belief of smaller Cybertronians being weaker. Just where and when had he learnt that stupidity? She had left him wounded, grounded even. She’d gone for his thighs, too. A big slash across his knee, damaging his wing-shields. He hadn’t cared about it. He’d been excited and left wanting. Lusting. She’d fought dirty, just like any hunter, would and she had known how to take him down. No games, just brutal strength, quick peds and a processor that left him in awe.
This was the first encounter of many, and she’d tought him a lesson or two. She’d hacked his mission, stolen the coordinates and left with the names of the criminals he was hunting. Blast her, but she’d done a good job. Had she been a merc, he would have hunted her across the universe, but she was a fellow hunter, and thus, free to go from his ire. He’d kept an optic out for her, though. She had impressed him greatly.
Over the countless stellar cycles she’d never told him her disignation, so he’d just called her ”the femme” for ages. And, as ages do, they passed. He hummed, and dived into another memory.
~
”I think this demands a celebration,” the femme said with a lazy, slow grin. ”I mean… you found me, not even trying to, and hey… look at this. I’m cuffed! Now, what could a handsome mech like you do about this situation?”
Devcon hadn’t really meant to find her at all. He was sneaking in a huge building, searching for a couple of escaped prisoners when he’d stumbled over a Cybertronian in a box. The signal had been vagualy known, but his face had been slack with surprise when he’d seen who it was. The femme had been less surprised.
”Well… are you going to do something about this? For old times?”
”You messed my thrusters up and you stole from me. You even groped my frame while I was down. Why the frag should I let you go?”
The femme laughed at that, her peds bound, immobilized, her hands cuffed. She lay like a prize, sparkling in the strong light of the warehouse. Devcon kept his optics the femme in her seemingly helpless state, which was a fraggin’ lie. He knew that by spark. She’d been able to take him down once, which meant she would be able to do it now as well. A mech could learn new tricks, but it was difficult to keep his thrusters away from her if she wanted a little dance.
”Aw, is the big hunter feeling indecisive? Lemme see, I could make the decision for you, handsome. I could scream…”
And she did. The sound threw him back and away from her, his sensors screaming just as loud. Within moments, the warehouse had become a battle field; him shooting and trying to get the ringing out of his audios. He got shot twice, but it was nothing bad, nothing piercing. He couldn’t get the ringing out of his processor and as the fight went on, he couldn’t stop staring at the box either.
He should shoot her… but, when confronted with the box, hiding behind it, he just knew she wouldn’t be there anymore. As the fight continued he managed to get a look and just as he thought; no femme. She was gone. He growled, annoyend, feeling cheated. She had gotten away, again.
~
He’d just collected his payment when he saw a tall, sleek femme dissapear behind a pillar. He found himself running after her, grabbing her and turning her around.
A knife poked him in his vents. He hissed and pulled back, but she smiled, lifting her face to his, standing on her toes, boldly tasting his lips. Devcon growled, but kissed her back. It was a hard kiss, nothing soft, nothing sweet. It was a battle for dominance and neither of them backed down. She chuckled and bit his lower lip, looking at him with tinted lips and the same kind of shit-eating grin he usually directed at prey.
”Happy to see me, then?”
”The frag I am! You messed my audios up! I had that ringing in my processor for cycles before a medic checked it!”
The femme caressed his vents with sleek fingertips, smirking.
”The sensitive type, then? It wouldn’t have worked if you weren’t so very nicely atuned to your envirement. Mmm, makes a hunter wonder how it would be to take a bite.”
Devcon took a step back, annoyed and embarrassed both. He knew she was baiting him, but this was the wrong place in which to engage in battle. She looked pleased with his reaction, her red optics raking over his bulky frame. His frowned. It wasn’t often Cybertronians gave him that kind of look. Seldom, really, since he wasn’t around long enough and didn’t seem interested in that kind of game. ’Facing wasn’t a part of the gig, even if his hunter programming could glitch now and then. He wondered if this was one of those times; he’d been trying to find her for quite a time now, hadn’t he?
”I’m going to have a drink,” he grunted. ”You follow me, do it for the drink and not for the sake of stealing my paycheck, got it?
”Hunter, I just got my own paycheck.” She lifted her arm, a small screen apearing amidst the pretty, light blue of her armour. ”See? Ah, there’s no pay like Council-pay, is there? Mmm, good creds to use everywhere.”
Devcon snorted, but silently agreed.
”Oh, by the way… thank you for saving me back at Tri-42.”
”Save you? I was gonna shoot you,” Devcon replied and she burst out laughing. ”Besides, I got the ’Con I was looking for.” He shutterblinked; wait a moment… ”What were you doing there? I got my prey, what did you get?”
”Nothing bigger than a nice little bomb. I sold it to the mercs in Moran, got a fair price, robbed them and got away with the bomb again only to take it back here.”
He laughed long and hard, the femmes softer vocals echoing around him.
~
Booze had come in plenty; not his favourite drink, but other things. Sweets, too. The femme was good company, telling him stories of some of her hunts and how big messes she had escaped from. Devcon told her some of his own, carefully keeping classified stuff away. He imagined she did the same.
”…you know, Cybertron might not be too bad if I get to meet you like this,” he commented.
”It’s too bad I never seem to meet you outside work, eh?”
”Well, now and then, there’s always payment to pick up. We could make this a, uhm, a-”
”A honourable hunter-tradition?” She grinned, wiggling her opticridges at him. Devcon snorted, still steady on his thrusters.
”Honour? In our trade…? That’s fragged up, don’t you think?”
”Bah, I say there’s more honour to bounty hunters than… than politicians! And mercs, remember, m’lad - watch out for those mercs. They would gang up on you and bye bye pretty, hulky hunter.”
Devcon decided to kiss her and she pushed herself closer, nothing of the delicate femme-business here, just deep throbbing want. She was a hunter, nothing more, nothing less.
They were kicked out of the bar for their little display of want and soon they were roaming the busy streets. Here, among the richer, no mech was starved, no mech was in need. Well, Devcon was. He kept touching the curvy hunter, still not knowing her designation. Pit, she didn’t know his either, albeit he was pretty sure she actually did. If she did, she didn’t use it, only called him all those nice things…
~
The berth was big, so was the room. Spacious, a nice little alcove. Goodies, energon, sweet and potent high grade.
He dipped his helm between the femmes legs, pushing her thighs apart. She massaged his helm at first, then pushed his face closer to her interface panel, lifting herself to him. She growled in need, worked up, demanding. Devcon moaned, hands kneading her shapy thighs. She was strong, she was so very very strong and gorgeous. He told her so as his glossa licked the heated, smooth plating.
”Yes, yes… I know,” she panted hoarsly, vocals tight with lust. ”Come on, big mech, you know what to do. Pop it open and get to work, mmm, now.”
Her words ignited yet another fullbody shudder and Devcon arched his back, lying between her thighs. He suckled the seams, his fingers clawing the thighs. She shifted and growled, then a hiss was heard and she withdrew her panel, impatient. He didn’t wait either, but pressed his lips against her valve, pleasuring her with glossa and lips, suckling hard. She tasted sweet, tangy, the lubricant hot.
His glossa was made flat as he lapped, raspy against her softer components. She nodded, then there was another little sound as her spike pressurised. She purred at his gasp and then arched as he pushed his glossa deep inside her valve.
He was bigger than her, reached deeper than expected. He licked and pressed against the upper walls, finding soft membrane, sensitive nodes and bundles of sensors. She squirmid, tugging her spike with hard tugs.
”…f-frag, hunter, nngh, you are… Ah, good at this!”
Spike pushing agains the panel, Devcon chased her overload like any prey. This was sweeter, headier, stronger than a hunt. He groaned, needy and restless. His fingers found their way to the valve and he rubbed her outer nodes, paying attention to the hitch of her moans. She knew what she liked and told him as much; he followed her vocals, almost entranced. She growled and nodded, optics shuttered, helm thrown back, frame taut, tense.
A finger carefully breached her and she cried out, hips snapping. Almost there, Devcon knew, she was on the verge, yet he eased yet a finger and suckled the base of her spike. She let go of her spike and grabbed the back of his helm, locking optics with him. He cycled a broken intake; she looked feral.
He swallowed, his lips wet with her lubricant and licked his way up her spike, taking the tip of it into his mouth. He wasn’t any good at this; most of his lovers never asked for it since he would bring them beyond pleasure, but the femme… She was perfect. He took her deep and suckled hard, fingers thrusting deep and hard, once, twice and thrice.
Her scream echoed around him and he moaned, drinking her down, allowing her to fuck his mouth with selfish, hard jerks. Her valve pulsed around his fingers, tightening, making her spasm and close her thighs around him. He didn’t let her and kept her open, his fingers turning, pressing harder onto the delicate membrane. She arched her back and shouted again, coming hard one more time before slumping down onto the mattress, a look of bliss in her face.
”Oooh, frag, hunter. Nnnnghh… t-this is gonna be a good tradition.”
He sucked the last drops, his face a proper mess and let go of her spike with a purr. His hands kneading her curves, Devcon only licked his lips at her words. Oh, he so very much agreed; it wouldn’t matter how many times she kicked his aft or how often he made sure to fool her and get away with prey and bounty both. Frag, he liked the idea… fighting each other only to meet up in good ol’ Cybertron to collect bounty and then, mmm, then this.
”My turn,” he whispered as he leaned down and kissed her chestplate. He released his spike and rubbed it against the craddle of her legs, letting her feel the full size of him. He smiled deviously at her surprised gasp and moved to let her see. She licked her lips, optics round and pleased, an unmatched fire burning right there. She reached down and stroke him, purring all the sudden.
”This… was a perfect idea,” she chuckled, kissing him hard. Her hand, delicate looking yet never dainty, grabbed his spike more fully and lead the way, rubbing it hard against her valve. She moaned and Devcon shuttered his optics, panting hard. Once in a blue moon, this would be their reward, to use up all that energy that seemed to crack and sear when they met. He nodded and let her press him down.
”Sweet P-Primus! Oh, frag me… !”
”Aaaha, d-doing it, hunter, mmm…”
Peds around his hips, locking him in place, the femme moved her hands all over his armour. She didn’t stop there, but kept touching him as he pumped slowly at first. It was good, so good… Oh, he’d had his fair share of lovers, exotic looking mechs and sweet femmes. This was something else. There was a hunger in her than he could match, a dark excitement for anything that scratched deeper than necessary. He gritted his denta and slid deeper, then pulled back in one flowing movement. She cursed and nodded, hands making his sensors sing.
Devcon moaned and picked up the pace, moving languidly but hard. She liked it, nibbling his neck cabling, cursing him fondly. He bit her helm and pumped harder, grounding hard. She arched neneath him and cried out, demanding more and Devcon, hissing, gave her all she wanted. It was rough pleasure, bites and scratches, but the sweetness of her tight, wet valve kept him captive and he moaned, feeling his own overload stalk his systems.
”Gonna come, h-hunter? Mmm, that… aah, gotta be a sight…” She hissed as he growled and fucked her harder, circling his hips then snapped forward, making her scream, sending her into a violent overload.
He curled on top of her, shifting onto his knees. He grabbed her hips and snapped, moving faster and harder, yet never deeper than she liked, the rhythm changing every now and then. She grabbed the sheets and bit them, undulating her own hips, never the passive one. His hands held hard enough to dent, but he would kiss the dents later, would see to make up for his rough lovemaking. The femme didn’t complain, her face a set into a scowl of rapture. She pressed her hands onto the berth and pushed herself up, meeting him halfway. He pulled her upp the rest of the way and held her tight, hips rocking, chassis to chassis.
The heat was almost unbearable; there was condensation forming all over them, the sounds of whining, exhausted vents a constant lullaby. Devcon moaned into the fierce kiss, a hand scrambling over the sleek form, rubbing her tyres until she nipped his lips with a tiny growl. Devcon laughed and grabbed her aft in both hands, kneading while he pumped slower, drawing the maddening pleasure out. He kept the rhythm, then suddenly gave a jerk and howled.
/comm: Ooh, sensitive much?/
He writhed, her spike now fully pressurised and hard again, left a wet trail against his abdominal plating, caressing his vents. But, it wasn’t what had him crying out; her lips were sealed around his cannon. The danger involved made her wet, so wet, so deliciously wet, and now that she had accomodated to his girth and length, he could press deeper. It was almost too much, but he wouldn’t beg, frag no, wouldn’t…
Desperation won and he pulled his cannon away, getting a glipse of her trumphiant grin before rolling them over. She laughed breathlessly and followed, limbs gracefully curling around him as she straddled him with a wicked grin.
”…looks nice,” Devcon commented with a purr, his hands moving all over her chassis. He liked her curvy, pretty frame. It was sleek, yet so strong. He liked her paintjob as well, as for those optics… red, fiercely red. He was sure they triggered some sort of glitch inside him. Oh, well, he knew what glitch that was; the kill or ’face-glitch. He curled his fingers around her spike and rubbed it, watching her face cruch up in a look of ecstasy. He drew a laboured intake and pumped his hips, feeling her thighs tense and relax, take him fully.
She moved, her optics shuttered, her hands splayed over his broad chestplate. A tiny gasp fled her red lips as Devcon arched beneath her and she looked down at him, devouring the sight of him.
”Frag, hunter… mmm, it’s gonna be difficult to do the job when you’re around, for sure. Heh, perhaps I should.. aah!”
Devcon growled, understanding perfectly well. He kept rubbing her spike, his other hand heavy around the bold, curved line of her hip. She dug her fingers into his plating, leaving marks or her own and with a feral snarl, started to ride him hard. He threw his helm back, allowing his sensors to fully enjoy it, relaxing now that she had the control. He whispered dirty things, curses and sweet pleas and she picked up the pace. Soon she was bouncing ontop of him. He cried out, writhing and arching, keeping his ovearload at bay.
”Oh, frag frag frag… ”
She did something with her internals, squeezing him rhytmically and Devcon had no other choice than to give in, hips snapping desperately, hand wet with the femme’s transfluid. She grabbed his helm and kissed him hard, snarling, coming with him, her fields rolling like a thunderstorm over his sensors, sending him wailing into another overload. She seemed to understand what it did to his sensors and as resourceful as only a hunter would be, found a new way of making him surrender to her.
He screamed into her devouring kiss, hands taking hold of her hips, slamming her up and down his straining spike; she only answered with tightening up and making him work for it, still tormenting him with her energy fields. He was on fire; warmth, heat drowning him, manipulating his sensors until he couldn’t take anymore and arched, overloading so hard he barely heard her cries above the sound roar of his engines.
Afterwards they clung onto each other, trying to cycle intakes and cool down. The femme pushed down, her spike spent between them. Devcon smelled energon and winced, but she didn’t mind and merely licked his neck cabling, nibbling softly.
”So doing t-that again,” Devcon whispered, giving her access to his vulnerable cables.
”Mmm, a-as soon as….” She yawned and nuzzled him, purring with a sated look upon her face. She shifted and pushed closer. ”Mmm, sleep first…”
Devcon shook his helm in amusement and stroke her back with gentle fingertips. He was tired and needed a shower, but she was so very warm and felt so good, small vibrations lulling him softly to sleep. He sighed and kissed her helm, feeling her fingers stroke his shoulders. Not a moment later, he followed her lead again, this time, into recharge.
~
Devcon flew slower as his jump took him closer to the planet than expected, the gravity pulling at his wings. He got himself out of the atmosphere and shot away towards the moon hidden behind the planet, lost in the momery of the femme.
Over the countless Stellar cycles to follow, it had been their routine when collecting payment for various hunts; they never knew when the other would show up, but rules of the game were clear - the first to spot the other would spend a smaller fortune of good booze and sweets and then, there would be some private time spent between cool, smooth sheets.
In the field, they more often than not met on opposite sides and the friction was unbearable. Wounds were never more dangerous than to put distance between them, and as for battle, there was a silent agreement upon knocking each other out instead of permanent damage. It was… interesting, and not so little dangerous. It was far better than the option, however, and Devcon had done his outmost to outsmart her.
It was the perfect set-up, and then Cybertron started to waste away, the poverty reaching all the way to the higher casts of society. War came not long after and basically killed their tradition. The hunter hadn’t been more than fond of the femme, but he still missed the one Cybertronian that seemed perfectly happy about his kind of attention, and the lack of promises or romance. Theirs was a harsh life and it fit him well to keep it that way, but the death of their tradition and losing tracks of her had been a sad thing.
The war, however, brought a new dimesion to his hunts. He wasn’t late to sign up to hunt for the Autobot High Command and thus, gotten a badge. He smirked at the memory of it. It had been a good deal; he was allowed to kill the bastards responsible for deaths of many innocent civilians and at the same time, get a few, nice creds. His reputation grew, but still no femme. By now, his quarters in Cybertron had wasted away, but he’d moved his stash of fine booze and creds both to other locations.
Later still, there was nothing for him left in Cybertron and his constant annoyance with the Council only made things worse. The Autobots, Primus bless their idiotic values, were fools, the lot of them. Thus, he left for good and killed any ’Con he saw. He would chase them and kill them or simply send them in stasispods towards Cybertron, demanding no payment. The bounty wasn’t important, had never been.
The Decepticons might have been right about how corrupt society had become, but Devcon knew their nature and it was far worse than his own. It didn’t help their cause that many ’Cons were delinquents and murderers, hiding behind their own idea of a ”cause”.
For Devcon, it had become personal. He loathed them. Oh, he deeply disliked the corruption in Cybertron as well and the unnecesary deaths of many. Megatron had tored everything apart and had let monsters to do his dirty work. And thus, he forgot all but the swift, easy hunt and became death for them. His badge preached no justice, nor did it demand peace; it only promised death.
”The faster you run,” he would tell them, ”the slower you die.” Most still ran and then, there was nothing but the hunt, the beautiful hunt. He took down the dangerous ones, those trying to reach Megatron’s strongholds. The High Command still contacted him and gave him names, dates and other bits of information he found usefull. There was never any talk about compensation; they all knew who they were dealing with.
He hunted, he killed. Sometimes he captured, but he never ever returned to Cybertron. The femme was long gone, or so he thought.
It wasn’t he ended up in a nameless little dustball, millions of years later, that their paths crossed again.