Balancing (T)act
Title: Balancing (T)act
Continuity: G1
Warnings: slash, plug’n’play/tactile, Virgin!Breakdown, non/dub-con
Characters/Pairing: Sunstreaker/Breakdown
Prompt: Dominant
Rating: R, probably
Summary: Breakdown dislikes being looked at, and Sunstreaker wants to know the reason.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Beta: ultharkitty:D
Note: Written for the 28 Sunstreaker meme, inspired by a prompt from the old TF kink meme.
Prompt #4 - Sunstreaker takes an interest in Breakdown.
He can't get over the fact that Breakdown is a Lamborghini that DOESN'T want to be looked at.
Sunstreaker attempts to get Breakdown to enjoy attention by forcing him to interface.
Balancing (T)act
They should have listened to Thundercracker. They should have accepted his advice and not shaken it off as useless.
Breakdown suppressed a cold shiver of fear.
The Stunticons’ first battle had shown how superior they were to the Autobots. Every gestalt-mate had a force field, anti-gravity booster and, unlike the pathetic ‘bots, they could even fly in robot mode.
That was before Superion had shown up and kicked Menasor’s aft.
After this, they were still overconfident, but hated the Aerialbots even more than the other Autobots. That was why they hadn’t taken the blue seeker - Thundercracker - too seriously when he had told them to be careful.
As an afterthought, it had been truly nice of the seeker to warn them, even though it didn’t seem any Decepticon was fond of the Stunticons’ arrival.
“Just because you partly won today doesn’t mean you’re the best.” The seeker had said. “We haven’t fought the ‘bots over millions of years for nothing.”
Drag Strip had laughed at this, but Thundercracker had continued anyway: “There’re a few bots you should avoid in battle. One you already fought today, the red one with the guns. I guess he had a bad day, but if you’re not careful, he’ll freeze you.” He had muttered something about “cooling their heads”, but Breakdown still didn’t understand what that meant.
“One of the ‘bots can become invisible, so if you got knocked out and don’t know who it was afterwards, this will be your ‘bot.”
Wildrider had commented at that, but Breakdown had been lost in his own thoughts of being unseen. He surely should keep an eye on that bot - if possible - and try to steal his “become-invisible-device”…
He had returned his attention to Thundercracker again, when the seeker had looked at him even grumpier.
“…If there’s one with guns as big as himself, don’t take him on alone. He may be small, but he hates cons like nothing, so even if he’s disarmed, he still can be a pain in the afterburner.”
Again Drag Strip had interrupted the seeker, had laughed and made a joke about sissy fliers, which only Wildrider had chuckled about.
“Be glad I’m actually telling you all this. I should let you find out for yourself, but Megatron will just take out his bad mood on us, so listen because I’m only going to say this once: Stay away from the Autobot twins. The red one usually isn’t much on the ground, which is good for you, and annoying for us, but the yellow one… Just stay away from him.”
“Stay away because? What will happen if we don’t?” Wildrider had asked, finally bursting with curiosity.
Thundercracker had just sighed about the missing genuineness and continued: “He is… insane. I don’t know what will happen, could be everything. Try it out for yourself.”
Then Thundercracker had left.
Dead End had shrugged and said something about how the Stunticons themselves weren’t quite sane.
Except Motormaster, they all had agreed amusedly until the second battle, when they had found out that they still had a lot to learn.
In the third battle, they had learned that Thundercracker had been right about most of the mechs he had told them about.
And after the fourth battle they knew that the advice about the yellow Autobot twin had been a warning.
They still didn’t know why Sunstreaker hadn’t killed Wildrider, and they wondered even more how he had survived Motormaster’s punishment when he had got out of the medbay, but next time they would have to made sure not to go near the Autobot alone.
At least, that was the plan.
Breakdown couldn’t suppress the shiver anymore.
He hadn’t wanted to go on this patrol as much as he had never wanted to be chased by this particular Autobot.
He hated being a scout.
When he had been tired of running and begun to panic, he had tried to fight. It was when he was shot in the back hard enough to shut down his force field, tossed over the crash barrier, and when his escape into the woods had failed, that he knew he had made a mistake.
He hated being looked at.
“What’s wrong? You’re shivering.”
And he hated this face. Which hovered over his own, staring at him with these icy, blue optics and this faked sweet smile.
“Are you scared?”
But that he was paralysed by fear and just had to stare back, he hated the most.
---
Breakdown lay on his back somewhere in one of the many woods he never had liked. Large trees that cast a shadow over him and the Autobot, who pressed his wrists to the ground above his helm with just one hand.
Moments passed.
Somewhere nearby a few birds chirped.
The wind caused the leaves to rustle calmly.
And Breakdown still couldn’t answer.
“What is it with you Decepticons?” Sunstreaker frowned. “In battle you have a big mouth, and if I ask you politely in your off time you’re lost for words!”
Breakdown only glanced back, actually not knowing what to say or even how to answer, because he would never admit that the bloodlust in those optics made him uneasy.
Pretending to be hurt, the yellow Autobot sighed theatrically while the grip on Breakdown’s wrists became tighter. “Why does everyone think I’d rip out their fuel pumps? I’m not that bad, you know…”
There was a pause, in which Sunstreaker seemed to wait for a response, but he carried on when the Stunticon stayed silent.
“I mean, I didn’t kill your friend, right?” Over the Autobot’s face flashed uncertainty. “Well… he is still online, isn’t he?”
Breakdown didn’t dare to break optic contact as he nodded slowly.
“Ah, good. For a moment I wasn’t sure.” Sunstreaker grinned contently. “It would have been a little unfair to kill him just then. Considering how old you are… A few decacycles or less. Yeah, I’m truly nice and fair, ain’t I?”
If he hadn’t been pressed to the ground, the weight of the Autobot holding him in place, he would have punched him in that self-assured visage.
“And ‘cause I am so nice and fair, I won’t hurt you. I just wanna ask you something, and if I get an acceptable answer, everything’ll be fine.”
The look in Breakdown’s optics changed from annoyed panic to astonishment and disbelief. He felt weirdly like Dead End as he fought back the feeling of budding hope.
The Autobot leaned low, bringing his face closer. The uncomfortable feeling grew as Sunstreaker slowly spoke: “You’re paranoid… why?”
No answer came. What kind of question was that, anyway?
Increasing the distance between their faces again, Sunstreaker’s expression changed to a sincere curiosity when he continued.
“I mean, Red is paranoid too and jumps at every little noise and such, but at least he doesn’t mind being looked at… well, not so much as you do. You’re weird, you know that?”
Sunstreaker shifted, but still held him to the ground. Due to the slight change in position the sunbeams that fell through the leaves were reflected on his yellow armour, caused them to look like lurid optics, which watched him observantly.
“Do you really think, everyone and everything is watching you? Like those birds here in the forest?”
Breakdown’s optics widened in panic. Until now he had been too preoccupied with the potential danger of the Autobot. He had heard the birds only in the background in his processor, but now the chirping became louder. Yet he almost heard no other sound. He was sure they were laughing about him as he lay there, beaten by an Autobot, who still held him and didn’t let him move. His engine growled, sending irregular vibrations through his frame, to the ground and the Autobot’s chassis.
The birds were laughing about him. He began to panic.
“Oh no, you don’t!”
He didn’t hear Sunstreaker growling, only being aware at the edge of his CPU that the left free hand transformed into a muzzle, into the weapon with which the Autobot had shot him earlier.
It was neither the buzzing noise of charging, nor the heat which suddenly built up and vanished when the first laser beam left the weapon, which cleared his mind, but the loud noise of the animals, fleeing and squealing.
The Autobot fired at the trees five or six times, before he stopped and everything around them felt silent again. No birds twittered any more and even the wind held its breath and was calm, the smell of burned wood and flesh hanging in the air.
“Feeling better?” Predatory optics fixed him with growing annoyance, and nodding slowly was the only thing he could do.
Raising an optic ridge, Sunstreaker mumbled something unintelligible and transformed his weapon back.
“I don’t get you,” the Autobot said aloud, after Breakdown’s engine had finally calmed down. “Can you even speak? I’m kinda sick of your silence.”
Suppressing the urge to nod again, Breakdown decided that vocally answering this question was seemingly a better way: “Y… Yes, of course.”
“Look at that, the kid can talk. Then you can answer my question, right?”
Their optics broke contact as Sunstreaker began to eye him up, run his gaze over the Stunticon as though trying to memorise every inch of his body.
“You’re not ugly…” he stated, when their gaze met again. “Prettier than most of the ‘bots. Of course, not as good looking as I am, but still… It doesn’t make any sense.”
With those last words Sunstreaker had voiced something that Breakdown had been thinking the whole time.
This situation didn’t make any sense.
He wasn’t Dead End, who certainly would have loved to hear how good looking he was or Drag Strip, who enjoyed every compliment given to him, and still the words and interested look made him feel strangely different.
He shifted uneasy, and a few branches crackled beneath him.
“I… I don’t know?” Breakdown finally managed to murmur. It obviously wasn’t a satisfying answer for Sunstreaker, whose optics darkened.
“So… you don’t know, eh? Can you at least tell me why you freaked out when I mentioned the birds?”
“They… were laughing about me.” He suddenly felt rather stupid, but didn’t dare decline to answer.
“You really are weird.”
Breakdown didn’t know how to react to this, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind: “You shot at them…”
“I did. So?”
“I… Aren’t you… supposed to protect this planet? Or something? That’s what Optimus Pri…”
“But Optimus Prime isn’t here, is he?” Sunstreaker spat. “Or do you see him anywhere?”
Breakdown shook his head carefully.
“Fine, least you paranoia isn’t that bad. I’m here in my free time, I don’t have to protect anything. I can shoot at planes or birds or rip you apart right now…”
“You said, you won’t hurt me…”
“I said that, but unfortunately for you, I’m not an Autobot poster mech. And I still haven’t got an answer to my question, right?”
Breakdown kept quiet, not daring to test the Autobot’s temper. His engine still worked overtime, although the vibrations had stopped. That was until now, when once more these blue optics got nearer and stared at him.
For a long time no one spoke until Breakdown winced, but this time it wasn’t panic.
Sunstreaker’s annoyed expression morphed into a devious smirk as he said: “I get the distinct feeling you’re lying.”
“Huh?”
Pressing even closer, a mere inch left between their two faces, Sunstreaker whispered huskily: “You. Are. A liar.”
The first tingle caught Breakdown off-guard and he gasped with surprise, optics wide.
Sunstreaker was tracing over the rim of a transformation seam near his shoulder. He didn’t know why it had made him react that way, but he wouldn’t let it happen again. Frantically he tried to free his arms, to no avail.
Sunstreaker squeezed his wrists and pressed them to the ground even harder, sending a tickle through the Stunticon’s body that was anything but unpleasant, and still Breakdown didn’t understand.
“I believe you enjoy being watched much more than you tell everyone, don’t you agree with me?”
Another tingle, and Breakdown whimpered softly, unable to answer.
“I’ll give you two options, and I really think that’s more than you deserve.”
Breakdown surveyed the smug expression on the Autobot’s face with caution, but didn’t reply.
“First: you either answer my question or confess that you’re lying. Second: I have no other choice than to punish you and… make you explode.”
Crimson optics widened in alert at the other’s amused and content smile, and another attempt to free himself failed.
“So, you go for the latter one?”
Before the Stunticon could say anything, a yellow hand traced over his lower arm down to his shoulder and chest, causing his engine to rev hard. His intakes hitched and he hysterically tried to calm himself. There was no reason why these light touches should trigger such a reaction.
“You’re so clueless, that’s almost charming,” Sunstreaker murmured, not taking his optics from the Stunticon, who shifted uneasily under him but didn’t break optic contact.
Breakdown wanted to object, but whatever he had intended to say was downed by the static that emerged from his vocaliser.
Suddenly, the foreign hand seemed to be everywhere; wandering to other parts of his frame; to his side, exploring the seams and gaps curiously with tender, little touches that were the opposite to the still devious, vicious grin that lingered over his face.
He moaned, and his cooling system whirled to life.
It was wrong. The Autobot had said he’d punish him, it shouldn’t feel like this, whatever it was. The strokes felt strange but not unwanted, sending small pulses of electricity over his frame, through his wires and energon lines, and made his engine rumble uncontrollably.
But then, he’d never exploded before. Maybe it felt like this when you were dying, Breakdown thought.
His optics narrowed and lost focus, his view became blurry.
If Dead End knew, maybe he wouldn’t be so depressed all the time…
Breakdown heard that the Autobot said something, but his audio sensors were filled with hissing that made it impossible to understand it at first.
For an instant, the touches stopped as Sunstreaker leaned low again, mouth plates near Breakdown’s audio sensor.
“I merely touch you, and you’re already so revved.” The Autobot spoke in Cybertronian and Primus, Breakdown didn’t know why, but the words in this language, with this electric voice, that sounded so different in the unfamiliar speech, it did something to him.
“You’re really cute…”
It set his sensor net on fire, even more than the light stroke over his chest, and he moaned.
He writhed under his enemy, who still stared at him. A few dry branches broke beneath him, but the sound was lost.
Arching into the touches to get more of the hand than just fingertips, he bent his knee, and scratched a yellow thigh, unintended.
At this moment, he was involuntarily dragged out of his blurry, foggy dizziness as a sharp pain exceeded the pleasure and he gasped.
Forcefully, his knee was pushed back down to the ground, accompanied with an angry growl.
“Don’t you dare touch me, ‘con!”
Not used to the language of his origin, it took Breakdown more than an astrosecond to process these words, but he couldn’t answer as his excuse died down in a sudden moan.
Desperately, he bit his lower lip as the touches continued, trying to dampen these foreign noises of delight that escaped his vocaliser.
The current flowed over his body, tickled every inch and made his processor glitch. Coherent thoughts were impossible, and the danger of the enemy above him was forgotten. Breakdown wasn’t even aware anymore of the grip around his wrists or the blue optics observing him, curious and smug.
His engine roared, gears spinning widely, and his own vibrations pushed the electricity even faster through his wires, made it even more intense.
It was when the first red warning popped up in his HUD, that Breakdown remembered what was happening to him, that he shouldn’t feel like he did, but despite this realisation, he couldn’t make it stop, he didn’t want to make it stop.
The cooling vents cycled air furiously, and a faint whimper faded away, unheard.
He didn’t realise Sunstreaker was near his audios again, until the Autobot began speaking huskily.
“You know…”
The sudden audio input caught Breakdown by surprise. His sensors already much too sensitive, he moaned, static-laced.
“…I am still watching you!”
It reached its peak. A rush of electricity ran over his body, his frame and circuits, pressed his sensor nodes to their maximum and it almost hurt when the current flowed back and forth along his wires, leaving the feeling of being pushed and pulled, being blind and deaf and weightless.
That Dead End shouldn’t be so afraid of death was the last thought he was able to process at the back of his dazed CPU, before his systems finally shut down.
---
When his systems rebooted, he felt as though he had been shot by Megatron’s fusion canon.
His arms and legs were heavy, and it took at least five astroseconds to synchronise his subjective sense of time with his internal chronometer. A flash of unwanted memories rushed over his processor, and he remembered.
Moments passed.
Somewhere nearby a few birds chirped.
The wind caused the leaves to rustle calmly.
And Breakdown didn’t dare to online his optics.
If he was dead, he would be within the Matrix - or the pit, but he had never understood what exactly both these places of the Transformer afterlife were, nor if there was a difference.
Maybe he was a ghost, he thought dizzily and still more slowly than usual, his processor not working at its full capability. He just hoped he was completely invisible and not semitransparent like the ghosts in these human movies which Wildrider loved to watch.
Being an invisible ghost…Yes, Breakdown really would like it. Probably he should eventually online his optics and have a look…
A snappy voice interrupted his musings.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, I know you’re awake!”
More memories hit him, and he groaned, exhausted. He tried to force his lame limbs to do what his CPU ordered them and sat up slowly.
Finally, Breakdown rebooted his optic sensors twice until he had a clear focus of his surroundings, and noticed that he was in the same wood as before.
On his left at another tree leaned the yellow Autobot warrior, a datapad in his hand, gazing at him, surveying.
He felt really dumb not being sure about it, but he asked anyway: “I’m not dead?”
Sunstreaker frowned. “Well… no.” He subspaced the pad. “But if you wanna die, I can do you the favour.”
Breakdown shook his head, and Sunstreaker shrugged indifferently.
“Thought so.”
“But you said, you’d… make me explode.”
“Oh, you did explode, sort of, didn’t you?” There was this smug, devilish grin again, that made Breakdown feeling so anxiously and weird.
When the Stunticon didn’t reply, Sunstreaker continued irritated: “I was kidding. It was a joke. You should laugh - haha. But I guess a paranoid glitch like you has no sense of humour!”
Breakdown couldn’t know that Sunstreaker wisely suppressed the fact that most of the Autobots didn’t share his sense humour either.
Both waited for the other to speak again, but neither did.
They shared a short moment of calmness without Breakdown’s earlier unease, and the apparently ever-present aggressive haughtiness of Sunstreaker.
Preoccupied by his thoughts, Breakdown tried to sort out what had just happened, but already guessed he wouldn’t find an answer by his own.
“Hey!” The Autobot broke the silence. “I know I repeat myself, but I still wanna have an answer to my question.”
“The question, that was the reason for… all this?” The Autobot looked at him like he expected him to know what he was talking about.
With a low growl, Sunstreaker pushed himself from the tree and walked towards the sitting Stunticon.
“Why do you dislike being looked at…?”
Sunstreaker crouched, arms crossed over his knees, his head tilted on optic level with Breakdown.
“Wait; let me ask in another way...” Sunstreaker smirked. “Why do you dislike being looked at by anyone… except me?”
A noticeably shudder run down Breakdown’s back struts, and his discomfort grew once more.
Nothing else was said as Sunstreaker straightened himself, taking a last arrogant glance at the Stunticon, and walked away - leaving Breakdown alone in the wood with unwanted thoughts.
Continuity: G1
Warnings: slash, plug’n’play/tactile, Virgin!Breakdown, non/dub-con
Characters/Pairing: Sunstreaker/Breakdown
Prompt: Dominant
Rating: R, probably
Summary: Breakdown dislikes being looked at, and Sunstreaker wants to know the reason.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.
Beta: ultharkitty:D
Note: Written for the 28 Sunstreaker meme, inspired by a prompt from the old TF kink meme.
Prompt #4 - Sunstreaker takes an interest in Breakdown.
He can't get over the fact that Breakdown is a Lamborghini that DOESN'T want to be looked at.
Sunstreaker attempts to get Breakdown to enjoy attention by forcing him to interface.
Balancing (T)act
They should have listened to Thundercracker. They should have accepted his advice and not shaken it off as useless.
Breakdown suppressed a cold shiver of fear.
The Stunticons’ first battle had shown how superior they were to the Autobots. Every gestalt-mate had a force field, anti-gravity booster and, unlike the pathetic ‘bots, they could even fly in robot mode.
That was before Superion had shown up and kicked Menasor’s aft.
After this, they were still overconfident, but hated the Aerialbots even more than the other Autobots. That was why they hadn’t taken the blue seeker - Thundercracker - too seriously when he had told them to be careful.
As an afterthought, it had been truly nice of the seeker to warn them, even though it didn’t seem any Decepticon was fond of the Stunticons’ arrival.
“Just because you partly won today doesn’t mean you’re the best.” The seeker had said. “We haven’t fought the ‘bots over millions of years for nothing.”
Drag Strip had laughed at this, but Thundercracker had continued anyway: “There’re a few bots you should avoid in battle. One you already fought today, the red one with the guns. I guess he had a bad day, but if you’re not careful, he’ll freeze you.” He had muttered something about “cooling their heads”, but Breakdown still didn’t understand what that meant.
“One of the ‘bots can become invisible, so if you got knocked out and don’t know who it was afterwards, this will be your ‘bot.”
Wildrider had commented at that, but Breakdown had been lost in his own thoughts of being unseen. He surely should keep an eye on that bot - if possible - and try to steal his “become-invisible-device”…
He had returned his attention to Thundercracker again, when the seeker had looked at him even grumpier.
“…If there’s one with guns as big as himself, don’t take him on alone. He may be small, but he hates cons like nothing, so even if he’s disarmed, he still can be a pain in the afterburner.”
Again Drag Strip had interrupted the seeker, had laughed and made a joke about sissy fliers, which only Wildrider had chuckled about.
“Be glad I’m actually telling you all this. I should let you find out for yourself, but Megatron will just take out his bad mood on us, so listen because I’m only going to say this once: Stay away from the Autobot twins. The red one usually isn’t much on the ground, which is good for you, and annoying for us, but the yellow one… Just stay away from him.”
“Stay away because? What will happen if we don’t?” Wildrider had asked, finally bursting with curiosity.
Thundercracker had just sighed about the missing genuineness and continued: “He is… insane. I don’t know what will happen, could be everything. Try it out for yourself.”
Then Thundercracker had left.
Dead End had shrugged and said something about how the Stunticons themselves weren’t quite sane.
Except Motormaster, they all had agreed amusedly until the second battle, when they had found out that they still had a lot to learn.
In the third battle, they had learned that Thundercracker had been right about most of the mechs he had told them about.
And after the fourth battle they knew that the advice about the yellow Autobot twin had been a warning.
They still didn’t know why Sunstreaker hadn’t killed Wildrider, and they wondered even more how he had survived Motormaster’s punishment when he had got out of the medbay, but next time they would have to made sure not to go near the Autobot alone.
At least, that was the plan.
Breakdown couldn’t suppress the shiver anymore.
He hadn’t wanted to go on this patrol as much as he had never wanted to be chased by this particular Autobot.
He hated being a scout.
When he had been tired of running and begun to panic, he had tried to fight. It was when he was shot in the back hard enough to shut down his force field, tossed over the crash barrier, and when his escape into the woods had failed, that he knew he had made a mistake.
He hated being looked at.
“What’s wrong? You’re shivering.”
And he hated this face. Which hovered over his own, staring at him with these icy, blue optics and this faked sweet smile.
“Are you scared?”
But that he was paralysed by fear and just had to stare back, he hated the most.
---
Breakdown lay on his back somewhere in one of the many woods he never had liked. Large trees that cast a shadow over him and the Autobot, who pressed his wrists to the ground above his helm with just one hand.
Moments passed.
Somewhere nearby a few birds chirped.
The wind caused the leaves to rustle calmly.
And Breakdown still couldn’t answer.
“What is it with you Decepticons?” Sunstreaker frowned. “In battle you have a big mouth, and if I ask you politely in your off time you’re lost for words!”
Breakdown only glanced back, actually not knowing what to say or even how to answer, because he would never admit that the bloodlust in those optics made him uneasy.
Pretending to be hurt, the yellow Autobot sighed theatrically while the grip on Breakdown’s wrists became tighter. “Why does everyone think I’d rip out their fuel pumps? I’m not that bad, you know…”
There was a pause, in which Sunstreaker seemed to wait for a response, but he carried on when the Stunticon stayed silent.
“I mean, I didn’t kill your friend, right?” Over the Autobot’s face flashed uncertainty. “Well… he is still online, isn’t he?”
Breakdown didn’t dare to break optic contact as he nodded slowly.
“Ah, good. For a moment I wasn’t sure.” Sunstreaker grinned contently. “It would have been a little unfair to kill him just then. Considering how old you are… A few decacycles or less. Yeah, I’m truly nice and fair, ain’t I?”
If he hadn’t been pressed to the ground, the weight of the Autobot holding him in place, he would have punched him in that self-assured visage.
“And ‘cause I am so nice and fair, I won’t hurt you. I just wanna ask you something, and if I get an acceptable answer, everything’ll be fine.”
The look in Breakdown’s optics changed from annoyed panic to astonishment and disbelief. He felt weirdly like Dead End as he fought back the feeling of budding hope.
The Autobot leaned low, bringing his face closer. The uncomfortable feeling grew as Sunstreaker slowly spoke: “You’re paranoid… why?”
No answer came. What kind of question was that, anyway?
Increasing the distance between their faces again, Sunstreaker’s expression changed to a sincere curiosity when he continued.
“I mean, Red is paranoid too and jumps at every little noise and such, but at least he doesn’t mind being looked at… well, not so much as you do. You’re weird, you know that?”
Sunstreaker shifted, but still held him to the ground. Due to the slight change in position the sunbeams that fell through the leaves were reflected on his yellow armour, caused them to look like lurid optics, which watched him observantly.
“Do you really think, everyone and everything is watching you? Like those birds here in the forest?”
Breakdown’s optics widened in panic. Until now he had been too preoccupied with the potential danger of the Autobot. He had heard the birds only in the background in his processor, but now the chirping became louder. Yet he almost heard no other sound. He was sure they were laughing about him as he lay there, beaten by an Autobot, who still held him and didn’t let him move. His engine growled, sending irregular vibrations through his frame, to the ground and the Autobot’s chassis.
The birds were laughing about him. He began to panic.
“Oh no, you don’t!”
He didn’t hear Sunstreaker growling, only being aware at the edge of his CPU that the left free hand transformed into a muzzle, into the weapon with which the Autobot had shot him earlier.
It was neither the buzzing noise of charging, nor the heat which suddenly built up and vanished when the first laser beam left the weapon, which cleared his mind, but the loud noise of the animals, fleeing and squealing.
The Autobot fired at the trees five or six times, before he stopped and everything around them felt silent again. No birds twittered any more and even the wind held its breath and was calm, the smell of burned wood and flesh hanging in the air.
“Feeling better?” Predatory optics fixed him with growing annoyance, and nodding slowly was the only thing he could do.
Raising an optic ridge, Sunstreaker mumbled something unintelligible and transformed his weapon back.
“I don’t get you,” the Autobot said aloud, after Breakdown’s engine had finally calmed down. “Can you even speak? I’m kinda sick of your silence.”
Suppressing the urge to nod again, Breakdown decided that vocally answering this question was seemingly a better way: “Y… Yes, of course.”
“Look at that, the kid can talk. Then you can answer my question, right?”
Their optics broke contact as Sunstreaker began to eye him up, run his gaze over the Stunticon as though trying to memorise every inch of his body.
“You’re not ugly…” he stated, when their gaze met again. “Prettier than most of the ‘bots. Of course, not as good looking as I am, but still… It doesn’t make any sense.”
With those last words Sunstreaker had voiced something that Breakdown had been thinking the whole time.
This situation didn’t make any sense.
He wasn’t Dead End, who certainly would have loved to hear how good looking he was or Drag Strip, who enjoyed every compliment given to him, and still the words and interested look made him feel strangely different.
He shifted uneasy, and a few branches crackled beneath him.
“I… I don’t know?” Breakdown finally managed to murmur. It obviously wasn’t a satisfying answer for Sunstreaker, whose optics darkened.
“So… you don’t know, eh? Can you at least tell me why you freaked out when I mentioned the birds?”
“They… were laughing about me.” He suddenly felt rather stupid, but didn’t dare decline to answer.
“You really are weird.”
Breakdown didn’t know how to react to this, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind: “You shot at them…”
“I did. So?”
“I… Aren’t you… supposed to protect this planet? Or something? That’s what Optimus Pri…”
“But Optimus Prime isn’t here, is he?” Sunstreaker spat. “Or do you see him anywhere?”
Breakdown shook his head carefully.
“Fine, least you paranoia isn’t that bad. I’m here in my free time, I don’t have to protect anything. I can shoot at planes or birds or rip you apart right now…”
“You said, you won’t hurt me…”
“I said that, but unfortunately for you, I’m not an Autobot poster mech. And I still haven’t got an answer to my question, right?”
Breakdown kept quiet, not daring to test the Autobot’s temper. His engine still worked overtime, although the vibrations had stopped. That was until now, when once more these blue optics got nearer and stared at him.
For a long time no one spoke until Breakdown winced, but this time it wasn’t panic.
Sunstreaker’s annoyed expression morphed into a devious smirk as he said: “I get the distinct feeling you’re lying.”
“Huh?”
Pressing even closer, a mere inch left between their two faces, Sunstreaker whispered huskily: “You. Are. A liar.”
The first tingle caught Breakdown off-guard and he gasped with surprise, optics wide.
Sunstreaker was tracing over the rim of a transformation seam near his shoulder. He didn’t know why it had made him react that way, but he wouldn’t let it happen again. Frantically he tried to free his arms, to no avail.
Sunstreaker squeezed his wrists and pressed them to the ground even harder, sending a tickle through the Stunticon’s body that was anything but unpleasant, and still Breakdown didn’t understand.
“I believe you enjoy being watched much more than you tell everyone, don’t you agree with me?”
Another tingle, and Breakdown whimpered softly, unable to answer.
“I’ll give you two options, and I really think that’s more than you deserve.”
Breakdown surveyed the smug expression on the Autobot’s face with caution, but didn’t reply.
“First: you either answer my question or confess that you’re lying. Second: I have no other choice than to punish you and… make you explode.”
Crimson optics widened in alert at the other’s amused and content smile, and another attempt to free himself failed.
“So, you go for the latter one?”
Before the Stunticon could say anything, a yellow hand traced over his lower arm down to his shoulder and chest, causing his engine to rev hard. His intakes hitched and he hysterically tried to calm himself. There was no reason why these light touches should trigger such a reaction.
“You’re so clueless, that’s almost charming,” Sunstreaker murmured, not taking his optics from the Stunticon, who shifted uneasily under him but didn’t break optic contact.
Breakdown wanted to object, but whatever he had intended to say was downed by the static that emerged from his vocaliser.
Suddenly, the foreign hand seemed to be everywhere; wandering to other parts of his frame; to his side, exploring the seams and gaps curiously with tender, little touches that were the opposite to the still devious, vicious grin that lingered over his face.
He moaned, and his cooling system whirled to life.
It was wrong. The Autobot had said he’d punish him, it shouldn’t feel like this, whatever it was. The strokes felt strange but not unwanted, sending small pulses of electricity over his frame, through his wires and energon lines, and made his engine rumble uncontrollably.
But then, he’d never exploded before. Maybe it felt like this when you were dying, Breakdown thought.
His optics narrowed and lost focus, his view became blurry.
If Dead End knew, maybe he wouldn’t be so depressed all the time…
Breakdown heard that the Autobot said something, but his audio sensors were filled with hissing that made it impossible to understand it at first.
For an instant, the touches stopped as Sunstreaker leaned low again, mouth plates near Breakdown’s audio sensor.
“I merely touch you, and you’re already so revved.” The Autobot spoke in Cybertronian and Primus, Breakdown didn’t know why, but the words in this language, with this electric voice, that sounded so different in the unfamiliar speech, it did something to him.
“You’re really cute…”
It set his sensor net on fire, even more than the light stroke over his chest, and he moaned.
He writhed under his enemy, who still stared at him. A few dry branches broke beneath him, but the sound was lost.
Arching into the touches to get more of the hand than just fingertips, he bent his knee, and scratched a yellow thigh, unintended.
At this moment, he was involuntarily dragged out of his blurry, foggy dizziness as a sharp pain exceeded the pleasure and he gasped.
Forcefully, his knee was pushed back down to the ground, accompanied with an angry growl.
“Don’t you dare touch me, ‘con!”
Not used to the language of his origin, it took Breakdown more than an astrosecond to process these words, but he couldn’t answer as his excuse died down in a sudden moan.
Desperately, he bit his lower lip as the touches continued, trying to dampen these foreign noises of delight that escaped his vocaliser.
The current flowed over his body, tickled every inch and made his processor glitch. Coherent thoughts were impossible, and the danger of the enemy above him was forgotten. Breakdown wasn’t even aware anymore of the grip around his wrists or the blue optics observing him, curious and smug.
His engine roared, gears spinning widely, and his own vibrations pushed the electricity even faster through his wires, made it even more intense.
It was when the first red warning popped up in his HUD, that Breakdown remembered what was happening to him, that he shouldn’t feel like he did, but despite this realisation, he couldn’t make it stop, he didn’t want to make it stop.
The cooling vents cycled air furiously, and a faint whimper faded away, unheard.
He didn’t realise Sunstreaker was near his audios again, until the Autobot began speaking huskily.
“You know…”
The sudden audio input caught Breakdown by surprise. His sensors already much too sensitive, he moaned, static-laced.
“…I am still watching you!”
It reached its peak. A rush of electricity ran over his body, his frame and circuits, pressed his sensor nodes to their maximum and it almost hurt when the current flowed back and forth along his wires, leaving the feeling of being pushed and pulled, being blind and deaf and weightless.
That Dead End shouldn’t be so afraid of death was the last thought he was able to process at the back of his dazed CPU, before his systems finally shut down.
---
When his systems rebooted, he felt as though he had been shot by Megatron’s fusion canon.
His arms and legs were heavy, and it took at least five astroseconds to synchronise his subjective sense of time with his internal chronometer. A flash of unwanted memories rushed over his processor, and he remembered.
Moments passed.
Somewhere nearby a few birds chirped.
The wind caused the leaves to rustle calmly.
And Breakdown didn’t dare to online his optics.
If he was dead, he would be within the Matrix - or the pit, but he had never understood what exactly both these places of the Transformer afterlife were, nor if there was a difference.
Maybe he was a ghost, he thought dizzily and still more slowly than usual, his processor not working at its full capability. He just hoped he was completely invisible and not semitransparent like the ghosts in these human movies which Wildrider loved to watch.
Being an invisible ghost…Yes, Breakdown really would like it. Probably he should eventually online his optics and have a look…
A snappy voice interrupted his musings.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, I know you’re awake!”
More memories hit him, and he groaned, exhausted. He tried to force his lame limbs to do what his CPU ordered them and sat up slowly.
Finally, Breakdown rebooted his optic sensors twice until he had a clear focus of his surroundings, and noticed that he was in the same wood as before.
On his left at another tree leaned the yellow Autobot warrior, a datapad in his hand, gazing at him, surveying.
He felt really dumb not being sure about it, but he asked anyway: “I’m not dead?”
Sunstreaker frowned. “Well… no.” He subspaced the pad. “But if you wanna die, I can do you the favour.”
Breakdown shook his head, and Sunstreaker shrugged indifferently.
“Thought so.”
“But you said, you’d… make me explode.”
“Oh, you did explode, sort of, didn’t you?” There was this smug, devilish grin again, that made Breakdown feeling so anxiously and weird.
When the Stunticon didn’t reply, Sunstreaker continued irritated: “I was kidding. It was a joke. You should laugh - haha. But I guess a paranoid glitch like you has no sense of humour!”
Breakdown couldn’t know that Sunstreaker wisely suppressed the fact that most of the Autobots didn’t share his sense humour either.
Both waited for the other to speak again, but neither did.
They shared a short moment of calmness without Breakdown’s earlier unease, and the apparently ever-present aggressive haughtiness of Sunstreaker.
Preoccupied by his thoughts, Breakdown tried to sort out what had just happened, but already guessed he wouldn’t find an answer by his own.
“Hey!” The Autobot broke the silence. “I know I repeat myself, but I still wanna have an answer to my question.”
“The question, that was the reason for… all this?” The Autobot looked at him like he expected him to know what he was talking about.
With a low growl, Sunstreaker pushed himself from the tree and walked towards the sitting Stunticon.
“Why do you dislike being looked at…?”
Sunstreaker crouched, arms crossed over his knees, his head tilted on optic level with Breakdown.
“Wait; let me ask in another way...” Sunstreaker smirked. “Why do you dislike being looked at by anyone… except me?”
A noticeably shudder run down Breakdown’s back struts, and his discomfort grew once more.
Nothing else was said as Sunstreaker straightened himself, taking a last arrogant glance at the Stunticon, and walked away - leaving Breakdown alone in the wood with unwanted thoughts.