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Sunny Disposition	By : paw07 Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 5678 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Though I finding it sickeningly obvious, I find it necessary to admit that though this is a fanfiction site, I do not own Transformers nor make any money from it.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Chapter 10: Denial
Megatron sat on his throne with his chin perched on his fist. He stared out the command window at the fish and other tentacle beasts that roamed the waters and clogged one’s intakes when they went outside. Yet, he could care less about that. His mind was … elsewhere.
For the past day or so his mind was ravenous, hungry for a gleam of gold, yellow sunshine. The dark ocean was smothering him… he’d been twitchy all day and Soundwave seemed to notice. Said mech was actually standing at the side of his throne, silent as ever… waiting for an inquiry but never making a sound.
“I want him…” Megatron finally said.
There was a moment of silence before Soundwave replied, “Inquiry: the Autobot, designation: Sunstreaker?”
His finger’s tapped on his throne impatiently for a moment before he stated, “Yes, he’s all I’ve been able to think of today. I want him… badly.”
Soundwave still before replying in his usual drawl, “Inquiry: capture or contact?”
His spark thumped at the idea of kidnapping the front-liner and then ravishing him in his berth again and again, filling him so much that his nanites would just seep out of his lover’s valve when he was finally satisfied, but no. He wanted the yellow mech completely, emotionally. He could not do so with Sunny being stolen from his kin.
At least not now. If he could put the right spin on it… he could steal the Lamborghini and still make himself seem the hero.
Yes… but the time wasn’t right now. He wasn’t as great a strategist as the famed Prowl, but this war hadn’t dragged out as long as it had because he had no form of planning. He could be patient when he really wanted something… but he’d still twitch with his longing.
“Contact him… for now. See if we can have a meeting sometimes soon. Now let me be, lock the door,” he stated, waving the Communications Officer off with the hiss of a shutting and locking door.
The room was silent, not another soul in the room before he sighed in resignation, his spike poking at his cod piece.
Sunstreaker was really the only thing he could think of all morning, his spark casting dreams of lust all night and he had yet to satisfy himself with said thoughts of his lovely little Autobot. Lazily leaning against his thrown, he reached for his cod piece and popped it open, revealing a hard and aroused spike.
Taking his metallic cock in hand, he pressed his thumb against the tip of his member, gaining some pre-cum. Slowly, he slid it up and down his shaft as a type of lube and offlined his optics, spreading his legs wide. In truth he could just call in one of soldiers, a drone, or Soundwave and most would gladly allowing him to frag them. There wouldn’t be for any emotional attachment though, just a hope for some rise in rank… or just a good fragging. It wouldn’t take much of an imagination to conclude that Megatron was big.
But he didn’t want any of his mechs. Frag, he didn’t even want a femme to fulfill his lust right now.
He wanted a sun colored mech that moaned his name and clung to him as if the world was falling away.
He was glad he had kept all those images, those moans, those hungry lips trying to suck the metal from his frame, devouring him in more than spark and cum. His spike was erect and already starting to weep as he started to run through the images of his little consort.
He’d kill to have the yellow mech on his lap right now, bouncy up and down in ecstasy and that image alone made him moan, his hand speeding up and down his shaft.
He moaned once more in his throat as he imaged pouty lips pressing against his audio, arms cling around his neck before the Autobot’s head rolled back revealing his neck. Megatron then imagined he would growl possessively before he would start nipping and sucking on those neck cables his large hands under that aft and thighs, gripping them as he bounced his lover.
He could feel the pre-cum dripping down past his member, pooling between his legs and staining his throne.
Frag, he was getting really hot, his hand pumping faster as he imagined the wonderful valve constricting, yet he was now imagining whispering for the other to open his spark. He wanted that spark. So well did it mesh with his, so wonderful was its energy… its need.
Oh… uhhh.
He knew he was moaning now, a deep whine as he was struggling to keep silent so no passerby would hear its merry tone.
Soon his seed would spill and a part of him almost felt bad it couldn’t spill into his little Autobot, to have that valve lap it up and Sunstreaker sigh in contentment. His own valve didn’t even want to have the other’s spike in him… he needed to spill into that clenching valve. Sunstreaker needed his nanites inside him…
U…Uh… Uh. He was getting closer. The thought of those blue optics going almost white when he shot his hot cum into the others valve and Sunny would…
“What the pit are you doing?”
Megatron’s optics flashed online and his hand stopped, his optics going wide as he stared at a red form … with wings. For a moment, he was flabbergasted and a part of him was actually embarrassed, angry even that his Second had seen him masturbating. At least he wasn’t playing with his valve, but still. Soundwave had locked the doors, knowing already his needs so how did …
Oh yeah, Second in Command… to the command deck. That would override Third in Command.
He should have went to his room, but his throne… he really wanted to frag his little Autobot here. He didn’t have many fantasies besides conquering Cybertron and defeating Prime, but this was a new one that he could not ignore.
“What the frag? What are you doing here?” hissed Megatron, releasing his aching member, the spike slowly being partially covered up by the palm of his hand. It was then, as his fingers met the metal surface of his throne, that he felt the lube. He almost choked when he also noticed that the flier’s trine was behind their unit leader and Skywarp was not shy about eyeing his equipment, especially since his valve was dripping and pooling so much that a small bit was oozing over the edge of the seat.
Though Starscream might not have been as much of a slut as some seekers he met, fliers were notorious for berth hopping. A dripping valve was practically an invitation.
Starscream must have seen it as a moment of weakness, having never seen Megatron play with his equipment in all the time they had been in each other’s stressed company… thought he might have seen the member buried in the occasional femme he dragged back to headquarters to frag for a few nights.
Smile almost wicked, a glance shared with Skywarp whose wings seemed to be hitched in excitement. Starscream struggled not to laugh, his lips twitching as he huskily replied, “Well… we came in here hearing such pained noises. It sounded like a whines of a dying mech.”
Megatron glared, his hand now lazily placed over his fully erect spike. It was twitching against his palm, demanding that he resume his earlier activities. Skywarp was still looking at him, not daring to look away, Thundercracker just seemed flustered, glaring at his purple compatriot as if to say, ‘He’s our commander… stop staring at his valve!’.
Turning his glare away from the two seekers to the Air Command that had sauntered into the room with his clicking heals, almost lazily placing an arm on the back of the throne as he stared down at his warlord, still smiling. This was a moment of strength for Starscream, being far more sexually forward, and he was drinking it in. Loving the mockery of his master.
“It seems I was wrong… just a sexually deprived mech,” leaning forward and over his master slightly, letting his null rayed arm scrap in contact with Megatron’s, he dipped his finger down into the thin stream of lube on the throne before standing back up and allowing the gun-former to see him rubbing the lube between his fingers. Skywarp actually took a step forward.
Megatron actually threw a growl at the purple mech, who almost seemed to deflate.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” mocked Starscream with a sick satisfaction, never having truly embarrassed the proud Decepticon and drinking up that mech’s flush like water to sand. “It’s just such a tight little port and Skywarp has always had a thing for virgins or such-like ports. He can’t help but sta-“
The last word was barely even given time to echo over the room, the flier so close to his warlord’s audio that he was harshly grabbed by the throat and slammed to the ground. The Slag Maker was suddenly on top of his Air Command, pinning those arms on either side of his heads on top of the flier’s wings which made a painful screeching noise. Yet, the only things the vain seeker was worried about was those thighs on either side of his abdomen … Megatron’s rather large equipment was mere inches from his plating and that valve juice (now dripping down either side of his thighs) was threatening to fall on him.
Now twitching side to side, trying to ignore touching Megatron’s sticky thighs, Starscream growled, “Get off me or you’ll regret it.”
Grunting, pressing on those wings and wrists painfully, Megatron got an inch from his Air Commander’s face, the seeker pressing his chin up to try and get his face as far as he could away from leader. He did not… like this position. Looking over at his wing brothers, both wanting to do something but daring not taking a step closer, the seeker pressed his thighs together in worry. There were some war stories that Megatron raped mechs and femmes on the battlefield, but Starscream had never actually caught the gray mech performing or even extolling such an act from his fellow soldiers.
Raping a femme was frowned on, Megatron had stated once, ‘What use are they now… one fragging and they are no longer any good’.
Starscream didn’t praise such an ideal either, but the utter rage radiating from Megatron right now might push the powerful gun-former over the edge. And old bucket head seemed to notice his favorite seeker’s twitchy reaction to his positioning.
Power over the situation now, Megatron actual smiled, fangs bared as he slowly leaned his head down, his spike barely brushing against the flier’s abdomen as the gray mech hissed in his second’s audio, “I could make you bleed like a little virgin … would you like that… would you like to howl under me like a slut.”
Starscream shivered in disgust, surprisingly keeping silent.
“Do you wish to make all those rumors that I only allow you to stay around is to keep my berth warm, true?” he snapped into his Second’s audio making the seeker whine.
After a moment of stillness, pre-cum and valve juice falling onto the Seeker’s abdomen, Starscream stayed so still that the only proof he was online was the hissing of his vents.
“WELL! DO YOU WANT TO BE MY PLEASURE MODEL?”
“N-no, Megatron…” he stated softly, optics meeting Megatron’s for a moment before the warlord let go.
He stood there, equipment shown proudly for any random mech walking by to witness, before he stated, “Get out of my sight.”
Thruster-heals wasting no time getting out, not even sparing a glance at the tall and proud gun-former, he departed, rage rippling down his form.
It wasn’t until they were a hall or two down, that the blue seeker suddenly spoke up as if scolding , “Did you really have to push him like that Starscream? What if he had done something with that… girth.”
Skywarp snorted.
“Yes, I had to,” he smiled, caring little that it made his face sting, “because I had to get under his plating.”
Thundercracker, the only true reasoning in the group, opened his mouth to speak again only to have Starscream turn around and show the fingers that he had dipped into valve juices, purring, “And because I doubt he’s leaking for just anyone.”
“… except for the Prime,” interjected Skywarp, chuckling at an old joke that ran around the base.
Ignoring the idiot on his team, Starscream continued, “And I think our dear Megatron has found something more than just his complacent berth partner. Dare I say, he might even love this one? Just not anyone makes Megatron moan like a whore.”
“… a fraggen tasty looking whore,” added Skywarp who was ignored again, Thundercracker butting in.
“The Slag Maker in love?”
“Or lust,” added Starscream nonchalantly. “Generally, I don’t care about matters of the spark, but I will crush Megatron… in one way or the other. I will see him suffer for disgracing me so many times.”
The mech then looked at his fingers in a disgusted manner and opened a sub space undoubtedly looking for a rag to wipe off the warlord’s juices, when Skywarp suddenly grabbed him by the wrists and brought those traitorous fingers to his lips. Starscream and Thundercracker both stared in horror and indignation as the purple seeker sucked off those drying juices like a hungry leach, slurpy noises included. Starscream was so shocked by the audacity of the other that he didn’t even have enough wits to pull his hand away until the other Con was down, Skywarp licking a fang as he added happily, “Not only a tight little port, but I knew he’d taste delicious.”
Starscream just stared at his oral fluid covering his hand in horror and Thundercracker looked like he was going to short out. Perhaps Skywarp was a little madder than then they both had thought… his dreams now of fragging Megatron.
“As a human would say, Warp,” added TC. “Gross.”
…
Recharge… had escaped him, yet Sunstreaker had remained so still the whole night one might have thought him deactivated.
He had spent all night feeling sick to his spark, his mind running around the idea of how he was going to get rid of this … mistake. He didn’t even want to think of what would happen if denying the sparkling didn’t offline it. He was sure there were other ways… more painful way… he could always take a well-aimed shot to the abdomen. Which, being his luck, Megatron had probably put a price on Sunstreaker’s head like he had for Ratchet many vorns ago.
It was a ‘no kill’ proclamation… usually for live execution or tactical information (Did Prowl have one as well?).
He hadn’t heard anything from Autobot intelligence yet though… so that seemed unlikely. Regardless, Primus would probably ‘protect’ his investment of a Carrying mech and every fraggen shot would always stray away from his body like an unwanted case of good luck.
Well, he could always just be forward about it. He could just walk up to the warlord in a fray and ask in all seriousness, ‘Hit me in the abdomen… right here, as hard as you can, now.’
Though… from that point forward it would probably have Megatron standing stupidly, asking, ‘What?’
‘I said fraggen hit me, slag eater!’
… ‘Why?’
So, it was easy to state that accidentally getting shot seemed unlikely and Megatron hitting him personally even seemed more unlikely. He could always just jump on Screamer’s back and take a fall though that was maybe a little to death defying. He might actually end up dead instead of miscarrying.
… Or saved, and Ratchet discovering the sparklet on board.
No, if he could bear this pain (his spark starting to jolt with every time he pressed the ‘dismiss’ for the acceptance) he wouldn’t have to find another way. Yet… human’s aborted safely… perhaps he could take some notes from them, but that was a conversation he did not want to have with Carly or Spike… it would start another Pro-choice/Pro-life campaign. He personally didn’t get it. Perhaps both sides should focus on ignoring unwanted pregnancies in the first place instead of fighting over who was right.
Tuh… now he sounded like a hypocrite, but really… he had never met a mech that was Heavy. He’d heard a few tales and that was why they had birthing cambers, but for him of all mechs… it was too surreal.
And those were the type of thoughts that plagued him until the lamp suddenly popped on, Hound trying to leave the room as silently as possible. Sunny just remained still, dulling his optics. He hoped that Hound wouldn’t go to Ratchet but there seemed no real reason for the tracker to do such a thing… he had kept the energon down, barely.
But… Sunny really wasn’t in the mood to go out on patrol. Well, maybe he could take a tumble, scare himself silly and cause his spark to be erratic and loose the sparking.
But, would it hurt?
Would it hurt to abort the little thing? He was an Autobot so he did value life, though he did want to end some peoples, but he also didn’t believe in stealing freedom from another being… himself.
Hand slowly being placed on his chassis, Sunstreaker made a vow that if the sire had been anyone else he might have been able to keep it, spare it.
Pit, part of him wondered if he could just desert for a few months and bare it in some neutral colony, but he wasn’t so naïve. Carrie sparklings were rare as it was with so few femmes… a male Carrier would not be something that would be an easily kept secret. Finding a medic that knew how to properly deal with it would be even harder.
No, it had to go. Besides, if it were to be born it would be nothing but a pariah… a freak. Would he or she have blue optics and be a gun-former or have wings? He had no idea if Megatron had the coding for wings, true, but flight was mostly a Deception thing. And what about his Autobot coding? Even though in functionality their peoples were practically the same, yet his ideals would be partially inherited as well. How could they expect a sparking to chose between Autobot and Decepticon ideals? Could it? Or would the sparkling’s personality splinter and he’d end up with three spinning faces with three differing opinions? Would the sparklet be so unstable that his systems would be diseased with constant glitches?
He had never heard of a Con and Autobot breeding. Building a frame together and getting a spark was something completely different… a Carried mech or femme’s spark and systems were based entirely off their creators’ own codes.
Frag, would it even survive the birthing? Would it have half a face? Or would it be missing arm or have the inability to take an alt form since it was a mess of limbs and gun-parts?
Curling into a tight ball in horror, decision made for both him and the poorly sired sparkling, Sunstreaker wept. He could never recall crying so hard, his systems slowly falling into stasis to block out the world of the living with nothing but dreams of crystal-like sand and a chuckling Megatron with a smaller mech at his heals; the youngling smiling up at the warm sun.
It had been tepid in his dreams, warm and placid, which was why the world hurt so much when he was pulled from that dream, his spark thrashing in his casing when he was cruelly waken up by a ping of demand from a commanding officer.
Sunsteaker slowly sat on his berth, watching his hand’s shake as he check the time. He had recharged half the day away, past his first shift and it was still there. A melancholy of such a false world dripping into nothingness, Sunny watched the message for acceptance blinking almost non-stop now, barely even being affected by the delay he kept placing on it. His HUD had also moved it up in level of important as well, next to his spark activity and his energon levels. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say even if he could ask for help.
Who would he ask anyway? Megatron? That was laughable. The slagger liked him for a good frag, a comfort or merely physical and embrace and pretty words, but … was there anything else there? And of the Autobots? His brother was out of the question, the betrayal still too raw, and Ratchet would kill him and then want to know who the daddy was. Best case scenario with that would be him being sent back to Cybertron like some kind of exile, the question and investigation of the daddy imminent.
There was no hope to be asked for. All he could do was sit there on his berth in the dark. He wanted to cry out to his brother’s spark and have him come and tell him his HUD was lying to him, that it was a bad dream. He had just woken up. He had to be a dream. It had to be.
Suddenly there was a pounding on his door and the mech jump, choking a whimper back as he looked at the door. Had Sideswipe felt his spark’s panicking all through the night? Would he tell him that it was –
“Sunstreaker, report,” said a voice from behind the door. “You are late for guard duty.”
A soft whine escaped the yellow mech as he wrapped his arm over his chassis. He didn’t want to go out right now. He wanted to hide. If he went out there, the world would see and – and they would –
“Sunstreaker. open up or I will open the door. If you are still feeling ill, as Hound kindly informed me when you didn’t show up for your first shift, you should go to Ratchet for a proper diagnosis and not scuff on your duties.”
It was a wonder, perhaps, why Sunny rose to his feet, but he didn’t question it as he opened the door and glared at the tactician before him.
Prowl’s wings twitched as he stared at the figure before him. He looked Sunstreaker up and down; probably noting how Sunny wasn’t meeting is optics.
“Was it bad energon or is your system trying to purge a virus?” he asked calmly, thinking the other did look rather tired and slightly shaken up as if he had just been pulled out of a restless recharge.
Sunny shivered at the thought. It was almost truthful as he stated, “I’m trying to purge a pest, sir. My systems are aware of it. It shouldn’t cause me much more trouble.”
Prowl’s form softened slightly, less stern. It almost caused front-liner to jump back in surprise when Prowl placed a hand over one of the vents on Sunny’s shoulder, spreading his fingers. The higher officer gave him the glare of ‘don’t move’ and despite how awkward it was for Sunstreaker, the Second in Command, pulled his hand away, nodding, “Well, you are running a little bit hot, nothing dangerous. Has your systems tried to force any of today’s rations out of your tank?”
Maybe if I had actually consumed today’s rations, thought Sunstreaker before shaking his head. No.
Prowl’s face was still stern as he asked in a clipped tone, “Have you had any of today’s rations?”
Sunny flinched, wanting to get in the other’s face but knowing that a forced trip to Ratchet would be his punishment, he gave a half-truth, “I’ve had some low grade.”
Prowl nodded, stating in almost a tired tone, “Well, will you be able to perform today for regular duty or will I have to place you back on light duty and send you to Ratchet’s care?”
Trying not to flinch as he denied the request again on his HUD, his spark thrashing painfully for a moment, Sunny nodded his head, wanting to be anywhere but near the medic who would see a flinch for what it was, Sunny growled feeling threatened, “I can perform, Prowl. Stop treating me like a prissy little virgin.”
Prowl stiffened but did not outright punish the mech for his sour mood, knowing far too well how a virus would treat a soldier, “No need to be vulgar, Sunstreaker. I could punish you for talking to a superior officer in such a tone, but I know yours systems are probably aching.”
Sunny twitched at the rare kindness from the Second in Command, but clipped his sharp tongue down with his teeth regardless.
“So, go get a cube of energon and report to the main entrance for duty with Hound. Trailbreaker kindly covered your earlier shift so you shall now be taking his. Do you mind working with Hound?” asked Prowl, a question within a question.
In truth, Prowl probably wanted to know if the two of them were compatible roommates.
Looking up with dull, tired optics, Sunny stated, “He’s fine.”
Nodding in agreement, his wings dropping in what must have been relief for Prowl, the officer stated, “That is good to know. Now… is there anything else?”
Blinking his optics, finally realizing how hard Prowl was trying to be comforting, Sunstreaker asked, “What do you mean by that?”
There was a moment of stillness, sand settling to the floor, Prowl frowning lightly before his optics became soft and he replied, “You seem… troubled.”
Feeling as if his spark had just been exposed, Sunny stood up straight, hiding the physical and emotional pain in his spark, replying, “I just got very little recharge last night… I’m fine.”
… If only one could will wishes into being.
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Sunny Disposition