Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Twin Ties	By : Jookami Category: Transformers > G1 > AU/AR Views: 1710 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
She saw him as she moved through her daily routine the following solar cycle. She ignored his hopeful glances, too exhausted from lack of recharge to process the problem. She didn't even want to care; betrayed, hurt, disgusted. He interfaced, he had sex, with his brother, with his twin. He loved his brother, more than just the brotherly love common in most families. The idea disgusted her, and that he tried to defend his actions, defend his touching her with those same hands… How dare he!
She interacted with Sideswipe no more than she had to, flinching away from his hands as he spoke to her supervisor. She could see the hurt in his face when she did this, but frankly she was convinced she didn’t care. She avoided him as much as possible for the next few solar cycles, renting a berth, or a room, and even going to a recharge station once. She didn't have the courage to explain to any of her friends why she wasn't staying with Sideswipe, even though they certainly noticed her sudden avoidance of the red mech.
All she heard in her processor was the same echo all the time 'He's interfacing with his twin, and that is so wrong, because they can breach each other's firewalls and feel each other in ways that are only meant for bondmates. Disgusting. Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting!' When she was able to return to her apartment, she'd have to get rid of the peripherals he'd left. One's he'd probably used with his twin! The thought disrupted her power relays, churning her holding tanks.
She lay on her rented berth, tear tracks overflowing with liquid, unable to settle into the recharge for which she paid. Sideswipe often joined many of her friends to socialize, leaving her rather bereft of company.
She found herself heading to the library, accessing the files of whatever sparked her interest at that moment. When she grew bored of that, she began sorting through the datapads. She couldn't shake the awful feeling of leaving Sideswipe so abruptly like that, but oftentimes her disgust screamed louder, and she wallowed in her firm belief that such a relationship couldn't be natural.
Yet the hurt and lost look on his face as the doors had closed between them still sent surges of grief through her circuits.
Anger quickly followed and she snapped about, suddenly determined to verify that she had the right of it. She accessed the remote directory, and made her way to the section of datapads dedicated to dry history and the minutes from senate meetings. She recalled from her studies that the topic of sibling relations had been heavily debated before the Firewall Institution Act had passed legislation.
She scanned the correlating datapads, reading the disaster that came from sister bonding to brother, and allowing their spark energies to merge.
'We're both mechs, breaching each other's firewalls is not something we have to worry about.'
Did that make it anymore right for them to treat each other as lovers? What about the boundaries of family and friends? She shuddered at the thought of taking any of her siblings as a lover, of allowing them access to her spark.
Her proximity alarms suddenly went off and she spun around, doorwings dipping down in an instinctive preparation to transform.
A golden mech leaned against the shelf nearby. Stylish vents framed his face, creating a vaguely familiar profile offset by the darkened optics and the smile pulling at his mouth. Blue optics glowed softly with interest at her, mouth curved in a smile. His paint gleamed with recent care, no streaks or scratches marring his plating.
Primus, he was beautiful.
And he was looking at her.
“That must be an interesting read,” his voice matched his appearance, smooth and silky as a waxed finish. He tilted his head, the top of one of his vent horns tapping the shelf he leaned against it, his smile taking on an amused tilt.
Her processor fritzed at her effort to place his familiar visage, intent instead on how he seemed poised to touch her, and the form of his words on his lips. “It’s nothing,” she chuckled, inexplicably nervous in the face of his regard. “It’s just a little dry history.”
“Oh,” he purred, and he took a step closer, “I wasn’t talking about what’s on the datapad.”
Her optics widened, but she didn’t move away. “What else would I be reading? There’s no signs up that I can see, and you don’t have any writing on you.”
His optics flashed and he smiled that dazzling smile of his again, encroaching on her one step more. “There doesn’t have to be writing in order for you to read something.” He casually placed one hand on the shelf next to her, leaning his weight against the structure, and placing one hand on his hip strut. He looked like he was putting himself on display for her, turning his body so that the lights within the library reflected off his paneling.
What a display he made, too.
She stared, doorwings rising, forgetting that he’d spoken.
He leaned closer, dental plates showing in a familiar grin. “Like I said, must be an interesting read.”
She jumped, looking at him in embarrassment when she realized that she’d been staring at his shining chest. She tucked the datapad back into its slot, refusing to look at the golden mech. “I’m sorry. Am I standing in your way?” What could such a beautiful mech possibly want in this section?
He shook his head, optics bright, and he leaned a little closer to her. “No, you’re not. I’ve found what I was looking for.”
Her doorwings shot up. “What?”
He pulled away, the smile never leaving his face. “I have to repeat myself all the time with you, don’t I? I said, I found what I was looking for.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” the amused rumble in his voice sent surges through her circuits, “you.”
This caused her to finally take a step back, and he advanced that one step. “Why would you want me?”
“Why would someone not want you?” he countered.
She retreated again when his hand came up to touch her shoulder tire. “I already have someone.”
His brow ridge lifted, though it wasn’t surprise that touched his face. “Do you?” He pressed forward one more step, and she backed up two.
“Yes, I do,” her vocalizer stuttered from his proximity. “Yes, I-I’m not looking.” She moved away again, and suddenly the shelf wasn’t there anymore. Still he approached, giving her a sense of déjà vu to that night cycle at Sideswipe’s.
“I don’t think you do.” He swung around her, blocking her from backing into the next aisle with his arm.
She found herself pinned to the end of the shelf, trapped by his golden hands. “Wh-What do you know? You don’t know me.”
He tilted his head, looking her over from head to foot. “I know you, Prowl.” He leaned closer, face inexorably near her own.
She slid down, unable to tear her gaze away from his handsome face, from the lips that loomed ever closer. He knew her name? How did he know her name?
He followed her, that grin back in place. He paused by her cheek seam, seeming to take a deep inhalation of her smell. His engine rumbled, and his optics darkened further. “Do like your doorwings, after all.”
“Th-thank you.“ Why did that phrase sound so familiar? It wasn’t so uncommon, clients complimented her on her doorwings all the time. But the wording wasn’t right.
She found it hard to concentrate with him pressing near to her, every sensor on her face seemed to ache with anticipation for his touch.
One of his arms wound around her waist, pulling her away from the wall and against his chestplate. He seemed content to let her rest her head on the edge of his collar ridge, nuzzling against her audio receptor and stroking his other hand over her doorwing.
She shouldn’t be allowing this. That thought made her bring her hands up to his shoulders, lift her head from his chest to look at him, intending to push him away. She didn’t even know his name.
He captured her lips in a kiss, demanding and sensuous, one of his hands caressing her jaw hinge as the other moved across her bumper. He pushed her back against the shelf structure, his mouth moving from her lips to her neck, dental plates nipping gently as he moved down her neck and then back up to her lips.
She shivered at the delightful sensations eddying through her systems, hands still poised to push him away. She found herself kissing him back, doorwings sweeping back to allow him to probe at the hinges. The tips quivered as he instead took her head in his hands to stop her from pressing forward, giving him more control.
He moved in just a little more. His stance widened, allowing her to shape her frame against his. His glossa slid along her lips, stroking along her own.
Her vision flickered, and she felt moisture coating her mouth.
His fingers tightened on her helmet, and he abruptly pulled away, head snapping back as his intakes worked in excited jolts. He released her, stepping back, and looking at her with optics so dark, they seemed deactivated.
She staggered without him there to support her suddenly weak knees.
Then he wasn’t there, and she turned, surprised to see him walking away without another word.
“What-” she whispered. “What the slag was that?” she yelled after him.
He didn't stop or turn, simply continuing his steady pace.
Anger spiked through her, and she shook off the surges of his touch and chased after him.
He quickened his steps, guiding her through the library at nearly a run. His long stride slowed as he left the library, and she ground her dental plates as she realized that he was leading her on. Yet her frustration at his arrogant disregard for what he’d done to her (even if she hadn’t exactly fought him), spurred her to continue after him out of the library.
She came out just as he transformed and swept into traffic, but his golden form stood out in the midst of more sensor friendly colors. The Fineline wove through traffic, literally leading her on as the fast vehicle seemed to take his sweet time for someone trying to get away.
‘The slagger. That slagger! that stupid slagging factory-built spawn!’
He refused to acknowledge her on any channels, even the general public frequencies, as she hailed the only Line model on the road. His taunting in-lane weaving only served to anger her further, her emotional relays sparking past her logic centers and shorting them out. She wasn’t thinking clearly, and he had made her too mad to care.
He pulled over in front of a building, transforming and walking up the ramp that led to its entrance. She pulled alongside the curb a little further back and transformed, skipping onto the curb quickly as another bot pulled up behind her. The stranger's leisurely stroll burned her as he continued to mock her efforts at catching him. She measured her pace out, doorwings flared in anger and drawing the gaze of curious passersby.
She didn't care.
That fragger thought he could use her like some mindless drone, like some doll and walk away as if it'd never happen. Not with Prowl, he couldn't. Not without hearing a few words from her vocalizer. Maybe her fist in his face.
She entered the building, the door unlocked. Her steps echoed ponderously in the empty hallway. A desk stood to her right; a place for the receptionist to greet visitors and direct them to their destinations. She looked left, and saw a shadow crossing the intersection at the end.
She ran.
Her doorwings angled back to reduce the drag across her frame as she pelted around the corner.
There he was.
Still strolling in that lazy arrogant manner. He turned into a room, and she quickly followed.
The mystery mech turned suddenly, grabbing her and shoving her into the wall. Objections died in her vocalizer when he pressed those glorious lips to her neck, his hands digging at her clasps.
Her ventilators chugged on, surprised by the sudden attack, her hands rested on the mag plates set in his shoulder. All thought processes seemed to freeze, only allowing her to focus on the press of his fingers under her plating, and the sweep of his glossa across her dermaplating.
“Is this what you want?” his voice rumbled through her shoulders. He drew her closer, wrapping one arm over her doorwings and behind her shoulders.
“Why are you doing this? I don't even know-mmph!”
He covered her protest with his mouth. Her doorwings twitched up, and she opened her lips to give him access, twining her glossa with his. His hand held her head sedentary, but she still had her hands free. Her friends would tell her that she was a fool if she turned down such a handsome mech, and after- She cut herself from that thought.
She wanted this.
Her fingers stroked the smooth finish of his chestplate, the feel of him as pleasant beneath her fingertips as his appearance was to her optics.
Air whuffed out of the vents on his head, and a smile curled her lips as she sought to bring more of a reaction from his systems. Her hands traveled around his torso, digging into seams that brought pleased noises from his vocalizer and vents. It wasn't the reaction she wanted.
He shifted, trying to pin her arms in place, as though he didn't want her to continue her teasing.
Her doorwings dipped down in stubborn refusal to simply receive his attentions quietly. She slid her hands free and caressed them up his neck, feeling the power thrumming through the lines on his neck. She stroked up his horns, caressing the gilded edges. Her thumbs bumped their way up the ridges of his vents.
His head rolled back, optics flickering, releasing her mouth for only a moment to nip at her wrist. His darkening optics gave tell of just how much that had excited him.
She did it again, delighting in the shiver that went through his frame.
“Frag, that-uhn!” Air hissed from between his dental plates as his vent ridges received another stimulating caress.
Wrapping his other arm around her back, he lifted her with an ease that shouldn't have surprised her. Such a beautiful frame was bound to have some strength behind it. He set her on the sole couch in the room (some part of her processor that was still thinking clearly noticed all the paintings and sculptures that took up a good majority of the space), bending one of her doorwings at an awkward angle. It was the farthest thing from her mind as he ravished her mouth, his hands stroking over her plating, teasing over the clasps.
Her hands pushed at him in protest, and yet they stroked the smooth finish of his chest plate, the well-cared for cells of his magnetic plates. She rubbed her thighs against his waist, finding new spots to make him shiver and grunt; moaned as he worked a few of the clasps to her chest plate loose. His fingertips reached into the gap and caressed one of her breasts, brushing against the sensor node.
The sensation of his hand on her breast surged through her circuits, and lubricant coated her mouth, a gentle, stimulating burn that she wanted to wipe all over his chassis.
He jerked away again, holding his head high, gasping air to cool his heated systems. His glossa flicked out, licking up the trace amounts of the lubricant left on his lips. His optics shuttered, and a moan shook his frame, rumbling from his engine to his vocalizer. “Oh, Primus, I-” His optics opened and they burned indigo, intense, and direct, his gaze locked on her. Smooth and graceful he ducked his head back down, turning his attentions on her neck again.
“Please, I said I'm not looking, I have someone.” She pushed lightly at his shoulders in spite of her protests, thoughts of Sideswipe unwelcome while this glorious mech had his hands on her, his glossa caressing the lines of her neck. She wanted him to never stop what he was doing.
His voice again rumbled through her frame, his hands busy with the clasps holding her chestplate in place. “Not when you've been- ah! -ignoring him for the past few solar cycles-Hnnnn...” His motions turned a little rougher, his dental plates denting the smooth metal of her neck, his hands tugging a little harder at the clasps.
Had he followed her from work? Did she have a stalker and not even know it. She was certain she would have noticed such a beautiful mech in the office, even if he was talking at one of the other desks.
She didn't want to think of it. She didn't want to think of Sideswipe, not when it inevitably lead to thoughts of what she'd seen. “Shut up, you wouldn't understand.” She took hold of his vents, pulling his head up so she could kiss him, so she could rub her fingers over them and make him tremble. Make him want her.
Replace the image in her processor with one so much more pleasant.
“Oh really, I wouldn't?” he murmured against her lips, chuckling. Even with her grip on his audio horns, he resisted the pull to her mouth, though she brushed her lips lightly against his. He stared down at her for a long moment, hands unmoving on her frame, and the expression on his face restrained, as though he wasn't certain he wanted to go through with this.
She didn’t want him to stop, she didn’t want him to hesitate. She ran her hands over his vents, fingering the tips of his horns, and he stopped resisting her. Instead he pressed her down into the couch, tugging at her chestplate until he had a hand completely under it, gripping one of her breasts.
He groaned into her mouth, grinding his hips against her groin covering. Her chestplate suddenly clanged to the floor. He kissed his way down her neck, his hands kneading her breasts. “Forgetting about him so easily?” He mumbled into her collar ridge. His glossa flicked out, tracing the exposed line.
Shouldn't she forget about him after what he'd done. She dug her fingertips into a joint, bending the soft metal and making him hiss. “I don't want to think about it. You wouldn't understand.” Already she felt her mood spoiling, and she finally tried to place his familiarity.
He pulled away, glared down at her, scowl darkening his face in familiar ire. “Frag makes you think I wouldn't?”
Her optics widened as his appearance, his mannerisms suddenly clicked into place alongside that of the scratched and dented artist bent over his work. “You?Get off-”
“Sunny?”
Both of their optics jerked to the door.
Sideswipe stood there, his eyes wide and mouth slack in shock. His blazing optics flicked from Sunstreaker to Prowl and back again as though he wasn't sure with whom he should the angriest.
She kicked Sunstreaker away, her circuits crawling with the feel of his hands on her, the memory of those hands on Sideswipe. She staggered to her feet, only to smack into Sideswipe. He brushed past her, but his glare spoke volumes of the words he didn't say.
He walked straight up to his brother and slugged the beautiful mech across the face. “What the frag do you think you're doing to my femme?”
Prowl's doorwings twitched, calculating the distance between her chestplate and Sideswipe's foot. “Your femme, Sideswipe?” she spat as she reached as quick as she could, snatching the edge of her chestplate.
Sideswipe swept about, blocking her from her plating. They glared at each other for only a brief astrosecond.
Then Sunstreaker pounced, enraged. Sideswipe stumbled forward, knocking Prowl to her knees. She grabbed up the chestplate, and scrambled to her feet. She swiftly got out of the way of the two mechs tussling around on the ground. She dodged away from a flailing leg, and ran for the door, her plating clutched to her chest.
“Sunny, you fragger! Get off me!” Sideswipe's snarl preceded the loud bang of metal striking metal with all the force it was capable of producing. She heard the sound of something crashing to the floor and the pounding of heavy feet.
“Prowl! Wait!”
Panic welled up in her circuits and she dodged around the first corner she came to. Sideswipe clattered around the corner, slamming into the wall as he swung too wide. She dodged around another corner, and another, until she didn’t know which way would head her out of this building. The chatter of several voices echoed up the hall, and she squeaked at her unpresentable condition. She turned and ran back into one of the prior corridors, only to run smack into a red chestplate.
Black hands seized her arms and the voices grew louder. “Stop running away from me, Prowl. What the slag were--“ he stopped as a small group of mechs and femmes turned the corner.
They froze, eying the couple in the corridor. Bright optics inevitably turned to Prowl's bared chest, and she clutched her plating closer, seeking to slide behind Sideswipe's broader frame. The red mech held her with an arm around her shoulders, and a quelling glare.
The lead femme looked from Prowl to Sideswipe, mild curiosity lighting her optics. “Sunstreaker getting into a fight with one of his models again?”
Sideswipe patted Prowl's mag plate, wry grin lighting his face. “Ah, you know Sunny. He could chase a maintenance drone away.” He tugged Prowl closer, grinning down at her stunned optics.
The femme hummed in mild interest, turning to the group she led. “As you can see, we are quite accustomed to the results of artists' temperaments. Now if you'll follow me...”
Sideswipe didn't relax his grip on Prowl's arm until the group moved out of hearing range.
Prowl immediately slid out of his loosened grasp, glaring at him. “How dare you-”
Sideswipe cut her off with a sharp gesture and an even sharper tone. “How dare you!” His dental plates ground together with a squeal. “You won't even say 'hi' to me but you're all over my brother. I thought we disgusted you, Prowl.”
Her vocalizer buzzed in embarrassment as she jabbed a finger down the hallway she had come. “You fragging do! That was not the mech who insulted me that night. How was I supposed to recognize him?”
Sideswipe’s engine snarled, belts and fans squealing unpleasantly. “How could you not recognize him. How many fragging gold mechs do you know?”
“He… He was so different though.” Her doorwings dipped down as her logic programming finally began to boot back up and reassert itself. It brought up an analysis of the differences between the way Sunstreaker acted at the apartment, and his seduction of her at the library. There was no correlation between the two mechs. It had no problem matching up their appearances, diagnostics flashed over her memory of his face, bringing up charts that compared the characteristics of both mechs.
Sideswipe glared at her, apparently unsatisfied with her answer. “And that makes it okay to go around and mess with other mechs?”
She pulled herself from her algorithms to jerk away from the red mech. “Why does that matter? What the slag makes you think it's your problem?”
He grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Because you're still mine-”
Her fist lashed across his face, white knuckles denting perfect cheek seams. “How dare you! How dare you think that after what I saw.”
He fingered the print left on his face, optics flashing, but when he touched her again, his grip was much gentler. Still she pulled away pressing against the wall, seeing all too clearly those same hands on his brother. “I'm not a monster, slaggit, Prowl. You don't have to act like I'm about to chew your circuits.”
“Don’t touch me!”
His optics narrowed, but he pulled his fingers away, although they still hovered close. “I told you, I'm not a slagging monster, don't act like I am! I just want you to give me a chance, I just want you to listen.” He didn't touch her, but he still trapped her with his frame, leaning his forehead against the wall, hands braced beneath her doorwings.
She flattened herself against the wall, turning her face away from his. She trembled at his proximity, waiting for his arms to encircle her; for him to give her another reason to strike. “What did I ever see in you? You slagging jack into one another, and you never told me this! Is that why you didn't invite me over, sooner? So I wouldn't find out? What about the trust, we're sup-”
He laughed, at himself, at her, she wasn't sure. The self-deprecating sound blew over her audio receptors; he'd turned his head to face her. “This is exactly why I didn't bring you over before. I knew you wouldn't be able to take it!” His hands finally moved, completing the circuit around her waist, drawing her toward him again. “I normally bring femmes home for only a recharge cycle or two. I...” his optics hummed with a power surge: amusement. “I don't think he realized you were that Prowl.”
Her fuel pump raced in her chest, and she trembled in his grip. “So, what, if he'd known you would have simply kept the secret longer? He's your slagging brother, how could you-”
“He's my twin,” Sideswipe was quick to correct, relaxing his hold on her waist. He pulled his head away from the wall, looking down at her with softly glowing optics. “How could I not?”
Her own optics burned with indignation. “What the slag are you talking about?”
He reached up to caress her cheek, wiping away tears she hadn't even realized were there. “Is it wrong for a bonded pair to interface like that?”
She jerked back, doorwings smacking painfully into the wall. “Are you trying to-”
“Just answer the question, please.”
She glared up at him, turning her face away from his hand. “No.”
His other hand came up, caressing her other cheek, forcing her to look at him. “We would have waited, until you understood what we meant to each other.”
“And you think this would have made it okay? That I would have been fine with my lover having sex with his brother.” She tried to pull his hands away from her face, but the mech proved stronger.
His face loomed closer, optics on hers. His lips brushed her own and she shuddered in revulsion. “It’s not wrong for a bonded pair to interface, but it is for us? How is that right? We’re bonded, but we can’t have sex?”
She strained against his hands, dental plates gritted. “It’s not the same.”
“I love him, Prowl.” He slid a hand down her chassis, fingers brushing gently, soothingly against her exposed breast, and wrapped his arm around her waist. “How is that not the same?”
“It's not the same, you're his brother! You shouldn't love each other like that.” Her circuits crawled with his touch, but the look on his face; lost and frightened, crawled through her spark.
“How many siblings are tied to each other like we are?” His voice rumbled in her audio receiver, so like that strange golden Sunstreaker had earlier; a fact logged in her profiling program. She closed her optics, unable to help the memory of his voice rumbling in her audio like this while he told her a humorous story, or teased her in his charming way. “How many know what it's like to share a shell, and to feel their pain, or elation, no matter how far apart they are?” He tightened his grip on her, and she lifted her shutters. “Tell me it's wrong, Prowl. Your logic center should understand. Don't let what others believe dictate your life. See with your own optics.”
She stared straight ahead, not returning his desperate embrace. “I can't Sideswipe. I-I need to think, I can't think with your arms around me.”
He pulled away, releasing her completely and stepping away. He regarded her quietly for a moment, before he reached out and took her hand. “Let's get you a little cleaned up, at least, and let you get your plating back on. Come on, Sunny has a store of midgrade in his studio.”
“His studio?” Her voice trailed off, still dazed from all that had happened so quickly.
Sideswipe chuckled, leading her through the hallways. “Yeah, how else do you think he got in after hours. He comes here when he needs space, or privacy. Or when he's using a stranger as a model.”
They entered the large room, and the red mech set her on the sole couch, hands everywhere, but still considerate, even as he helped her put her chestplate back on.
Prowl moved obediently to his commands, processor running at tetrabytes per astrosecond. She jumped when he lay her horizontally, but his murmured reassurances and then immediate absence put her at ease. She lay there throughout the recharge cycle, staring at the lights burning brightly above; aware of the sharp scrapes of a brush against a canvas.
When she heard them, sometime after the lights had darkened, even muted as they made themselves, she shut off her audio receptors. Still her CPU whirled with all Sideswipe had told her, comparing it against everything she knew, or thought she knew, and everything she believed.
She stared at nothing, peripherally aware of the vague shadows that occasionally circled her, lit only by pairs of blue lights. She stared, until her optics slid close and she fell into a restless recharge.
~*~*~*~
Prowl woke with a start, the almost common novelty of coming online somewhere strange having yet to wear off. Sideswipe lay on a travel recharge plate on the floor, sprawled across it with all the fervor of the blissfully recharging.
She sat up and stared at him, tracing the angles of his plating with her optics. His face lay in relaxed, peaceful lines, so unlike his normal intense or grinning expression. She trailed the fine lines of the canopy on his back, following it down to the aft that she knew so well. Her new knowledge of him hadn’t changed his appearance any, or even her perception of it (though she had no doubt that was largely due to her rather lateral programming), he was still a fine-looking mech.
She stood, unable to continue sitting there without being tempted to reach out and touch him. She didn’t want to wake him. She still wasn’t ready to face him yet. She had nowhere to go, and still two cycles before she would be needed at her work.
Sunstreaker was nowhere to be seen, but she could hear the incessant scrape of brush against canvas. If he was working, then surely his audio receptors were off, leaving him in his world void of sound.
She quietly wandered around the room, admiring the paintings and sculptures-metal and rock and clay. Hidden away in the back of the studio, separated by a partition, sat a well-worn berth. Her optics dimmed as she saw the red and yellow streaks on it, fresh but mixed within a rainbow of other colors.
But then her eyes were drawn up and she stared at the painting above the berth.
Sideswipe smirked at the painter, an intensity in his optics that she had never seen before. A burning come hither that seemed to sear right into her optics and engave onto her spark. His fist propped his chin up, in turn his thigh propped his elbow, his foot resting on the boundary of color that was the background. He splayed his legs, displaying himself to the world, if it wasn’t for the chestplate held over his groin. The loving touches of shadow and light, the thin lines along his joints, demonstrated just how well the painter knew that frame. Even with the dash of color on the background, there was nothing to see but the red twin: the focal point of the painter’s attention, the object of his desire.
She stared. Sideswipe’s naked form was no curiosity to her, it was a territory that she had explored on numerous occasions. But never with such loving attention. The Sideswipe in the painting should start laughing, the smirk morph into the lovable grin she knew him for.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you about going where you’re not invited? Primus, this is what caused this whole slagging situation.”
Prowl snapped her jaw close, spinal relay tightening as she spun about.
Sunstreaker glowered at her, his gaze slowly flicking to the painting. Instead of the proud smile she expected of him, his expression turned fierce. He had the look of a zealot whose sacred altar had been tainted by the touch of the unfaithful.
She couldn't believe that he was hiding this masterpiece back here, and told him as much.
An offended look crossed his face, as though he couldn't believe she'd just said that. “Why the slag would I leave something like this out where everyone can see it? That's my inspiration, right there. Why the slag would I leave it out for it to be mocked by the likes of you?”
“Mocked?” Her doorwings tightened behind her, surprised that he would suggest such a thing. “How could I be mocking that? It's beautiful...”
The blue optics burned. “Beautiful?” He leaned toward her, dental plates bared in a snarl. His voice dropped to a hiss. “I thought we were disgusting.”
She leaned away from him. “That's an entirely different thing!”
“Is it?” he snapped. “That's no different to me, Prowl.” Despite his harsh words, his voice never rose above its normal range. “That is Sideswipe, as I see him.” His gaze flicked from her to the painting, and for the briefest of astroseconds the harsh light softened “That is the Sideswipe I want to touch, that I love so much.” His optics narrowed and a growl rumbled out of his engine. “But you don't want to hear this, do you?” He took a step toward her, and she retreated a step to the side. “You wouldn't even listen to him, why the frag would you listen to me?
He watched as she backed out of the alcove. “I'm not taking this from you. Not after that stunt you pulled yesterday.
He snarled. “Like you were objecting, then? You didn't seem to have any problem with it at the time. Primus, you slagging followed me here. You wanted it! You slagging little-”
He never finished his sentence as her fist landed square in his mouth. “That's what I followed you here for! You're the one who grabbed me. I didn't recognize you! You're the one who was all over the femme that your brother supposedly loves. The one that he lied to.”
“What the slag is going on?” Sideswipes' static-filled voice drew their attention. “Sunny, Prowl? What are you doing over there?”
Prowl turned to face the red twin as he stood and approached them. “Your brother is being an aft again, Sideswipe.”
Sideswipe narrowed his optics at Sunstreaker.
Sunstreaker jumped as though struck. “It's not my fault that your femme is too stupid to know when to stay out of other's business-”
“What?”
“She's the one snooping around other people's homes-”
“Shut it, Sunny.” Sideswipe stood next to her, hand light on her shoulder as he drew her away. It was then that she noticed the small trace of yellow on his jaw hinge, almost hidden within the slight curves of a healing finger imprint.
She jerked away from Sideswipe, optics locked on that small scrape. “You were with him last night?” The soft sounds of two mechs gasping with passion and need flitted across her memory. Her optics widened, and she clapped her hands to her audio receivers as if that could prevent her from remembering the sounds. “Oh, Primus, you were!”
Sideswipe grabbed her before she had a chance to run away. “Please wait. Let me talk. Let me explain.” He flicked his fingers at Sunstreaker. “Just ignore him, all right. He's an aft and doesn't know when to cut his vocalizer off.”
“And you can’t keep your hands off him, can you?” she snapped.
He rubbed at his cheek guard, pulling at his audio horn. “This is his studio, I told you…”
“I don’t want to hear it. I need to head to work.” She glared at Sideswipe’s hand until the black fingers released her arm.
Sideswipe scowled. “Stubborn, little glitch,” he growled. “I thought you were willing to listen, at least.”
“I said I needed to think about it, and who are you calling a glitch-” She cut herself off from following that line of thought. She didn’t want to alienate him completely.
Hands curled into angry fists squeaked by his side. “It doesn’t usually take you this long to make a decision.”
“I usually don’t have everything I believe thrown in my face.”
“How ‘bout me? how ‘bout what I believe? You’re not even giving me the chance to explain…”
“Because I’m not ready to hear it!” With that she snapped around on her toe joint and stalked out of the studio.
She couldn't miss the crash of shattering clay, or the angry shout that followed her.
She ducked her head, doorwings dipping low, and simply quickened her steps.
~*~*~*~
Waverunner chimed for her attention over the comm. Prowl opened the requested channel, redirecting a portion of her processing power to acknowledge her coworker.
“You have a visitor out here.”
More attention turned toward the conversation. “A what?” Who would come here to see her?
“A visitor! Oh Primus, Prowl, is he available? I know he’s not yours, you have Sideswipe.”
She had never told any of her friends or colleagues of the currently halted relationship. Prowl narrowed her optics, halting the program she was running and shoving it to the back of her processor, locking the screen on her workstation. She disconnected herself from the console. “Did he give his name?”
It wouldn’t be Sideswipe, he would just waltz in like he had business there (which normally he did). However, the way Waverunner was all but lubricating over the mech, made her suspect.
There was a brief pause before Waverunner responded. “He just wants you to come out here for a moment.” Prowl detected the slight pout in the receptionist’s tone.
Prowl shrugged her doorwings and headed for the reception area. The door opened before her, and she immediately saw, and recognized, her ‘visitor.’
Sunstreaker leaned over the receptionist’s desk, shamelessly flirting with Waverunner and Skywing.
Primus, what was up with him.
The light played over his once-again flawless paint job, golden hands flashing as he gestured with the point he was softly making to the two femmes.
His head turned when the door opened, and Prowl found herself once again captivated by the perfection of the mech. His optics flashed at her and a sultry smile graced his face.
She collected herself quickly as she saw the way her coworkers looked at him. “I thought femmes didn’t spark your circuits, Sunstreaker.”
He tilted his head, so that his brow dropped at a dangerous angle to her perception, never losing his sensuous smile. “I never said that, Prowl. I just don’t need to bring them home.” He turned his full smile on her once more.
She twitched her doorwings, maintaining her hold on her professional programming to resist his allure.
He turned back to the two femmes at the desk. “I seem to have thrown Prowl off-kilter, perhaps you can direct us to someplace more private?”
“Right here is fine, Sunstreaker. I have work I need to get back to.”
He tilted his head in that deceivingly dangerous way again, not missing her veiled insult. “Fine.” He didn’t look at the two femmes again as he approached Prowl.
She stiffened, doorwings rising as she admired his smooth gait. She lifted her chin as his hands slid around her shoulders. “Well?”
“I'm sorry.”
Something in her glitched. “What did you say?” She couldn't quite believe her audio sensors.
He didn't so much frown as he simply smoothed his face into an all too perfect straight line. “I should have been more courteous to you. I was wrong to treat you like a throw away doll.” He leaned his head forward, pressing his forehead against her thin chevron. “I'm sorry.”
Prowl's processor locked up, unable to excuse those words this time as being misheard. She was aware of the gentle squeeze of his fingers on her mag plates, the rush of air across her face. She looked up at him, meeting his soft optics.
“Who the frag are you, and what have you done with Sunstreaker?”
“I can be nice when I want to be,” he whispered back, his voice husky with emotion. “I can be nice, for Sideswipe. I... didn't mean to go that far-” She halted him with a hand over his mouth.
“Let's go somewhere more private.”
“Prowl, we are so jealous! What about Sideswipe?”
Prowl glared at Waverunner before she pulled away from Sunstreaker and lead him to an unused office. She closed and locked the door, turning to face the golden mech.
He posed against the desk in the office, automatically angling himself to catch the light better.
Her fuel pump stuttered at the sight of him and she stopped just out of her arm's reach. She tried to pick up her train of thought, but he was entirely too distracting.
He stared up at the ceiling lost in his thoughts for a brief breem before he turned to her. “You really hurt Sideswipe, you know. I just want you to give him a chance, and listen to him. I know most people would react like you did to learning-”
She took another step forward and put her fingers over his lips. He stared down at them, then frowned at her. Primus, this still isn't the Sunstreaker from the apartment or the studio. She couldn't resist the urge to stroke his lips, trailing her fingers down to his shoulder and tugging him toward her.
He resisted.
Her doorwings flicked and she glanced toward a corner in the front of the office where she knew a camera was hidden. He followed her gaze and reluctantly gave in to her next tug. She leaned her thighs against the desk, pulling him closer. He braced his hands on the desk, avoiding her frame and her doorwings. He resisted again when she tried to draw his head closer.
“What's up with the sudden change? You were eager yesterday,” she hissed at him.
“I'm not trying to get you to follow me today.” But he pressed closer, nuzzling her cheek, his lips caressing her chin. “That's all I wanted you to do, follow me, and stay until Sideswipe returned.” His arms slid around her waist, squeezing in a brief hug. “I didn't mean to get carried. It was disrespectful to Sideswipe,” he paused and his face slipped briefly into the Sunstreaker she saw only in private, “and you, too.” He leaned his head against her chevron again. “I'm sorry.”
Her doorwings drooped. “If you don't stop saying that, you're going to blow a fuse in my systems.”
A smile, a real smile, crossed his face, (oh, Primus, could it be any lovelier than the one he wore when she first saw him at the library) and he laughed. “Are you so sensitive?” His voice purred, and his hand trailed down her back, and he pressed her against the desk, nipping at her jaw hinge.
“Sunstreaker...” she moaned, pressing her hands to his chestplate. “You’re doing it again.”
“Really like your doorwings,” he murmured back, trailing up to her lips. His hands slid up the bottom edges of her doorwings, fingers light along the gilding. The tips quivered under the sensory assault.
She swept her doorwings forward to keep Sunstreaker's fingers from exploring their hinges. “What you and Sideswipe do is wrong.”
He lifted his head and looked her in the optics. “Is it, really? We're siblings, but more than that we're twins. We're a truly split spark, it happened after separation from our mother.” His fingers tightened on her canopy. “Show me where they've ever discussed true twin relationships.” He released her, venting and clenching his fists as he restrained himself. “I just want you to give Sideswipe another chance. I'll be in the studio until late this evening.”
She watched as he walked out the office door, leaving her alone in the spare office; processor cycling his words.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Twin Ties