Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Ghosts	By : bleedingink Category: Transformers > G1 > Het - M/F Views: 2136 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor am I making a profit by writing this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
@LadyStarscream: To answer your question, ‘Swarm’ is the name given to the horde of rejected Insecticons in the IDW comics. And thank you for reviewing! :]

Ghosts IV

Last night - she wanted to wake up and find that it was all a dream. The shutters concealing those bright, blue orbs slid back to reveal anxiety and fright; it was real. Moonracer wanted to ask Perceptor why and how, but found herself trembling with some unknown emotion whenever he entered her thoughts.

*Elita...*

*Yes, dear?*

*Can you... Can you meet me in the temple ruins?*

*Of course.*

The pale-colored femme sluggishly stood from her berth and made her way to the ruins; faster and faster, hoping to bypass the hungry stares the mechs were sure to give her if they caught sight of her. As she reached the entrance, Moonracer forced herself upon the door, feeling her mind reel with flashbacks; and as the door gave way, she collapsed and whimpered as her pelvic plating collided with the cold, hard floor.

“Oh, Moonracer...”

She peered up into the optics of the female commander; “Elita-”

“Shh...” Elita knelt by her side and gave the youth’s helm a gentle caress. She knew exactly what happened and Moonracer cringed with embarrassment at the knowing look. “You are still receptive, my love,” she began, tilting the femme’s chin, “He will come back for you, to finish the job.” Moonracer pulled away and sat up to glare at her superior. “I don’t want this, Elita... I don’t want to fall so deep into this - this mess.”

“It is not a mess, Moonracer; it is your chance to prove yourself - to him, to all of them.”

The two sat in silence for what felt like the longest time.
“What am I going to do without you, Elita? When the hatchling breaks...” Lubricants soon fell from the narrow ducts in the corners of her optics. “Moonracer, I will always be there. I will watch your child grow and live; that, alone, is a miracle for our species. I only wish Optimus and I could’ve taken the time out of our busy schedules to build our own family...” Moonracer shook her head, “What if Optimus is still alive!? You can’t act on ignorance!”

She quickly pursed her lips, knowing she had stepped out of line, but soon found herself pulled into a loving embrace. “I can feel him... He is alive, but I’m afraid it won’t be long before he joins the Well. I wish to meet him there.” Elita paused and glanced down at the younger female. “Live for me, Moonracer; you and your hatchling.” Moonracer buried her face in the commander’s chest, never wanting to let go of the one she’d come to know as a maternal figure. “The second part of your cycle will be difficult for you... Take this.” Elita removed a small package from subspace and held it before her; “You will do fine,” she added with a smile.

Moonracer took the gift in hand and looked it over, curious of its contents. “What is it?” she asked. Elita gave a friendly scoff, “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it? Go on; you must complete your mission.” She helped the gunner to her feet and gestured to the entranceway. The smaller female turned to eye the other. “Are you coming?”

“Not tonight, my love... My own cycle is approaching and you know what that means.”

With a soft, sorrowful sigh, the youth made her way back to her quarters, attempting to clear her cheeks and optics of the lubricant. The halls were empty, but at least it gave her some comfort. She knew the other mechs and femmes were busy “saving the species”; was she the only one incapable of feeling... proud about it? It wasn’t that she wanted their race to die out, but to be used in such a way - before she was even ready! - it... hurt.

Moonracer sat the package atop her desk and leaned over the container in silent contemplation. She then felt arms snake around her torso, rough, battle-scarred hands caressing the contours of her sturdy frame. She inhaled sharply; “How-?” “If you attended my sessions, you would know,” he retorted.

She turned to face the sniper, staring into those cold optics. “How could I,” she countered, “when I can’t even stand to look at you?” Perceptor emitted a deep rumble from within his chest and waited a moment before pressing closer. “It is natural, that you feel this way about me.” How could she not trust him? He would never hurt her, nor would he lie to obtain his desires. Moonracer felt her systems flare at the closeness, at his scent. She turned her back to him, eliciting a faint purr from the mech. It was the common and natural position for Cybertronians; the smaller, less bulkier of the pair submitting freely to their partner; to entice the potential sire, increasing his virility.

Of course, Moonracer was oblivious - being a “newbie” and all.

“I want to fuck you.”

Her optics widened upon hearing the sophisticated and often methodical microscope use such human profanity. It came out of nowhere, and yet her body responded so well to it; she felt the lubricant seep from beneath her plating, which promptly retracted in readiness. This was it. For conception to take place, the gestation chamber must be full, and it takes at least two rounds to complete such a task. Moonracer chewed at her lower lip as more of that copious fluid escaped her valve. She knew her scent was heavy in the air; she knew Perceptor could smell her and it wasn’t long before he coaxed her over the desk in preparation for her descent into unknown territory.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Again, the shutters concealing her line of sight retracted, only for her to find that it was still very much reality. For once, her body didn't feel so hot; was she...? Moonracer sat up and started to ponder the situation, when the door slid open to reveal a panicky Hot Rod. "We have to go!" he said, "We have to go now!" He took her by the wrist, despite her struggling, and drug her out of the room and down the hall. "What's going on? And let me go!"

"The Swarm." It was all that needed to be said, and her thoughts immediately went to Elita, but there wasn't time for that.

She was hefted up and onto Roadbuster... next to Perceptor. "Uh... Hi," she greeted timidly. The sniper gave her a quick glance - an unfriendly glance, at that - and continued to hold his rifle close. As the group went on their way, Moonracer slid a little closer to the crimson mech; “Is that it?” He lowered his gaze to the passing ground. “Now that it’s all said and done, you don’t want anything to do with me...” Mating usually happened between a bonded pair; not on a whim - unless, of course, the mech had the intention of raping another. But he wasn’t like that. He was... just following orders...

The other females were just as disappointed.

Chromia was forced to stay with the group, her temporary mate being none other than Blaster, who followed closely behind. Since then, she hardly spoke; the others joked that Blaster, being the communications officer, fragged her speechless. Of course, they never openly said this, lest they get the business end Chromia’s treasured gun.

“We’ve sent Hot Rod to scout ahead.” Kup removed the cy-gar and gestured for the group to stop. “We’ll wait here for his signal,” he added, hopping down from the truck.

Each Cybertronian made for their own spot in the shadows.
Moonracer followed after Perceptor, determined to speak with him about their situation. “Perceptor.” She watched as the microscope set up his rifle. “Please... Say something!”

“What do you want me to say?” he countered, casting a harsh glare in her direction. She stood there in silence, shocked at the look. Perceptor emitted a soft growl and turned back to his weapon. Moonracer frowned and sat against the wall, hurt and embarrassed beyond belief.

“I apologize, Moonracer...”

“Heh, that’s a first.”

“Either take it or leave it, you pesky bitch.”

Both froze at that.

Perceptor was the first to move; he turned to face the femme, about to apologize once more, when she tackled him to the ground, straddling his waist. “Moonracer?”

“I looked up to you, even before the mess with Turmoil, before you became this - this hardcore hermit that uses Drift as a stress relief squishy ball! People took you for granted, thought you weren’t good enough to be an Autobot, to fight with the rest of them... You were just a scientist trying to make it in this pointless war... Now look at you; you’re nothing more than a cold, heartless man with unwavering loyalty to the Autobots’ cause, ready and willing to kill without a second thought... and you chose me, a lowly female, young and naive, to be your trainee... and here I am, carrying your hatchling in the middle of it all... does any of that mean a damn thing to you?”

The scientist stared, perplexed by her sudden rant. “...a stress relief squishy ball?” A lighthearted snigger escaped her at the genuine expression of pure bewilderment. She lifted her hand to caress his cheek, brushing her fingertips beneath the altered monocle that composed his right optic. How could she even respond to that?

“Moonracer?”

“Yes?”

“I must return to my station.”

Her smile faded. “Of course,” she said, moving to let him up. Perceptor went to his rifle and stared out at the vastness of their dying planet. Moonracer, however, unconsciously moved behind him, slipping her arms about his waist as she rested her head between his shoulders. The sniper allowed it for the time being, letting her sleep against him while he kept a watchful eye on their location, all the while mulling over her words.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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

Ghosts