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Sunny Disposition	By : paw07 Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 5677 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Note: all flashbacks are quoted from the pervious chapter 3 of this story, Sunny Disposition; they are not being quoted from another source.

Chapter 5: Bleeding
XXX
Sunny could only stare at the ceiling as he onlined. He didn’t recall going into recharge, but given his shaken disposition last night, Ratchet probably gave him a sedative which would explain why his leg now seemed completely repaired. He cursed the medic. With the pain of his leg gone, his mind was now reflecting on what had happened with sickening scrutiny. His mind kept replaying it, wondering if there was a way for him to still share his spark with his brother and hide what had happened with Megatron. He knew there wasn’t but his mind kept poking at reality with its dull stick, his fingers full of slivers yet reality showed not even a single blemish in its perfect bubble.
He dulled his optics, his hand coming to lie on his abdomen. His valve gave a throb… he was wet down there and not from arousal. He hadn’t had a chance to look at it given the obvious circumstances but a part of him knew that the wetness wasn’t due to sexual want but from sexual hurt, during the night of passion his valve had surely ripped. He had barely noticed once the larger mech had started to slam into him with repeatedly like waves into a shore, but now he realized that Megatron had been too big and now he was suffering the consequences. He was bleeding down there and could only thank Primus that he had put a rag down there under his cod piece before arriving at the Autobot base, knowing all too well that fluids would be dripping out of his valve.
Well, he was dripping but not what he expected. Swallowing, Sunstreaker tried to focus his gaze anywhere but at his cob piece because the medic just noticed he was awake and he didn’t need the medic there right now. Though, with ripped valves, one was supposed to go to a medic immediately.
“Sunstreaker,” said Ratchet in a soft voice as he drew in close to Sunny, placing a hand on the mech’s shoulder. “You are awake. Are you feeling better?”
The golden warrior frowned, not liking the soft smile on Ratchet’s face. The healer was being too terribly kind… Ugh, he could taste the pity like a sour rottenness in his mouth. The slagger was trying to make up for nearly getting his patient raped as well as trying to treat Sunny for some nonexistent “trauma” he had received when Sideswipe tried to press himself onto him. Pressing away his disgust, the front-liner stated, “I see you finished my leg while I was out so I should be fine. Can I leave now?!”
Ratchet frowned at the bitterness escaping the twin’s vocals. Usually, he’d slap the mouthy mech across the helm to get him or her to show some respect, but then again the flavor of rage could be Sunny’s way of covering up his feelings. Mentally adding that probable conclusion to Sunstreaker’s file, he continued, “Yes… and no. After hearing about the situation with Sideswipe, Prime gave me exclusive rights to remove you from active duty until I have given you a satisfactory bill of health. In this case: mental health. He doesn’t need you snapping on the battlefield.”
With a grown of his engine, Sunstreaker was sitting up, his lip twitching as he growled, “I don’t need a physiological exam! Red Alert walks around here all day and isn’t removed from active duty whenever he had one of his freak outs! So why should I have to!”
“Calm down, Sunstreaker,” added Ratchet in a cool tone, his optics becoming bright. “I will have Ironhide restrain you if you try to leave. You will be talking to me if you want to or not. I know what’s best for you so lay the frag down, recharge a little more, and I’ll talk to you later. If you need anything, ask First Aid or Swoop.”
The yellow mech’s optics became really bright as he turned and noticed that there were four other mechs in the room … listening to their conversation. Ironhide had First Aid hovering over him, looking at what looked like a damaged optic, fluids dripping down his cheek; Inferno’s windshield was cracked and one of the wing-like appendages near his head was all but ripped off. He gave Sunstreaker a forlorn smile before turning back to Swoop who was fingering the windshield, picking out small pieces of glass that fell to the floor with a small tinkering noise.
Sunny swallowed, part of his mind putting two and two together, “What happened?”
“Your slaggen brother, that’s what,” growled the medic as he placed a tool or two into his sub-space compartment. “He woke up and nearly ripped the cell door off so Ironhide and Inferno tried to subdue him. If you think they look bad, you should see your brother… Prime got to him and after hearing that he…”
Ratchet went silent at this when he noticed that Sunny was digging his fingers into the berth, his engine wheezing. He swallowed his words, patting the mech on the shoulder as he stated, “Well, I better go look at him. I’ll be back in a little bit.”
Ratchet then left, grumbling something about a toaster.
Sunstreaker, not knowing what else to do, sat there on the berth, staring at the door. He felt raw, sick inside. His valve hurt, Ironhide and Inferno were throwing him odd glances from time to time, and he could feel Sideswipe just pressing into the spark-bond despite Sunstreaker’s block.
He needed to get away and be alone, somewhere far from peering eyes. He could feel it creeping up on him… it had been doing so since he had woken up. He hadn’t been allowed to suffer the after effects of what his brother had done, what had happened with Megatron, his brother’s abandonment, and the exposure of his second-born shame. He needed time to himself… he needed some time to weep over his sorrows.
He would never cry in the presence of others.
Choking on a sob that threatened to escape his vents, Sunstreaker dragged and covered his optics with his hand as he sat on the edge of his berth, not wanting the others to see the shivering of his optics. Cybertronians did not shed tears the way humans did but they did have their own breed of crying: engines would hiccup and skip, their fans would choke, bodies would slightly tremble, the spark would shiver, and the optics would shudder on and off involuntarily. All the other symptoms varied, but the shivering of the optics always occurred.
He was already thought of as weak due to Sideswipe’s outburst… he didn’t need another reason to be considered weak. He would not give them another reason. Rising to his feet and trying to control the fading composure of his vents as much as possible, Sunstreaker headed for the doors of the medical bay, his optics directed anywhere but towards the other residences. He didn’t care if Ratchet went rampant when he came back to find Sunny gone, he just needed to get out of here.
He knew it was coming, but it still made him stall, “Sunstreaker,” it was First Aid, “is something wrong? If you need something, I will get it. Just lie down like Ratchet asked.”
It took a lot of self control not to choke as he spoke, “I’m going to my room… if Ratchet wants to talk to me he can talk to me there.”
Ironhide’s voice cracked as he shouted, “Now don’t you start given us trouble like your brother! Get back in that berth younglin’ before I drag you.”
Sunstreaker stiffened in the shoulders, hearing the old mech call him youngling stirring rage into his being; it was worse than being called a virgin because it subtly suggested that he was even too young to have intercourse. He turned, caring little if they’d all see his grief, as he yelled, “I am not a youngling that needs to be babied and pitied like Bumblebee! I’m fraggen leaving! The fricken virgin reject will be leaving your presence now.”
Ironhide was drawn back by the comment and merely moved his lips as if trying to think of anything to say, but, before he could even think of anything, the door slid shut, the sunshine colored mech gone.
XXX
Sunstreaker could only sit on his berth, legs dangling like vines from a tree. The room was dark, welcoming all shadows and ghosts to further the flavor of his sorrow. This was all Bluestreak’s fault. The slaggen little gunner had to have shook his aft in just the right way or given that naive smile of innocence at the exact moment to make Sideswipe see him as something other than a youngling, something that could be fragged. He looked down at his hands, looking at the scratched paint. He could see the grey smudges on it, but if anyone saw it they probably didn’t even think of Megatron, that these hands had caressed and pleasured Megatron… like some kind of cheep pleasure-bot.
His tanks churned, and Sunstreaker put a hand on either side of him to grip his berth as he leaned his head forward, opening his mouth. It was a dry, sickening cough, a little bit of spittle the only thing dripping down to the floor. He remained that way though, his abdomen bowing to his legs and he coughed again, memories flashing like a thousand turning signals at night on the highway.
- Pulling away from the hand that had revealed his prize to him, the old warrior’s fingers suddenly dipped into the port which was surrounded by a collection of sensitive wires. Sunstreaker, below him, bared his dental plating, offlining his optics as he thrusted upward into Megatron’s hand…
Aft shifting with the ghostly feel of Megatron’s fingers, Sunny tried to chase away the sickness that was growing. H-how could he have…
Megatron started to rub his hard wire over the open port, letting the other’s interface unit turn and lock downwards so they could enter each other. Sunstreaker, in return, started to rub against Megatron’s leaking port and cone, feeling Megatron’s own coolant start to escape his port. -
Sunstreaker groaned, more spittle dripping down the side of his mouth and to the floor. H-how could he have let the other enter him like that. Frag, he was even wet like a little desperate first-time-interfacing femme.
- Megatron started to rub his hard wire over the open port, letting the other’s interface unit turn and lock downwards so they could enter each other. Sunstreaker, in return, started to rub against Megatron’s leaking port and cone, feeling Megatron’s own coolant start to escape his port. -
He had even locked his spike down like an in-heat dog.
- Megatron merely grunted in satisfaction and took that as a surrendering action and started to thrust into the other’s systems a little more violently, getting the sound of catching vents with every thrust inward. -
He had just laid there and took it, his first fragging time alone he had acted like a helpless femme with her legs wide open. His lovers with Sideswipe never were the dominate partner. Not once. And here he gave it all away. He gave away the most sacred thing of all transformers like it was nothing, his spark. He polluted his spark.
- Opening his chest, Megatron revealed his almost silver colored spark and watched as Sunstreaker’s optics stared at it with fascination. There was no hesitation after that. -
The choking finally gave way to something real and it all came out, the polluted taste of regret. He regurgitated what energon Ratchet had forced in his systems, the stuff splattering all over the floor. Sunny’s form shook as he stared at the slightly digest and glowing energon on the floor. It reminded him slightly of the nanite-charged come that his port had hungrily swallowed up when Megatron released into his port; the come that was still whisking around in his reproductive chamber like a nauseating reminder.
His systems regurgitated again at the thought and continued to do so, fans nearly overheating until all Sunny could do was choke on his shaking breath as he stared at the growing mess on the floor. He-he was nothing but a wet little whore that had given up his brother for a night of pleasure and release. His legs shifted at the thought… a little horrified that he was still wet. Looking at the floor, Sunstreaker reached for his cod piece. The floor was already wet so he just as well clean his port up… and empty his reproductive chamber.
Jumping to the floor, Sunstreaker stepped over the mess on the floor and went to a collection of drawers on the wall. His fingers automatically stilled just as he was about to grab the handle… this was technically his brother’s drawer; Sideswipe would always clean both of their interfacing equipment afterwards, not wanting any corrosion or to catch slag from Ratchet for blocked or sore interfacing equipment.
Swallowing, his fingers pulled open the drawer without another moment of hesitation and he pulled out some cleaning rags, a suction-cup looking tool that had a clear tube at the end, and a gentle solvent. He moved back to his berth and slowly opened his legs; there was a click as he opened his cod piece. His lip twitched in disgust as he looked at the liquids that had dried on the back of the piece and the wet rag within. His optics dulled as he slowly whispered for the lights to turn on. His fingers twitched as the light revealed the energon.
He was bleeding.
The mech took in a deep breath, his fans humming. Slowly, he leaned back and stared down. More energon. Slag… the warlord had been big and it also explained the ache he had been feeling. Licking his lips, Sunstreaker readied himself; slowly, he pressed his fingers into his valve to assess the damage. Touching the raw, healing, sides nearly made him gasp but instead he gritted his dental plating, optics shivering. Slag… it was nasty. He really should go see Ratchet for this; an interface injury was not something to mess around with but it wasn’t like he had a choice. Removing his finger, he looked at the thickened energon with its mix of Megatron’s fluids. His lip twitched and he quickly grabbed a clean rag and some solvent. He wetted it and slowly started wiping, cringing as he started pushing it up into his valve. He wiped around, pushing up and down as if slow-fucking a tampon and only pulled it out when he felt his fingers starting to get wet.

Two rags later, his valve was aching but at least he felt “clean”. Well, as clean as he was ever going to get and now he was going to try and drain himself. Usually, mech would just leave a rag under their cod piece and allow their body to absorb the soft metals offered by the nanites and drain the rest naturally as a slow drip.
He didn’t want to absorb anything from Megatron and forever have a piece of the fragger inside him. He wouldn’t allow it. Taking up the suction tool, Sunstreaker took a breath. He usually didn’t bother since Sideswipe was the only one ever allowed to come in him, and he was pristine; if his rag even started to feel damp it gave him a reason to take a shower. That was probably the only reason he let Sideswipe be dominate from time to time: it gave him a reason to be conceited and continue his vein beauty. Yet, here he was covered in come, digested energon, blood, and smudges from Megatron.
He should be in a scalding shower right now… but what was the point of a clean outward appearance if he was filthy inside. He eyed the suction cup, rubbing his thumb over it as if wetting it and then he lifted his leg up a little more and slowly slid it in. The tool was low tech and slightly barbaric –using air-pressure and gravity to pull the liquid out- but it was effective. It was essentially like siphoning gas.
He allowed the tube to hang and then started to press on the suction cup, his sore valve stinging. Slowly, the think grayish-blue nanite-come started to dribble down the tube, joining the regurgitated mess on the floor. Yet, it just dribbled. He had felt the amount of warmth that had spilled into him from Megatron. Growling, he started pumping harder. His valve was burning now and droplets of energon-blood were clinging to his fingers. It had to come out. He needed to...
Knock. Knock.
Sunstreaker halted, his optics going bright white. The first thought that hit Sunny’s mind was not that Ratchet probably had decided to hunt him down or Prowl or Optimus wanted to talk to him. Sideswipe wasn’t even a worry because, for one, he wouldn’t have knocked. What worried him was if someone had heard the squelching noises that came from his current actions, the removal of his new shame.
All but tripping over himself, foot sliding in the fluids in the floor, Sunstreaker tripped to the door and quickly pressed the button by the door’s controls that locked it. He heard someone shift outside and a muffled voice came through.
“Sunstreaker? You there? It not Sideswipe. Please, open door or I use medic codes to open it.”
Swallowing, the yellow twin looked at the mess on the floor. H-he didn’t need anyone in here. Quickly grabbing the rags, he threw them on the floor and started mopping up the mess, his hands shaking as he rushed, a second knocking making him jump and throw the rags under the nearby berth. He stumbled to his feet, grabbing his cod piece and sliding it on just as the door slid open, light washing down on him like a spotlight. Sunstreaker swallowed as a shadow was quickly thrown over him, a dark outline watching him with blue optics; in the doorway stood Swoop with a scrutinizing gaze.
Sunstreaker’s optics glowed a little brighter, his hands finding themselves hidden behind his back because he knew they were still filthy. Trying to push down any signs of weakness, the mech spoke in a slightly soft-bitter tone, hoping to scare off the flying rat, “If you are just going to stand there and gawk, do so in the rec. room like everyone else will be for the next few weeks.”
The large mech stood there a moment, observing the mech with his shivering frame, weak legs, and stained fingers. He smelled partially digested energon as well… had Sunstreaker been sick? Ratchet had told him, early on when showing the flier where the buckets were, that sometimes when mechs got upset enough, their tanks would release its contents to try and force its owner into a low energy state to calm the mech down or to force them to go into recharge due to low energy reserves. Removing his clawed hand from the door controls, Swoop stated, “Why’d you leave so sad? It is not bad thing to be untouched through interfacing. Me and the rest of the Dinobots have not had any sexual nestmates.”
The yellow twin’s engine growled, embarrassment rising at being compared to the Dinobots, and he found his voice rising as he all but yelled, “I am not sad and I am not an untouched virgin! It’s just that I’ve never needed anyone but Sideswipe and,” Sunstreaker’s voice suddenly broke at the realization, “and he’s no longer here.”
Swoop tilted his head slightly, reviewing the frontliner’s words over. Then, as if thinking he’s ask an older mech about it because he didn’t quite understand, Swoop suddenly grabbed Sunstreaker by the wrist and started dragging him forward, “No time to be sad. Best to be sad in front of Ratchet so he can fix it.”
“What!” choked Sunstreaker as he was unceremoniously grabbed; the large mech dragging him away from his door. “Let me go, slagger! I don’t need Ratchet in my head!! Let go before I slaggen beat you!”
---
“So,” said Ratchet, his brow arching as he sat behind his desk in a more comfortable manner, putting his tablet on the table so Sunstreaker wouldn’t feel like everything he said was being documented. Though Sunny knew that everything was being recorder by Ratchet’s memory files, talk about a false sense of security. “You know why you are here, in my office, right?”
Sunstreaker shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his mind heading straight to his cod piece… he hadn’t got to put a rag under his crotch plating for dripping. He just knew when he stood up it was going to drip down his leg and probably onto Ratchet’s chair as well. He looked back up from his thighs and up at Ratchet. The medic didn’t look pissed or anything of the nature. He was calm and desolate of any emotions. He was just listening… and staring. He would not stop staring until Sunstreaker spoke and he knew it.
“Yes… you think the slaggen reject didn’t get the parts he needed in the CPU,” growled Sunny, his gaze falling to his hands. He had managed to grab a rag off a counter as he was dragged into Ratchet’s office, but there were still reminders of the filth that had been there moment ago.
A deep sigh escaped the medic. They had a lot to go over and there was no way this was going to get over in one session. He would like to start off with talking about what happened in the medical bay but Sunstreaker was already upset, Swoop sending him a private com. stating that he was sure that Sunstreaker had been sick in his room. Troubling to say the least, but at least his systems had a natural reaction. It also meant that Sunny would be too weak to want to strike out in rage.
“Don’t worry, Sunstreaker. Primus shorted the both of you on CPU components… slaggen idiots the two of you,” he grumbled, trying to lighten the mood. When nothing but a frown came from the personal jargon, he continued in a profession tone, “So Sunny… I know you’ve had some trying circumstances lately… especially between you and your brother, and with what happened yesterday…”
Sunstreaker just glared at him, Ratchet just continued.
“Specifically, I’m worried about what happened yesterday,” continued Ratchet. “And I’m worried about… trauma. Sunstreaker, tell me how you felt about it? Anything’s fine, but I need you to talk about it.”
Sunstreaker just continued to glare, his disagreement with the situation obvious.
“Sunstreaker… I cannot clear you for duty until we’ve talked about this,” said Ratchet as he became stern. “Now, last night, I want you to tell me how you saw it. Where you scared? Upset? Or…”
“I wasn’t scared!” finally growled Sunstreaker, his pride resting on the surface like a leaf that had just fallen on the lake’s waters. “Why should I have been? He was my brother! We’ve shared sparks thousands of times. We’ve have played rough.”
Ratchet was still, going over the words silently before he asked, with clear proficiency, “Then why did you just say he “was you brother” and not “is your brother”? I see that you have disjointed yourself from Sideswipe proving that you’ve most likely been hurt by the situation in some way?”
Sunny’s optics went white and his hands grasped the rag tightly at the realization. Had he given up his brother for one night or pleasure?
And so the sentence was allowed to hang in the air, Ratchet clearly able to tell that Sunny was thinking… the answer truly terrible to Sunstreaker with the way his fans were wheezing and his optics pure-white. He didn’t care how long he had Sunny had to sit here in the silence, allowing the usually closed mind to bud outward for the world to see.
Yet, just as Sunny started to open his mouth, words soon to be escaping, an alarm went off: the Decepticons. Sunstreaker felt a rise of dread and excitement at the thought of battle. Not because he’d get to fight and rip and bleed, drowning any feelings that Ratchet had tried to rouse, but because Megatron was there. Megatron had taken away his purity as well as his brother. It was probably even a lie that the warlord wanted him again. He was going to confront that bastard.

Without even thinking it over, Sunny rose and started running towards the door, his port wet and dripping. He needed something to push away the pain. He needed pain.
Ratchet rose in a hurry, his vocals growling, “Where are you going! Sunstreaker, you’re off-duty! Come back here!”
The golden warrior did not stall, of course, not even when Swoop tried to grab him. He was out the door and caught in the small crowd that was running down the hall. Ratchet sighed, saving the short meeting in Sunstreaker’s medical files. He better head out as well, if only to make sure the slaggen idiot didn’t get himself killed. Walking past his desk though, Ratchet couldn’t help but stall… on the chair where Sunny had been sitting were a few droplets of what appeared to be energon. He would have stopped and elaborated but the battle had started and things like stains could wait.

XXX

Edit: quotes from pervious chapter 3 were put into italics.
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Sunny Disposition