Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro
Warnings: voyeurism and masturbation. Also, it's somewhat sticky so... yeah. Also a little bit of androgyny/gender confusion.
Notes: In case the warnings didn't make it clear, there's a damned good reason for the rating on this one. This story first appeared on the kink meme around March of this year, and I finally decided it was time to take a chance and share it here as well. Once again, this is sticky, so if that doesn't float your boat feel free to click the back button now.
There was absolutely no privacy to be had at the Decepticon's undersea base. This was especially so when one was practically at the top of the chain of command and constantly had to deal with commentary from those who felt that he didn't deserve his lofty position. Honestly, before the war he'd never had quite this much negativity directed his way for something beyond his control.
Starscream was not unique amongst his allies in the manner of his birth; to find a 'con who had been created by spark-merge was a rarity. It was more a matter of statistics that set him apart from the others around him.
In 99.99% of split-spark births, the resulting sparkling shared its creator's base protocols. Mechs tended to create mech sparklings, and femmes had the tendency to create femme sparklings. So it wasn't unusual for single creators to build sparkling protoforms similar to their own in anticipation for their creations. However, there was that miniscule 0.01% of sparklings from split-spark birth that carried mirrored protocols – a femme sparkling from a mech creator, or a mech sparkling from a femme creator.
Starscream's creator, Darkstar, had been a femme seeker.
Granted, as with other single creators who had fallen into that 0.01 percentile, Darkstar had made what modifications she could to the sparkling protoform as her creation grew older. Since Cybertronian protoforms consisted of what amounted to an 'organic metal' (in that it grew along with a mech or femme), the modifications over time gave Starscream the physical appearance of a slightly-built mech rather than a femme; however, Darkstar was no medic or engineer and made no alterations to her creation's interfacing hardware.
In some ways this fact made Starscream a much sought-after interfacing partner, and before the war he had had femme and mech partners alike. None of them had ever been disappointed with his performance in the berth; if anything femmes were fascinated with a mech who knew first-hand exactly what revved their engines, while mechs were more comfortable asking him what worked and what didn't get him charged up than they would have been with a femme in the same situation. With the advent of the war and subsequent crash landing on Earth, however, things had changed.
Oh, the other 'cons still sought him as an interface partner, but there were more than a few who felt that he was somehow less than they were. Amongst those were a few who felt that anyone who dominated the seeker should obtain his position within the army.
Those who had tried would never admit that even if Starscream was input-only he was still the dominant participant in the encounter.
And, to be honest, the air commander got tired of that attitude very fast. The only mechs who didn't act as if he was just a lust object or less than a mech were his own trine mates (if anything, they were supportive and only engaged him if it seemed he needed the distraction), Soundwave (who if asked would have to admit that Starscream was, indeed, superior to him after his own attempt to snatch power), and Megatron. Starscream often suspected the only reason he was still online had a lot to do with the fact that he didn't submit easily to Megatron when the supreme commander demanded his presence in the berth.
Still, the power plays and upheavals grew horribly dull after a while and Starscream spent more time tending to his own needs. Which necessitated him leaving the base to get some privacy; any time he tried to find a private moment to work himself to overload someone interrupted him, and he wound up either sending them limping to the Constructicons or proving once again that just because he had femme hardware didn't mean he was just going to lie back and think of Cybertron.
To be honest with himself, however, his boredom with Decepticon "politics" was only part of the reason he preferred taking matters into his own hands these days. The main reason was because it was very difficult to hide the fact that one was fantasizing about the Autobot's medic when there was a telepath nearby who had no qualms about sharing that information. And even though neither Skywarp nor Thundercracker cared if his mind wandered while they were interfacing, Skywarp was one of Megatron's favourites and a slip of Starscream's vocalizer might very well lead to time in the brig or – as the worse-case scenario – deactivation in whatever manner the high commander felt most fitting.
It wasn't worth the risk of discovery, and also fueled his need to leave the base whenever he had reached the point of needing a good overload just to get through the remainder of the cycle. And since one of Soundwave's little reprobates had seen fit to aggravate him to the point of wanting to commit murder, he was currently putting as much distance between himself and the undersea base as possible before looking for an out-of-the-way place to indulge himself.
He checked his long-range scanners one final time before relaxing a little, reducing his speed and dropping altitude just enough to turn his attention to the ground. It probably would have been safest all-around to stop on an island, but that left the possibility of one of his trine or another of his aerial troops finding him while he was distracted; hitting the mainland was the best way of avoiding other 'cons while there wasn't any current need to go on energy raids, and he had been keeping careful track of the Autobots' patrol circuits during his own aerial patrols. His main concern regarding them was to make sure that he stayed out of specific areas, and since he was coming in low over the Canadian wilderness the chances of being picked up on the Ark's sensor grids was greatly reduced. All he really needed to do was stick to the woods, and hopefully he would be long gone before any humans noticed his presence and contacted the 'bots.
Studying the ground below, Starscream spotted a clearing that still offered a bit of cover from the sky if he moved off to one side or the other, with enough trees surrounding it to keep him out of plain sight from anything on the ground. He transformed as he landed, visually scanning the clearing and finding that it met his requirements fully; the dense foliage would serve to keep him hidden from sight of the native fauna (they had likely already scattered upon his approach) as well as block or disguise his energy signature on the off-chance that any of his fellow 'cons had gotten curious and attempted to follow him. The likelihood of being discovered by another Cybertronian was virtually non-existent, and he finally felt a bit of the tension slip from his frame.
"Perfect," he murmured to himself, moving toward one of the larger trees and leaning against it to test its strength. When it showed no sign of buckling under his weight, the seeker heaved a sigh through his vents and sank to the ground, back resting against the trunk. Starscream shuttered his optics, letting his thoughts drift idly to the mech who'd been haunting his thoughts and inhabiting his overload fantasies.
His fascination – or maybe obsession was the better word? – with medics had begun vorns ago, back when he was a youngling just starting to realize that he wasn't exactly the same as others his age. Early experimental interfacing had been his first real sign that most mechs or femmes would see him as a novelty, forcing the aspects of his personality that he displayed most to become more prevalent: arrogance, confidence, and an aura of being untouchable. It seemed, at least to his still-developing mind, that the only Cybertronians who didn't treat him as if he were some sort of freak were the medics who had seen to his health from his sparkling years. His first crush had actually been on one of the medics who worked at the clinic close to his home in Vos; he'd never acted on it when he was of age, however, much to his own relief when Blackout wound up joining the Decepticon army shortly before Starscream's promotion to air commander. It left him with a confidant-of-sorts, although that hardly helped when he was stuck on Earth while Blackout was back home on Cybertron.
So it was only natural that regardless of being surrounded by mechs more than willing to warm his berth, Starscream's optics would wander towards the only actual medics available on Earth, and the only three potential candidates were Autobots. (The Constructicons performed their tasks well, that had to be said, but they kept anyone who wasn't part of their gestalt at arms' length and Starscream would much rather avoid having to deal with them any more than was necessary.) Given that both the Protectobot and Dinobot were still in-training per se, his attention had very quickly locked onto the CMO. From what he was able to observe, the medic didn't appear to treat one mech differently than any other (although the seeker did manage to pick up a few creative variations on some old curses and note that the mech had the tendency to threaten his more troublesome patients with reformatting), which served to fuel Starscream's obsession.
And when one of his trine had been recovered in a prisoner trade with reports of having had his injuries tended to without any complaints on the medic's part aside from the same ones he was hurling at the Autobots, that only proved to increase the seeker's inappropriate longing.
What made it even more enticing in his mind was the fact that the medic was, in a manner of speaking, forbidden; virtually everything the seeker knew about the Autobots in general was hearsay or rumour, and a touch of the unknown only made his imagination run in directions he would never, ever dare try to coax his Decepticon allies toward.
A faint hum escaped his vocalizer as he trailed the fingers of one hand over his neck cables, already sinking into one of his favoured fantasies where the Autobot was concerned (and what was his name? It felt almost taboo to dream about 'facing a mech whose name one didn't know...). He could feel his ranged sensors shutting down, all the power redirected to his surface sensor grid as always tended to happen either during interface or self-gratification.
As that had always happened to him, it never even occurred to Starscream that he could eventually be caught at it.
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On any normal day, Ratchet would not be passing through Alberta into British Columbia, heading back towards Oregon. However, after one too many instances of needing to repair someone due to their own stupidity (and three times in as many days for Sideswipe, as he was apparently "bored," which usually meant "causing trouble, I didn't mean for my arm to 'fall' off"), he had summarily announced that he was taking a short-term leave of absence and had taken off as far north and east as he could get while remaining within communication range on the off-chance he was needed for a real emergency.
Now, after an Earth-week of privacy and quiet, he felt that it was time to head back home. A small part of him missed the controlled chaos that was life in the Ark, but he had definitely needed the reprieve. He trusted that any minor medical issues could be dealt with by First Aid and Swoop, and his assumption had proven correct since neither of his apprentices had seen fit to comm him while he was away.
...granted, that could have had something to do with the fact that he had stormed out of the repair bay after thumping a certain Lamborghini upside the helm with a spanner and threatening to reformat the lot of them if he had to deal with any more stupidity, but they needed to learn sometime.
The only real problem with having so much downtime was that it had given him too much time to dwell on issues he tended to push aside. The ones that had spent much of the week at the forefront of his thoughts consisted of what Skyfire had to say regarding Starscream in the past, why he was dwelling on the slagging seeker in the first place, and how much of a problem said seeker would have with being propositioned by the enemy.
It wasn't something that anyone really knew (with the possible exception of Wheeljack, but he didn't really go about discussing other mechs' kinks), but Ratchet had almost always been fascinated by flyers. As a sparkling it had stemmed from curiosity – what must it be like, to leave the ground so far behind without boarding a transport ship, to fly under one's own power? – yet as he'd grown older it developed into a near-obsession. Almost all the mechs or femmes he'd interfaced with had been flyer-builds, and he had learned even before going through the medical academy that the sensors in the wings or propellers were by far the most sensitive part of a flyer's frame. The various frames of flyers all had different quirks almost unique to their function: shuttle-builds had more endurance for long-term flights, heli-builds were built more for short-term jaunts, and seeker-builds were designed to be sleek and fast.
It was the seekers that maintained his attention when the war had picked up steam, however. The sheer speeds they were capable of fascinated him to no end, and he often wondered just what it would take to make a seeker be still or move slowly. His processor provided him a myriad of options, and he had more than once needed to self-overload or subject himself to a freezing coolant shower as a result of the direction his thoughts had taken. Especially when he realized his imagination had ceased switching between the various Decepticon seekers and settled itself firmly on the SIC himself.
It made sense; Starscream was by far the quickest seeker in the Decepticon aerial fleet and had most definitely earned his status as air commander, which almost guaranteed that Ratchet would notice him sooner rather than later. The seeker's build itself was fascinating as well, somewhat smaller and sleeker than his trine mates as well as the other 'con seekers. He was almost slight in comparison, yet it went unnoticed by most 'bots because of how the mech carried himself. Starscream was virtually untouchable, and that only made the medic want to get close enough to touch all the more.
Added onto that were Skyfire's insistences that the seeker was nothing like when they had worked together even though he admitted – late in the evening, when most of the other 'bots were in their recharge cycles or on duty shifts – that at times, it appeared that Starscream was merely hiding behind a façade that he'd used only moderately in the past but now kept up all the time. A part of the medic wondered if Skyfire's assessment was the truth, and that same part wished desperately to meet the 'quiet, unassuming, sometimes shy' Starscream of the past.
He dragged himself out of his thoughts with an annoyed curse and focused his attention back on the road. The route along the wooded areas was less traveled by humans, so luckily while he'd been lost within his own processor he hadn't caused any accidents, but it still annoyed Ratchet that he could let himself because so preoccupied with daydreams.
He was just crossing into British Columbia when a somewhat-scrambled signal was picked up by his sensor grid. Slowing down a bit, the medic focused his attention on the unknown energy signature; even though he was able to figure out that it belonged to a Cybertronian, he couldn't pick up any distinguishing markers. For all he knew, it could be another Autobot taking his own short vacation (and he wouldn't put it past Beachcomber or Trailbreaker to do something of the sort without informing anyone else) or a Decepticon up to no good.
However, from what Ratchet could tell, the owner of said signature seemed to be remaining in one location.
That fact made him both curious and cautious; there were a variety of reasons why a mech would stick to one spot, from as simple as having fallen into recharge to standing guard over something to being too heavily damage to move around much. There was no real harm in investigating the matter, and if it turned out to be a 'con up to something he could always contact base with the coordinates. On the other hand, if it was an injured mech, he was the best qualified to take care of the damages no matter what insignia the other was wearing on his plating.
Decision made, Ratchet transformed back to root mode and followed the signature. The trees acted as natural buffers in a way, and he had the feeling that if he'd been on the main roads he never would have been able to pick up the signal. As it stood, he had a bit of trouble keeping track of it in spite of the fact that the owner was somewhat stationary. When he was finally able to get a solid fix on the signature he realized that it was a Decepticon energy reading, and the medic steeled himself just in case the mech in question had picked up on his signature and reacted to his presence with hostility.
Moving as silently as possible (the undergrowth was oddly helpful in that aspect, muffling his footfalls in spite of his size), Ratchet locked onto the energy signature again and realized he was practically on top of it. He muted his vocalizer – just because he hadn't been heard yet didn't mean he was going to take any unnecessary risks – and moved closer to the tree line. The first thing he noticed was that it would be impossible for a ground-type mech to pass through to the clearing just beyond the trees without damaging some of the natural flora in the process. Then he was very glad that he'd cut off his vocalizer because otherwise his startled reaction at finding the subject of some of his more illicit daydreams almost directly across from him and completely unaware of his presence - unless the seeker made it a habit to wander off into the woods and self-interface on the off-chance that someone would stumble across him, which was highly unlikely – would have distracted Starscream from what he was doing.
And that would have been tragic.
It appeared that Starscream had been there long enough to check his surroundings prior to Ratchet's unintended arrival, considering that the seeker wasn't known for dropping his guard. Yet there was no indication that he even realized he was being watched, one hand tracing along his neck cables before sliding along a shoulder vent and back again while the other hand tapped lightly on the catches to his interface panel. His optics remained shut, soft sounds escaping from slightly-parted lips as he continued to stroke his own frame.
Ratchet knew that he really, really should just slip away as quietly as he'd arrived. And yet he found himself simply tuning his audio receptors to better catch the faint noises that the seeker was making, leaning carefully against the tree he was closest to and starting up a new visual recording file. It could possibly be considered an invasion of privacy, but if he was the only one who would actually see the file there was no proof of any wrong-doing.
Plus, it was likely the only opportunity he would get to catch a glimpse of the seeker without the mask in place.
Starscream bit his lip, fingers gliding from his neck to slide along the upper edge of his left wing even as he flicked one of his panel catches open. His daydreaming mind was able to vividly register the Autobot's hands as the ones ghosting across his frame, and he didn't try to stop the soft moan his visions drew forth. There was never any time for slow or easy 'facing in the Decepticon army, just fast and hard and rough, but sometimes Starscream just craved something different. He wouldn't dare request it of the mechs he spent the most time around, not even his trine mates (although Skywarp did have the odd tendency to insist on 'cuddle time' afterward, not that Starscream was complaining), so he relied on his fantasy life to feed that desire.
Letting his hand trail back over to his neck, tilting his head slightly as he imagined light kisses in place of his own fingertips, the seeker flicked the other catch and let the panel retract into his armor. His breath caught for a moment as the slightly cool air hit the usually-hidden sensors, causing his frame to shudder slightly for a moment before he ran teasing fingers along the primary sensor settled just above his port. In other mechs this would be the cover for the spike housing, but in femmes and mod-framed mechs like Starscream it appeared to be a slight indentation in the armor and was nearly as sensitive as the sensors within the port itself.
From his hidden observation point, Ratchet's optics widened slightly before darkening to nearly indigo. The part of his processor still capable of rationalization automatically made the note that the seeker's frame had been modified to match spark protocols, likely mirrored from a femme creator. The surface thoughts were more focused on how much he wanted to throw caution to the wind and jump Starscream right now. His own panel retracting, Ratchet ran one finger over his spike housing as he continued to watch the seeker, tuning his audios up further to try and pick up any words that might be mingled in with the faint gasps.
Even from here, he could see the faint traces of coolant already glistening along the edges of the seeker's port, and a silent groan escaped him as one slender finger slid from the primary sensor to tease the opening for a moment. Ratchet leaned heavily on the tree supporting his weight, his spike extending fully as he continued to watch in silence and running the heel of his hand along the length as Starscream – still oblivious to his 'audience' – pressed that same finger into his port and let out a faint moan.
The hand that had been lightly tracing Starscream's neck cables slid down his chassis, coming to a brief halt at the lower end of his cockpit before moving in a slow circular pattern over the glass. His head lolled back against the trunk as he moved both hands at the same even pace, one teasing the sensors within the delicate glass as the other pumped shallowly in his port. A low hum slipped from his vocalizer as the slow burn of pleasure began to build up inside him and he carefully eased a second finger in alongside the first, thrusting them a bit deeper and just a little harder as he imagined the medbot's hands in place of his own. He dug one heel thruster into the ground as his hips rocked upward slightly, unaware that words had begun to fall from his lips as he sped up his pace.
Ratchet's intakes cycled rapidly (and thankfully silently) as the seeker started babbling almost inaudibly; if he hadn't turned up his receptors he would never have picked up the quiet mumblings of Primus and yes and even a few fucks thrown in, surprising enough from a Decepticon and serving to rev the ambulance's engines all the more. Optics still locked firmly on the thrashing mech across from him, Ratchet wrapped his hand around his spike and stroked himself in time to Starscream's hard finger thrusts, imagining how good it would feel to slide into the seeker's slick port and be the one drawing those faint murmurs and curses from him. He continued to record everything, knowing already that he would review this particular video file several hundred times in the weeks to come.
"Almost," Starscream groaned softly, both heels grinding into the dirt and driving his fingers as deeply into his port as he could manage. His thoughts shifted again to an image of his Autobot pressing him to the ground, spike sliding into his port with the same speed and pressure as his fingers were currently striving to achieve. It was finally, finally enough, and with a sharp cry he overloaded, hips rolling upward and fingers still driving deep as electricity shot through his entire frame. He could feel coolant leaking heavily from his port, soaking his hand and thighs and absently noting that he'd need to clean himself up before returning to base before his processor drifted into a light recharge as the last traces of his release trickled away.
The sight of the Decepticon air commander in overload – backstruts arched in a graceful curve, heels digging hard into the ground, mouth opened as he sounded a cry not much louder than his previous murmurings – was too much, and Ratchet was once again grateful that he'd muted his vocalizer as his own overload took him. The electricity crackled through him and he was just able to contain it, only transfluid leaking from his spike to splash harmlessly on the ground below. He leaned even more heavily against the tree, cycling air through his intakes hard to catch his breath once more as he closed the recording file and saved it to his memory. Starscream appeared to be slipping into recharge, remaining in the position he'd slumped into and still blissfully unaware of the Autobot's presence.
A small part of Ratchet's mind wanted to remain where he was, silently watching over the seeker as he rested; the more rational sections of his processor reminded him that even though Starscream was quite possibly the most desirable seeker he'd ever seen – moreso now that he'd watched the mech self-interface and overload so beautifully – he was still a Decepticon and likely wouldn't take kindly to discovering that he'd been watched during what he believed was a private moment. Sighing regretfully, Ratchet took a final look at the now-slumbering jet. Carefully closing his interface panel once again, the medic slipped quietly back through the woods and onto the road, resuming his journey back to the Ark.
And silently decided that should the day come when Starscream was a 'guest' in the brig, he would have to take the opportunity to try and seduce the seeker. It would be a shame to miss out on the possibility of seeing the mech overload like that again.