Green
oOo
He wanted those pretty optics. Hook growled as he looked at the hologram recording of the Autobot gunner, Bluestreak.
He was cute, that pretty face only truly completed by the violent blue optics. Hook reached up and traced a long finger over the hologram's cheek, causing the image to fizzle and crackle at the touch. Hook also curled his fingers over the strange doorwing's in the hologram, imagining touching the real thing.
Hook's red visor glittered as he watched the hologram turn, face smiling and laughing merrily. The gray gunner allowed the twins to ghost a hand over his doorwings and the blue opticed Autobot bit his lower lip, looking from one twin to the other. Sideswipe murmured something in the gunner's audial and the datsun blushed, covering his face childishly.
Hook's hand clenched as he watched the hologram, some of his jealous anger leaking through the gestalt bond he shared with the other constructicons.
Mixmaster was the first to notice it, rebooting his optics and listening to Hooks anger driven internal ranting.
Those slagging twins shouldn't touch him like that! He's too beautiful for them! For any Autobots… I would show him how beautiful he was…
Mixmaster prodded at the others, indicating for them to listen as he snickered to himself. They were all well aware of their "brother's" obsession with the datsun, but this was the first time that Hook had actually let his thoughts leak through to the others.
Gestalt teams usually didn't have affairs or bonded mates outside of each other, but it was something that could happen. Mixmaster himself was happily (or as happily as he could be while still being in a war) mated to Dirge, the conehead not being very publicly affectionate but still privately happy with his mate. Scrapper and the Reflector unit Veiwfinder were also mated. It happened, just not often.
But never with an Autobot. Much less one so young. Hook's rant had stopped and now the crane was silently fuming and plotting the death of the Lamborghini twins.
-:-Jealousy is a nasty little glitch, isn't it, Hook?-:- Motormaster asked over their bond and Hook silently swore.
-:-Stop looking in on my thoughts!-:- The crane demanded and the other Constructicons snickered.
-:-We don't have to look in, you're thinking loud enough that Soundwave should be getting a migraine right about now.-:- Long-Haul chortled. Mixmaster gave one of his inane cackles and poked at the bond playfully.
-:-Nah, Skywarp's screaming is what does it.-:- The cement mixer gave an imitation of Skywarp's pleasured cries and the others burst into laughter over the bond, each continuing on with his own task.
-:-Would you guys shut up? I'm trying to do something here!-:- Scrapper snapped, his mental voice a bit fuzzy and strained.
-:-What would you be… Oh…-:- Motormaster grew silent at the image being sent through the bond of Veiwfinder moaning and writhing beneath Scrapper's hands, the Reflector unit gasping out Scrapper's name heatedly.
-:-Yeah, shut up, its not like you're doing the same with Dirge as we speak.-:-
-:-Well, that would be because I'm not, I'm actually working with some nitroglycerin.-:-
-:-What the Pit are you doing with nitro?!-:-
The others got the distinct impression that Scrapper had said that thought out loud, because the small trickles of pleasure drifting through the bond abruptly stopped.
-:-You really don't want to know.-:- Mixmaster stated before closing his side of the bond. The others began to close their own until Hook was sure he was left in privacy.
He was part of a bonded group of the most unstable minds in all of the Decepticon armies. Next to Blitzwing, but Hook was pretty sure that the triple-changers weren't like that before the war. Also, their glitch could be fixed. Gestalt-mates were forever.
Unfortunately that meant that unless he wanted his sexual affairs broadcast to his gestalt-mates he'd have to be very quiet about getting his little Bluestreak into his medical bay…
oOo
Bluestreak drove out through the desert, playing some rock tune through his speakers and singing (brokenly) along with the lyrics. The gunner had been feeling antsy for the past few days, not having been able to get to his regular nightly free drive because of a recent battle with the Decepticons. He had finally managed to sneak out of the base without anybody even realizing that he was gone.
Bluestreak sighed and cut his stereo, just listening to the wind as he drove through the desert at a leisurely pace.
Not only that, but the twins had been paying more attention to him. It was weird and Prowl wasn't any happier about it than Blue was. The twins were okay, but not the kind of mechs he would ever court, much less interface with.
Prowl was a strict commander, and an even stricter creator. Blue had never known who his co-creator was, but he had learned that the mech/femme/whatever had been a very firm advocate of courting before facing. Prowl had enforced this tradition by not allowing any mech to even think about interfacing Blue before consulting him first. Bluestreak didn't mind this. If a mech was a bit… too persistent or if Blue didn't want the mech to be courting him he would tell them to ask Prowl for permission. If they actually got the ball-bearings to ask Prowl, then Prowl could still tell them no if Blue asked him to. The trick had worked on Mirage and Jazz, but the twins showed no interest in even asking Prowl, and knowing them they would say that they had just to get Blue in their bed.
Then Prowl would be on their skidplates faster than Unicron.
Something distracted Blue and the datsun stopped, turning to a rock formation and looking at it. A few more rocks rolled down the side and Blue frowned (if that was possible in car form), staring at the rocks.
On the one hand, he should really check out whatever it was in Autobot territory and report it to Prime. On the other, it could very well be some earth fauna (Blue had once accidentally shot a desert rabbit and had been upset about it for days) and completely harmless.
Blue shifted into root-mode and shuffled his feet, pulling out his rifle and looking at the formation.
To look, or not to look. That was the question.
Blue hefted his rifle and crept forward, walking towards the formation. He made a complete circle and frowned when he found nothing. Perhaps it was just the wind… Or maybe it was an earth animal that had been frightened off by his approach.
"Oh well, I guess it was just a false- alarm!" Bluestreak squeaked the last word as he was shoved against the rock, his doorwings flaring in surprise when a pair of derma latched onto his, a glossa thrusting into his mouth and causing him to moan softly in pleasure as a hand covered his optics.
Was that Sideswipe? Probably, Sunny was too shy to pull off a stunt like this. Bluestreak cycled his vents as he curled his arms around the hips of whoever it was.
They sure knew what they were doing, he mused as he returned the kiss shyly, tasting oil and energon, his glossa twining with his mystery assailant's. After a few mintues of kissing Blue, the mech pulled away, uncovering the datsun's optics. Blue paused before onlining his optics to look at whoever it was.
He almost screamed at the sight of Hook, but was stopped by a needle in his main energon line, injecting a heavy sedative. The last thing he saw before he completely blacked out was Hook smirking down at him as the Decepticon medic held his heavy body possessively.
oOo
Bluestreak onlined in a strange place, his back to a hard medical table, the table tilted so that he was at an angle, not quite lying down, but not quite standing up either. He was strapped down by his waist and chestplates, his legs held up and apart by some sort of harness. He tried to shift his legs, bring them together – bring them down at least! – but whoever had strapped him down had done a very good job of it. His wrists were hald above his head by something equally strong, turning his head to try and see what it was, he almost shrieked in fear at the sight of two mech hands welded to the medical table.
What the frag?!
"Good morning, my pretty." A greasy voice purred and Blue shifted, turning his head to look at who it was.
Hook sat in the bed of a pickup truck, using it as a chair. The green and purple mech smirked at him and stood, circling around the medical table and looking over his prize.
"Le-let me go!" Blue stuttered, trying to jerk his writs free, but the hands – Blue shuddered at the thought of what was holding his hands – were firm.
"But I worked so hard to make you comfortable…" Hook purred and Bluestreak shuddered at the last word as it was drawn out. The older mech grinned and leaned forward, trailing his fingers over Blue's cheek, lazily tracing blue optics.
"Wh-what are you going to do with me?" Bluestreak's voice wavered in fear as he lay, supine, to the other mech's wills. Hook hummed softly before pulling away to circle Bluestreak like a cat circling a mouse. He stopped on Blue's left side, opposite where he started, and traced his fingers over a row of neatly lined tools that gleamed maliciously in the dim light of a single lightbulb.
"I have always had an eye for beauty." Hook gestured around him at his workshop. "I enjoy being surrounded by it." Bluestreak struggled, unable to see much beyond the artificial lighting and so turned his head to look at the hands holding his.
They were gorgeous now that he noticed it: fingers were strong but slim, fingertips smooth and delicate. These were hands that had never seen a day's work. Also the medical berth was made of… Bluestreak offlined his optics and cycled a shuddering breath at the sight of a Decepticon insignia and the traditional stripes of a seeker's wings.
"Beautiful things must not be simply displayed for the common mechs to see." Hook continued, leaning forward and cupping Bluestreak's face. Thin, cruel lips lingered over Bluestreak's jaw and cheek, the Decepticon kissing the Autobot between words. "They should be… Cherished… Cared for… Hidden from rapacious eyes…" Bluestreak whimpered and tried to pull back when Hook's mouth came in contact with his, the older mech ravishing his derma and glossa. Bluestreak felt a long fingered hand curling around his splayed doorwing and jerked at the feeling, moaning despite himself. Hook smirked into the kiss, never breaking it as he scraped the tips of his fingers over Bluestreak's wing joints. Bluestreak's chassis made a clanging noise as it compulsively arched, slamming and grinding against Hook's.
"My, my, my, pretty… Eager, hmm?" Bluestreak trembled as he listened to that greasy voice. It was cultured, refined, and with a tint of an accent that Bluestreak couldn't quite place. "Don't be like that, my pretty…" Hook whispered and Bluestreak couldn't help but online his optics and ask a question.
"Your voice… Was it always like that? Don't think that I'm being rude, I just wonder why your vocalizer sounds different from the other constucticons because it sounds like Mirage's, or maybe Starscream's but not as screechy as Screamer. I was just wondering because the other Constructicons don't have a voice like yours and I think its-…" Hook captured Bluestreak's lips again and the Gunner stiffened before cautiously returning it, unsure of what he was doing.
He was terrified, but he felt a flutter in his chassis at the thought of Hook's obsessive compulsive hands on his chassis.
Hook was an incredibly good kisser, Bluestreak's traitorous mind noticed as Hook teasingly trailed his glossa down Blue's. And he tastes very –oohh…
Bluestreak arched and wanted to pull his thighs together when Hook's fingers curled into his codpiece, prying the covering off slowly, yet his legs were very well restrained.
Hook pulled away and smirked at the whimper and terrified whines coming from his captive. He thrust his fingers into Blue's port, working them in and out of the valve, scissoring his fingers and feeling lubricant beginning to build inside the valve. Bluestreak trembled when Hook pulled his fingers out, pressing the wet digits to Blue's own lips and forcing them into his mouth. Blue bit at the fingers, but that only made Hook chuckle in amusement, thrusting the fingers deeper until Bluestreak had no choice but to suck them clean. Once they were cleaned, Hook removed his fingers and replaced them with a gag, making sure that Bluestreak wouldn't be heard by some hapless mech walking by the medical bay. Hoisting himself onto the table so as to straddle Bluestreak, Hook revealed his own interfacing hardware and Bluestreak arched, trying to produce a scream but the gag stopping any sound from coming out.
"Don't be like that, my pretty…" Hook thrust his cable into Bluestreak's heavily lubricated port and sent a powerful burst of energy over the hardline connection. Bluestreak wanted to scream, to thrash and fight, to get the other mech off of him, but he couldn't.
Hook grabbed Blue's chestplates and forced them open, staring down at the glittering, frantically pulsing spark in the gunner's chest.
"Perfect…" Hook whispered before leaning down and forcing his spark to Bluestreak's.
What should have been an ultimate act of love was an invasion of Bluestreak's spark and mind, causing him to silently cry as he endured the rending, sickening pain of the connection. Finally it ended after an eternity, Hook pulling away and closing his new mate's chassis.
Hook smirked as he circled his hapless victim, looking much like a green and purple cat as it sized up a mouse. Bluestreak whimpered around the gag, trying to shift away from Hook's long, cruel fingers.
"Now, my pretty , shh… I know you'll enjoy this…" Hook purred in the datsun's audials. Bluestreak's eyes widened when Hook's long fingers curled around his doorwing bases, gently stroking and digging the tips of his fingers into the sensitive joints.
"I always loved doorwings…" Hook murmured, moving his hands to Bluestreak's optics and tracing them gently. "And blue optics… so alive… gorgeous…" Hook kissed Bluestreak's cheek before turning to go over to his workbench and rustle through wires, parts and tools. "Such beautiful optics… No one else should have the privilege of looking at them."
Pulling out his favorite scalpel the Constructicon turned to face Bluestreak. Grabbing the gunner's chin he forced the younger mech to look at him, snarling slightly as he spoke.
"You will learn, pet, that I am a very jealous mech." The scalpel hovered over Bluestreak's cheek and already wide optics seemed to bulge in fear as Heook leaned forward to kiss his check, glossa flicking out to taste the warm metal. "And that you will always belong to me." Hook sliced the gag, the fabric dropping to the ground and Bluestreak screamed in terror as the scalpel dug into his optic ridges.
Back at the Autobot base Ratchet sighed and closed the door to his medical bay behind Prowl, the Second in Command following Optimus and Jazz.
"Seems that Hook got to him again." Ratchet sighed, moving over to the berth where
Bluestreak sat, face buried in his hands. "Blue… Prowl is here…" Ratchet reached out and Bluestreak stiffened when the older mech's hand touched his shoulder. "You have to show your creator your optics, Blue, you can't hide it forever."
"I didn't want him to…" Bluestreak whimpered and Ratchet nodded.
"I know, Blue, I understand… Show Prowl your optics…"
Bluestreak slowly uncovered his face, turning to face the three commanders, onlining his optics. Silence regined as acid green optics stared at them, Bluestreak trying not to break down in sobs.
"H-he… He took my… My OPTICS!" Bluestreak wailed, covering his face. "He just tore them out!" Prowl stepped forward and slowly pulled his youngling into his arms, stroking the gray gunner's helm. "He said they were pretty… He wanted them… He… He…"
Silence filled the room in a stifling void, the only sounds coming from Bluestreak as the young gunner cried softly, acid green optics hidden from the world. Hidden from the green eyed monster he was mated to.