Title: Creep
Series/Verse: G1/IDW (your choice)
Rating: T/PG13
Disclaimer: This is a piece of fiction. No harm was intended in the creation of this work. All rights belong to the original creators.
arnings: Stalking; Non-graphic fantasies; Implied Twincest
ummary: Sunstreaker belongs to Vortex.
A/N: This is probably a huge cliché of a story, but when you have to get something out of your head and on paper, then you just have to do it. Inspired by Creep by Radiohead, I was suddenly struck with an image of Vortex watching Sunstreaker from behind a pillar, fantasising about him.

Sunstreaker and Vortex is a pairing that Acidgreenflames and I have been playing around with for about 6 months, along with Sideswipe and Onslaught. It all started with some RP and has kind of exploded from there. We have a shared Livejournal page, called twinsxcombats, where we currently post links to our own fics either here, on LJ or Ao3, but we will hopefully get some collaboration work there too.

Italic paragraphs - fantasy, or something else?

I don't care if it hurts, I want to have control, I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul, I want you to notice when I'm not around, You're so very special, I wish I was special.

Chatter made up of a myriad of conversations drifted through the heady atmosphere of the oil house as mechs of all kinds of guises, with and without faction badges, wound down as another cycle came to a close. High grade flowed plentiful, its base ingredient bounteous now the war was over, encouraging some patrons to become gregarious in their overcharged state, living their lives to the fullest while others became aloof and distant, pondering their lives and drinking away their memories. The low lighting offered many dark and murky corners for those who wished to remain elusive, hidden from the crowds.

It was from one such shadowy niche that a mech observed the crowd; his two companions prattling on about something that the silent surveyor really had no interest in, while his visored optics continuously scanned the joint, searching, waiting.

Then there it was, the flash of colour that ended the wait, heralding the arrival of one particular mech. He was here.

Vortex shifted in his seat, anticipation tingling through his sensor net while rotors quivered so minutely that onlookers would be completely oblivious to his heightened state. His helm barely moved as optics tracked his prey, the pristine lustre of plating out shining all around him, drawing the Decepticon's gaze. He arrived with only one companion, one who rarely left his side; the yin to this mech's yang.

But soon they would be joined by others as each time it was the same, first there would just be the two of them, then they would be joined by a select few while Vortex watched on, wishing it was he whom the mech sat there waiting for.

As the pair of Autobots moved through the crowd, Vortex now discreetly moved his helm as he followed from his seat in the dark recess, catching the moment they parted ways, as always, the more extrovert of the two heading for the bar, leaving the other to claim their alcove. Now completely oblivious to anything his companions rambled on about, the heli-former found himself on his pedes, ignoring questions from his former gestalt mates.

With music lilting through the air, encouraging a scant few to sway along to it, Vortex found himself weaving his way across the floor until he met with a pillar, one which was strategically placed a short distance from the golden mech, one which had on many occasions, obscured Vortex from view. And there he was, Sunstreaker, perfection incarnate, indifferent as he waited for his twin to return with their high grade, studying immaculate and talented finger tips before glancing through the crowd, his optics barely canting towards the voyeur.

If the Decepticon adjusted his optical focus just right, and were to stretch out his arm, it would seem as if he could touch the beautiful mech. But Sunstreaker was not within touching distance, nor his to touch; he belonged to Sideswipe. That however failed to stop the fantasies.

From behind, clawed tips drew across golden chest plates, dipping between seams in all the right places, tugging, drawing wonderful sounds from a static laden vocaliser; a sweet cacophony to the Decepticon's audials. Cobalt hued optics flickered in response while plating trembled under the touch; the only movement the Autobot made. With his battle mask withdrawn, his vents of warm air skittered over an audial fin while he spoke words of promise, finally drawing a physical, if small reaction from his companion when a finned helm turned away from the words, and away from the intimate contact; in denial of the inevitable, the action causing his frame to press into the mocking touches.

Sideswipe's appearance almost startled the former interrogator, forcing Vortex to change his position, but he remained behind the pillar, optics focused solely on Sunstreaker while he himself blurred into the crowd. Over charged mechs stumbled back and forth the busy space between the pillar and the nook where the twins sat; now he could see Sunstreaker, now he could not, and there he was again.

Groans became louder, cries stifled and swallowed while the Autobot fought to remain in control. The strong golden frame thrashed and writhed, moving in and out of contact with toying hands while a powerful engine ran hard and hot, cooling fans joining the chorus of sounds; tethered arms weak and useless against the assault on his frame

Slowly, the others joined the twins, each rousing a seed of jealousy in Vortex's spark, all now obstacles between him and the mech he watched. Changing his position slightly, gaining a better view, the Decepticon took in the lines and shapes as his optics travelled the immaculate frame; a frame he had so diligently explored, once, a long time ago.

The touches became more urgent, words no longer whispered into an audial, but growled and snarled as desire to reach his goal grew. He was becoming impatient, the Decepticon, the threshold levels of his guest much higher than he anticipated, but all the same, the golden Autobot's reactions did not disappoint.

Systems hitched when the Decepticon found blue optics staring straight back at him, swirling pools of something dark and deep, a steadfast resolve to not bend to the will of others; the sight as familiar to the Decepticon as his own reflection. The Combaticon could not be sure if it was he who Sunstreaker was focused on, and smoothly he changed his position, disappearing behind the pillar only to reappear at the other side, those cobalt orbs of intense light meeting him again.

Vents became slow and ragged while expectation flowed through him. The others around the golden Autobot seemed unperturbed that Sunstreaker's attention was currently elsewhere, his penetrating stare pinning Vortex to where he stood, rendering him immobile with his optics alone.

Did he know? Could Sunstreaker read his thoughts?

Rapid pants of air left Sunstreaker's frame, dark optics staring ahead while he slumped in his seat, exhausted, spark energy fluctuating wildly. Not once did Sunstreaker yield, nor did he beg, but the Combaticon relished his time with his captive all the same.

Vortex should have killed Sunstreaker that cycle, regardless of the outcome, even more so for remaining resolute; not giving an inch and taking all that was thrown at him. But something was born in that interrogation room, something sinister and dark, something that the Combaticon would carry with him through the rest of the war while it festered in his spark, waiting for the right moment.

Every time the former interrogator replayed that memory, his desire would always be the same, never fading, only increasing in want. His want to have the hands that he had once bound with chains, that could crush sparks but now created works of art in this new age, roam his plating, enticing and teasing his every sensor. He wanted to feel the mouth he had watched in conversation, time and time again from across the bar, pressed against his own. Vortex fed his desires with thoughts of the dominance battle that would undoubtedly rise between the two; Sunstreaker not one to back down, Vortex only knowing how to take, on his terms.

His venting became deeper, slower, his desire crawling through him, scratching at his lines from the inside; an itch he needed to scratch.

And still those optics watched him, confident and knowing. It felt to Vortex as though his innermost thoughts were being read, every fantasy, every craving, and every replay of that memory, all locked away inside of him, yet seemingly laid bare to Sunstreaker.

While the pair continued to hold one another's attention, want gave away to need; Vortex's need to feel the Autobot's frame against his own, wild and dangerous energies mixing as hedonistic pleasure took over all thought.

A tiny smirk quirked at the corner of Sunstreaker's mouth. Most would have missed it but not only did Vortex have the skill to detect even a minute change in his victims demeanour, his distant study of the former front liner had taught him all of Sunstreaker's nuances, no matter how slight, no matter how rigid a mask he sometimes wore.

Then the spell was broken. Sunstreaker's attention pulled away by his twin, the near invisible sneer turning into a spark felt smile, optics flaring brightly for a moment as they met Sideswipe's.

Jealousy rolled through the Decepticon, drowning the desire that had only kliks before filled him. That jealousy became laced with rage as the others at the table drew Sunstreaker back into their conversation, keeping his attention away from him. And once again Vortex was merely a face in the crowd, an old enemy who had once tortured, but failed to break his Autobot prisoner.

He knew he had been weak, during the war, foolish; the front liner should not be alive, not after he had been in the interrogator's clutches. But Vortex wanted more than the pain he had inflicted, more than the muffled sounds of agony that Sunstreaker had refused to let spill from his lips; now he wanted to make the Autobot his, and his alone.

Sideswipe, as far as the rotary was concerned, did not appreciate Sunstreaker, nor was he worthy of him. Sure the ruby twin was just as wild, but Sunstreaker had a feral side that needed feeding, keeping alive, and Vortex would be the mech to fulfil that need. Sideswipe, and the rest of his cohorts, only wanted what Sunstreaker could now give them, again in his opinion; name and fortune as they rode on his talent, his success.

A new age had been born on Cybertron, places in society still uncertain, and these flunkies would only drag him down, obscuring him and taming him until he would become a shadow of himself, an empty shell.

Yes, Vortex believed, unequivocally, that he was the only one who was capable of giving Sunstreaker what he truly needed, so for now they could have his attention. For now they could revel in his company because it would only be a matter of time.

Time before Sunstreaker was all his.

~fin~