- Taste -
The thought was enough to bring bile to his mouth. It was enough to make the Prime want to purge his tank in disgust. His femme, his love, his bondmate, falling into the arms of another mech was something Optimus believed to be unthinkable. But she had. And it had not been any mech. It had been the Decepticon leader she found solace with.
Optimus could not comprehend why Elita would lay with that sparkless being. What reason could there be for the femme to violate the sanctity of their bond? Elita was a purity. A gift from Primus himself that Optimus cherished with each breath he drew. He had given himself to her completely. Had done all she asked. Given her all she desired.
The Prime doubled over in the hall, a hand cupped over his mouth as though he could prevent the nauseousness escaping him. Even now he could taste the femme upon his tongue: sweet, pure, innocent. He should have been the only one to taste her. To touch her. To feel her. Of all the sins Megatron had committed, of all the he had done to the Prime, this, the thieving of his bondmate, was the worst. It was the most unforgivable.
On his knees, Optimus could not hold back. In the mists of cursing and crying, he purged his tank as thoughts of his former bondmate lingered in his processors.
A/N: So here is part three: Taste. It's been interesting for me writing these drabbles, though I don't think this one is focusing as heavily on the sense as the previous chapters have with their respective sense. None the less, I hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: 'Transformers' and all related media, merchandise and trademarks do not belong to me. All canon characters belong to their respective companies and I am not affiliated with them in any way, shape or form.