Fandom: Transformers IDW AU with a dose of Bayverse and G1
Author: gatekat and starsheild on LJ
Pairing: Drift/Windswept
Rating: NC-17 mech/mech
Codes: AU, Slash, Graphic Rape
Summary:
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal. com/290 .html). We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.
Notes: nanoklik = 1/8 second; klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds; breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes; groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours; joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours; orn = 42 joor/13.02 days; decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years; metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years; vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years; century = 96 vorns/7968 years; millennia = 1056 centuries/101,376 vorns/7,944,096 years (7.944 million years)
::text:: comm chatter
~text~ hardline/bond chatter

Honors Demands 10: A Mate's Value

The blue mech wove through the crowds of the bustling spaceport with ease. Though not particularly large, it was a key point along the trade route that Drift had chosen to follow this time and was always busy. It was familiar enough to Windswept that he had set out on his own to acquire the supplies they needed to restock, most of his list already checked off and arranged to be delivered later in the orn to where the Wing's Spark was docked.

The last item on the official list, a resupply of the various forms or energon Drift liked to have onboard, was best purchased from a trader on the far side of the port. Windswept also happened to recall that the last time he and Drift had been in port there had been a merchant with an interesting selection of datafiles, some musical and some text, not far from the energon dealer.

So on Windswept's unofficial list was hopefully a new file for him to study on the next leg of their journey. And supplies to refill the detailing kit he liked to keep around, but those could be purchased and carried with him on his return to the ship.

He veered off the main thoroughfare and on to a side street, leaving the worst of the crowd behind him and vented softly in relief. While it was nice to see civilization again, the quiet of this section of the port was more to his liking and he slowed to a more leisurely pace. He enjoyed the heavier mech presence here too. Organics were fine and all, but many of them looked at him like he was a threat, or at least something that disgusted them, just because he was Cybertronian. This far from their homeworld it was no longer uncommon to visit a spaceport and dress in hooded cloaks and robes to avoid being recognized for what they were.

Here though, in this quarter, Cybertronians had made their claim and most organics stayed away.

Memory guided him to the energon dealer, and the friendly mech was more than willing to sell him what he needed, even if he did drive a hard bargain for the small amount of mild medical grade energon that Windswept needed to purchase on top of the usual supplies.

Hard to find this far from Cybertron or not, he was still asking too much.

Satisfied with the deal- the price he got on the highgrade was enough to make up the difference, so Windswept didn't complain too loudly-he started down the street in the search of the file merchant.

He didn't see it happen, or even feel it.

Just one moment he was walking down the street and the next he was struggling to boot up, flat on his back in a place that was definitely not where he'd been.

"He's booting," an unfamiliar voice called from several paces away.

Systems responded sluggishly, and several minor error files flashed at him, demanding attention and complaining of the crash he had experienced.

Crash?

Windswept selected the override that would force his optics to boot, granting him a view of wherever he was as they focused.

The owner of the voice was a mech, a grounder a bit larger than Drift that was mostly red with black and green highlights. The space was large, open and fairly dark.

"So you're Deadlock's mate," the red mech sneered at him. "Pretty thing. You'll bring a good price after we have him."

"Drift." Windswept corrected automatically, processor still foggy as he tried to work out what happened and where he was.

"Same mech," the red one shrugged and stepped close to run his hand along Windswept's chassis. "At least to those willing to pay a fortune for him. But you ... you're going to be worth nearly as much. Such high quality work. What family are you from?"

The blue mech shuddered at the touch, wanting to flinch away only to find his motor functions were still impaired. At the same time he could only stare in confusion. "Family?"

"Who commissioned you," he rephrased. "You were very expensive. They might pay well to have you back."

"Capsong." Windswept answered after a moment. A mech he had never met, and a designation he would have never known save that Drift has mentioned it once long ago.

The red mech hummed as his hands continued to explore Windswept's frame. "Responsive. Good. Pleasurebots should be responsive," his hand came to rest on Windswept's spike cover.

"Not." Windswept growled in response, optics flaring. Out of everything that he had ever been called, Drift has never called him that, nor had he allowed Windswept to be treated that way. More than one potential berth partner had been shown the door when they insulted the blue mech that way.

"You will be soon enough," the red mech laughed darkly as his fingers moved down, testing the front valve cover. "You'll be whatever your new owner wants you to be."

"Won't." He didn't belong to anyone but Drift, freed by the white warrior and then claimed as his mate, with Windswept's consent. But even to himself he sounded desperate, his defiance more hope than anything else.

"We'll see," he was told with a smirk. "Now you can open like a good little pleasurebot, or I'll force it open."

The blue mech trembled, defiance in every inch of his tense frame, "No."

"You'll learn," the red mech's expression turned cruel. "It'll hurt a lot less when you're compliant."

With that he slid his fingers around, seeking the manual latch that every cover had for medical care and popped it.

Windswept tried to struggle, but the sluggishness of his systems and the strength of the mech holding him down made the futile gesture laughable. His legs were forced apart as his forward valve cover opened against his wishes. A single finger probed the entrance, judging slickness out of curiosity rather than care.

There was little there, between Windswept's unwillingness and the earlier side effect of his systems coming out of the forced stasis.

The red mech leaned in close as his frame moved to cover Windswept's. "It will hurt less if you comply." He repeated his advice as his spike extended and quickly reached full pressurization, greedy to take with no care to the feelings of the blue mech.

Underneath the spaceport, the rock was honeycombed in places with caves, old caverns, even hideaways cut by smugglers. Most of them were abandoned, and most of the permanent residents of the spaceport had all but forgotten about them.

But not everyone.

Optics, yellow with a faint point of green, lit in the darkness. A mech unlike any other shifted, head turning, having caught a hint of sound and scent drifting down the tunnels. Soundlessly, the mech followed the sounds and scents, inhaling deeply to shake loose all the information he could. A deep hiss escaped a moment later as he placed the scent. Mercs. And with them, another scent, someone else.

Sensitive audials caught the words, the tone, and what he heard he didn't like. The captive was apparently bait, then doomed to being sold as a slave.

Idarassi shifted. Someone had to be looking for this mech. He would take the scent, then follow it. And the mercs would regret whatever they were doing.

The captive was not a local; his scent was of many visited worlds and especially of a ship, and one specific mecha. He smelled almost as much of his mate as he did of himself.

The ship meant the docks. A single other strong scent on him meant it was likely a small ship.

Green-yellow optics flared, sliding through the tunnels and finding a crack through which to get a look at the captive. No one even saw the forked something poking through the wall. Then Idarassi turned, heading down another tunnel as fast as his long body could take him. This tunnel led to the spaceport docks.

It didn't take long. He knew this area completely, knew every path to every location. The docks were soon above him, feeding air and the scents it carried with it to him.

Idarassi paused, his slender, forked glossa flicking out to taste the air. Catching a scent that matched the one on the captive mech, he headed directly for it, finding an access hatch and shoving it aside, tearing the bolts holding it shut out in the process.

The dockworkers noticed him first. While they were somewhat aware that there was something lurking in the shadows and the old tunnels, he was a very rare sight, and when they saw what was emerging from the tunnels, their immediate reaction was to get as far away from it as possible.

Ignoring them, Idarassi glided across the docks, following the scent. It led him to a relatively small ship docked out of the way, where it would most likely be overlooked by anyone with bad ideas in mind. Part of his body slid over the hull, creating a rasping sound that anyone inside would be able to hear.

He could hear an immediate response inside. A single mech scrambled to his pedes, grabbed several metal objects and ran for the side hatch rather than the main one.

Idarassi's audial panels twitched. He could feel the vibrations of the mech moving, curling around the ship to follow the movement. Most of him slid off the hull, coiling next to it while he waited. It didn't take long before a mostly white mecha launched himself into the open, well away from his ship, two short swords drawn and ready, a much larger one attached to his back and every line of him screaming of a warrior used to unpleasant surprises.

Pale blue optics landed on Idarassi, took in the serpent-mecha, the lack of attack and settled slightly. "What do you want?"

Idarassi tilted his head, then leaned down closer. His forked glossa flicked out, just barely skimming white armor, taking in his scent. This was the mech he was seeking, the one whose smell had been on the captive.

"I'm looking for you," the naga-mech replied, leaning back against his own coils. "Your smell was on the blue one."

Drift went sharply tense. "How do you know Windswept?" He asked even as he tried to ping his mate with no success.

Yellow-green optics turned as cold as ice. "Mercenariesss took him," was the response. "I live in the tunnels...; I caught hisss ssscent and followed it to where he wasss being held. Your ssscent on him led me to you."

A hard growl echoed up from Drift's engine as he sheathed his swords. "Where is he?"

The few individuals that saw them beat a hasty retreat at the aura of intent to kill that radiated from Drift.

"They're using him asss bait for you, ssso going through the front door might not be the bessst option... But I know the tunnelssss like the patternsss of my own ssscales. I know the back waysss in. But we should hurry... I did not like what they have planned for him." The long body uncoiled. "I am called Idarasssssi, by the way."

"Drift," he introduced himself. "Lead the way."

Trap or not, he could fight his way out of anything.

"Hold on," the naga-mech told him as the very end of Idarassi's body curled gently around Drift, lifting him up onto metal scales, setting him against the naga's back, where mech became serpent. The tension in Drift's frame at the sudden movement was nearly to the point where he drew his swords and attacked, thinking he was being attacked, but it registered what was going on quickly and he settled, laying flat on the serpent's back.

Idarassi turned and darted back across the docks, pouring into the access hatch and through the tunnels. He stayed low so that Drift wouldn't be scraped off, following the scent back to where Windswept was being held.

For such a huge creature, Idarassi was capable of surprising speed when he put his mind to it. He wove through the tunnels like a heat-seeking missile, faster than most grounders could move in a winding maze.

Finally, the naga slowed, lifting his upper body toward the ceiling, into a short but wide passage leading up. Looking back at Drift, he pointed to the wall, indicating that Windswept was behind it. Shifting, he hooked his clawed fingers into the old, crumbling wall, bringing up the end of his tail, preparing to break through and bring the wall down as soon as the white mech on his back was ready.

Drift moved quickly and silently, both his short swords at the ready and his stance one intent on bolting forward to protect and collect his mate the moment the wall was down.

Ida let out a very soft hiss, his tail whipping forward to deliver a blow that would send a gestalt head over skidplate, yanking backward at the same time. The wall came down in a crumbling mass against the naga-mech's scaled body, revealing the captive blue mech and exactly what the mercs were doing to him.

The roar of outrage from the white mech drew attention to the blur of motion that Drift had become as he launched himself in a furious attack on the mech that had dared take his mate's spark.

One merc, startled, ended up falling out of the new hole in the wall and right onto Ida. Within moments powerful coils had looped around the unfortunate merc and begin to tighten; Idarassi had been built along the lines of the powerful constricting serpents. His serpent half was built for pure power. The merc ended up crushed to scrap in his coils, then dropped onto the tunnel floor as the naga pushed his upper half into the room, keeping out of sword range and in general making life very difficult for the remaining mercs while Drift sliced them to pieces.

Even though Drift saw two of them running away, the moment there were no active threats left he turned and rushed to Windswept, his swords put away. His first concern was closing Windswept's chest plates, then verbally reassuring him as he checked for damage.

Idarassi looked at the two, then at the door the mercs had disappeared through. Carefully, he eased as much of his body as he could around the pair, using his thick coils to block the door, keeping anyone else from getting in. That done, he settled down, keeping his senses on alert for any new danger.

There was evidence of small damage everywhere. The scuffs and scrapes, the odd and stiff motion of joints that had been stressed in unnatural ways, the stress evidence of ports and covers being manually forced open, and most glaring the physical rend in the blue mech's chest plates.

But worse was the way that Windswept cringed away from Drift's touch, EM field pulled in so close that it barely registered outside his frame, and the distress in the overbright but unfocused optics.

With a grimace Drift pushed his field deep into Windswept's systems, forcing them to mesh. At the same time he uncoiled a cable and plugged in. ~Windswept, it's Drift,~ he called out to his mate, wrapping all his affection and concern in the designation glyph and emphasizing who was calling it. ~It's over. You're safe. I'm here. Drift is here.~

Keeping his distance, Idarassi watched, only looking away to surprise a merc trying to sneak up on him with a set of claws through the throat cables. Not even watching the merc go down, the half-serpent had turned his attention back to Drift and Windswept. His forked glossa flicked out, tasting the air. He could smell what had been done to the blue mech, grinding his denta with a soft, angry hiss. He'd been too late to prevent the rape.

Windswept had gone still with the additional forced contact, too tired to fight it anymore, before it started to register. Field contact was answered first, reaching slowly out to actually meet the contact forced upon it.

Hope. Relief.

Panic. Guilt.

~Not safe.~ The blue mech responded, struggling again. ~Trap.~

~More than the half dozen already dealt with?~ Drift focused his senses outward once more.

~Don't know.~ The blue mech in his arms confessed, frame beginning to tremble violently once more at the recall of recent abuse suffered at the hands of those mechs. ~Wanted you. Wanted you.~ He whimpered. ~Sorry. So sorry.~

~Shu, shu,~ Drift tried to sooth him, calm him. ~I'm the one who is sorry. I did not protect you. You should never have been in this danger, never have been captured.~ He rested his helm against his mate's and spoke to Idarassi. "Is there a trustworthy medic here? Some of these repairs are well beyond me."

The half-serpent thought for a moment. "There are not that many medicssss here," he replied finally. "And none I would really consssider truly trussstworthy. Your ssstandardsss are probably much ssstricter than mine. Thisss far from Cssybertron, with ssso many mercsss about, even a medic can eventually be forcssed to give up information. Not long ago a medic wasss killed here for refusssing."

"I only need to trust him enough to do the critical repairs right and not add any code or devices," Drift clarified. "Just enough so Windswept's safe and comfortable for the trip. He can tell afterwards. We'll be long gone."

Idarassi tilted his head slightly as he took that into account. "I do know of sssomeone, and he isss aware of me, which should be enough to get him to keep his mouth parts shut for a while." He uncoiled, his tail slipping back into the tunnels. Part of his long torso slid past Drift and Wind, offering a lift to the medic in question.

Drift nodded, willing to trust the serpent mecha again, even though the stakes were higher. He gently picked Windswept up, careful of the existing damage and to not pull the hardline out, and climbed on Idarassi's offered back.

Windswept's trembling was lessening, but the cause was exhaustion more than any conscious choice of the mech in Drift's arms.

Idarassi slipped into the tunnels, taking a different route. He was moving quickly, taking care not to jar his passengers. Finally coming to the surface, he flowed into a building, getting a startled yip from the red-and-white mech inside.

The red and white was fairly tall, showing signs of at least two alt modes. The distinctive patterns of a medic showed boldly on his armor.

"Idarassi says I can trust you enough to repair and nothing else," Drift's voice was a gruff growl, stress triggering his worst temperament. "I just need him repaired enough to withstand a vorn in stasis while we travel."

"Thisss isss Medic Alert," Idarassi told the white warrior. "He'sss the bessst you'll find here."

The medic eyed the warrior with respectful wariness, turning to reveal a red faction crest on his shoulder, one that matched those on the front of Drift's long spaulders. "I took an oath to do no harm when I began training as a medic." He tilted his head toward the treatment area.

With a nod Drift slid off Idarassi's back, Windswept limp and largely unresponsive in his arms as he walked. "Group of mercs got him. As bad as Cons in what they did."

Medic Alert made a face, knowing what Drift meant. "I will repair all that I can." He began getting the treatment area ready, clearing out one corner, figuring that Drift would want to be able to keep a careful optic on what he was doing.

Idarassi arranged himself in a neat pile, oddly compact considering his size, and leaned against his own coils to wait.