Sorry about the delay! Kujaz was bitten by a vicious Insecticon called Cold Bug, and was undergoing heavy maintenance in the past week. But here you go, the next chapter! Have a couple you kindasorta voted against. Hehehe.

It was strange.

Ultra Magnus had just come out of recharge. He had taken a nap while waiting for Sentinel to return with Ratchet. To the Commander's surprise, his condition showed itself again, and it made him—to be honest—quite scared. He remembered the good old medic and his excellent abilities and seriously hoped he could tweak something inside so the leader of the Elite Guard wouldn't collapse until they get back.

But Sentinel was gone for quite some time now, and he didn't even reply to the comm inquiry. What could have happened? Was he in danger? Ultra Magnus was pacing in the command room, worried. A few more times Magnus tried to contact Sentinel, but it was little use. It had been at least an Earth hour, if not more. What could possibly delay the Prime for him to take this long?

Unbeknownst to the Commander, a small yellow figure watched him from a cloaked space of shadows. He had easily bypassed any security that stood in his way; although he himself was no hacker, he guessed it was through the energy pouring off of him. He noticed it happened to some of the smaller Sumdac bots on the roadside on his way here, too: his very presence was a danger to some smaller units...units unable to take the strain of the energy waves rolling off of his body in potent, thrashing heaves.

Bumblebee's hands jerked in nervous ticks and it caused his hidden stingers to rattle where they were stored. He truly felt awful for leaving such a wake of destruction, but there was nothing he could do. He was sweating coolant and his energy hadn't even lasted him this hour. He was afraid he would die if he didn't find another source.

But to be brought to this...to the Commander...!

His spark shouted at him to keep going. It stretched into the room as far as its energy could reach and Bee failed to stop it. He shook the reigning doubt from his processors. Doubt was something he couldn't afford in this state; no matter how shameful this was.

The Commander suddenly stopped. What...was that? He swore he could feel...spark energy nearby. It was a curious feeling; spark energy could only be felt into a very close proximity of an aroused mech. Now, he himself didn't feel particularly frisky, so...who could it be? Sentinel was not here—and it was a perfectly impossible thought, him being in a state of arousal. And Jazz was out, too. Magnus straightened and looked around. Could it be—no, no, the shield won't let through any Decepticon, and surely they...grew out of that nasty habit they sometimes practiced at the beginning of the war, when they were still bold enough.

No turning back now, if he was stopping that way. Bee didn't even have to guess that Ultra Magnus had picked up on him. He'd never been the best hider; the spark energy just emphasized his obvious efforts.

Bumblebee timed his advances just as Ultra Magnus turned in his direction, shuffling out of the shadows and suppressing his systems' deprived shudders the best that he could. He tried to fake a smile through his pitiable state. "F—Forgive my intrusion, sir," he said, speaking quietly. "Can we, umm...talk?"

The Commander frowned. "How did you get on board, Bumblebee?" he questioned and walked closer. "And you look a bit shaken; is there a problem?"

And then, it hit him: a spark's sweet, tempting energy, calling out for him, luring him closer. It was not even arousal, not just an invitation; it was an open, fierce demand. Magnus's optics widened and he took a step back. "What...what is the matter with you, youngling?"

Bumblebee's optics flickered a bit. He tried lying. "N-Nothing; nothing's wrong," he insisted, shaking his head and drawing closer. "I just...I need...umm...some advice. Everyone else is busy or away..."

The commander let a huge intake cool his insides a little bit. "Ask then, and I'll try to answer to the best of my abilities." Primus, the youngling was broadcasting louder than any obnoxious radio station in the Youth Sectors! It took quite a lot of concentration to not act on impulse, and do something completely unworthy of a high-ranked officer of the Elite Guard.

"I was just..." But Bumblebee trailed off as he noticed something. His hypersensitivity tuned him to the fluttering energy of Ultra Magnus' spark. There was something...off about it. A strain of the signature was different than Bulkhead's or Prime's, but so too had Ratchet's. That was just age. That strain wasn't the problem.

The problem was that the strength was significantly weaker somehow. It was well enough now, but...something about the way the energy felt, as much as Bumblebee wanted it, unsettled him. The concern struck his expression. Was the Commander sick at the spark?

"...S-Sir...I...your energy signature..." Bee's shame deepened and the doubt returned. He couldn't possibly—the others had all at least been in a stable condition, but the Commander—it wasn't right. What if he took too much and ended up hurting him...or killing him?

"You should check your own," Magnus managed to groan out between gritted teeth. This was getting ridiculous. His own spark fluttered merrily, prodding him to indulge into something naughty; after all, it had been so long! The yellow frame's fields tasted sweet and warm; he could feel it on his glossa. The commander's fingers curled up. "Something is definitely wrong with you, but what's with—" Wait a minute. The youngling could...sense it? Magnus clicked and his optics grew brighter. "I...have a condition...my spark chamber's energy supply wavers sometimes. It's nothing serious, just some clogged up tubes, but it's a bit distracting."

Bumblebee ducked his head down and tried to pull back his energy as best he could. Whether or not it was serious didn't matter; the confirmation was what made him feel sick. He turned to leave the room. There had to be something else. There had to be someone else. "I-I-I'm obviously upsetting you. I'll just, umm, leave. Sorry, Commander...really sorry..."

"Wait." The Commander was actually quite sure this was not a good idea, but he was not perfectly in control anymore of his own deeds, "What is it? Your spark energy is off the scale, it's practically begging for an overload. That's it, simply? Or something else...?"

The little figure was trembling as he started to move away, leering over his shoulder. "It's fine!" Bee snapped, sounding harsher than he meant to. He lowered his vocals to a reasonable level. "I can...I can take care of it. I know how to. Just...I don't want to hurt..." the yellow 'bot couldn't finish his sentence, afraid of some sort of repercussion from the Commander at discovering his true intentions. He didn't want to be blamed for anything; this wasn't his fault! He didn't know what it could be, but this...this thing he'd become wasn't him.

Oh, but he really should have gone to see Ratchet...

"I don't think an overload would hurt me," the commander mused. "But why did you come to me? Why not see one of your comrades instead?"

Silence pervaded the atmosphere for a while as thoughts flitted through Bumblebee's processors on an erratic and illogical track. The trembling worsened and his bottom lip quivered with the rest of him. He looked a few times, though briefly, at Ultra Magnus, meeting his optics. He was panicking.

Everything built to a head and Bumblebee finally dropped on his knees. He felt like he'd lost all strength in his frame. He dipped his head low until it was practically in his lap. His voice shook.

"I can't!" he cried. "I already hurt them enough! I can't...stop! There's something...something wrong with my spark, and this is all I can do to fix it...but it doesn't really fix it, it's just gotten worse!" Bumblebee hid his head under his hands, fuel tank churning. "I'm sorry, Commander! Just...don't! I know this is affecting you, but...let me leave, please! I'll do something else! Once I'm gone, you won't even know—"

Then, he felt a warm, heavy hand on his back, caressing soothingly. Ultra Magnus was trembling from the suppressed tension, but he couldn't just watch the youngling to suffer. He carefully tipped Bumblebee's head up, looking into the feverish optics. "No one gets left behind," he cited the old rule, and ran a thumb over the little one's lips. He was so enticing in his misery; simply irresistible. The commander's own spark wanted to reach out and console his. The agony around the yellow frame was dense.

The yellow frame froze from helm to feet and Bee's optics widened. At first, he shook his head. It was the first time he could remember outright denying what he needed. "D-Don't...Commander...what if I hurt you? Y-You said your energy supply...if I took it all away...!"

He was hauled up to his feet a bit roughly, and then the commander's lips crashed against his. Ultra Magus couldn't help it—his resistance was blown away in the intensity of those fields. One of his strong hands cupped the back of the yellow helm, to keep the scout close; his other grabbed the shapely little aft possessively. He didn't give a damn about damage; he wanted the little 'bot now!

It was an understatement to say Bumblebee was shocked by the response. Still, with that sudden crush of closeness, the flare in his energy increased, and his will to resist plummeted. He tried to stave it off a little longer; but in the end, Bee whimpered, needy and pained, wrapping all limbs around the older mech's body like a lifeline and pushing desperately into the kiss. His spark was screeching in its casing, calling for an overload, for another meal of energy that it had decidedly waited too long for.

He was lifted up, the lip-lock not even wavering and Magnus carried his prize to the consoles. He let Bee sit on top of it, and he began questing for hot spots on the smaller frame. Soon enough, his lips left Bee's, to explore the slender black neck, biting into it even, though not too painfully.

Bumblebee stretched his neck out like an offering and let out a deep sigh. Just the contact was enough to get him to relax. Without even asking, he knew what the Commander was looking for. "My...horns, and the backs of my knee joints," he rasped, shuddering under Ultra Magnus' frame. Heat poured off of him and coolant rolled off his armor in thick rivering beads, as if trying to hurry the Commander along to the sensitized hot spots.

"Antenna, side seams, insignia," the muffled reply came, as strong fingers immediately began to assault the scout's sensitive parts. Just like in the sweet old times, huh? The commander was a young mech once, long before the war, and he had a certain sort of...reputation. Back then, sometimes things went like this: quickly, roughly, ending in glorious surges. His bigger frame pushed against Bee's, making him lean back slowly against the consoles.

The responses came instantly now. Bee stopped resisting and allowed himself to be pushed back, a submission he didn't mind at all. He was too busy shuddering and moaning without restraint as Ultra Magnus began to stimulate his hot spots, optics flashing so bright they bleached out their usual cyan color. Bumblebee squirmed restlessly, his vocals heavily laced with static as he gripped the Commander's shoulders. "Ohh...! Yes, yes, like that...sir...! More! Please, more!"

"Reciprocate!" The command was harsh and firm, on a voice which didn't tolerate any insubordination. The commander rubbed his front against the yellow chest; his insignia on the middle was slightly raised, and ground to the brighter chassis with a wonderful friction. Magnus revved his powerful engine, sending strong vibrations through Bumblebee's frame.

Bee jumped a little. Steam warmed his faceplates. He fumbled to wrap his fingers around an antenna, to push up against the insignia on his chest. "S-S-Sorry," he stuttered, shivering again. He'd been so desperate for energy that he'd nearly forgotten.

The stern faceplates softened somewhat and Magnus kissed Bee again, leaning his head slightly into the small palm. His vents heaved a sigh at the sensation; it was so nice after all this time... His core temperature was rising rapidly and his spark fluttered in its casing.

Barely contained were Bumblebee's squirming tendencies. Still, between nuzzling Magnus and stealing hard kisses, rubbing his antennae and grazing hot yellow fingers over his side seaming and arching against the older, larger frame, there was hardly a moment where he kept still. He built energy fast, drinking every drop off Ultra Magnus that mingled in their close proximity. He was so hungry for it that he didn't even know when he'd started to absorb it, or when he would be able to stop. He just encouraged the Commander with strokes, kisses and caresses that were only a few parsecs shy of frantic, systems heaving harsh cycles of air as the heat pushed beads of coolant through the seams of his armor.

The speed and intensity escalated, until the point where all cold composure the Commander possessed was gone—he was young again, shameless and very, very aroused. The core temperature reached critical levels and the excess energy suddenly released in a burst, like liquid plasma, rushing through his insides. Magnus jerked up, his fingers denting the console surface as they dug into it and he screamed with his release. Even his spark lashed out, its energy seeping through layers of armor, most probably because it had been sealed and kept in solitude for so long. The overload was nearly too intense.

Bumblebee all but collapsed at the rush. He spat lines of code in static and clutched himself to Ultra Magnus, soundlessly reaching his overload as his spark drank of the Commander's energy. It sucked everything down like a bottomless hole, everything vanishing into the abyss to keep Bumblebee's scrambled systems satisfied for just a little while longer. The amount from Ultra Magnus was great in magnitude and highly concentrated—perhaps, if he was lucky, it would last him longer than Sentinel had.

For a few blissful moments, Magnus just enjoyed the feeling of the blazing little yellow frame snuggling up to his; but then, something changed. His power levels, normally thrumming after an overload, had begun to sink as if something was draining them. His optics grew wide as he realized that the scout was practically sucking off his energy. His systems already blinked, not being able to maintain a constant flow, and his spark chamber was the first to become affected. With great effort, the Commander pushed himself off the console, trying to flee from the dangerous embrace.

Bumblebee wailed helplessly at the departure, looking at Ultra Magnus with a genuinely hurt expression. He rolled off the console and crumpled in a heap, legs trembling as he tried to stand back up. "W-Wait...!" He needed that energy! He craved it, he didn't know why, but he absolutely lived on it. He was still shuddering with cold despite the intense heat, and he would die if he didn't have more! Bumblebee reached out for the older mech, so broken down that overheated fluid threatened to leak from his optics. "Why'd you stop? I'm still so dizzy! Commander—"

"Bumblebee!"

The new voice was enough to make his head turn; partially a habit, partially from shock. Still quivering, hand half-reaching for the Commander and his spark energy thrashing, Bumblebee laid eyes on a set of magnetized pincers aimed at him, threatening attack.

"That's quite enough out of you, little one."

Bumblebee glared. "Keep out of this, Doc-bot!"

"I will not!" snapped Ratchet. His faceplates didn't relax. "I know this isn't your fault, Bumblebee, but this has to stop!" It didn't escape the good doctor to once-over Ultra Magnus and realize that there were scratches in his paint. Fraggit, he'd been too late.

He kept his optics on the yellow 'bot. "You're sick, Bee. The things you've been doing are the cause of some type of infection." Bumblebee's gaze went wide at this. "I can help you get better, but you have to stand down. That's an order, soldier!"

Bumblebee stood, frozen for a time. He didn't so much as take a cycle of air. He fell perfectly still, petrified at the revelation.

He'd thought...he'd thought, maybe that was it, but he'd been too blind to accept it. He'd been stupid, letting it go this long! And now—now that he knew—

...Everyone he'd come into contact with...

Bumblebee finally moved. He put his face in his hands, took backwards steps until he thumped against the consoles with a whimper and crumbled into a sitting position. The pounding, leech-like waves of the barnacles on his casing retreated. "Sh...Shut me off," he mumbled, crying louder, "Shut me off!"

Ratchet lowered and retracted the magnetic pincers, and calmly approached the distressed little scout. He crouched down and hushed him, listened to him cry about how sorry he was, how he'd never meant to do anything wrong. Ratchet eased his systems into stasis lock. He was afraid to do it because it would leave the barnacles unchecked, but being confined in his systems while they cooled in stasis would at least delay them, and he was even more worried about if Bumblebee were to remain online. He couldn't risk endangering anyone else any more than they'd already been...and it was clear that Bumblebee was hurting the most.

The medic looked up at Ultra Magnus, surveying his condition. "Sir," he said, almost too quietly, "If you're not severely damaged, I suggest you rally all the Autobots for an urgent meeting on the bridge...immediately."

"I'm afraid..." the commander said, leaning against the nearest steady surface, placing a hand on his chest, "...that will have to wait." And, with all the grace of a seasoned warrior, he collapsed, fingers frantically clawing his chestplate. His vents were completely silent, not like in other cases of distress. The blue optics dimmed and the strong frame trembled.

Ratchet's optics widened, and he hurried over to the Commander, leaving Bumblebee laid out on the floor.

And then he realized, on top of having just been infected, that his spark chamber wasn't completely stable. The energy flow couldn't have fluctuated at a worse time. Frag...

Ratchet worked as quickly as he could to at least get the Commander stable again. As soon as that chore was done, he would contact the other Autobots himself. Things were falling apart and they needed to coordinate. They really needed to coordinate.