C.M.D: Well, I've managed to get quite a few chapters done this month while handling other things, so instead of holding them in storage I decided I would go right ahead and post them for you all! Like a token of my love, just in time for Valentine's day~ So, please enjoy all the new updates and I'll see you all again next month!
Title: Lockdown and Swindle IV
Rating: M
He wiped his optics for good measure, but nope, Lockdown was still standing there.
"...What the slag do you want?," the devon rex asked.
"Aw, c'mon babe," the albino purred, leaning further through the doorway; energon bottles clinking together at the action. The tiger gave a quick yelp when the door smacked into his chin shortly after.
"Get lost, you fragger!"
Growling, Lockdown pushed back against the door, looking around the frame at the smaller kittycon. "What the frag is your problem?," he demanded. "I'm in town, finished up some business and I thought, hey! Let's get some beers and celebrate like ol' times, babe! And this is the greeting I get?"
"Celebrate? I don't fragging celebrate like that, moron," Swindle returned, not letting up, "A beer and a few frags is your idea of a fun time! Not mine!"
The tiger frowned. "So that's a 'no'? You didn't mind before."
"I'm not sixteen anymore!," the tan mech growled, slamming harder on the door. "You're fragged in the processor anyway if you think I'm fragging you after you knocked me up!"
"I thought you said I never think with that helm, anyhow," Lockdown chuckled, slipping his pede in between the door and frame quickly. It only took one good push with his knee afterwards and he was in; Swindle face-first on the ground a couple feet away.
Pushing himself up, the devon rex watched sourly as the thug walked into the apartment, sauntering immediately for the kitchen. "Don't be a fragging wise aft. And get out of my fridge!," he yelled, getting up.
XxXxXxx
"What is that Unicron-damned smell?"
Growling slightly at the offending odour, Onslaught stalked further into his home; dropping his suitcase off at the staircase before turning into the living room. Here, the stench was stronger and his olfactory sensor actually crinkled back unpleasantly. Staring down on the floor, the serval was both surprised and somewhat not, to see Wildrider trying to roll onto his bottom; little paws reaching desperately for the large, rancid bulge formed on the bottom of his diaper.
"SWINDLE!," Onslaught roared.
Little Wildrider cooed at at his shout, giggling and rocking harder, wanting to play with his excrements in the diaper.
Slowly, shuffling came, Swindle rounding the other corner into the living room. "...yes?," he asked neutrally, ears flattened slightly -the only sign that he knew he was in trouble.
"What," Onslaught started slowly, struggling to keep his tone calm and even, "Is this?"
A fat, grey finger pointed to Wildrider, still lost in his "game." Swindle's optics slid to his smelly bornling slowly, before returning to his sire. "It's my son."
"Yes... but why hasn't he been changed?"
The devon rex shuttered his optics. "He's not wearing any clothes."
"He's wearing a diaper!," Onslaught snapped, his patience waning fast. "That poor thing reeks like some dive's sewer tunnels, and right now, he's sporting a bulge big enough for him to play with- which he seems quite eager to do! That diaper needs to be taken off and a fresh one put on!"
Swindle remained standing casually by the doorway. "What's wrong with a bath at the end of the day?," he asked, with all the sincerity of the dumb.
At such a ridiculous question, Onslaught almost didn't know what to say. Pinching his olfactory sensor momentarily, the serval slowly vented, trying to regather his thoughts. "Diapers need to be changed every time a bornling goes to the washroom, to keep rashes and infections from forming. Don't you know anything about bornlings?"
Raising his optics, the serval was surprised to see Swindle quickly look away; shoulders tense and ears flattened fully.
"...do you even know how to change a diaper?," the older mech asked softly. A quiet, grumbled 'no' was his answer after a long klik. Sighing, Onslaught pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor again. He never would have guessed that the devon rex didn't know how to do something as simple as change a diaper (the hospital nurses would have shown him directly) but he hadn't realized how proud a 'bot his son was.
Truly, he lived in a family of interesting individuals.
"Alright," the serval vented softly, crossing the room and picking up Wildrider by his middle. The bornling squealed and cooed in delight at the change of altitude. "Come with me."
Swindle reluctantly looked at his sire, ignoring the squeaking bundle wiggling for his attention. "What exactly are we doing now?," he demanded suspiciously.
Grabbing the entrepreneur's arm, Onslaught dragged his son to the staircase. "We're going to learn how to change a diaper," he replied cheerfully. Pausing, he grinned back at the smaller kittycon, optics lit with dark humor. "Don't worry about a thing- I've had a lot of practice."
Scowling slightly, Swindle said nothing as he was tugged upstairs.
XxXxXxx
One servo wandered groggily around the top of the berth, knocking empty bottles off the nightstand before long fingers curled over a small, cardboard box. Grunting, Lockdown's helm finally emerged from the tangled comforter, squeezing the box a little until the lid popped; displaying several cyg-sticks, which the mech drew to his face to yank one of them out by the denta.
"Swindle...?," he grunted, bleary optics trying to sense things out in the dim lighting. "Swin? Frag... where's my lighter?"
The tiger fumbled some more in the dark, so absorbed in his task that he didn't see the shadow slinking on the ceiling above. Finally finding his target, Lockdown rolled over on the berth, kicking the comforter aside as he stretched leisurely on his back. "Babe?," he hollered to the ajar door, "Ya got any food? I'm starving."
He didn't wait for answer before lighting up his cyg; catching the little glimpse of red at the ceiling fan an astrosecond before something dive-bombed him from above, crashing dead center into his crotch. Lockdown let loose a high-pitched yowl of agony as he tried to leap from the berth, screeching again when he felt the vile attacker dig its claws in, right at the moment he tried to yank it off. Practically crying now, the tiger managed to wrench the clawed demon off... and found the giggling, maroon face of his child staring up at him.
"Ah...," Swindle's vocalizer was heard; the devon rex standing smugly in the doorway, "I see you've found your daddy, Wildrider. Good boy."
The sparkling crowed happily, wiggling like an eel in Lockdown's grasp while the albino glared at the other mech. "You set that up on purpose...," he growled, optics still wet with tears of agony.
"Nope," Swindle smirked, turning to leave. "But I certainly don't mind what he did."
"You- wait!," the tiger yelped, keeping Wildrider at arm's length as he waddled out the room after the kittycon, "Don't leave him with me!"
xxXxXxx
"Just what exactly do you think you're doing?," Lockdown growled, slamming through the apartment door. The abused door creaked dangerously on its hinges but it miraculously swung back behind the tiger as he stormed toward the youngling. Hunkered at his little make-shift office in one corner of the living room, Swindle continued to ignore the tiger as he readjusted his papers, glancing idly at the wobbly table leg to his left.
The thug hissed, hackles on edge as he grabbed the back of the devon rex's chair, ripping him away from his laptop as he turned to it next. "Hey!," Swindle shouted indignantly.
"Hey, you shut up!," Lockdown yelled back, claws digging into the wood backing. "What the frag were you doing at Gator Gate, huh? That place is dangerous!"
"Good grief," the youngling scowled, crossing his arms as he bared his fangs in return. "Stop your pissy whining. I was seeing a potential client- or do you not care if we get work or not?"
Lockdown was half-tempted to slap that arrogant, lil' cub but he refrained. Barely. "No, you weren't," he corrected, tail thumping against the floor in building rage, "You were seeing Gutcruncher! I'm not as dumb as you think I am!"
Swindle sputtered, caught off-guard initially by the revelation but he quickly schooled his face into a sneer; leaning toward the tiger. "What, are you jealous? So, I was seeing Mr. Gutcruncher- he's a very well-rooted businessmech. He's shown interest in my work and he thinks I could be a budding ally to his company. After our lovely lunch together, I think I'll be taking him up on his offer!"
"Lu-" The older kittycon paused, finally smelling the faint whiff of high-grade on Swindle's vents. Lockdown growled again, grabbing the youngling's wrist, yanking him to his pedes. "Interest? He's interested in you? Of course he would be interested in a stupid, gullible lil' kitten!," he snarled, standing to full height, forcing Swindle to dance on tip-toe while his wrist was still captured.
"You've got potential -real talent, kid- but some psycho wines and dines you and suddenly you're tripping over yourself! Gutcruncher ain't someone you can trust!"
"S-shut up!," the devon rex yelled, scratching at the larger mech's arm with his free servo. "Y-you aren't my ca-carrier; you can't tell me slag! Besides, what do you know, you smelly aft?!"
Optics twitching now, Lockdown clamped down harder on the delicate wrist, gnashing his denta together as he refrained from punching the youngling in the gut. This was one of the many slagging reasons that he hated dealing with sparklings of any kind. "No, you're right," the tiger hissed, ignoring Swindle's yelps and insults as he carried him across the apartment, grabbing his few things awkwardly with his hook and elbow. "Gutcruncher totally isn't bad news. Sure, he totally likes you and isn't just out to use you. I'm sure you won't end up in a ditch somewhere. But since you're so convinced..."
Lockdown trailed off momentarily, throwing the front door open once more only to toss the devon rex out the doorway. Swindle hit the opposite wall with a crack; grunting, the youngling slowly pushed himself onto his fours, yelping when the thug threw his things at him.
"Stop that! You could break it," Swindle shouted, barely catching his laptop. He glared at the silent kittycon standing over him, red optics glaring back. "You big aft! You almost cost me all my data!"
The albino merely huffed, shaking his helm. "'Course you care more about your work than your slagging life... Well, I hope you're right about Gutcruncher," the thug said grimly, one servo on the door, "Because I ain't housing someone whose gonna become a liability to my own safety."
"Wha? L-lockdown, wa-!"
But it was too late. Hall lights flickered as the other mech slammed the door shut, leaving the youngling on the floor, cupping his few prized possessions in disbelief.
"Y-you... you can't do this!," Swindle yelled, clambering onto his pedes. "We had an agreement; I have keys! I can easily get back in!"
He didn't though. A quick pat down notified the kittycon that he had left his keys inside Lockdown's apartment. "Lockdown! Don't be stupid!," the youngling went on, resorting to kicking the door. Anything to get the big idiot to open the door. "You need me! I'm your employer! ...Primus, don't be a slagging crankshaft and let me in! This isn't funny anymore."
Still, the door remained firmly in place and there wasn't a single sound to be heard from the other side. After a few kliks, Swindle had no choice but to accept defeat, and the youngling turned away from the door, marching away from the dilapidated building.
XxX
For several cycles, it had been quiet. Lockdown was surprised. It may have been a few months, but he'd grown accustomed to having Swindle taking up half of his little apartment. Making notes on his pad, clacking away on the laptop, quietly complaining about the lack of real food and amenities... Now, it was silent and the tiger sat in the dark, nursing a flat beer; not caring to switch a light on without the brat to complain and finding himself unable to help his thoughts from circling back to the cub. He was an arrogant, inexperienced, mouthy little troublemaker who thought he knew better about one of the most dangerous kittycons roaming Cybertron's underside.
Lockdown was justified in kicking Swindle out before his problems followed him back here. But he was still a cub... If he was so ignorant about Gutcruncher, then how could Swindle possibly defend against the other masters of trade, like traffickers, traders and the pimps?
'Just let it go, you big moron...,' Lockdown chastised himself, taking a swig. He was nothing but trouble anyways...
The thug gave in with a groan, rising to his pedes slowly, kicking himself as he grabbed his coat and keys. "See what happens when you take in a silver-glossaed youngling?," he grumbled to himself, leaving his building with a quick stride. "You start getting attached and then when they do something stupid, you end up being the idiot who has to look for them in the dark to make sure they don't get hurt! Unicron damn well knows I don't take whores home so why the frag did I bring in a kid?"
Complaining to himself wasn't doing an ounce of good. Venting irritably, Lockdown hurried down the dark street, ignoring all the hooligans and prostitutes that occupied the area around him. There was a bar not too far up ahead- he'd taken Swindle to it a few time already, so the staff knew the cub and would let him in. It was a safe bet that the devon rex was there now.
Shoving through the door, Lockdown was greeted by the usual cloud of smoke and cheap perfume; waving it away with a servo as he shimmied around drunks and pleasure 'bots alike. "Hey!," he hollered over the din to the barkeep, catching the femme's attention, "You seen a runt 'bout yay-high, yellow colouring, toting around a laptop and gigantic, freaky purple optics?"
"There be a bunch of freaky looking runts in here," the bartender shot back dully, cleaning out a glass, "Ya expect me to remember them all?"
Fishing out a credit note from his inner coat pocket, the tiger slapped it down on the counter top, grimacing. "Yeah," he growled, "I expect ya to do just that."
The femme was silent for about half an astrosecond before she glanced around the bar, swiping the note off the counter with her free servo. "Over in the far right," she said, tilting her helm in the fore-mentioned direction, "A youngin' of that description was pulled aside by some 'bots."
Cursing, Lockdown hurried to the other side of the bar, growling lowly under his intakes. "Slagging... I told you never to go with a crowd, Swin! Why would you be so stupid as of now...?!"
"Hey," said a vocalizer in between the shadows up ahead, "This one just purged."
Lockdown turned to the alcove of bench seats set just before the washrooms, feeling a flicker of rage burst into flame. "Huh? So he did...," stated a second vocalizer, dropping into a sickening purr. "Ah, well. Hey, cutie, the party's moving out. How about you come along, hmm? We'll help you clean up."
"That won't be necessary," the tiger growled, coming up to the group of several kittycons, not surprised to see a couple of drunken victims in the hold of two mechs, with Swindle seated on the floor at the pedes of a third -the one who had evidently just puked. At the sight of the youngling's hazy optics and unbuttoned shirt, Lockdown bared his fangs, towering closer to the group.
Three of the strangers beefed up in response, stepping up to block the thug's path. "What's it to you, huh?," growled one.
"Yeah," a femme hissed, "This one's having fun with us! Find someone else to take home!"
The albino snarled back, lashing forward with his hook, cutting one of the 'bots across the face. He screamed as he fell back onto his buddies, clutching his optics as energon ran through his claws.
"Bastard!"
"We'll fragging kill you!"
"Piss off!," Lockdown threatened, pulling Swindle's pistol from his pocket as he brandished his wet hook, "Or I'll gut all of ya, like the spineless scum-feeders you are!"
Fangs and hackles rose but the strangers slowly shuffled around the tiger, leaving Swindle to hiccup confusedly in his puddle of sick. Spitting at the last tail as it swished out of sight, the kittycon pocketed the gun, heading for the devon rex. "Urgh... ya smell like slag," he muttered, reaching down and picking Swindle up.
The youngling swayed dangerously on his pedes, stuttering half-formed words, unable to even keep upright. Groaning, Lockdown repositioned his hook, quickly swinging the smaller mech up into the air and catching him smoothly in his arms. "W-woooooah...," Swindle heaved, clutching to the tiger tightly.
"Careful!," Lockdown hissed, balancing them. "I don't want to stick you with my claw. That'll be more of a mess..."
The youngling lolled his helm back, trying to focus on the taller mech with his dazed optics. "L... Lockdown?," he gaped in drunken confusion.
"Yeah?," the tiger replied, already heading to the door. It was awkward, carrying someone in his arms, but the kittycon managed. He didn't need any skeazeballs trying to make a move should he accidentally drop the youngling.
"W-what...," Swindle squeezed through a bout of hiccups, "Why you... h-here? Ya... ki-kicked..."
For a long while, Lockdown didn't know how to respond. "...'cause I'm an idiot."
"H-huh?," the devon rex groaned.
"Listen," the older mech vented, "You can... I was wrong. Alright? You can come back. But I don't think regular street business is good for you, Swindle. You've got so much potential doing something else."
Swindle curled closer, shaking hard, and the thug desperately hoped that the youngling wasn't going to purge again. "W...wha work?," came a meek slur.
"I... I don't know, kid. We'll figure something out together."
It was quiet for some time after that as Lockdown made his way slowly back home; a warm breeze keeping things from being too nippy, When a whisper of his name echoed upwardly, with a yawn alongside it, the tiger looked down again. "Yes?," he said to the one, hazy purple optic looking up at him.
"T-the... they broke m-my... 'puter...," Swindle murmured mournfully.
Primus, Lockdown thought, wishing he could tug at his ears. "Yes, Swin. I'll buy you another one," he replied, dutifully ignoring the purr as Swindle curled closer into him.
xxXxXxx
It had been a while since he'd been in his familiar haunts. The grungy bar a few blocks down from his raggedy apartment was thriving as it did most Friday nights; 'bots with their pay cheques hurrying in to get themselves a taste of either what the bartender was serving or the whores. Grabbing a seat at the bar, Lockdown felt like he'd truly come home. Iacon was tame when it came to its own city-based debauchery but it still held unique thralls that one couldn't find elsewhere on Cybertron -good business or not.
In a mighty chipper mood, he fished out a heavy credit from inside his jacket, getting himself a glass of the more "vintage" stuff the barkeep had. His work in Helex had proved to be very profitable for the tiger this last quartex.
"Cheers," Lockdown bid the bartender, knocking back his drink as a round of raucous yelling broke over the loud music. Venting in satisfaction, the thug waved for another drink, almost missing the call from behind him.
"I thought I saw your greasy hide crawl back into town!"
Turning around on his stool, the kittycon was caught unaware as a heavy bag was thrown at his helm, fumbling it to the bar top before something smaller, but warmer, was thrust into his free servo. "What the- YOWCH!," the tiger shouted, as said "something" chopped onto his thumb hard.
He onlined his optics to find Swindle smirking at him in amusement, while Wildrider squirmed to climb higher up the thug's frame. "You- You can't bring bornlings into a bar!," Lockdown growled, holding his son out at arm's length. The strange thing just giggled in contentment, wriggling like an eel. "Secondly, you trying to abandon this thing on me?! Take it back!"
"I don't think so," the devon rex continued to smirk, a dangerously (sexy) cruel chuckle bubbling up for a moment. "Now that you're back in town, it's time that you take your son for a weekend while I meet some very important clients. You know, as part of your 'parental duties'. But if you're so dissatisfied with the arrangement, you can always take the matter up with my sire."
The tiger glared at the smug information broker. Swindle knew slagging well that the albino wouldn't willingly go seeking for that insane serval, which meant the tan mech was gonna get what he wanted while Lockdown's good weekend had already turned sour. "I hate you," he hissed, readjusting Wildrider after the bornling managed to somehow slip out of his hold and wriggle up his forearm. Now the crazy thing dangled upside down by one pede.
"Feeling's mutual, be sure of that," Swindle replied flatly, before another misleading smile bloomed across those treacherous lip components. "I'll come collect Wildrider Sunday night, so try not to kill him with your incompetence. By the way, I wouldn't allow him near anything... combustible... if I were you."
"Bye bye!," the information broker sing-songed as he turned around, weaving through the attentive audience Lockdown hadn't realized they'd garnered. He didn't like how some of the gazes gave Swindle a lustful look-over as he exited the bar, but he hated it even more when all those optics turned to him; 'bots smirking and whispering snide jokes behind their servos at his misfortune.
The thug had half a mind to gut the more obnoxious patrons with his hook, when a yelp behind him alerted the kittycon that he had managed to lose hold of his son- again. Turning about, Lockdown found the bartender throwing a flaming bottle of high-grade into the sink and dousing it with water, before pointing an accusing finger at the bornling holding a lighter on the counter top. "That little miscreant shoved a flaming napkin in the open bottle!," the femme growled. "You keep that bugger away from my merchandise or I'll have you whipped of every credit you got!"
"Gimme that," Lockdown scowled, snatching the lighter from the bornling. How the slag Wildrider had even got it out of his pocket, the kittycon feared he'd never understand, but suddenly Swindle's teasing warning made a whole lot more sense. "You're going to make me hate my entire life before Sunday," he grumbled to the bornling, poking him lightly with the smooth side of his hook, "Aren't ya?"
Wildrider only gurgled excitedly, teething on the metal.
xxXxXxx
It shouldn't have happened...
That's all he could think of now, sitting in the berth, barely covered after last night's activities; Swindle standing across from him, a suitcase of his things in his servos. "Are you listening to me?," the youngling is saying and Lockdown can barely nod, let alone reply. Yeah, he's listening. He heard every word and now he can't help but to feel something akin to regret.
They'd found the cub something he could do with his certain skill set- got him an investment from a paranoid, old mech with a lot of credit, completed a job and rented an office space in central Iacon with the sudden influx of money. The devon rex was well on his way now to living the good life. They were feeling great, the cub was ecstatic, so Lockdown got some drinks to celebrate. Should of remembered Swindle had almost no tolerance.
Didn't account for the youngling's shy affection as he drunkenly gave his thanks to the thug. The sudden attraction to those large, purple optics and soft-looking mouth was equally as unexpected.
"Thank you for your time and for your business, but..."
Those optics were looking him point-blank now as the crisp words slowly came out of the same mouth that had pulled him in last night. The tiger still remembered how soft they had been -pressed against his own, trembling with each nip, whispering his name in delicate gasps as he'd pressed the youngling to the floor. The rush from that alone had brought their pedes, stumbling and tripping, to the berth; timid servos wandering, plating curling bravely into the smooth side of his hook. Swindle had never been afraid of his hook since the first orn. Many 'bots could not boast that.
Now the devon rex stood across the room like a statue, frame held tightly together. Pulling out a cyg-stick, the kittycon tried to give the youngling his full attention. Yet, he remembered vividly how lax that small frame had been beneath him but several cycles ago, legs open and arms draped above his helm. Baring himself before the tiger... A flicker of lust still flared now, as he thought back to the surprising reveal of a seal, wearing with age, but still strong and protective. Snapping it had been a smidge unpleasant to Swindle but it didn't deter either of them, instead spurring them both on as Lockdown cautiously took the youngling. Never thought he could see the brat as something like fragile, but he had, and there was an urge not to break the smaller kittycon even as he blazed with hungry desire.
"To be frank, this is as far as our mutual agreement can go. I must move on to greener pastures. You understand."
The first spark and he drew a lazy puff from the cyg-stick, not responding to the statements being thrown at him in dull, distant fashion. The cub was trying to be tough, Lockdown could see that clearly, but this charade was fooling no one. Covered though they were now, the tiger's marks still remained across purple thighs, probably dark and magenta-coloured from where he'd sucked and nipped at the plating worshippingly. There were a couple that peeked from underneath the youngling's white collar as it was, proving the tiger's theory.
No manner of masks could erase the devon rex's wide-opticed sincerity and want as he'd writhed under the mech in the dark of night. Overloading... oh, how many times? Lockdown couldn't remember. The piss-poor grade had left everything a haze in his archives, leaving only the lovely glow of those purple optics, whimpers of his name and the delicious scent that he would always know from now on was Swindle's. He'd wanted it... They both had hungered for that moment shared.
"Goodbye."
The words echoed after the youngling had left, the apartment door closing softly behind him. Lockdown didn't move to chase, sitting in the dim morning light, the cyg-stick burning slowly between his two fingers. The drinks had been a mistake. But this was for the best, the thug surmised, climbing out of the berth a couple cycles later. He didn't have time to waste babysitting brats anyhow; now he was a free mech once more.
No, this was indeed better, he convinced himself, the orn wasting away as he stared into the oddly, empty corner of the living room.
C.M.D: Aaaaand, this is gonna be the last chapter dedicated to these two. I've kinda stretched it farther than I had intended and now that all the main combaticon/aerialbot stories are done, I can focus on the stuntibabies! Yay!
In the meantime, be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?