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! By the way, this does contain some "adult material" so it's been cut down for censorship. For the full version, head to my profile for a link!
Title: Insectipuma IX
Rating: M
"I'm sorry to hear what has become of young Shrapnel," Yoketron said on the other line, his optics empathic even though his posture remained business-like. Bombshell didn't bother answering, too busy thumbing through the files that had just been faxed to him. "I've supplied you with all our records on the Insectipuma tribes; I hope that they prove useful for you," the kai ken continued softly, not minding that he was being partially ignored by the other mech. "And Bombshell, please, take some vacation time. It'll serve you better if you were not preoccupied with less important things right now."
The narcotics dealer muttered something like "sure" but said nothing more, and understanding, Yoketron bid farewell to the other mech and cut the line. Hanging up on his end, Bombshell slowly turned and headed away from the hotel's concierge desk, taking the elevator up to his floor. His room was a mess as he entered, littered with empty bottles of high-grade and a couple containers of half-eaten take-out, left to rot as his appetite was quickly lost. It was the sort of chaos that the Insectipuma felt was befitting the circumstances and his thoughts.
What had Shrapnel done to himself...?
Bombshell sat down on his unkempt berth, slowly flipping through the pages Yoketron had sent him, his thoughts on nothing more but his frail prince. Shrapnel went and had an abortion... Shrapnel had been sparked. Why... Why would the cub do that? A brat he may have been, but the youngling was much smarter than that. He should have known better than to put his trust in some nameless "vet" in a back alleyway of the nearest town. The mech stopped to look at a page, optics zooming in on a list of high-ranking offenses and top sins in the Insectipuma tribes. Abortion was fourth, only to murder, promiscuity and blasphemy.
Three of four major sins... Shrapnel had willingly gone against his own code of morality and committed the greatest crimes possible in the tribe. For what purpose? Hadn't getting a heir been the prince's entire goal, his life-long mission? Though the youngling's motives were still lost to Bombshell, suddenly it became clear as to why Shrapnel had paid a stranger to perform the operation. He obviously did not want the tribe knowing about his sparking and a legal clinic would dutifully inform his attendants of what to do during the prince's recovery.
"...stupid brat...," the narcotics dealer hissed softly, his words lacking any real poison or bite.
Shuffling the files together for the time being, Bombshell turned to his room's phone; picking up the handset as he dialed the hospital, hoping that this orn would be the one where he'd be allowed to finally visit the stasis-locked youngling.
xxXxXxx
When Shrapnel woke, it was to blinding light. Optics stinging and ears ringing, he offlined them against the painful brightness, slowly onlining them again when everything stopped aching. Visual pixels settling, he found himself in a white room, surrounded on all sides by machines and wires. The prince attempted to move, but he found that he was too weak to do that; everything felt leaden, even the oxygen mask over his mouth was like a rock, keeping him pinned to the mattress. How had he gotten here, he wondered. All he recalled was pain and...
Energon.
He'd been spilling energon, soaking his robes with it, the fluid gushing from between his thighs and onto the floor below. He'd been standing in it, walking in the fluorescent liquid, before the pain had become too much and he'd passed out.
The servants must have called for help, Shrapnel surmised, shuttering his optics tiredly. What must his people of thought, upon seeing so much of his life energy pooling upon his berthroom floor? Surely there must have been something within their history that quoted spilled blood of a royal as a bad omen for the tribe, the youngling believed, but there was nothing he could truly recall at this moment. Venting weakly, the oxygen mask fogging with the action, Shrapnel almost missed the sound of his hospital room door opening. Optics onlining sluggishly, the Insectipuma felt his spark rotate faster when his gaze fell upon Bombshell, pausing in his shuffle across the room.
"...you're awake," the older mech said softly. He looked tired and disheveled, even somewhat angry. The prince tried not to flinch yet one of his connected machines bleeped in similar fashion for him. Shaking his helm, Bombshell continued his path forward, setting the small vase of flowers down on the berthside table.
Shrapnel glanced at them momentarily, recognizing only the Star of Bethlehem, Wisteria and Yarrow flowers amid the other splashes of white and violet in the bouquet. Enough to inform the weak youngling that this was a gift of well wishing. Heat was already glazing over his optics as he turned his gaze back up to the kittycon coming right up to the head of his berth, feeling unworthy of such a charitable present and desperate for Bombshell not to hate him.
"I didn't know when you'd wake again," the narcotics dealer was saying quietly. "You've been in stasis for nearly a decacycle... Why'd you do something so unbelievably stupid for?"
"B-bo; bo...," the youngling choked, struggling again to move. He still couldn't, but he had enough strength to lift an arm half-way; shaking and weaving as it desperately tried to remain aloft, reaching for the other puma. "I-i'm s-sorry; sorry... D-don't; don't... Please, I c-could; could..."
Bombshell did not move to take the prince's shaking servo and that was enough to drive Shrapnel into further frenzy. "P-please; please," he quaked, his vocalizer pitching uncontrollably as the tears welled up in his optics, spilling down his cheeks and over the oxygen mask, "P-please, I-i; i... f-forgive m-me; me! I c-couldn't k-keep; keep... w-was not y-your o-own, a-and knew; knew... i-if it s-stayed, y-you wo-would not f-forgive; give..."
"Pl-please, don't b-be angry; angry... Am s-sorry; sorry!," Shrapnel wheezed, intakes coming in rapid and disjointed bursts, setting his berthside machines to start blaring frantically. His visual pixels were scattering and breaking up in random, sickening patterns; his spark aching deeply in his chestplates, making it hard to see Bombshell even before a slue of nurses came swarming in. "P-please; please... f-forgive me; me...! P-please, I-i know; know... W-wrong; wrong... w-was wrong, B-bombshell; shell... P-please, d-don't go; go...!"
A servo clawed through the wall of attendants surrounding the youngling, but Bombshell had already vanished from the room entirely. Sobbing and choking, Shrapnel was held down against the berth until one of the nurses injected him with a sedative; returning the distraught puma to a land of broken dreams and unrepentant darkness.
xxXxXxx
The rest of Shrapnel's hospital stay was spent in and out of consciousness, plagued with painful lucid dreams or the sight of an empty room for most of his waking cycles. Though the staff were helpful and kind, it still did not subtract from the fact that Bombshell had been standing in this very room one orn... and had not been back since. The prince supposedly still had a series of visitors from the tribe and a fresh vase of flowers always replaced the old, as the bouquet began to wither and die, but they were empty replacements. Trapped in his own version of purgatory, Shrapnel wanted nothing more than to die.
Then the vet came and told him he was free to leave.
"You have recovered well, Shrapnel," the autodog informed, smiling kindly. "I know it's going to be hard for a while, and though I don't want to you to give up hope, you should be aware that this may affect your ability to carry in the future. All the same, your frame has made a miraculous pull through and you are free to head back home. If you should want to talk to someone, about your feelings on the abortion, I'll be leaving you with a pamphlet for various therapists in the region. All their contact information is available within."
The vet held up a manila envelope in demonstration. "Some clothes were left by your tribesmech for you to change into, so I'll go and finish filing the paperwork for your release. A chauffeur waits downstairs to take you back."
Seeing that a response was needed, Shrapnel nodded and once the vet had left, he rose slowly and got dressed. It felt like he was drowning when he donned his robes, and the youngling couldn't help but glance frequently down at his abdomen, half convinced that the material would soak again with his energon. But nothing happened and he was fine, so, with no choice left, the Insectipuma grabbed the envelope and headed downstairs to his waiting car.
A chauffeur stood beside a black sedan, saying nothing when the prince approached; keeping silent still as he opened the back door for Shrapnel before taking his place in the driver's seat afterwards. Staring into his lap, the Insectipuma felt as the car rolled away from the hospital and onto the highway to home. For a long while, everything was silent, but as the kliks dragged on, Shrapnel finally lifted his helm up and glanced out the window, realizing that they'd drove past the tribal reserves a few miles back.
"...excuse me; me?," the prince said hoarsely, leaning towards the window dividing driver and passenger, "Where are we going; going? The reserves are back that way; way."
"I've been hired to take you home, sir," the chauffeur answered.
"And where is that; that?," Shrapnel demanded weakly, feeling more annoyed and afraid.
"Iacon city. To the high-rise on Amazon Avenue," the driver kindly supplied.
Sickness overcame the puma then, not enough to make him ill but enough to still leave him feeling weak, as he sank back against the car seat, processor reeling. Shrapnel knew that street well; it was where Bombshell's apartment was located. He was being taken back there? But why? The older mech had made it quite clear numerous times in the past that he wanted nothing to do with the unfaithful youngling. Trying to hold back his tears at the punishment that no doubt awaited, the Insectipuma spent the rest of the trip in silence. The ball of dread sinking deeper in his fuel tanks as the first buildings of Iacon began to poke over the horizon.
xxXxXxx
"B-bombshell; shell...?," the meek vocalizer called out, peeking around the apartment door.
It was quiet within, except for the thrumming of the fridge in the living room and a soft vocalizer talking from the t.v in the living room. Cautiously, Shrapnel took a few steps inside, cringing when the front door shut loudly behind him. "Bombshell; shell?," he softly called again, ears flat against his helm as he took another daring couple pedesteps more.
Where was Bombshell? Wasn't he supposed to be waiting for him? If he wasn't, then Shrapnel wanted to be anywhere other than here this very moment. This was essentially trespassing and he didn't want to invoke any additional wrath from the older mech.
There was the sound of the toilet flushing before the washroom door swung open suddenly on the prince's left, startling the poor thing who shook and quaked as Bombshell stepped out of the side room. Red optics stared down in slight surprise before his gaze settled neutrally.
"Shrapnel," said the narcotics dealer.
"B-bombshell; shell," the youngling squeaked, feeling his optics glaze over with coolant. "I-i; I..."
"Are you hungry?," Bombshell asked suddenly, cutting off the other's stuttering. He walked past the stunned Insectipuma, heading for the kitchen. "Chef made a few dishes today. Slow-roasted petrorabbit, bolts and nuts cheesy ravioli, I think we even have some steamed fish..."
The larger mech paused at the fridge, looking back at Shrapnel. "Well?"
"I-i; I...," the prince nervously replied, licking quickly at his suddenly dry lip components, "I-i am not hungry; gry..." It wasn't entirely untrue. Though the idea of a good meal would have enticed him a couple cycles before, Shrapnel suddenly could not even stomach the thought of food now. Why was Bombshell tormenting him with casual conversation and not addressing the heart of the real matter?
"... Well, I'm hungry," the narcotics dealer continued, opening the fridge, "So I'm going to eat. Why don't you go sit in the living room in the meantime?"
Torn, Shrapnel decided to comply with Bombshell's suggestion, hoping that his obedience would save him from any screaming. The youngling was surprised when he circled around the kitchen and found the coffee table covered from either end with food; only enough space left so two individual plates could sit comfortably on the glass with the accompanying silverware and wine glasses.
"Have a seat," came the older Insectipuma's vocalizer from behind him. Jumping, the prince faced his mate, his optics catching the bottle of red wine that was held in the other's servo. Bombshell snorted softly at the other's line of sight, gently pushing Shrapnel forward. "C'mon, have a bite. You've been on the road for almost half a day and I know for a fact you haven't eaten since leaving the hospital. Don't be stubborn."
Shrapnel allowed himself to be seated at one end of the coffee table without a word, looking about awkwardly as Bombshell uncorked the wine and poured each of them a glass; finally sitting himself on the opposite end and beginning to dish out food. When the smaller puma didn't take a bite in the next few kliks, Bombshell set down his own utensils and fixed the other with a look.
"What's wrong?"
The youngling flinched and violet optics welled with tears. "Y-you haven't; haven't...," Shrapnel choked softly, trying to speak through his aching spark, "W-what I d-did; did... T-that orn at the hospital; tal..."
Bombshell took a drink, gently setting his glass down. "Listen...," he said quietly, "That's neither here nor there. Do I think you're a complete idiot for going to some stranger for a life-threatening abortion? Yes, I do... But, and I'm guessing you're unaware, tonight is our one year anniversary. Surprise."
That, more than the narcotics dealer casual dismissal of his abortion, was enough to leave the smaller Insectipuma stunned. He shuttered his optics, still processing what had just been said, before he jumped to his pedes, shaking from top to bottom. "N-no; no!," he cried, staring down upon the curious-looking mech. "No, I shall not; not... I w-want no part in this; this! You are toying with me and I refuse to participate; pate! Either p-punish me for t-the sins I have made o-or cast me aside; side... I d-don't want your lies o-on top of e-everything else; else!"
"Shrapnel...," Bombshell replied neutrally.
"NO; no! Y-you have not forgiven m-me for m-my tryst with Kickback, and I-i; I..." The prince trailed off as his intakes began to wheeze, tears spilling down his cheekplates thickly, unable to find the words to describe everything that he felt. The shame in his ability to involve himself sexually with more than one mech, the terror he felt at losing Bombshell's favor, the anger that his supposed mate could treat him as if he was so disposable, the grief at the treason he had made against the Gods and himself... The unbearable sorrow of the young life he had cruelly cut away and the likelihood that he would never be able to carry again...
Rough servos were cupping his face, turning his gaze upwards to face the silent Insectipuma staring back down upon him. "Come with me," was all Bombshell mumbled, before he lead the weeping youngling to the room. Tears faltering for a moment as the door was open, Shrapnel stared uncomprehending how his royal suite back in the tribes had made its way to Bombshell's berthroom.
"W-why; why...?"
Bombshell closed the door behind them as he took a step forward. "Allow me to inform you of something," he began, starting to strip off his clothes. Shrapnel took a step away from the vendor with each article removed, and Bombshell moved forward with each step that the youngling took. "You are my bondmate. That has been witnessed before your people and Gods. And nothing -I mean nothing- short of death itself will remove me from the position of your husband."
Backstruts meeting one of the wooden poles of the berth, the prince trembled, chin tipped all the way back as he stared up at the mech looming over him -now naked. Red optics dimmed, large claws stroking from Shrapnel's forehead and down his crown, sweeping back up under his chin and over gently parted lip components. "I have... been ignorant," the older Insectipuma reluctantly admitted, "And I insulted you with my error. If it had been anyone else, I would have forgotten you the moment you ran back to your tribe; I probably could have overlooked your affair with Kickback. After all, I have an incriminating past of my own... But because it was you, I cannot nor will not let you go. Even if you still loved your cousin, we are mates... And that's the way I want it to stay."
The smaller puma shivered again, hiccuping as he slowly absorbed Bombshell's confession. "B-but, I;i... My w-womb; womb..."
Bombshell picked the unsuspecting Shrapnel up and carried him onto the mattress, slowly peeling away the other's clothes. "I don't care what the vets said," he informed, grabbing a servo and nipping lightly at the youngling's slender fingers. "Your recovery has gone exceptionally well, meaning that your tanks are strong again. And if they are strong, they can carry; I will make sure of that."
Before the prince could reply, the narcotics dealer was kissing him, one servo cupping the back of the smaller mech's helm so as to keep him close. Only when Shrapnel started to become winded did Bombshell release him again, gently but quickly removing the rest of the other's clothing until both pumas lay naked before each other.
C.M.D: Some sweety, sappy romance (with a start of angst) to finish off the string of updates and this arc too! What a shame... Meh, maybe I'll use these two in other fics. Anyways, hope you all enjoyed and I'll see you next month!
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?