Combustion

Thanks to all the people who reviewed 13 :) It was wonderful to read them (you know since I actually got notified of them this time).

I'm glad people liked the way I took it – well for the most part anyway.

This will be the final chapter of Combustion.

There will more than likely be a sequel (forecast is for about 85), as the way I wanted to head from this point will disagree with some people – as is usually the case – so I wanted to give them the opportunity to bail out of the fic without abandoning it and never getting an ending. So while this is strictly speaking an 'epilogue' that wraps up – sort of – the story of combustion, it will NOT be wrapping up the overall arc.

Does that make sense?

Chapter 14 (Also known as Epilogue)

The café was incredibly busy; the crush of body against body was like ripples in a stifling sea of humanity that threatened to drown the body and overwhelm the senses. The noise was incredible, whiting out the clinking of crockery as Sam picked up a couple of dirtied mugs that had been left on one of the tables and deposited them on his tray. A careful balancing act followed as he stacked them carefully, to avoid them sliding off every time another person collided with him. It was hot and dirty work, far from the peace and tranquillity he remembered while going to school and living at home, but it didn't bother him that much. He didn't doubt his parents loved him and cared for him, but he didn't want to deceive himself into believing it had all been perfect either. They were a normal family after all, and while he would have given anything to be back with them again, he couldn't, so he wasn't going to make his life here harder by reflecting on what he'd lost. It's not like he had a lot of choice in the matter, he needed to eat, he needed clothes, and they couldn't draw too much attention to themselves by committing bank or ATM fraud. It would draw police as well as Autobot or Decepticon attention. That, and the fact that it was wrong.

He wasn't a thief. He still felt bad about the two hundred bucks they'd hacked a couple of weeks ago on the first day he was here. Without a shirt and only shredded jeans, there'd been nothing else to do though. Honest employment would have been impossible looking like a blood spattered drifter. He'd tentatively suggested the ATM to Bumblebee and his autobot had been only too happy to do it for him, but taking the money from the machine had made him feel dirty in a way that soap wouldn't remove. So he'd bought himself some decent clothes, nothing fancy, just a few shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans as well as the essentials. The cash had disappeared within a day, and when B had asked if he wanted him to hack them some more he had swiftly declined, instead presenting himself at every coffee shop, restaurant and store he could find in an effort to gain some employment. It needed to be low key, cash in hand, no questions asked. It was a set of conditions that had proved extremely difficult to find.

Eventually he'd settled on the story of a backpacker, hiking his way around the country, a tale helped both by his accent and his plain state of dress. He'd made sure B was never anywhere nearby where he worked, not willing to risk anyone questioning how a penniless hiker was driving a brand new Camaro, the model of which wasn't even available in the country. It was still strange, getting into the opposite door and seeing the wheel on, what to him, was definitely the incorrect side. Luckily it didn't seem to bother Bumblebee at all, and so far there hadn't been a single hiccup in the quality of the driving. At least not since they'd almost ploughed into that fuel tanker while driving on the 'wrong' side of the road, after his miraculous recovery.

Miraculous. It was the only word that seemed adequate to describe what had happened to him, the disappearance of the pain he'd felt, the re-establishment of their bond. It was something that still seemed impossible, that he wasn't dying, that he wasn't scarred, that he could have both Bumblebee and a life of more than a few short months. B's scans had taken an hour to tell them that, the most thorough examination any of the Autobots had ever put him through, the bot apologising constantly that he couldn't do it with the speed Ratchet would have managed. It had started out as a seemingly long time, lying still on the grass as the blue glow of optics slowly swept back and forth across his body. But as time passed and he became aware of how exposed he was underneath that gaze, wearing nothing but the remains of his tattered jeans, and how the amazing machine he was bonded to loomed above him with a power and strength that was beyond any man to fight, he felt arousal uncoil like a slumbering serpent in his stomach. He'd felt B's own arousal stir in response to his, a different sensation to an organic being but arousal all the same, and the glow of those optics became a warming caress across his skin. By the time the scans were done he'd felt no great urge to stand up again from his prone position, noticing that Bumblebee made no move to back away from where he was kneeling above him.

The feeling of lying between those huge thighs was one of the most erotic things he'd ever experienced, looking up the slim metal torso with its yellow and black armoured plates and seeing the same emotion in reverse projected on that seemingly expressionless face. The arms were taut as they rested in the dirt to each side of him, supporting the metallic torso, the entirety of his autobot seeming to vibrate and scream with need.

"You are not dying Sam. There appear to be no ill effects." He said nothing about the lacewing web of veins that now coiled around his throat and slightly down his chest and Sam asked for no clarification. If B said he was fine that was all he needed to know. The urge wasn't as strong this time, not like it had been before, to obey and accept everything his bot told him, but it was there again. The compulsion was gone, the absolute obedience, now seeming more like a default that his brain was set on, like his first instinct was to obey. But he could also feel the ability to override it if he wanted to, an instinct that, like most remaining human instincts, could be ignored when needed. Because of that, it no longer scared him as it had, now seeming more like a comforting set of clothes that had been well worn in, warm and trusting, a knowledge that even if he sometimes found himself unable to deny or dispute something Bumblebee wanted, his autobot would always have his best interests at heart.

He wondered briefly if this was the knowledge that soldiers on the battlefield often spoke of, the understanding that no matter what happened, that person was always there, watching your back. It made him wonder how he'd ever thought he could live without it, how he'd denied Bumblebee when they first spoke of it, citing all those things like children, family and a future. He remembered talking about sleeping in an empty bed in an empty house, but he realised now that would never happen. He could feel B, not necessarily as a physical body pressed against his at night, but something even closer, something present in both his heart and mind, reminding him constantly that he was with him, that he was loved, that he was owned. He had no doubt there would be problems, conflicts, societal and moral issues to come in the future, but through it all he knew they would be bonded so securely, so tightly, that nothing could break them apart now. There would be no such guarantee in a marriage between humans.

The touch of that metal hand had shocked him out of his thoughts as it gently touched the grey/silver veins of his throat, setting his nerves on fire as the bond went from a passive presence to a forceful drive. White overwhelmed his vision in a sensation that was now becoming familiar but could never become routine. The tips of the fingers trailed the veins down from his collarbone until they ended a few inches further, leaving the faded ends to brush gently across his left nipple, wringing a gasp from him and widening his eyes to almost rapturous proportions. His noise seemed to prompt his bonded to action, the giant head and blazing eyes bending closer, until he thought the heat burning in them would surely scorch his skin. The feeling of power, the sensation of surrender, he shivered in ecstasy at the knowledge of what was being done to him and the dominance practically oozing from his autobot. It felt right and so perfect, those optics promising him pleasure beyond belief if he would just submit himself to their control.

The fingers continued their interrupted trail down his skin, caressing his side before sliding smoothly down his abdomen until they reached the low sitting waist of his jeans. The thought occurred to him to remove them, to let B do whatever he wanted, even briefly contemplating exactly how big those fingers were, but he found himself unable to move. He had surrendered himself to this and the bond now brooked no argument with Bumblebee in control. There had been no order to remove his pants, and his hands refused to do so under his own volition.

His mate bent over further, his head moving slightly further away so their chests were aligned, and even though he had no idea if Autobots were even capable of physical intimacy as humans did, the position was so overwhelmingly sexual that at that moment he wished for nothing other than that they were the same size, so he could wrap his legs around his bot and surrender more than just his mind and heart. The flash of disappointment was gone almost as soon as it appeared as B once again opened the cavity in his chest that sheltered his essence, the light revealing itself as a sunrise to a blind man, rapturously embracing him in its brilliance. With physical pulses he felt their two cores communicating, not with words but with sensation, the pull towards each other as magnetic as he remembered, crying out to be one. No verbal order was given but he felt it nonetheless, and he slowly raised his hand from the grass, reaching into the light as he had on the island, only this time without intention to stop. Lightning crackled between his fingers and the spark, its shape clouded by its own searing light. He could tell he was close though, the jolts travelling back and forth through him in waves just as the suspension bridge had after being struck by Starscream, each pulse pushing him towards completion. He wanted to draw it out; to make the feeling last longer, desperate to deny those typical teenage stereotypes of finishing quickly, but the desire was too much.

"There will many more times to experience this Sam; there is no need to prolong it." It almost seemed that B could feel his brief pause and discern the cause for it without words, the statement not really an order but the intent certainly acting as one. His hand crossed the last small gap without hesitation, the lightning getting even more intense, until he felt the warmth in his hand and the pulsing became a physical throb that travelled up his arm and he lost the ability to think anymore.

The memory of their passionate bonding, the first of many since coming here, still made him blush. It had been yet another reason for his need for new clothing, and he hurriedly looked away from the table he'd been staring at. The group of guys sitting around it were already giving him funny looks at the pink tint to his cheeks. He swiftly ducked into the kitchen and deposited the dirty crockery into the machine, the clock on the wall telling him his shift had been over for twenty minutes. The owner, a nice Italian guy called Ben, shortened from Benito, was waiting for him at the back door, envelope in hand and a smile on his moustached face. He grabbed the money with a short thanks and ducked out of the kitchen door into the alley. It was a modest wage, though more than enough to live on when one lived out of their car. He was too young to rent and he wouldn't have wanted to at any rate, it would only be adding his name to the system.

He'd thought about assuming an alias to get by, but that meant proof of ID, drivers licences, bank accounts, all stuff he couldn't get. So 'Sam' he had remained. It was emblazoned across the front of the envelope, a plain everyday name that didn't draw attention, and he wasn't likely to forget it when someone called it out in a crowded room.

The alley was a rather dingy affair, meant mainly as a holding place for the bins of the various businesses that bordered it and when he turned out onto the main street, it was almost as busy as the café had been. Friday nights were always big business, and tonight was no exception. Guys in board shorts, women in bikinis they moved back and forth across the sidewalks, weaving in and out of the other patrons dressed in suits and ties or jeans and jackets. The town wasn't huge, certainly nothing compared to anything he'd seen back home, but he'd slowly come to realise that things here worked differently. Everything was smaller, cosier, with an emphasis placed on better rather than bigger. It made for an interesting state of mind, and an even more interesting mix of clientele.

One of the regulars shouted to him from across the road, inviting him to come join them for an evening picnic and to watch those surfers and swimmers who refused to let darkness drag them from the water when so many spotlights were around. He threw them a wave but declined the invitation as he continued on his way, knowing the offer would be there later, and next week, and the one after that. It was the kind of town it was, the kind of place that was almost always warm, a chill breeze or cold snap treated as a novelty rather than a changing of the weather. It was an environment that seemed to foster warmth between people, not just in the air.

The sounds of laughter came out of every restaurant and shopfront he passed by, outdoor tables cluttering the wide footpath but bridging the gap between pedestrian and patron, offering the former an invitation to enter, and asking the latter to stay. Off to the other side of the street the park stretched away in both directions, palm trees and covered barbeque spots dotted along its length. Numerous spotlights shone down on features and points of interest, fairy lights strung up between the trees and water gushing forth from the fountains. Beyond that he could hear the crash of surf on the shore and the cries of adults and children alike, while a little further down were the large lamps that illuminated the sand and the Friday night volleyball competition. Even as he watched, the tiki torches that ran along the shoreline came to life, the timer starting the gas and igniting them at the same time every night, the purpose merely mood setting.

He'd reached his street however, so turned away from the brightly lit foreshore, heading into the more urban part of the beachfront community, the glow of shops and stores replaced with the white glare of streetlamps and headlights. It wasn't important to him what his surroundings were though, because up ahead was the reason for his existence, the yellow and black camaro looking fast and deadly as it sat unattended in the small side street. He felt a smile cross his face as the headlights flashed at him in welcome, the drivers door swinging open for him as it always did. As it always would. He settled back into the supple leather, that constant hum that was now forever a part of their bonding travelled through him as it did B and he gently ran a hand over the steering wheel as a greeting.

"If you're lost you can look and you will find me, time after time."

It was a lyrical and soft remix of the classic and he allowed himself to relax to it, knowing that for them there would never be anymore looking, knowing their future was just beginning. He knew they'd have more troubles ahead, that there were still people after them, and that they were essentially alone in a strange country, he missed his parents, Mikaela, school, all of it. But it wasn't the driving force in his life anymore. He was sure someday he'd be able to see them again, and as long as he had B they would face everything together, a team that would never let anything separate them.

"I'll always be waiting. Time after Time."

He rest his head on his hand, elbow leant against the top of the door trim, while his other hand rose to scratch through the shirt at the dark veins that now twined down to surround his left nipple and circled the bulge of his bicep. He looked out the window over the rooves of houses, to where the distant glow announced the lively foreshore that had become a part of his life. He fit in here now, he belonged. He had friends, a job, and Bumblebee.

"Hey B, let's go for a drive."

And at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

The End

Ok… I'm just going to say WOW to myself… I mean even I want a sequel and I wrote the damn thing! Usually I'm pretty down on my chapters, not liking the way they went or ended, but this one I love :) so if I get enough of a response there is definitely going to be sequel ahoy lol :D

I really hope you guys have enjoyed reading combustion as much as I've enjoyed writing it. This has been one of the best experiences and you've all been so fantastic and supportive with great reviews and comments. It's gotta be one of the best fandoms on the net in terms of people actually supporting the writers rather than just reading and not reviewing.

Thanks again guys/girls/things:)