Question: Is Denial just a river in Egypt? Answer: No, it also happens to be the state of mind Sunstreaker lives in.

When Vanity Met Insanity
Chapter 3

Disturbed by Ratchet's behaviour, Sunstreaker drove as far and as fast as he could away from the medic. He did not care in which direction he went. He did not care if he was scaring the slag out of local wildlife as he tore across the landscape at top speed. However, he did happen to care that he was getting coated in dust and dirt, but he knew that as soon as he found a safe place to stop in, he'd be able to wipe himself down of the imperfections. A little discomfort now was worth his peace of mind later. Granted, while he would be able to wipe himself free of the grime, he doubted he's be able to wipe away his personal sense of violation. Nope, the image of Ratchet slowly sliding between his legs and leaning in would never leave him.

Of course, he could understand Ratchet's sudden attraction. Although it was sudden and strong, who could blame a mech who had good taste... even if it was a delayed reaction? Sunstreaker was the most handsome bot that the medic saw on a day to day basis. Something like that was bound to accumulate, right? Like if a human was exposed to cigarette smoke long enough, they developed ill health effects like cancer. Being exposed to Sunstreaker over a long period of time slowly accumulated a latent sense of attraction until it was impossible to resist.

Perfectly rational explanation.

The only problem was... it was Ratchet. Ratchet! If Sunstreaker had been in bipedal mode, he might have gagged a little after shuddering in horror. As rational as he tried to be about the situation, he could not reconcile himself to the fact that it had been Ratchet coming on to him. Ratchet touching him. Ratchet purring in his audio. No matter how he considered the situation, it still left him disturbed. Ratchet, of all bots, was not the most attractive of the Autobots. His grouchy nature added to his unattractiveness. At the very least, if someone was going to come on to him, Sunstreaker deserved someone who was nearly as handsome as himself!

Just the thought of that medic sliding between his legs, touching him, pressing up against him...

Oh Primus, Sunstreaker was very close to figuring out how to gag in his alt mode.

Deciding to shake himself of such disturbing thoughts, he forced his mind to the task at hand. Now that he was heading away from the flat plains being used to collect solar energy, he was getting into rougher territory. Greece was a largely mountainous country, hosting some pretty tricky driving if one did not pay attention to the roads ahead. Narrow roads, steep inclines, and sharp turns were a driver's worst nightmare. Combined with the fact that Sunstreaker was not on a defined road, but instead driving for his life across dirt, sand, and rock which was currently eroding his undercarriage, it was extremely tricky driving indeed.

Finding the entrance to a wide gorge, Sunstreaker gunned his engine and shot in to the narrow path. All around him, walls of pure, jagged rock soared so high that it appeared at if they would brush the clouds. Once he was fully ensconced in the rocky environment, confident that he was hidden from sight, Sunstreaker resumed his bipedal mode. With more than a little annoyance, he regarded the current state of his golden armour. In the haste of his escape, he had managed to sandblast most of his gloss off. His paint was dull. Along the metal panels that constituted his flanks in alt mode, dirt was caked there thickly, a disgusting layer of light and dark browns. How bothersome. Call it an obsessive-compulsive impulse, but the urge to clean the grime away nearly had him bowing to the pressure. But Sunstreaker was not a complete moron; he knew that he would need to find better cover before he fixed himself up.

Moving deeper into the rocky terrain on foot proved just as difficult as moving on wheels. With his wheels, the rubber gripped the ground better than poor traction his feet offered. Although, whereas he was not so flexible as a Lamborghini, being in bipedal mode offered him quick reaction time to twist, bend, and jerk as needed to, as well as the freedom to use his hands to correct himself in the event that he stumbled.

A wild mountain goat bleated at him angrily as he passed by. To voice his own foul mood, Sunstreaker hissed back. The mountain goat didn't appear to appreciate being hissed, so it put its head down to display its impressive rack of curled horns, and then charged. It was a tiny thing compared to Sunstreaker, and if the Autobot had been in the mood, he could have flicked the stupid animal out of the way. However, at that moment, Sunstreaker was still a little rattled from his experience with Ratchet, and out of the two options he had in his fight or flight response, flight kicked in.

If any of the Autobots ever found out he ran away from an ornery goat, he'd never live it down.

Darting around a bend in the rock, Sunstreaker did not even have time to absorb his own embarrassment before a pair of hands grabbed him and slammed him up against the wall rock. Panic seared through him, thinking that Ratchet had finally caught up to him. His optics darted down, but he was not greeted with the sight of white and red. Instead, it was black and white. A glowing blue visor leaned in so close that it took up nearly everything Sunstreaker could see.

"J-Jazz," the golden bot gasped. "Thanks Primus, I thought you were Ratchet!"

The saboteur leaned back, frowning. "Now why would you think a thing like that?"

"Because... well, you're never going to believe this... okay, maybe you will, but Ratchet has lost his mind!" Sunstreaker noted with a certain amount of trepidation that Jazz had yet to release his hold. Warm, strong hands kept him pinned to the solid wall of rock at his back.

Jazz tilted his head to the side. "You're right, I do believe that. Ratchet is one crazy fragger." He leaned a fraction closer, his right thigh sliding between Sunstreaker's legs. "Mind telling ol' Jazz what Ratchet might have been doing to make you think he's lost his mind?"

Sunstreaker sucked in a drag of air, feeling the length of Jazz's smooth thigh move against the inner sides of his legs. Unlike Ratchet, this was behaviour that Sunstreaker could come to expect from Jazz, who was notoriously active among the Ark crew. Sunstreaker had even indulged in a few nights of play here and there with the saboteur, given that they were both extremely attractive and Jazz was an incredibly clever mech when it came to intimate play. However, the saboteur generally had a better sense of time and place when deciding to get frisky with someone.

Jazz's visor glinted, reflecting a similar light to what Sunstreaker had seen earlier. That hungry, lustful look.

"You seem a little distracted, Sunny," the saboteur purred lowly.

"Just thinking about something," Sunstreaker replied tightly, testing the hands that held him captive to the rock. The restraining grip reflexively tightened around his wrists. Not good.

"What was it you were thinking about? Me, I hope; all the naughty things I could do to you out here. I bet no one would even hear you scream," Jazz drawled, still moving closer. Not only was their hunger and lust in his gaze, but there was wicked intent glittering in his gaze as well. He was not third in command for nothing, after all. Jazz was an incredibly dangerous mech who was used to getting his own way.

Sunstreaker tilted his head away, feeling- not for the first time today- that something terribly, seriously, inexplicably wrong was going on. It wasn't just Ratchet who had lost his mind, it was Jazz, too. Perhaps their processors had been scrambled on the battlefield? Or was it some kind of virus that was affecting their judgement? A drug that had been slipped into their energon? An aphrodisiac that drew them to the most potently handsome creature available to satisfy their needs?

With one hard jerk, Sunstreaker released himself from Jazz's hold and stumbled to the side.

Jazz laughed, stalking after him. "You wanna play it that way, do you? Well, I'm up for it. I like it rough." He took a step forward, which Sunstreaker matched by taking a step back. The heat and hunger in the saboteur's gaze smouldered like hot coals. "I've always thought you were a handsome mech, Sunny. More beautiful than any Autobot I've ever known. I also thought you were conceited about it, but now I see you were just being honest. You're just so handsome, nothing else compares."

"Well, at least you're right about one thing," Sunstreaker replied unsteadily, even as he continued to back away.

"I know I'm right. Seeing you now, I know I've never seen anything like you before," Jazz purred, his hands reaching out to teasingly snatch at Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker scrambled away, but he was not being playful about his retreat. He was dead serious. As much as he appreciated having his unrivalled good looks verified, the circumstances in which the verification was taking place were questionable. He kept his back to the rock, stumbling sideways to move. Pebbles and sand swished and crunched around him. The jagged face of the rock scratched his back, taking flakes of paint off, but for once Sunstreaker was not focused on himself. He knew from experience that the moment he took his attention off Jazz, the other mech would strike with a vengeance. He didn't want to think of what would happen to him if Jazz managed to get him on his back.

Jazz feinted to the left, catching Sunstreaker when he tried to escape to the right. "Got'cha," he purred, pressing Sunstreaker fully into the rock wall. The heat that radiated off him was like the sun itself, burning straight through Sunstreaker's armour. No matter the struggle, Jazz held on, expertly immobilizing Sunstreaker until he was placed helplessly at his mercy.

"I knew you wanted me the moment you looked at me today," Jazz murmured, his voice taking on a feverish tone. "The way you watched while I drove away, I knew you wanted me to stay. You were practically begging me."

Sunstreaker shook his head as best he could, optics flaring wide and bright. "No, no I wasn't. No begging involved here. You've been with me before, Jazz. I don't beg for anything."

"There's a first time for everything. I bet I could make you beg now," replied the saboteur, freeing one of his hands in order to trail it down Sunstreaker's frame, dipping it into every sensitive crevice he could find. Sunstreaker steeled himself against the sensations, his neural wires already sensitive from Ratchet's earlier... assault on his senses. Jazz was too sharp a bot to miss the shift in the golden mech's frame. He grinned wickedly. "See? You're mouthplates might say one thing, but your frame says another."

"No, trust me, my frame is not saying anything right now other than 'let me go right now!'" Sunstreaker said quickly, his own voice hitching for a moment.

"If you didn't want this, you wouldn't have come here," Jazz replied, the fever pitch of his voice becoming more pronounced. "You wouldn't have come to me if you didn't want me. Want this." He released an electromagnetic burst that cascaded through Sunstreaker's frame, causing him to arch back and buck involuntarily. "You want this. You want it as bad as I want you. And I'll have you, Sunny. You won't belong to anyone else but me from now on."

Sunstreaker sucked in a drag of air like a gasp, doubling his effort to free himself. He was all for consensual acts of interfacing, but this was going into an area he did not want to visit. This wasn't even remotely consensual. "Jazz, I mean it, let me go! Let me go right now! I don't want this! Something is not right here! You're not yourself! Something's controlling you!"

"You're damn right something's controlling me," Jazz replied, his gaze raking over Sunstreaker's frame ravenously. "It's called lust."

That wandering free hand that had been playing so nicely all over Sunstreaker's frame now began a path to his interface panel. Sunstreaker, despite his struggles, could only stare in horror. So focused was both their attentions on what was happening, they failed to notice the appearance of a third party into the game. There was a flash of red at the top of the rocky wall above them, and then someone jumped off with a loud war cry.

"What the pit-?" Jazz didn't even have time to look up before the weight of a bright red Lamborghini Autobot landed on top of him and threw him away.

Sunstreaker had never been so relieved in his life to see his brother.

Jazz got to his feet, murder written on his faceplate. He growled like a rabid animal. "You're interrupting something, Sideswipe."

"It's a good thing, too. Sunny didn't look like he was enjoying himself much," Sideswipe shot back, moving to shield his brother's frame with his own. He was dusty all over, as if he had been driving at top speed all over the place. Had he been searching for Sunstreaker? Had he known that he needed help?

"Get your optics checked, Lambo. He wanted it," Jazz spat. "He wants me." The volatility of the mech was quickly coming to the surface, his lust transformed into something uglier. Rage.

"If he wanted you, don't you think he'd have been a little more willing?" Sideswipe hissed, bracing himself for a fight.

Sunstreaker wanted to yell that someone finally understood informed consent around here, but kept silent in order to keep attention off him. For once.

Sideswipe's armour flashed like flames in the blazing light that beamed down into the rocky gorge-like space they were in. "I can't believe you'd think he'd want to be with someone like you. He's always used you in the past. You're not good looking enough to be with Sunny. He'd never want you that way, other than to scratch an itch."

Wait...what?

Sunstreaker took a step back, and then another. He was getting that Really Bad Feeling again.

Sideswipe shot a searing look back at Sunstreaker. In his optics, something hot and hungry burned there; it was a look that one brother should never look at another brother with. It was wrong, wrong, wrong. Sideswipe tore his gaze away, facing Jazz once more. "The only bot good enough to be with Sunstreaker is Me."

Like a catalyst setting off a violent explosion, the two bots launched at each other. Theor clash was deafeningly loud. Metal on metal, amplified by the rock walls around them; the echos rattled in every direction, intensifying the sounds of battle. The two bots hit the ground in a writhing heap of flying kicks and punches. They looked like they were willing to fight to the death over this.

As much as anyone would be flattered that two bots were fighting over them, Sunstreaker knew this was not the time to bask in such violent enthusiasm. He had a feeling that whoever the winner of this match was going to be, he was not going to like it. He was going to like it even less when they tried to claim their prize.

For the sake of his own life and sanity, Sunstreaker turned tail and ran as fast as he could. Thankfully, Jazz and Sideswipe were so engrossed in their grappling match that they didn't notice his escape.

Whatever had infected Ratchet was now festering dangerously in Jazz and Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker could only count himself lucky that it was everyone else who had the problem and there was nothing wrong with him.