Kneeling to the Sword

by Gatekat

Knights of Light. Dai Atlas/Axe. When General Dai Atlas and his SIC decide to retire from Nova Prime's army, they know it could cost them dearly and plan accordingly.

18. Tradewinds' Approach

Fandom: Transformers G1
Author: gatekat, ultrarodimus on LJ
Pairing: Axe/Dai Atlas, Wing/Tradewinds
Rating: NC-17
Codes: Slash, Historical Setting, Knights of Light, Sticky
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics .livejournal 290 .html). We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.

Kneeling to the Sword 18: Tradewinds' Approach
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Wing flew, excited and curious, to the small energon cafe the message had indicated. He didn't recognize the voice on the message, though he had a vague sense of recognition at the designation glyph attached to it. So all he was sure of was that someone invited him to eat out at a nice but normal hangout favored by civilians living in the Citadel. Someone who had a definite desire to talk with him, away from his creators.

Wondering who this mysterious mech could be and what he wanted, Wing darted between the Citadel's structures to the cafe. Touching down neatly just outside the cafe, Wing folded his wings, fluffed and resettled his armor, and went inside, looking around. Almost immediately he spotted a large white mech, a small shuttle, with light blue and yellow trim and bright blue optics who waved at him.

The small white jet immediately headed in that direction, weaving his way between the other mecha in the cafe. One wing twitched slightly as he approached the shuttle-former, looking the other white mech over curiously. "Hello."

"Hello," the shuttle smiled back and motioned Wing to sit and to the small selection of confections and energon carafe on the table. That smile turned to a chuckle. "You don't remember me?" his tone was decidedly amused in its lack of surprise.

Slender wings twitched slightly. "I'm sorry, but I don't, really." Wing slid into a seat, leaning on the table, still looking the other mech over. The white shuttle, Tradewinds, was quite a good-looking mecha.

"I can't say I'm surprised," he chuckled. "You were being chased by that Praxian with the strange orange wings ... Lightwing, I think. Almost ran into me when I came in for a landing by medical."

"That would explain it... Jet tag tends to hold my attention," Wing replied. He tilted his helm, flaring his audial fins. "You're a courier, then? I'd heard there was a new one in the Citadel."

"Only on the side," he nudged the confections towards Wing before picking one up. "My gift puts me in high demand for fast, long-range transport for heavy or bulky things. Economics is my function by choice. Both are useful here, as are my contacts on the outside. Vanguard appreciates my ability to keep the coffers at a good level."

The smaller jet made a face. "Economics is one thing I don't really have the processor for." Picking out a confection, he took a bite, humming softly at the taste.

"Not many do," Tradewinds gave an easy grin. "What do you have a processor for?"

"Skydancing," Wing replied promptly. "I also picked up trades in surveying and architecture. But mostly skydancing." He fluttered slender wings slightly.

"You have the frame for it," Tradewinds smiled softly. "I doubt there are many that could catch you when you choose to move."

"Only another of my own frametype," Wing agreed. "There are a few here, but most are part of the stunt clans out on the plains. I can fly rings around most other flying mecha."

"I don't doubt it. Not unlike how I can outfly and outlast most any shuttle out there," Tradewinds nodded. "Do you skydance for entertainment often?"

"I dance when I can," the white jet replied. "When I have the time and the inclination. When I do, I usually attract an audience."

"I bet you do," Tradewinds smiled and poured Wing a cube from the carafe, showing that it was a lightly effervescing type. "Is that your only hobby?"

Wing took a sip from the cube, purring at the taste. "I skydance, I glomp my creators, and I'm working on growing a small crystal garden as well as a small tree my creator's mentor sent me from off-world."

"Glomp?" Tradewinds cocked his helm. "I'm not familiar with that word."

"Jumping on them and clinging, more or less," Wing explained. "They're used to it."

"I'm sure it leads to some funny captures," Tradewinds smiled warmly. "You're really quite attached to them."

Wing nodded, smiling brightly. "They're my family, and Sheerwing is my brother. I'm very attached to them, and they're attached to me."

"Is that why you don't date?" he asked in a soft voice and quickly lifted his cube to give Wing a moment.

The white jet cycled his optics in a blink. "I just haven't found my one yet. Though that doesn't mean I'm not looking. I could date if I wanted to."

Sleek, intricate wings drooped slightly. "You're waiting for a resonance match?"

Wing huffed softly. "Resonance matches are so rare they're almost mythical. I'm not going that far."

"Then what are you looking for?" Wings perked up slightly.

"I'm not entirely sure," Wing admitted. "But I'm sure I'll know when I find it. Someone who completes me."

Tradewinds nodded. "Willing to give dating a try? You might find what you're looking for."

The smaller mech's audial fins flared out. "Always worth a try." He lifted his energon cube again, gold optics gleaming over the edge as he watched the intricate pair of wings across from him flutter.

"Then you'll go flying with me next orn?" Tradewinds asked.

Wing's smile widened. "Certainly."

Intricate angular wings twitched and fluttered as a warm smile bloomed across Tradewinds' features. "Glad to hear that. A loop around the Citadel's plains, or maybe to somewhere?"

"There's nowhere to fly to that won't take two orns to reach," Wing pointed out. "As far as I know, neither of us is a teleporter, either. But we can make a loop over the plains."

"Sounds good," Tradewinds nodded. "I've only lived here a couple vorns. I know there aren't any cities nearby, but that doesn't always mean there aren't places nearby. I'm fast, but even I take just over an orn to reach civilization if I don't stop."

Wing's wings flared, fluttering for a moment before folding again. "That's fast. I haven't tested myself out to see how far I can get at top speed, but I already know I don't have the fuel tank capacity to make it from here to the nearest city without stopping. Most of our supplies come in by teleporter. Limits the risk of having to make a fuel stop and getting discovered by raiders out on the plains."

"Teleporter, or a couple shuttles with scramblers and long range," he nodded. "I'm one of the latter. Head out going one direction, land, turn the scrambler on, take off and circle around to the Citadel. I'm the fast one of those who fly. Skyripple is the other. He's the big medium blue and gray you've likely seen. I tend to get the loads that he and Titanus can't handle."

Wing nodded. "I've seen him, but I never caught his designation. Titanus is the courier I've had the most contact with. First time I really saw him appear out of nowhere he startled me right off my creator's shoulder. Otherwise I'd never given much thought to how supplies get here."

"Few mecha outside those who move or order supplies do," Tradewinds smiled. "There is no reason to think about it until it's an issue. It's not the politicians or credit-counters who know what's available where. It's the mecha who make and deliver it."

Wing hummed softly, regarding the larger mech. Gold optics took in the shuttle-former's intricate wings. "Any particular time you'd prefer to go flying? I have a morning shift tomorrow."

"Unless a supply order comes up for me, my work can be done whenever, as long as I get it done," he smiled. "Reports, recommendations and reviewing the news. I can do half of it on the wing. So perhaps when you get off shift?"

"Sounds good." Wing smiled, his optics sparkling. "I'll find you."

That raised an optic ridge over bright blue optics. "You know where to find me?"

Wing's grin widened. "You're in the Citadel database. I can find you."

"All right, come find me," Tradewinds wiggled his wings playfully. "I'll try not to make it too difficult for you."

The white Knight's optics lit up, his own wings wiggling. "That sounds like a challenge."

"I can make it one if you'd like," Tradewinds' blue optics glittered brightly. "I like hunt and tag."

"Challenge accepted," Wing purred, his golden optics sparkling.

"Just make sure to top your tanks off before you come hunting," Tradewinds lifted his cube in a toast. "So how many death threats should I expect over this?"

The small jet snorted. "As long as you behave, they'll give you dark looks but no threats. My creators are well aware of my reputation."

"And your current lovers?" Tradewinds teased, showing he knew Wing's reputation as well. "Any I should worry about if I manage to take you off the market?"

"There will be many mecha mourning the loss of a lover," Wing replied. "But if you do manage to win me, they would congratulate you for doing so."

"Nice to know I won't be angering anyone by trying," Tradewinds' wings flicked in relief, but also desire. "I'd hate to be chased out of the Citadel."

"Oh, they wouldn't chase you out." Wing's smile was blinding. The white jet tilted his helm. "What led you to settle here?"

Tradewinds ducked his helm. "You, really. I can roost anywhere. None of my functions or jobs need me to be stationed in a given place. Here's as good as the next place."

Wing blinked. "You settled here for me?"

"For a chance, yes," his wings flicked in definite embarrassment.

The smaller mech smiled. "It might not go anywhere, though."

"Might not," Tradewinds acknowledged. "There's no chance of it going anywhere if I didn't try."

"That is true," Wing agreed. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." He put his empty cube down, his fingers brushing against Tradewinds' off hand. It quickly turned over to capture Wing's fingers before he withdrew, sharing a field that was rich with arousal, relief, and anticipation.

"It has already paid dividends," Tradewinds purred, bringing Wing's knuckles to his lips for a feather-light kiss. "It will pay more tomorrow."

"Especially after I catch you," Wing purred in response, enjoying the flare of arousal in Tradewinds' field. "I look forward to the chase."

"We both do," Tradewinds shivered before claming down on his desires. "I would like to know you better before interfacing," he managed to keep a serious tone.

White audial fins flared out with interest. "Oh? Ask away." Wing fluttered slender wings teasingly, settling into a more comfortable position in his chair and crossing one leg over the other under the table. The tip of his footplate just brushed Tradewinds' leg armor, earning him another flicker of desire and flutter of intricate wings.

"Umm, well, what is your orn like?" Tradewinds had to work to focus.

"My orn consists of the usual chores that are expected of any member of the Order, some meditation, and training. I don't have an Initiate right now, so the rest of the orn is free time, to do as I please. I hang around with friends, with my creators, I skydance..." Wing shrugged slightly, flaring his nacelle pinions. He wasn't oblivious to the way Tradewinds tracked the movement with bright blue optics.

"Do you want to travel?" He murmured, trying to get his processors to focus on something other than the warmth of Wing's fingers against his own and the silken feel of Wing's field against his.

"It's never really occurred to me. My family is here, my friends are here. The Citadel has been my home since I came here as a mechling. The thought of leaving has never entered my processor," Wing admitted.

Tradewinds hummed his understanding. "Some mecha always think of travel, most don't. Nothing wrong with being content with where you are."

"I am quite content with my home here." Wing chirred softly, shifting ever so slightly. His footplate brushed against Tradewinds' leg again, watching with amusement at the way the larger mech's wings shivered.

"Wing, please don't," Tradewinds' voice dropped nearly an octave. "I wish to be friends before we are lovers."

The smaller mech blinked. "Oh. Sorry." Wing shifted, moving his pede away from Tradewinds' leg. He didn't pull his hand or his field away, though.

"It's okay," Tradewinds' field and tone betrayed how effective Wing's attentions were at arousing him. "I know you like to flirt. I'd just ... rather not lose my composure quite so quickly," he smiled as he worked to pull himself together. "Why did you decide to become a Knight?"

"I came to the Citadel very young, and the lifestyle here suited me far better than what I had been sparked as," the young jet replied. "When a Marwir offered to train me, I accepted."

"You're lucky then," he relaxed, flaring and settling his wings. "It seems to suit you. Have you ever fought with swords?"

"I did participate in a battle against a large raider force just before Dai Atlas and Axe were Knighted. That was my first true battle with swords. Otherwise, I have sparred with pretty much every other Knight in the Citadel at one point or another. We test our skills against each other all the time." Wing flicked a wing, shifting his Great Sword to a more comfortable position.

"Does that mean something, other than your status?" Tradewinds asked curiously as he picked up a confection with his free hand.

"The Great Swords? They're the symbol of the Knights. We all bear one once we finish our training and are accepted into the Circle. It's hard to explain to a non-Knight just what they are and what they mean." Wing reached up to run his fingers over the hilt, the blue gem glittering at the touch.

"It's not just a sword then; more than a symbol," Tradewinds lifted the confection to Wing's lips.

"Something like that." Wing leaned forward to take the confection, his glossa flicking at Tradewinds' fingers, golden optics lifting to meet the larger mech's blue. He felt as much as saw the rush of desire darken those optics as Tradewinds' field lapped at his with unmistakable intent.

"Just tell me that it doesn't share your berth." Blue optics twinkled with a mixture of arousal and teasing, though he really did want to know.

Wing chuckled. "No, it doesn't. It spends the night in its own brackets. Unless someone jumps me and pins me to the wall." Golden optics sparkled as they met blue. The white jet licked his lips, capturing the last traces of the sweet confection.

"Atl wasn't kidding about you," Tradewinds rumbled, his vents giving a puff of steam as his temperature rose. "Ever played with energon gel?"

"I'm always up for trying something new." Wing's smile was nearly blinding, flicking his wings teasingly.

Powerful shuttle engines revved before Tradewinds caught himself. "Then please save that treat for me."

"If you can catch me tomorrow, as well, then that treat is all yours," the white jet purred.

"Then we'll just have to see how the flight goes," Tradewinds smiled despite his disappointment as he mentally wrote off introducing anything to Wing. "Is there anything you wish to know about me?"

"How did you get into your current trade?" Wing asked curiously.

"As a courier? I was sparked into it," he said easily, his fingers still curled around Wing's as he tried to relax his frame. "A wealthy merchant House commissioned me and educated me. I was good enough at investing my small stipend to buy my contract after twelve centuries."

Golden optics cycled. "Buy your contract? Commissioned specifically as a courier?"

"Almost every sparked mecha has a contract that binds them to whoever paid for the frame and the fees to have that frame sparked until they can pay it off, usually with interest and the cost of supporting and training the mecha added on with interest," Tradewinds explained. "Some mecha know their price, most never bother to find out, but they all have one. Your creators would have bought their contracts out, since they're both former military. Yes, I was designed, sparked and trained specifically as a courier. My range and cargo capacity are both a direct result of my design and the expense that went into building it."

Wing was silent for a moment as he digested that. "I was sparked as a stunt flier, but my original creators threw me out of the clan. And Dai Atlas and Axe were branded traitors by Nova Prime when he refused to accept their buyouts, though Sentinel Prime pardoned them." Slender wings twitched.

Tradewinds squeezed Wing's hand. "I'm sorry your freedom came with trauma and not celebration. Still, you are free to be who you wish to be, rather than beholden to another. So few of our kind are free to pursue a love-match or their spark's desires."

"It doesn't bother me anymore... It happened millennia ago. I have a real family now." White wings ruffled once, then settled. "I'm free. We're free."

"Good," Tradewinds smiled and squeezed his hand again. "It seems that good came of the pain."

"Yes." Wing flattened his armor briefly. "So, after you bought your contract, you chose to stay with what you had been sparked for?"

The light shuttle nodded. "I do love my function. I merely wished to work for my own gain, rather than someone else's that I did not choose. I realized early on that my talent for finance and working the market meant that I didn't need to rely on my creator to protect me from the harshness of the outside world. I could earn my own way, and in buying out my contract I proved it. Now I put my talent for the use of the Citadel as well as myself."

"Makes sense." Wing nodded. "And the Citadel does appreciate the help."

"I have never been left in doubt of that," Tradewinds smiled and offered another confection to Wing's lips, this one a bite-sized jelly dusted with iron. "Vanguard uses his share of my income very well."

"Does he, now." Wing licked the confection from Tradewinds' fingers, his glossa flicking over the shuttle's digits to get all of the iron particles and enjoying the shivers each teasing touch of his glossa generated.

"Mm-hum," Tradewinds hummed, his systems revving up once more. He knew as well as Wing that if he didn't find someone tonight, he'd have to tend to himself. There was no ignoring his charge at this point. "Spends funds the way they should be, making sure everyone has the basics for energon, shelter and medical care."

"Vanguard looks after his people." Wing nodded. He purred softly, savoring the confection, half-lidded optics watching Tradewinds' as they darkened further.

With a low whine the shuttle withdrew his fingers and stood, using every shred of his self-control to keep himself from trembling. "I think I must be going home. It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Wing."

"It was a pleasure to meet you as well, Tradewinds. I'll see you tomorrow." Wing helped himself to another confection, making a show of eating it before rising to his own pedes, only to realize that his date had already vanished. Wiggling his wings anyway for anyone there who might appreciate it, the small white jet all but pranced out of the cafe, taking flight. He arrived home while the family dinner was winding up.

"Losing your touch, little brother?" Sheerwing teased him.

Wing flicked his wings at the bigger mech, trotting over to join his creators and sibling. "Nope. Stubborn possible partner," he replied, hopping into his chair and leaning on the table, greeting Dai Atlas and Axe with a trilling purr and smiled warmly at Steelspark and Lightwing, who flicked the orange beams of his wings in a friendly, playful greeting.

"Just how stubborn can he be when he picked up Cocotte on the way home?" Sheerwing raised an optic ridge at him.

Wing shrugged. "He insists he wants to get to know me before getting into my berth. I was this close to getting him to crack." The white jet held up two fingers a wire's breadth apart. "But he left before he snapped."

"Why get to know you first?" Axe broke into the conversation, catching Lightwing's attention away from his meal.

"He wishes to try and court me," Wing replied, riffling his wings.

Five pairs of optics, three red, one blue and one orange, cycled as he was stared at.

"He wishes to court you," Dai Atlas rumbled, his own wide wings hiking up. "A civilian," came out nearly a hiss.

Wing blinked at Dai Atlas, his audial fins folding closer to his helm. "What's wrong with that? Tradewinds seems like a very nice mech."

Axe thumped his mate's hip, earning a glower. "He doesn't think any civilian knows enough about existence to make a worthy mate for one of his. If Tradewinds wants you enough to withstand the glares, he's fine."

"Tradewinds was more worried about death threats than glares. He'll watch his step around Dai." Wing settled, his audial fins flaring back out to their normal positions.

"Death threats?" Sheerwing chuckled. "Lots of congratulations with muttering in the same breath, but I don't think any of your friends will miss you that much. They've all had their chance to keep you."

"And most are Knights," Axe added with a smirk. "So what is he like?"

"I find him quite nice," Wing replied, his wings fluttering briefly. "Polite, and willing to take the time to get to know me before trying anything."

"Despite your best efforts," Axe chuckled. "Are you planning to let him get to know you without driving him to Cocotte every night?"

"I will try. But I make no guarantees." Mischief sparkled in golden optics.

"That's cruel, little brother," Sheerwing shook his helm. "Remember what happened the last time a mecha wanted to know you before getting in your berth?"

Wing made a face at the younger mech. "Don't remind me."

"He has a point though, Wing," Lightwing got up his courage to speak up. "You aren't short on mecha happy to interface with you. But how many have said they want to court you? Is a quick conquest really worth the future?"

White armor panels rippled. "I will try to keep the teasing to a minimum, as best I can."

Dai Atlas didn't hide his slight smile at that. Two young mecha teaching his much older perpetual mechling to think beyond the moment, at least for a time.

~You find that entirely too amusing,~ Axe glanced at his mate.

~After the non-effect the situation with Lightwing turned into, I never expected Wing to grow up enough to even hear that argument,~ Dai Atlas chuckled privately. ~As much as he's said he wants a mate, he's never acted in a way that he could acquire one.~

~And the two of us did?~ Axe raised at optic ridge at him.

~We were serious by default,~ Dai Atlas countered. ~There is a difference between an overcharged 'face and trying to torment someone into it when they've said clearly that they do not wish to yet.~

~Point,~ Axe winced internally at that perspective of the evening, the events of which Sheerwing had given them a move by move of as it happened via an open comm line with his lover.

Wing gave his creators a look, hinting that he knew they were talking about him in a manner he couldn't hear, but said nothing. The white jet fiddled with an energon cube before taking a sip. "Tradewinds invited me to go flying with him after my shift tomorrow."

"A good time for you to show off you skills out of the berth," Sheerwing grinned at him.

"What drew him to ask you out like he did?" Lightwing asked.

"He's interested in me," Wing replied, looking over at Lightwing. "Apparently I'm the reason he decided to settle in the Citadel in the first place."

"Interesting," Dai Atlas hummed. "But why?"

"He didn't actually say," Wing admitted, shifting his nacelle pinions. "Something I'm hoping to find out myself."

"I would like to know, soon," the giant shifted his wings in a clear statement that if Wing didn't tell him he'd find out himself.

"Are you interested in him?" Axe asked to deflect some of the tension his mate had created.

Wing blinked, making a note to himself to warn Tradewinds about that. "I'll ask when I go flying with him tomorrow." Golden optics turned to meet Axe's blue. "I'm curious about him. That may become interest after I've gotten to know him better. I've only just actually met him."

"Do keep us in the loop," Sheerwing chuckled. "Better you talk than our creators go looking."

Wing nodded. "Good idea. I'd rather they not scare him off." He tilted his helm toward Dai Atlas, who was one of the most intimidating mecha in the Citadel even on a good day. The giant grinned in reply.

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Wing stretched, shaking his wings before resettling them. His shift was finally over for the orn. Letting out a soft groan of relief, the white jet made his way out of the control room, heading for the rec room to refuel. He hadn't forgotten the challenge Tradewinds had given him and had been looking forward to it all morning. He'd queried the database as to where Tradewinds currently was, though that didn't mean the shuttle would still be there when Wing arrived. Grinning to himself, he refueled quickly, then ruffled his armor and went a-hunting shuttles.

The first stop was the top floor of a low-lying residential building outside the Knight's Citadel, though still in its shadow and within the protective walls. The balcony doors were open, inviting, and allowed Wing a good look inside the place Tradewinds called home as Wing landed on the balcony, trotting inside. Bright gold optics took in the decor, pausing to admire bits and pieces. . It bore a remarkable resemblance to his own quarters at first glance; wide open and, decorated with objects from across the galaxy.

Twitching his wings, the white jet explored Tradewinds' large, rather lavish apartment, confirming that his quarry was no longer there. He learned a lot about him in the process though, and had little doubt that was the point. First and foremost, he had a much better grasp of Tradewinds' tastes, primarily that he chose to surround himself with objects of great value that were also of great beauty.

Chirring softly to himself, Wing walked back out onto the balcony, pausing to look around before taking flight. Now the fun part began. He saw one of Tradewinds' neighbors across the street lounging on their balcony and belatedly recognized his brother's lover.

The jet ruffled his armor, flying over. "Kaleidoscope! Have you seen Tradewinds around? I'm looking for him."

"Have you checked Starshine Park?" the Kaonite Aerial grinned with the distinct impression that he'd been waiting for Wing to give that message. "He's often working there."

"Thank you!" Wing waved to the blue-trimmed black Kaonite, darting off in the direction of the park. He circled it once, checking out who was there. He couldn't say he was surprised that he didn't see his shuttle, but he did see his own designation created in oddly-shaped white tiles in one of the sitting areas.

Humming curiously, Wing landed next to the sitting area and walked over to examine the tiles. A grin spread over his face as he looked at it and realized he was looking at the backs of a set of puzzle pieces. Large and simple, intended for a young sparkling more than to challenge adults, but that only meant he needed less than a breem to put it together despite the general lack of visual clues on the front side.

Right side up, he realized it was a message from Tradewinds, written in exactingly neat glyphs.

You wished a hunt
You shall have one
Before you catch me
You will have to know me
Tradewinds

Wing purred, inspecting the cards looking for clues as to where Tradewinds might have gone next, only to see nothing. This was going to be a very interesting and quite informative chase, and possibly frustrating. Slender wings twitched, a soft hum of mild frustration escaping as he continued to study the message.

A vocalizer cycled behind him, then clicked for his attention. He gathered up the cards and stashed them in subspace before turning to look at the other mech. He recognized Cocotte without an ID ping, even if he'd never used the pleasurebot's services.

"Tradewinds left me with a message for you," Cocotte told him and offered a small datapad.

"Thank you." Wing accepted the datapad with a nod, unlocking it to read the message it contained, absently aware that Cocotte walked away to find his next customer.

My function's headquarters is where you go next.

White audial fins flared out. Subspacing the datapad, Wing took flight, banking toward his next destination, the storehouses where all the Citadel's supplies were kept. Golden optics scanned the area for any signs of Tradewinds as he flew but not a flicker of his quarry's white was to be seen or sensed.

He set down smoothly and was allowed inside with his ID ping. While he'd spent entirely too much time down here as a Supplicant, he'd managed to avoid the processor-numbing duties for the most part since. Lately his only explorations of the supply storehouses had been to get something he needed. That was still the case, though he had no clue what he was looking for this time.

Wing paused just inside the doors, looking around for any signs or clues as to what he might be looking for. The white jet eased farther in, golden gaze taking in everything around him, looking for any hints Tradewinds might have left. The rows of shelves were neat and ordered, the only movement a mecha working further in.

Each set of shelves held supplies sorted by size and where they were intended to go. Some for personal quarters, others for manufacturing, some waiting to be distributed to other storage areas around the Citadel. Off to one side were crates of newly arrived supplies waiting to be sorted onto the proper shelves.

Wing made his way farther in, optics scanning for anything out of place, anything that Tradewinds might have left for him as a clue. Hearing a mecha moving around farther into the storehouse, the white jet made his way in that direction. The mech, a Supplicant from the look of him, twitched his sensor wings before glancing over his shoulder at Wing with an ID ping request.

"Warehouse 3, he said it's obvious, Master Knight Wing," the Supplicant said before returning to sorting out medical supplies for delivery to Hardwing.

"Thank you." Wing inclined his helm to the other mech, then made his way to the warehouse in question. Picking his way around a stack of crates awaiting sorting, Wing looked around for Tradewinds' clue and spotted it almost instantly. When Tradewinds said obvious, he wasn't kidding.

In a large glowing glyph stuck to a crate was Wing's full, formal designation. Something he hadn't used ... ever, really. Not even when he'd told Marwir his full story after he'd become her Initiate.

The white jet's armor ruffled, his wings shifting against his back plating as he walked over to the crate. He'd almost forgotten his full, formal designation, it had been so long since he'd seen or heard it. How had Tradewinds found out about it? Wing wasn't sure, but it clued him into how resourceful his shuttle was. He didn't know a single Knight, or anyone in the Citadel, who used their full designation, even in formal situations. It was almost always their designation as they'd earned since their arrival. What one had been before the Citadel did not matter here.

Picking up the crate his designation was stuck to, Wing perched himself atop another crate to open it. A datapad caught his attention first, the object under it a box that when he looked at it made his intakes stutter. A box of wood.

Very carefully, Wing lifted out the wooden box, holding it up to examine the intricate carvings. Thanks to Titanium he'd seen many beautiful things made of organic materials, but nothing quite like this. Light fingertips trailed over the engravings, tracing the lines and shapes, taking in the delicate designs and the intricacy of the work. Though he recognized very little, it spoke of many worlds, with Cybertron on the lid. When he reached the front his intakes stalled again.

Centered on the face that was half again as long as his hand, was his full designation. Under that, in much a smaller glyph, was 'from Tradewinds' and the shuttle's full formal designation. Below Tradewinds' glyph was another that Wing didn't recognize the meaning of.

Setting the box, unopened for the moment, in his lap, Wing reached for the datapad, unlocking it to read the contents.

Hello Wing
You listen to strangers with intel
A useful trait on the hunt
A hunt that is going to become more difficult

The box is for you
As are its contents
I hope you enjoy them

For your next step
Find who I purchased the contents from

Purring softly, Wing put the datapad down, returning his attention to the box. His fingertips ran once over the engravings before lowering to the edge of the lid. One wing twitching slightly, the jet opened the box, peering at the tightly lidded and carefully wrapped jar of energon gel.

A grin spread over Wing's face. He was looking forward to the end of this chase, whenever it ended. But it would be fun in the meantime. Closing the box's lid again, Wing ran his fingers over the carved glyph he didn't know and pinged the Citadel database for what it meant. For the third time in a breem his vents stuttered when the answer came back.

Courting Gift

Rising to his feet, he left the warehouse, the box held securely in one hand. There were several places where Tradewinds could have gotten the gel. Wing just had to find the right one while his processors whirled over how serious Tradewinds much be to spend that many credits on his first gift. It made Wing uneasy too. He had many very nice things, some priceless, but other than his Great Sword, they had all been gifts from Titanium. And now from Tradewinds.

He was in no position to respond with gifts of this quality.

Still, if Tradewinds knew him well enough to know his full formal designation the shuttle must also realize that Wing couldn't reciprocate on this level.

As he walked to the nearest confection shop, Wing's new box got more than a few looks. Wood was beyond rare; a difficult and delicate import from far off world. Most mecha would spend their entire existence without seeing anything of the like. He smiled and indulged their curiosity, though no one got to touch it. So it took him almost three breems to reach Confection's Energon Cafe. It was his favorite place, though he'd never seen Tradewinds there.

"Wing!" Confection chirred a delighted greeting. "I have a new flavor of dusted jelly."

Golden optics brightened as Wing made his way over. "A new flavor? My interest is piqued." Everyone in the Citadel knew of Wing's sweet tooth; he'd been bouncing off the walls and pretty much on cloud nine after discovering that Dai Atlas had learned to make treats and confections at the university in Praxus. Despite the supply at home, it hadn't impacted his buying much.

"A light calcium in the jelly and dusted with sweet copper rust," he grinned and brought one out.

"Sounds delicious." Wing's optics were bright and eager as they fixed on the treat. His free hand eagerly reached out for the confection as Confection grinned and chirred at him, knowing the Knight was good for the price.

Wing eagerly took the confection, taking a bite. White wings fluttered happily, the white Knight almost melting into a purring puddle. "Delicious."

"Good," Confection smiled. "It's always good to please my best customer."

Licking his fingers to get the last traces of dust, Wing purred happily. "I'll definitely be back for more of these. Maybe I'll even save some for other customers." Gold optics looked in the direction from which the treat had been brought, briefly debating whether or not to stay for more.

"You're always good for word of mouth," Confection grinned. "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"I'm looking for Tradewinds... He's leaving me hints and clues, and I'm following them." Wing showed Confection the wooden box. "Right now I'm on the trail of the next clue."

"That's beautiful," Confection murmured, his optics bright. "What clue brought you here? I can't say I've seen him this decaorn."

"There are only a few places where he could have bought this." Wing opened the box to reveal the energon gel inside. "Once I find where he got it, I'll find the next clue." The jet's bright grin gave away how much he was enjoying this hunt.

Confection hummed and delicately lifted the jar from its box to examine it. "I know who made this, if you wish the shortcut."

The white mech's shoulder nacelles perked up. "Certainly. I'll accept the shortcut... I have no doubt that there is still a long hunt ahead of me."

"Her designation is Slipstep," Confection smiled and put the jar back. "She doesn't have a shop, but she lives in the Nilon district," he databurst Wing the location and directions as well as an image of the elder femme. "I'm amazed anyone convinced her to brew again."

"It would have taken me forever to find that out," Wing admitted, flicking his wings. "Thanks for telling me. I'll be back for more of those treats later." The white mech smiled brightly at Confection, then trotted out, heading for Slipstep's residence. With the directions it didn't take him long to find the apartment, a small single-room place on the ground floor. Things that were unusual for a flier.

When the door opened at his knock he understood why. Her wings were grayed past the point of being able to support even her slight mass in flight.

"Ah, Wing," she smiled, her vocalizer buzzing slightly with age that her self-repair could no longer correct. "Tradewinds said you would be by. Come in, little one."

Wing inclined his helm politely, following her inside and refraining from commenting on the 'little one'. "The jar of energon gel he left for me guided me here."

"Yes, he was most persuasive," she clicked in amusement and made her slow way to a chair that seemed quite new and beautifully crafted to support every angle and kibble of her frame. "There are few things a mecha as old as I can be bribed with anymore."

The younger jet chirred his agreement to Slipstep's comment of Tradewinds being persuasive, waiting for the aged femme to settle herself before perching on another chair, folding his wings close to his back. "He is indeed." Wing tilted his helm ever so slightly to the side. "Did he leave anything with you when he left?"

"Information, little one," she chuckled and relaxed into her chair with a relieved groan. "Though you'll have to ask the right question to get the answer you seek."

On a level Wing groaned, but another part of him thrilled at the challenge as he began to chat with her, wiling away almost two full joors before he realized that Tradewinds was waiting in Wing's apartment.

Once Wing received that important bit of information, he thanked Slipstep for it, chatting for a while longer before politely excusing himself. Taking to the air, Wing flew back to his own apartment, greeting other flying Knights as he passed them in the air. Touching down on his balcony, he trotted inside and stopped dead.

The table he almost never used was laid out with a meal fit for one of the finer restaurants in the big cities he'd traveled through so many vorns ago. Solids and liquids combined in ways he'd never been able to fathom but always tasted amazing.

"Did you enjoy your hunt?" Tradewinds smiled at him from near the table.

"It was quite fun." Wing fluffed his armor and wings slightly, walking toward the table. "I do have to wonder how you found out my full formal designation... I haven't used it since long before I came here, many vorns ago. And how you managed to find the wood for the box, I can't even begin to imagine."

Tradewinds chuckled and motioned to the table. "Contacts and credits, and a long familiarity with how to query the databases of Cybertron to get what I want. Dinner, however, is my doing."

The white jet smiled brightly. "It must have taken quite some digging to find my designation, considering how long it's been." Golden optics met Tradewinds' blue, glowing warmly, before lowering to take in the meal laid out for them. "If it tastes as good as it looks, you might get to see me melt into a contented little puddle."

"I have been told I am a better than passable energon chef," Tradewinds held a chair out for Wing. "Your designation is less hidden than you might think. It's actually in the Citadel system. I suspect you can thank your creators for that."

Wing chuckled. "Somehow I'm not surprised. They came across my former clan while they were on walkabout, and I hear they gave my original creators quite an audialful." He accepted the chair, sitting down and waiting for Tradewinds to seat himself.

"Did it feel good, to hear that?" Tradewinds asked as he poured effervescent light energon into something else Wing had never seen; crystal glasses.

"It did, actually. Considering how much it hurt when my original creators threw me out the way they did." White audial fins flared as Wing inspected the glasses, reaching out to very lightly touch one. He was used to drinking energon from cubes. These were unlike anything he'd ever seen before. "This won't break if I touch it, will it?"

"No, they are no more delicate than a cube," Tradewinds trilled encouragement and lifted his own by the thin stem under the steep-sided bowl that held the energon as an example. "They will crush if you try, but not from normal use."

Wing tilted his helm, studying the way Tradewinds held his glass, then carefully copied him, holding the glass up to examine it more closely. "Beautiful."

"It is the most useful part of earning extra credits for me," Tradewinds relaxed and sipped the light drink. "I like to be surrounded by beautiful, quality items and enjoy using them. I understand you spend your credits in much the same way; to enjoy your free time by enjoying what they can buy."

The smaller jet took a bite of his food, humming softly. "Delicious." He tilted his helm slightly. "I too like beautiful things, though most of mine are meant to be admired, not handled." He indicated the pieces of artwork decorating the room, items he'd collected himself and things that Titanium had sent him from the farthest reaches of Cybertronian space.

"Which ones did you select?" Tradewinds asked, honestly curious, though his wings spoke more clearly of his pride that Wing liked his cooking.

"A few of these I bought myself; they were not easy to find. Most were gifted to me by my creator's mentor, who sends them from the farthest reaches of Cybertronian space. And it's not just art he's sent me." Wing nodded toward a small tree in a pot near the balcony doors.

"I gathered as much. I don't think you've ever been off world?" Tradewinds nibbled at his meal. "How old is the tree?"

Wing shook his helm. "No, I've never been off-world. Too dangerous for Knights to venture out into space, since we usually travel alone when we're out of the Citadel on walkabout." He looked over at the tree, watching the sunlight gleaming off the ivory-colored metal-laced trunk, the silver foil leaves, and the delicate gold flowers. "I've had the tree for a little over a decade, I think."

"You're caring for it well then," Tradewinds nodded. "It's rare for an off-world organism like that to survive so long, even if they are one of the rare races that are meant to live so long. Did you cross paths with Solar and Lunar while you were investigating my quarters?"

Wing shook his helm, audial fins flaring curiously. "No, I didn't. And yes, I take good care of the tree." He took another bite, purring at the combination of flavors. "Who are Solar and Lunar?"

"A mated pair of organic avians I managed to acquire some centuries ago," Tradewinds was absolutely preening at the fact. "They've never bred, though they have flourished. Except for once when Lunar was infected with a virus, each time I've had them cloned they survive a solid vorn and a half, more than three times their life expectancy on their homeworld."

Wing's nacelle pinions and audial fins flared out with clear interest. "You have organic avians? Birds? Real ones? I've only seen them in image captures."

"Yes, a pair," Tradewinds trilled excitedly at Wing's reaction. "I would be pleased to introduce you to them after we eat. They are very friendly and accustomed to being handled so long as I make the introduction. I find that they have excellent taste in who they tolerate around them for long."

"I would love to meet them." Wing's optics were wide and bright, his slender wings fluttering behind him.

"Then you will," Tradewinds promised. "Are there any worlds you are most attracted to the products of?"

"I don't have any one planet in particular that I favor." Wing mixed several ingredients on his plate, taking a bite. "There are simply too many beautiful things from too many different worlds for me to choose from."

"Nothing wrong with that," Tradewinds smiled softly. "Did you see anything in my collection that you particularly enjoyed?"

"I liked all of your collection," Wing replied. "There were many things I had never seen before. I would like to have a closer look sometime."

"I'd be happy to give you a full, detailed tour," Tradewinds purred. "Would you return the favor? Your creator's mentor is very widely traveled from the look I've gotten."

"Titan is an old military mech, so he does travel a great deal," Wing agreed. "I can give you the tour later, yes."

Tradewinds trilled into a purr of excitement. "Does he come by often?"

"He comes by when he can. Most of the time he's deployed out in the farthest reaches of our space. Sometimes we don't see him for centuries. When he does come, he brings interesting things back with him, as well as stories," Wing replied. "Last time he was here was about three centuries ago."

"I look forward to meeting him when he visits again," Tradewinds smiled, twitching his wings eagerly. "Just how close are you to the Knights you train?"

"The relationship between a Knight and his Daoshi, the Knight who trains him or her, is very close. Closer than unbonded mates. It's the closest relationship many Knights ever form," the smaller white mech replied, taking in the stunned expression across from him.

"No wonder few Knights are mated that don't arrive that way," Tradewinds murmured. "How many will you train, do you expect?"

"I'm not sure," Wing admitted. "I have already trained Dai Atlas and Dagger. I have yet to meet another Supplicant I feel the need to train. But that doesn't mean I won't, at some point."

"With those two, I'm half surprised you didn't pick Lightwing," Tradewinds commented after a bite of his meal. "He is Dagger's half brother."

"I know." Wing nodded. "Picking one's Initiate is not as simple as some might think. While I do like Lightwing, I didn't feel the urge to train him, like I did with Dai and Dagger."

Tradewinds hummed. "Is that urge anything you can describe?"

Wing shook his helm. "It's very, very difficult to put words to. I just know."

The shuttle nodded his acceptance. "It sounds a bit like how I get a feeling about some trades that goes beyond any calculations my processor could produce. Most of the time it's a good processor, the right protocols and a lot of data to build on. But sometimes I just know it's a good or bad idea and I can never quantify why. I've always been right too when I get that feeling."

Wing nodded. "I haven't met another Supplicant that I react to that way. At least not yet."

"You have a long time to find another," Tradewinds smiled, noting that Wing had almost finished eating and only had half his glass left. "Even if you don't, I would hope that training two strong Knights is enough for the Order."

Wing nodded. "That is true... There will be lots of time and there will be more mecha arriving in hopes of joining the Knights." He took a sip from his glass, washing down another bite of the delicious meal. "You are an excellent cook. When did you learn?"

"Thank you," Tradewinds purred, his winds flaring with pride. "It was simple curiosity for the most part. Then my Lord attempted to drug me into signing a bonding contract and I had good reason to learn how my sustenance was prepared so I could tell when it was doctored. It's saved me a few times."

Wing paused. "Someone tried to drug you into it?" He stared at the older mech, astonished.

"It's not that uncommon when politics and other pressures fail," Tradewinds nodded. "When I was able to raise my price so quickly he wanted to keep me in the House to use my talent for his own gain. He was doing his duty in trying everything legal to keep me."

White plating rattled as Wing shuddered at the thought of being drugged into anything. "At least you got away from him."

"Yes," he inclined his helm, though the reaction earned Wing a curious look. "The Citadel has really sheltered you. It is not an uncommon tactic out there. Consent is not valued much in the real world."

"I'm quite aware that my existence here has been very sheltered," Wing agreed. "It's led to some interesting cases of culture shock when I find out what happens out in the world."

"I'm sure," Tradewinds hummed and sipped the last of his energon. "We'll likely have a few more of those moments. I am aware that the standards I know are very different from those here. I have worked out that consent is a big deal here."

"It's a very big deal here," Wing agreed, shifting a wing against his back and watching as Tradewinds stood and walked over to him.

The shuttle leaned down to kiss Wing's cheek plate. "Would you like to meet Solar and Lunar now?"

The smaller jet bounced to his pedes, wings fluttering. "Yes, I would." Golden optics shone eagerly as he followed Tradewinds to his balcony and into the air for the short flight to the shuttle's home. Wing's golden optics took in the larger shuttle's collection, admiring the objects Tradewinds' had on display. Some of them he was itching to get a closer look at. Turning his attention to the larger mech, Wing admired the ornate wings of the shuttle, his gaze sliding down to Tradewinds' aft before moving back up to his wings as they twitched enticingly.

The one door in the apartment that had been closed before slid open to reveal it was also protected by a low-powered force field to keep the environment inside the room in place. With a smile over his shoulder Tradewinds stepped through the field and into a much warmer, humid and oxygen-rich environment. He was almost immediately assaulted by two feathered creatures of mostly white with bright yellow-gold crests, wing edges and tail tips.

Wing jumped slightly, startled by the appearance of the creatures. He fluffed his armor slightly as he passed through the forcefield into what felt like, to Wing, an alien environment. Easing closer to Tradewinds, he stared in open curiosity at the feathered creatures as they settled on the shuttle's left shoulder and turned to stare at Wing in turn.

"Wing, these are Solar and Lunar," Tradewinds introduced the pair. "Solar is the smaller one that's more golden," he lifted his right hand to just in front of the pair for Solar to hop onto. "He's also the less territorial of the two. The males of their kind are the gatherers and chick-tenders. The females are larger to hunt and protect the territory." He explained as he lowered Solar to Wing's optic level. "He'll hop on your hand if you offer it."

"Wow," Wing breathed, lifting his hand up for Solar to hop onto. His optics were almost perfectly round as he stared at the two creatures.

The bird's large, rounded beak tipped one side to another as Solar checked out the offered perch, then hopped over. The jet was amazed by how light the creature was. Mecha and mechanimals had a lot of weight to them due to their metallic natures and their internal systems. Solar's slight weight was barely registering. What Wing really noticed was the soft feel of feathers against his armor so in contrast to the hard claws on its feet.

"Hello Wing. I am Solar," the bird squawked in very acceptable Cybertronian.

Wing's optics went even rounder and wider, if that was at all possible. "He talks!" His slender wings spread out, fluttering slightly.

"We talk," Lunar chimed in.

"They know close to six thousand Cybertronian words now," Tradewinds beamed and fluttered his wings in pride. "Their native language is far more complex than what they can say in ours, though even after this long my understanding of it is still limited."

Solar turned his head all the way around to look at his owner without moving his torso. "Tradewinds speaks well."

A short sequence of organic-sounding whistles and clicks came from Tradewinds' vocalizer in reply.

Wing let out a chirp, though he didn't have a clue what it might mean in "avian". Very carefully, he lifted his other hand to brush his fingertips against soft feathers. "Amazing." Tilting his helm toward Tradewinds, he flared his audial fins in a curious query.

"I said 'thank you'," he elaborated. "They're very intelligent."

"So I see." Wing carefully stroked the soft feathers, marveling at their texture. He peered closer at the sharp claws gripping his armor, noting the scales on the avian's feet.

"They really are a marvel of bio-engineering," Tradewinds smiled as he reached up to gently stroke Lunar's head, pressing down her large yellow-gold feather crest as he did so. "How something so light can be so strong is beyond me. That beak can crack metal, though not armor."

"Beaks for breaking food," Lunar squawked, then added something in her own language.

"I think that is a kind of food," Tradewinds said. "They eat a lot of things with very hard shells on their homeworld," he turned to snag a small roundish object. "These are a good mimic of it."

"They manage it somehow." Wing peered curiously at the object in Tradewinds' hand. "Unable to crack armor or not, I don't think I'd want to be bitten by one."

"We not bite," Solar cawed and ruffled his feathers.

"They are very well socialized," Tradewinds promised. "They like company too. I'd take them out more often but the environment is not healthy for them. Too cold and too little of some gasses they need to breathe. Avians have very strict needs to remain healthy."

"I didn't imply that you did," Wing told Solar, gently stroking the feathered head. He tilted his helm toward Tradewinds. "I'm not surprised Cybertron isn't a good environment for organics. That's why Titan sent me a metallic tree rather than an organic one. An organic one wouldn't survive long." Ruffling his armor slightly, Wing looked from Solar to Lunar. "Are these creatures sentient?"

Tradewinds shifted uneasily. "Probably," he admitted. "But if I report them as such they'll be taken and stuck in a lab to prove it."

"No one will hear about it from me," Wing promised. His nacelle pinions flared and settled, wings refolding against his back. "I would not want to see them in a lab."

"Thank you," Tradewinds' wings relaxed slightly. "When I bought the original pair there were no such laws. I think Sentinel Prime would have outlawed all owning of sentients if it wouldn't have caused the entire nobility and merchant classes to revolt. He angered enough outlawing organic ones."

Wing made a face. "I can just imagine the uproar if he tried, and I shudder to think of it." He smiled brightly as the bird on his hand sidled along his finger. "Thought I have to wonder what happened to all those organics, if keeping them as pets is illegal now. Were they sent back to their planets?"

"Since sentience has to be proven, they went to labs to prove or disprove it," he sighed. "What happened after that ... they were probably put down after being cloned enough times to finish testing, if you want my guess. There aren't many sentient races that live more than a few vorns. Testing takes time."

White armor clamped tight to Wing's frame. "That's horrible. They should have just been let go."

"Let go to what?" he muttered. "Most had never seen their homeworld or another of their own kind unless their owner had them. These two are nearly five thousands generations away from what left their homeworld. I knew many pets that were far more removed than that."

"Oh." Wing digested that for a moment. "Still. To confirm sentience, then destroy them is not right."

"No, not really," he agreed. "Maybe they let them live out their last metacycles. I don't know. But I doubt they bothered, given what they had were clones they created. Probably lied if they're ever asked."

"Probably." Wing gently traced the edge of a feathered wing. "I'd rather not see that happen to these little beauties."

"Neither do I," Tradewinds smiled. "They're sweet and affectionate. They don't deserve to be poked, prodded and tested."

"Tradewinds good mech," Solar clicked. "Good food. Good perches. Good warmth. Good company. Good protect."

"Yes, good mech," Lunar agreed.

"And as long as they continue to believe that, I'll continue to keep them," Tradewinds smiled.

Wing smiled, stroking Solar's chest feathers. "I bet they're good company, too. The only 'pets' I've ever had were common glow beetles. I did get to handle a gyrofalcon with a lame wing once, but it was a mean thing."

"If you get one as an egg and raise it you'll find they are very different creatures," Tradewinds smiled. "Perhaps when I have this pair cloned next vorn you can help raise them with us."

Wing's smile widened. "I doubt I'd have time to raise a gyrofalcon, though it's something to keep in mind. And I would love to."

SXSXSXSXSXSXSXSX S===================S SXSXSXSXSXSXSXS

A metacycle and Wing's orns had settled into a new pattern. Dinner was either with his family or Tradewinds when it wasn't with both. He was still amazed at how calmly and easily Tradewinds handled Dai Atlas' glares and suspicious, pointed questions. Tonight Wing had Tradewinds all to himself, only to be surprised when his suitor only had a cube of fine high grade for him and one for himself.

So now they were on Tradewinds' couch and Wing was snuggled against a warm field that hinted at a bit more arousal than normal.

Wing purred softly, taking a sip of his high grade as he wriggled closer to Tradewinds. Registering the extra arousal in the shuttle's field, he tilted his helm up to look at the taller mech. "Something on your mind?"

"You," he rumbled, looking down before leaning closer to lightly brush his lip plates against Wing's. "Always you."

Wing's purr picked up as the white jet returned the brush of lips, running one palm lightly over Tradewinds' chest. "And you're on mine."

"Finish your energon, Wing," Tradewinds shivered at the touch. "You'll need it."

Golden optics brightened. "I like the sound of that." Wing lifted his energon cube, taking a long, slow sip, his gaze never budging from Tradewinds' face. Hunger was growing there as blue optics darkened, focused on the slide of energon past Wing's lips.

Tradewinds' field crackled as his arousal built. He could feel the brewing desire he'd held in check to claim Wing's frame since he first saw the elegant stunt jet over four vorns before slip its bonds with a rumble of his primary engine.

Wing's field brushed against Tradewinds, expressing his own growing arousal. The white jet made a great show of licking drops of energon from his lips, half-lidded optics watching for the shuttle's reaction. He felt it in that expressive field pulsing against his own.

Then the larger mech leaned in and whispered in his audial. "I understand you're a valve mech with a thing for big spikes."

"You understand correctly," Wing purred in response, wings wiggling slightly against his back. Golden optics gave Tradewinds a teasing glance as dark fingers ghosted over the larger shuttle's plating.

"Good," Tradewinds purred, licking along one audial spike. "Mine's big, and quite unique." His hand slid down along Wing's chest plate. "The only question; do you want to feel it in you, or see it first?"

The smaller white mech debated for only a moment, leaning into Tradewinds' hand. "Show me what you've got," he crooned in response.

Their mouths met, the kiss intense but still chaste. Wing heard his lover's panel slide open and the familiar sound of a spike pressurizing, promising pleasure to come. When the kiss finally ended and Tradewinds drew back a bit, Wing could finally get a look and realized that Tradewinds hadn't been kidding. Trimmed with highly conductive gold, this spike was no simple conical shaft. No, it was ridged, with a slight edge on the downward side of each ripple to scrape against every node inside a valve as the lover's hips drew apart.

Slender wings flared and wiggled as Wing openly admired the larger mech's spike. One hand slid down to lightly trail his fingers along its length, tracing over the ridges and the gold trim. "Most impressive."

"Some upgrades are well worth the effort," Tradewinds shivered and claimed another kiss, this time sliding his glossa along Wing's lip plates when Wing's fingers reached the tip of his spike and the softer, almost spongy material there. "That one means I can press even harder and more fully against that cluster right at the end of your valve," he shivered in anticipation.

Wing purred into the kiss, his lips parting to allow Tradewinds' glossa access. His fingers playfully kneaded the tip of the shuttle's spike before his hand descended along its length again, fingers curling around it and palm scraping lightly over the ridges. "I look forward to it," Wing crooned.

"As do I," Tradewinds shivered in pleasure. His hand traveled lower, sliding over Wing's spike cover before stroking the valve cover. The smaller mech's valve cover opened almost immediately, lubricant already beginning to seep out around the platelets. Wing shivered slightly, leaning into the shuttle's hand.

"So slick," Tradewinds moaned as inquisitive fingers lightly brushed against the platelets, spreading the lubricant around before sliding one finger around the entrance to the valve he would soon stretch wide. "Primus, you're so hot."

A soft moan escaped Wing as he shifted position to give his lover more access. One hand continued to stroke over Tradewinds' spike while the other reached around to explore one of the intricate wings on the shuttle's back. His field pulsed with arousal and invitation.

Ventilations came rapidly as Tradewinds' arousal reached the point where he needed to act on it. His lips once more found Wing's audial spine to nibble on. "I also heard that you enjoy being dominated, the show of strength a larger lover can offer."

Wing's other audial fin wiggled slightly. "Again, true." Playful golden optics lifted to meet blue as dark fingers wiggled into a wing joint.

"Good," Tradewinds rumbled, his frame giving another shiver before he stood and pulled Wing to his feet for a heated kiss as Wing was backed against the nearest wall.

The small white jet returned the kiss eagerly, pressing his back against the wall. His wings were spread and fluttering, engines revving softly, purring loudly. Dark fingers stroked over intricate wings, exploring their planes and angles and seams. The rush of desire he was rewarded with across their fields made him gasp. Then Wing found himself lifted easily by the mech only a helm and a half taller than he was, but much heavier, until their hips were nearly even and that intricate spike was rubbing against his valve platelets.

"Mine," Tradewinds rumbled hotly before driving his spike into Wing in a single powerful stroke.

Wing's legs wrapped securely around Tradewinds' hips, the small jet clinging to the larger mech's frame, bracing his back against the wall. Then Wing's back arched as he was penetrated, helm thrown back until his crest scraped against the wall. A sharp cry escaped his vocalizer, his valve tightening around the intruding length. It felt good, so very good. The ridges felt amazing as his valve was stretched then sank inward only to be stretched again. Where the softer head passed the nodes were massaged in a way he'd never experienced before.

"So tight," Tradewinds shuddered, gripping Wing's hips tightly as he claimed the jet's mouth.

Wing rolled his hips into Tradewinds' as much as he could, hooking his fingers into the bases of the shuttle's wings. His own were nearly vibrating, tips tapping rapidly against the wall. The jet returned the kiss fiercely, moaning into the larger mech's mouth.

The shuttle's hips pulled back and each ridge, trimmed in that conductive gold, sparked in a three nanoklik cycle that made them both cry out.

The jet's whole frame trembled. He had never felt anything like this before. Golden optics flickered as all of Wing's attention turned to the slide of that spike over his valve nodes, the calipers of his valve rippling around Tradewinds' length as it changed in width and texture at every point.

Another kiss and Tradewinds slammed his hips forward again, crushing the spongy head against the very top of Wing's valve and the incredibly sensitive nodes there. His field was wild with arousal, desire and pleasure as he pulled back once more.

"Want to see you overload," Tradewinds rasped as he plunged his hips forward.

It wouldn't take long. Wing writhed against Tradewinds' frame, hips rolling into each thrust, taking that ornate spike as deep as it could possibly go. He shut off his optics, armor fluffing out, engines revving high. Slender wings rattled and tapped against the wall, trembling and fluttering as the charge built fast and high.

In deep. Slow withdraw. In and out that exquisite spike slid again and again, sending jolts of energy and sensation into nodes that rarely felt such stimulation. Against Wing Tradewinds' frame was burning hot as they scraped and writhed, each seeking the release of the long-desired overload.

When Wing reached overload, his shriek actually made it to the ultrasonic range before his vocalizer shorted out. His valve calipers clamped down hard, catching the ridges of Tradewinds' spike and holding him still. Charge sizzled across his plating, leaping off onto his lover's frame. A deep, resonant moan escaped Tradewinds at both the sensation and the sight of Wing lost in pure, raw ecstasy. He ground his spike housing against Wing's platelets in as much of a thrust as he could before the feedback drove a roar from him.

Wing screamed again, this time silently as his entire frame responded to the hard charge directed along his entire valve with the explosion of hot, sticky, energy-rich transfluid from that spongy head pressed against the node cluster at the top.

The jet's whole frame bucked, his armor scraping loudly against the wall, his cockpit grinding loudly against Tradewinds' chestplate. His optics flared almost white, fingers digging deeper into wing joints as they rode out the overload, locked together in nearly every sense.

Slow, slowly, they began to come back to themselves and control of their frames. Tradewinds kissed his lover gently, content to remain where they were for the moment. "Worth the wait?" he whispered, nibbling on an audial spine.

"Very much so," Wing responded, his voice raspy and slightly weak as his vocalizer gathered enough charge to work. He was clinging to the larger mech's frame for support, to keep from crumpling into a heap.

"Good," Tradewinds nuzzled him before ghosting his lips over Wing's in another tender, chaste kiss. Carefully he shifted away from the wall, one arm sliding around Wing's aft and the other around his shoulder to support him on the short walk to the berthroom.

Wing continued to cling, his own frame almost limp. Resting his helm briefly against Tradewinds' shoulder, he purred softly as he was carried. White wings flopped loose over the shuttle-mech's arm as hot air continued to vent from under fluffed plating as he was laid down. Tradewinds following him down, covering him, as required by their still locked together frames.

Soft kisses peppered Wing's face, trailed up to his crest and down to his throat. The white jet purred, managing to get his fingers to cooperate. He petted Tradewinds' wings, stroking along their bases, where they joined the larger mech's back. Wing nipped lightly at every part of the shuttle's helm he could reach, purring and trilling softly.

Slowly Tradewinds arched his back as he traveled further down, putting some pressure on the calipers of Wing's valve as his spike tried to pull out. It didn't stop him from kissing along the seam of Wing's chest. The calipers of Wing's valve finally, reluctantly, released Tradewinds' spike, the white jet unhooking his legs to give the shuttle some room to move. Wing purred at the kisses, one hand lifting to stroke and pet Tradewinds' helm.

Those lip plates and glossa trailed down Wing's chest seam, exploring it with more care and attention to detail than Wing had ever experienced. Bright golden optics watched, Wing's purr increasing in intensity. Dark fingertips traced over Tradewinds' crest, finding all the seams and sensitive places that drew sounds of flares of pleasure from the shuttle.

When Tradewinds reached the lower edge of Wing's chestplates he looked up, curious and just a little expecting. Wing tilted his helm, trilling softly. Bright golden optics watched every move Tradewinds made as the shuttle eventually reached up to tap Wing's chest plate.

A slightly uncertain note entered Wing's trill. He wasn't sure he wanted to go that far. Not yet. The white mech shifted uneasily, wings pulling in close.

It caught Tradewinds by surprise, his optics brightening as he took in the shift in Wing's posture. "I didn't think there was anything you didn't enjoy..."

"I've never spark merged with anyone but my creator before," Wing admitted. "And that was the first time anyone has ever touched my spark. The idea takes a little getting used to."

Tradewinds simply stared at him in open shock for a lingering moment before gathering his wits. "Is that ... common here? To avoid spark play until you're committed."

"I'm not sure. It's just... not something anyone has ever asked of me before." Wing's armor tightened against his frame, the white jet looking away.

"Hay," Tradewinds scooted up Wing's frame and tipped his face for a tender kiss. "It's okay. It just surprised me, that's all."

Slowly, Wing relaxed, returning the kiss. "Sorry." He wrapped his arms around Tradewinds' shoulders, his purr becoming audible again.

"You don't need to be," he said gently. "There is no shame in inexperience. I don't desire you for your experience, or lack of it. Just for you."

The younger mech's smile widened slightly. "I'm quite experienced with the physical... Just not with sharing my spark. Only Dai Atlas has ever touched my spark, and that was to confirm my position as his creation."

"Then I will be honored when I earn the right to touch it as well," Tradewinds kiss him again, then leaned in to whisper in his audial. "So tell me a fantasy I can indulge you with?"

Wing hummed thoughtfully. "Show me what else you can do with my frame. Make me scream your designation, and ensure that it'll be a half orn before I can walk properly again." His smile was bright and teasing.

"I can do that," Tradewinds grinned back.

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~Love, you might want to see this,~ Dai Atlas growled across the bond with a flash of Wing's unsteady landing. ~Seems he's made his move.~

~Pits have it.~ Axe finally came out of the berthroom, yawning and cycling his optics to get them to cooperate. Blue optics settled onto Wing, noting the way the small white mech was walking. ~From appearances, they had one Pit of a night.~

~I just hope it was nothing Wing will regret,~ Dai Atlas muttered. "Wing," he growled out loud, a tone he'd never used with his creation, either of them, before. "Sit," he jabbed a finger at the table. "You're refueling here, and you're going to listen to me for once."

The little jet froze for a long moment at that tone, blinking at the larger blue mech. Then, meekly, he slunk over to the table and climbed into his seat. "I'm listening."

"Be careful how much you give to Tradewinds," Dai Atlas tone remained firm, though his field gentled out to worry for Wing. "I've met his kind many times. It rarely goes well for the lower-class mecha in the end."

White wings and nacelle pinions fluttered out, a brief look of confusion appearing on the young mech's face. "What do you mean?" He gripped the energon cube Axe passed him as the black and gold Knight took his own seat.

Dai Atlas huffed and sat down heavily. "He's from a powerful House, near-nobility. Out there, it's a big deal," he waved in the general direction of Iacon. "I've contacted a few friends from my military time to check up on him. Every report comes back the same. He gets what he wants and doesn't care who gets hurt in the process. I don't want you to be hurt when he tosses you aside."

Golden optics widened. "But... He's not like that!" Shock flowed and surged through his field.

"He is like that," Dai Atlas insisted. "He's been like that since he was sparked. I have thousands of vorns on him. You are my creation. I will protect you, even if all I can do is avenge you."

Wing just stared at him in disbelief. "But... But... He's been so kind and polite... He's courting me."

"He does that too," Dai Atlas rubbed his temple. "It's some kind of power game he plays with mecha that prefer interfacing to relationships. The mecha that pride themselves on being untouched ... he breaks their seals and then dumps them."

"I don't believe this." Wing shook his helm, wings fluttering in distress. "I can't."

"I know," Dai Atlas x-vented roughly and pulled a datapad from subspace. "Read it, Wing," he pushed the datapad towards his creation. "Read it before you give him anything you cherish."

Very reluctantly, Wing took the datapad. His armor clamped tight to his frame as he accessed it, reading the information it contained. His creator wasn't exaggerating. Hundreds of designations over thousands of vorns, dating back to well before he'd bought his contract. Including what Wing couldn't see as anything other than a long list of flat out rape against slaves and servants.

A soft whimper escaped the white mech, his frame creaking as his armor clamped tightly to his protoform. The hydraulics of his wings whined from the tension. "No... no..."

"I'm sorry, Wing," Axe moved around to embrace him while Dai Atlas joined on the other side.

"We just don't want you to be hurt worse," Dai Atlas murmured, regret thick in his field. "I would have brought this to you sooner if I could have."

Wing clung to both of his creators, trying to burrow into blue and black armor. He wasn't sure how he could face Tradewinds now, knowing this. Disbelief, shock, and confusion swirled through his field. "Now what?"

"Now we support you in whatever you chose to do," Axe said gently but firmly. "It's your right to continue seeing him." Dai Atlas' growl earned the larger mech a cuff upside the helm until he settled down. "Even though we think he's a predator. Whatever you chose, you'll chose with open optics and all the information we can give you."

"I hope you're wrong about him," Wing whispered. "I can't believe that he'd want to hurt me. But... I will keep my optics open."

"It's not about him wanting to hurt you," Dai Atlas spoke up. "It's about him not caring if he does."

"I hope we're wrong too," Axe sighed. "I just don't have much hope."

Wing made a soft sound, burrowing closer and turning off his optics, preferring to just cling for a while.

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Wing sat on the roof of the Citadel's highest tower, back pressed against the wall of one of the equipment housings. His armor was almost tight to his frame, nacelle pinions almost completely lowered, knees pulled up to his chest. The white jet stared unseeingly at a storm off in the far distance, his thoughts lightvorns away.

It had been several orns since Wing had found out what Tradewinds' past was like, and he was still struggling to digest it. His processor couldn't quite reconcile the polite, gentle mech with the mech who didn't care who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted. Wing wasn't sure what to do now and he'd been stuck there for joors. He didn't really register the sound of engines coming up behind him, or even landing, until a large white hand rested on his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to disturb you with my request the other night," Tradewinds said quietly as he knelt to sit down next to Wing.

The small white jet jumped, scooting a little farther away from the larger shuttle, eying Tradewinds with more than a little wariness. "That I've gotten over. This... is about something else."

"Will you share it with me?" Tradewinds asked softly, extending his field gently, full of support.

Wing looked at him in silence for a moment, then pulled the datapad Dai Atlas had given him out of subspace. "When I returned to my creators' quarters the morning after we interfaced, Dai Atlas showed me this. I didn't want to believe it." Unlocking the datapad, he shoved it into Tradewinds' hands. "Please explain."

Tradewinds took the datapad and began skimming the contents. He hummed, half disturbed, half impressed. "Your creators really don't approve of me, do they? This is a lot of effort for a place that purports to be a safe haven from your past. I'm not sure what there is to explain. It's accurate."

"Dai Atlas is suspicious of your motives in courting me. He doesn't want to see me end up like any of those other mecha." Wing scooted a tiny bit farther away, his armor clamping tight to his frame. "My creators do not want to see me left spark-broken in your wake."

"That is not my intent, Wing," Tradewinds sighed. "I'm not going to deny my past. Mecha come here for a fresh start. To be judged by their current actions, not their past. I'm trying to be a mecha worthy of staying here."

The little white jet's armor rattled, then slowly began to relax. "My creators just want to protect me. They're still going to be watching you warily."

"I shouldn't be surprised," he smiled weakly. "They must care a great deal for you to go to all this trouble. You're lucky to have them."

"They have been determined to keep me safe since they adopted me." Wing returned the weak smile, relaxing enough to sidle closer again. "Yes, they do care for me a great deal. I'm their creation."

"That doesn't mean much a lot of the time," Tradewinds told him quietly. "I said before that I'd wait until I earned your trust. I can earn their trust too, in time."

"That might take some doing." Wing scooted over until he was leaning against the shuttle's side. "They're old military mecha, and they're suspicious. It will take time for them to come around."

"As long as they haven't forbidden you from seeing me I have time to win them over," Tradewinds slid his arm around Wing and drew him just a little closer as his field settled into a relieved pleasure. "You know them better than I do, but if you think it would help, point out that there are targets here the old me would find much more appealing. You really aren't the kind I like to play with."

"No, they haven't forbidden me from seeing you. It's still my decision." Wing rested his helm against Tradewinds' shoulder, letting out a sigh. "And I doubt it would help much, actually."

Tradewinds chuckled deep in his chest. "Perhaps not for you, but it would be grounds to have me expelled if they were serious enough."

Slender wings twitched, brushing the larger mech's plating. "It takes a lot to get anyone expelled from the Citadel. I would hope it doesn't go that far."

"So do I, but I know mecha who would do far worse for far less cause," Tradewinds sighed. "Including myself, once."

"My creators are Knights. They wouldn't do anything of the sort without a very good reason. At least, I hope they wouldn't." Wing blinked.

"Until they try, we'll just assume the best?" Tradewinds suggested with a nuzzle.

"Don't give them a reason, and things will be fine." Wing returned the nuzzle, purring very softly.

"I have no intention of giving them a reason," Tradewinds promised. "Come fly with me?"

The small white jet's smile widened. "I'd love to go flying with you." Climbing to his pedes, Wing flared open his wings, stretching them to work the kinks out of the control cables, his nacelles warming up as Tradewinds stood to join him in the sky.