Breakdown watched the Combaticon discretely. He had almost gathered up the courage to approach the solitary mech. Drag Strip had given him the idea; after a long, painful session with Motormaster -as punishment for letting his paranoia affect him so badly on a scouting mission - the racer had cornered his younger brother.

"Look Breaky, you gotta find some way to calm down or Motor will slag you," Breakdown had been surprised at the concern in his older brother's optics. "You should talk to Swindle. Apparently, he's a great frag and will do anything for the right price. He'll even let you blindfold him." That had cinched it. A 'facing that didn't hurt and no judgmental optics staring at him? It was his ultimate fantasy.

Taking another swing of energon the white and blue Lamborghini steeled his nerve and stood. Swindle was sitting alone in the mostly empty mess hall, gazing absently out the window. Breakdown didn't know what he was looking at; all he could see was the vast darkness of the ocean. Dull purple optics turned to him. They brightened instantly and a smile lit up pretty faceplates.

"Breakdown! How are you mech?" The Lamborghini didn't notice how false the cheery tone sounded.

"Fine. I've been hearing some... rumors. Care to confirm them?" he could not show insecurity here. Swindle would eat him alive. He tried to emulate Drag Strip's confidence. It seemed to work as Swindle's smile darkened into a smirk.

"Perhaps. But not here. Come with me." Squashing his paranoia, the Stunticon followed Swindle to a secluded room on the private quarter's deck. For once the creepy feeling of optics crawling over his plating didn't seem so bad. They would know what he was going to be doing with Swindle. Still he kept his own focused of the lithe mech in front of him. Rider was right; he really did have a lovely, fuckable aft.

The older mech guided his client into the room. Only when the lock engaged did Swindle feel safe to discuss business.

"Alright, tell me about these rumors."

"They say you enjoy a good 'face and are willing to...cater to kinks."

"Hmm. Well I suppose it depends on what you are asking for." Breakdown felt powerful. Despite the coy act he was sure the Combaticon was going to agree. The rush of knowing Swindle would do what he wanted had him stepping up so his chassis was pressed against the other Decepticon's for the first time he willingly met the optics of someone not a part of his gestalt.

"You know I don't like others watching me. I want your optics off the entire time. And to make sure you don't cheat you'll be blindfolded as well." Swindle shuddered. He hated having his senses turned off. Luckily Breakdown took his reaction as arousal.

"That's a little out of my comfort zone," he said teasingly, "but if you're willing to pay I'm sure we can come to an arrangement."

"Six hundred credits." Swindle looked offended.

"Three thousand." Breakdown grimaced. He knew the greedy fragger would out bargain him. Maybe it would be best just to give him a high offer. "Fifteen hundred."

"Two thousand five hundred."

"Motormaster will murder me. Two thousand." Internally Swindle scowled, but he could see the stubbornness in the younger mech's optics. His fear of Motormaster would keep him from going higher. So he smiled and said,

"Deal. Give me the credits now and we can start whenever you want." The transfer was made quickly and the jeep found himself laying flat on his berth, optics off and a length of dark fabric wound around his head. He had to fight not to panic.

In The Box he hadn't been able to see either. He hadn't been able to feel, to hear, to talk. He had been all alone in silence. Only the faint, closed bond had kept him sane. The darkness reminded him of how helpless he had been. It had been a mech very similar to the one pinning him down who had imprisoned him. Breakdown could have passed for his twin. Funny how he hadn't noticed that before now.

Breakdown purred happily, loving how pliant the Combaticon was beneath him. Normally he had to fight for this position and he rarely won. Now he had plenty of time to explore and experiment. And Swindle was already running so hot.

Firm lips trailed over his neck cabling, alternating with sharp nips and soothing licks. Swindle focused on that, trying not to see the face of his captor. This was Breakdown. He could take Breakdown in his recharge. But the panic continued to bubble in his mind. He gasped a thin digits slid underneath his plating, stoking sensitive wires.

Moving down to his playmate's chassis, the blue and white mech dug into plating as his mouth explored the sensitive windshield. Swindle was so responsive! He bucked up into Breakdown, desperate for more.

He was fine. He was not strapped to a table, alone, brothers already gone. The hands on his chassis were not going to split open his chest plates and steal his spark. The darkness was only temporary. He could still feel. He could feel the weight on his legs, keeping him pressed to the berth. He could feel as the hands moved lower, stroking over his codpiece. He let it retract, and heard the pleased growl of his client. He was fine.

Edited for FFN: archiveofourown /works/649562/chapters/1325553

For a moment they laid on the berth, still connected. Swindle was relieved that his ploy had succeeded. He had gotten very good at manipulating his valve these past few groons. Now all he needed was to get Breakdown off of him, and out of the room. He wanted the fragging blindfold off, but he didn't want to look at the face that was so similar to that mech's, so he would have to keep it on until the other was gone. Luckily, the Stunticon chose that moment to pull out of his sore valve.

"Drag Strip was right. You are good. Don't be surprised if my brothers approach you. I haven't been this relaxed in vorns." Swindle went cold. The gestalt bond. Of course the other Stunticons would know what was going on. They might not have felt the interface (or they might have if the bond was open), but they would still feel the emotions accompanying it. Swindle always made sure to close his own but what if his brothers... it didn't bare thinking about. They hadn't noticed or they would have said something. Still, now was not the time to panic about it. He could do that in private.

"Sure," he said with an easy smile, "if they are as good as you," and have the credits, "that won't be a problem." Now getoutgetoutgetout! Breakdown puffed up, pleased that he had impressed the more experienced mech. Wouldn't Drag Strip and Dead End be surprised? He would have to tell them as soon as possible. In fact, Dragster and 'Rider were off shift, and Dead End would be in a breem. He suddenly wanted to get back to their quarters. "Keep the blindfold if you want. I have others," he said as he left the room. Swindle waited until the pedesteps faded down the hall before ripping the offending material off and rebooting his optics. The brightly lit room came into focus. Purple and gunmetal gray walls surrounded him. He was on the Nemesis. He was safe. His brothers didn't know. He repeated that mantra over and over, but he didn't really believe it.

Blast Off's optics flickered brightly in surprise. A strong surge of panic filled the gestalt bond before cutting off sharply. Immediately he scanned for his brothers' conditions. Brawl was in recharge, and both Vortex and Onslaught had their sides of the bond closed. Vortex because he was in an interrogation and Onslaught because he was in an Officers' meeting. despite what most mechs thought, the Combaticons did not keep their bond closed all of the time. Usually it was neutral, with no one projecting or blocking, unless certain events called for it. It was too much work, and a strain on their sparks, to keep it closed all of the time. So that meant the only ones not blocking or in recharge were Blast Off and Swindle. But Swindle had disappeared too fast for Blast Off to get a good read on him. He immediately sent priority pings to his brothers, turned off his data pad, and left his room.

He encountered Swindle a few corridors over, looking freshly buffed. He had clearly just come from the washracks. Swindle stopped in his tracks.

"Um, hey Blast Off." The shuttle was in no mood for small talk.

"What the frag was that?" Swindle looked puzzled.

"What are you talking about?"

"The panic you sent blaring over the bond." Violet optics widened in fear before his younger brother was able to hide it.

"I don't know what you are talking about," the younger mech muttered as he tried to slip past his brother. Blast Off reached out and grabbed the jeep's arm, not done with the conversation. Swindle flinched violently. Blast Off jerked his hand back as if he had been burned. He may have threatened their youngest over his astronomically stupid betrayal, but he had never, not once, raised his hand against his brother. But Swindle was clearly afraid of him.

The tan Combaticon used his brother's distraction to get around him, darting down the hall. The shuttle stared after him, knowing that giving chase would spook Swindle more. By the time he got back to their shared living quarters swindle had barricaded himself in his room. Brawl was staring at the door in confusion. Hearing the shuttle enter, he turned and asked,

"What the frag is wrong with Swin?"

"I would like to know as well," Onslaught said as he entered the room, Vortex in tow. Sighing, the shuttle began his explanation. Onslaught growled.

"Find out who he's seeing. I want to know in the next six joors. Vortex, i don't care who you have to torture to do it." Vortex, for once, was grim.

"Whatever you say, Ons."