Work Text:
Collision
“Drift! Driiiiiiiiiiifttt!” Rodimus whined, grabbing his best friend’s arm. “Driiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiifffffffffffffttttttt!!!”
“Wha--? Oh, sorry, Rodimus. I guess I spaced out there,” the white-and-grey mech responded, softly, looking over at the flame-colored mech sitting across the table from him.
The two of them were sitting in a corner booth of Swerve’s bar, midday hour and it was fairly quiet with very few people in it right now. There was a datapad on the table, right in front of Drift—and that was what Rodimus wanted him to look at.
“It’s……….I dunno. Don’t wanna change my chestplating now that I kinda like my frame-build. But………..” the flame-colored mech trailed off, shaking his head lightly.
Drift picked up the datapad and looked at the sketches on it. He reached up with his free servo and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Then he set it back down on the table and folded his arms across his chest, frowning and shaking his head.
“I’m not sold on them. They don’t quite look right. Maybe it’s the colors. Yellow-on-yellow is a bit much, you wouldn’t really be able to see the decal details,” the white-and-grey swordsmech grunted.
“Well, that’s why I asked you to help me, dummy!” Rodimus groaned. He raised a servo and waved it, to signal Swerve to bring him more drinks. He was drinking water right now, but Drift was drinking a little bit of High Octane—a very mild Engex blend, despite its name. It was rather a joke—poking fun at a famous Decepticon who acted with all grandeur and was really something of an overly cautious mech who had no taste for combat.
Most of the blends that Swerve named were jokes and puns, so it was to be expected.
“Well, what if we did a little bit of a frame repaint? We could darken the yellow so the brighter decals would stand out more?” Drift suggested, sipping from the new glass of Engex as it was set in front of him. “We’d have to darken all your yellows, of course, for consistency………”
“How dark?” The flame-colored mech murmured, resting his arms on the table and leaning forwards as Drift brought up a color and shading panel on the datapad.
“Not much. Something of a leonine gold, maybe?” The swordsmech murmured, pressing a digit on a color in the panel screen. It was a slightly darker yellow with a bit of orange in it.
“Nope. Would probably have to darken my orange to off-set that,” Rodimus sighed shaking his head.
Drift focused back on the color panel screen and leaned against the palm of his free servo in a relaxed manner. This was all very normal. It was very reminiscent of how their friendship was at the start of the journey. Talking about frivolous things like this and just relaxing. The swordsmech had missed the little things like this. Rodimus’ little vanity moments were cute in their own ways, but Drift could definitely see the “people-pleaser” part of Rodimus’ personality that First Aid had lectured him to be very careful of as they tried to rebuild their friendship.
The flame-colored mech was hanging on his every word, so very desperately. Yeah, Drift would have to be very careful at re-forging their friendship. He didn’t want Rodimus to become dependent on him, like before—they couldn’t go back to their (admittedly unhealthy) co-dependency on one another. They were both strong mechs and each had their own individual relationships now, they couldn’t return to that bad state of co-dependency that they had on one another, as when the quest had started.
“Let’s see, then……….perhaps this one. It’s called atrium gold,” the swordsmech chuckled, focusing on another color.
It was a darker yellow, made with a hint of ash grey it looked like.
“If we repaint your yellows with atrium gold, then we get the decal people to find a bright metallic yellow for the decals, I think it could work,” Drift said. “Not just that, but we should find decals with a thin outline—a darker color, but it doesn’t necessarily need to be black………” he added, using the color program to overlay onto a sketch of Rodimus’ frame on the datapad to show how the yellow would look with his other frame colors.
“Yeah, it doesn’t look too bad ‘on paper’, but d’ya think it’ll be okay in reality?” The flame-colored mech murmured, waving his head back and forth as he tapped a pede under the table anxiously. “I’m actually concerned on how the decal should look, too. I mean, the shaping on my chestpanel has ridges and edges—my old chestpanel didn’t and was flat.”
Rodimus rubbed his chest anxiously, right over the Autobot brand. His original chestplate, he remembered trying to scrape off the medical cross after asking to join the Autobots. That had been an actual part of the dermal layer of his chestplating back then and he’d done damage to himself trying to burn and scrape it off of him. By the time he’d finally gone to a detaillist and asked to have them fix it, he was woozy and underfueled and passed out in the waiting room, with his chestplating charred pretty badly. It was a highly embarrassing moment that the detaillist chalked up to Hot Rod’s young age and the stories of what happened to Nyon that were on the news circuits at the time.
Decals, though, could be removed. That was why Rodimus was going to go this route this time. If he were unhappy with having flames on his chestplating again, he wanted to be able to get them removed without asking a medic to rebuild his entire chestblock.
“A good detaillist will know how to layer the flame decals and adjust for the ridges—without it bubbling or wrinkling up, don’t worry,” Drift said, reaching over a servo to consolingly pat the other mech’s forearms lightly. “The only thing is, we’re likely asking an organic to do this—so, we’ll need to be very careful at how much heat they use to apply the decals. It might be hard for them to understand we have dermal sensitivity, even on our armour portions.”
Rodimus waved his head back and forth again, still tapping a pede. He was starting to worry and waver about doing this, now. Drift could feel the anxiety rippling lightly along the edges of the mech’s EM field. It would’ve been best to have a Cybertronian do this—but there were no frame detaillists on the ship and it wasn’t like they could cruise back to Cybertron to get one.
“Drift. Am I doing the right thing? Or am I doing it because Megatron really thinks I should?” Rodimus murmured very softly, laying his head down on top of his folded arms on the table.
Drift frowned. There it was, the “people-pleaser” aspect of Rodimus’ personality. He was aware of it, but still caved to it anyways. But, then again, Rodimus was very young when Nyon burned—he hadn’t even reached his first century yet. The loss of everything he’d ever known meant he was thrown into a new world that was unfamiliar to him—and so he tried to cozy up and attach to anyone and everyone. Unfortunately, it made this “people-pleaser” part of his personality become born.
“What do you think? I know you really like him a lot, but would you do it if you didn’t have him?” Drift asked, reaching over and lightly patting the flame-colored mech’s helm.
“I wouldn’t be here, Drift,” Rodimus sighed, deeply. “I hate myself, you know that, right? I hate myself, but he found something worth loving in me. I am so happy with that.”
“Then let’s talk about what the flames mean to you, alright?” Drift responded.
“That’s really hard, Drift………I…………I didn’t always have flames on my chestplating……….” Rodimus trailed off, grinding his faceplate into the piping on his arms.
“You didn’t? Did you have a plain chestplate, then?” The swordsmech asked, surprise evident in the tone of his voice.
“Nooooooooo…………” the flame-colored mech mumbled, unburying one arm and drawing a cross on the table with a single digit.
“What? An ‘X’?” Drift said, puzzled.
“No, you aft…………a cross. I had a medical cross on my chest, back in Nyon,” Rodimus hissed in a very low tone, so that no one else could hear.
“You………wait……?” The white-and-grey mech mumbled. Then he remembered what First Aid and Ratchet had told him—the medical dermal sensor net. Rodimus had that. Rodimus was born to be a medic and he never actually became one. He facepalmed himself as he realized he’d forgotten that. But, then, he was aware he’d forgotten a lot of things. “Sorry. So, um, why did you get flames done in the first place?”
“To punish myself, for Nyon. I pretended to get them because ‘they looked cool’, but it was really to punish myself for burning Nyon,” the flame-colored mech whispered very softly.
Drift buried his own face in his servos. Okay, this whole thing was going in an extremely bad direction. That was something he knew he hadn’t forgotten—he simply never knew it. He didn’t know the cross thing either, but he knew about the dermal sensor net, because of the confrontation in the medi-bay that one time, when he’d overheard Ratchet and First Aid arguing about Rodimus’ field. If the flames meant punishment before, why was Rodimus considering getting them put back on his chestplate? Was there something new he was punishing himself for…………?
“Megs says flames should be my rebirth,” Rodimus said, softly, answering Drift’s unspoken question.
“Ah. That is a much better reason, Rodimus,” Drift responded, pulling his servos away from his faceplate and smiled at the flame-colored mech. “He has a point. You’ve punished yourself for a lot of things for a very long time, maybe it’s time for a rebirth.”
“Yeah. I want to be a lot better. Megatron has made me want to be a lot better,” Rodimus answered smiling and ducking his head shyly. “He’s really great. He really is. I love him a lot.”
Drift smiled and reached over to pat Rodimus’ arms fondly. He could feel his best friend’s happiness rippling through his field. The former Decepticon Leader had done a lot to prove he was a better mech and was proving that his honesty about being a “good mech” was true. And his past experience as a leader made him a very good captain of the Lost Light. Recognizing Rodimus’ buried medical protocols and encouraging them as best as he could now was also something that was very supportive of a lover and mate.
But that Megatron would Spark-bond—that was the honest surprise, right there. It meant that the over-protectiveness he had over his own mind, Spark and frame……….all of that, he had loosened up on, to allow Rodimus in there. There was no going back once you had chosen to Spark-bond. If your relationship somehow went sour, the Spark-bond would still always be there—even if you moved on. The sense of the other would always echo within you. That was why Spark-bonds were never done easily or on a whim. And that was why Conjunx Endura [formal] bondings had become more popular. You could have everything a bond meant, without the actual Spark-bonding—and it didn’t emotionally kill you if you broke up or your partner died. You could also dissolve a Conjunx bond, where you could never dissolve a Spark-bond.
That meant that Megatron had chosen a permanent path and not a breakable one. He wanted the permanence and eternity of a Spark-bond. That meant something right there.
“Well, let’s take a few more looks at this. We need to have a really good idea of what to get by the time we’re allowed to go to Auocap,” Drift said, suddenly, picking up the datapad and focusing back on the subject at hand.
“Yeah. You’re gonna come with me, right, Drift?” Rodimus asked, leaning forwards on the the table and grinning at his best friend.
Drift nodded. After all he was probably the only one who might be as meticulous about applying symbols and decals on a frame as Rodimus was. He needed to make sure that the organic detaillist would also understand the heat limit when applying decals to Rodimus’ frame.
“Also, let’s make a time to do the repaint, okay?” The flame-colored mech added, excitement building in his field. “It’s gotta be solidified and settled by the time we get to Auocap and find a detaillist.”
* * * * *
“You’re going to what?” Megatron asked as Rodimus came out of the washrack.
“Drift’s gonna repaint the yellows on my frame, to prepare for getting the flame decals on Auocap,” the flame-colored mech chuckled.
“I didn’t like your last frame repaint from him,” the older, grey-colored mech said with a deep frown as he set his reader tablet on the side table next to the couch. By that, Megatron meant the blue-and-purple scheme, that Rodimus had Drift do back on Censerre’s planet—the blue and purple that meant, basically, a desire for revenge against Getaway.
“Drift’s really skilled at it, though. I don’t trust a lot of people to do these things because………..well, you know. Now that I know about the dermal sensor net, yeah………….no trust to the average individual. Drift’s my Amica………” Rodimus said, plopping down on the couch beside his lover.
Megatron made a sound, but Rodimus wasn’t sure exactly what that sound meant. Jealousy, maybe? But the flame-colored mech wasn’t going to ask and trigger some kind of bizarre argument that really meant nothing at all. Instead, he curled up his frame on the couch and leaned into Megatron, snuggling happily. Megatron’s field softened into warmth and he wrapped an arm around the younger mech, pulling him close up against his side.
“And your plans tonight are…….?” The grey-colored mech asked, leaning over and planting a kiss on the top of his younger lover’s helm.
“I wanna snuggle for a bit,” Rodimus answered, turning his frame sideways a bit so he could wrap his arms around Megatron’s wide chest-block.
Megatron chuckled and patted his servo on the slender hip, lightly.
“But we’ll frag later, Megs,” the flame-colored mech added with a soft laugh. “I won’t be able to frag for about two or three days after the repaint, the paint needs to solidify and my nanites need to accept it on my frame. So, I’ll be a little weirdly sensitive. Can you do without me for a couple days? I’m going to put myself on a different shift pattern just so I’m not tempted by you………..”
“I understand. Don’t worry, it’s just a few days, I can bear it,” Megatron responded with a warm smile. Rodimus was going to get his flames back and that gave Megatron great hope for the younger mech’s continued improvement on rebuilding his self-esteem. A true self-confidence was far better than the pretend bravado he’d had for centuries.
The two of them quietly cuddled on the couch for a little while, before Megatron started to get bored and began roaming his servos along the sides of Rodimus’ frame. The flame-colored mech shifted and moaned softly. Rodimus wasn’t complaining, so the older mech knew it was all right to finally move towards interfacing tonight. Megatron’s black servos lightly planted on Rodimus’ slender hips and he tugged lightly on them to pull the smaller mech up on his frame. A silent request for kissing. The flame-colored mech smiled and scooted forwards to lean over Megatron’s broad chestplating and brushed his lips over the older mech’s, swiping a glossa against them to request some deeper, wetter kissing.
This was more like it.
Megatron grinned and captured the flame-colored mech’s lips with his own, pressing commandingly as he thrust his glossa through the small part in the younger one’s lips. He swiped his oral organ broadly inside of Rodimus’ mouth, stroking sensors and the smaller glossa that met his very eagerly. Rodimus made a purring-whimpering sound, deep in his vocalizer as he rubbed his frame anxiously against his older lover’s. He could feel the intense heat building within his frame and wanted to go all the way with Megatron…………all the way to overload and beyond.
Megatron slid his servos over the smaller aft of his lover and cupped the harsh edged curves firmly. The whimper from the younger mech was nearly Spark-wrenching as his array panels snapped open and lubricant began trickling down his thighs and dripping onto the older mech’s abdominal area and groinplating.
“S—sorry……….” Rodimus whispered. “You’re just. You’re really. I mean, a super-great kisser……..” he stammered softly, burying his face in Megatron’s neck fairing, embarrassed that his own frame went way far ahead of him in tonight’s activities.
The grey-colored mech chuckled softly and lightly nuzzled the top of Rodimus’ helm, his large black servos still cupped his younger lover’s aft. “I’m going to do very wicked things to you tonight with my glossa and lips,” he said, his deep voice making his frame rumble softly beneath Rodimus’ more slender frame.
“Oh, Primus…………no way……….” Rodimus gasped.
Megatron already had a firm grip on his frame, swung their bodies about—and after a few moments of light wrestling, he had the younger mech’s frame propped on the back of the couch, with shoulders and spoiler fin leaning against the wall that the couch was firmly up against. Rodimus giggled and swatted at Megatron’s helm as the older mech spread his legs wide and was gazing intensely at the open and bared interface array of the younger mech.
The swatting very quickly turned into pulling, as Megatron leaned in and began swiping his glossa through the damp mesh lips of Rodimus’ valve. He licked quickly, stimulating nerves and sensors in the delicate folds of mesh, with his glossa scraping swiftly over the swollen anterior node a few times. Rodimus wrapped his fingers around the sides of Megatron’s helm and pulled him against his aching array, wanting his lover to kiss and lick him right into an overload.
“N—no………..go…………………go slower……………” Rodimus panted as Megatron’s rapid swipes and strokes had his charge building really fast. He tried to arch his back, but his position wasn’t a very flexible one. There was no way the older mech was going to slow down, though—he was a perverted, randy oldmech and he enjoyed giving pleasure before taking it for himself.
Megatron swiped his glossa roughly up to the anterior node and gave it a playful little nip—sending Rodimus into a body-shuddering overload that released charges of pale yellow and orange across his frame. The younger, flame-colored mech panted softly, leaning into the wall against his back.
“You……….you jerk………..” the younger mech sighed, banging a fist lightly on top of the grey-colored mech’s helm.
“You loved it,” Megatron purred, brushing light kisses up Rodimus’ abdomen and he nuzzled the flame-shaped piece of his younger lover’s chestblock.
“Yeah. What does that say about me?” Rodimus sighed, but he smiled and his field rippled out with longing, swirling around Megatron and arousing the older mech to do even more to him tonight.
“That you deserve all the pleasure I can give to you,” the grey-colored mech said, kissing ridges of the yellow chestblock. He, then, pulled Rodimus down from the back of the couch. “Here, turn……….let me take you from behind, on our knee-joints. It’ll feel good and I can go slow, just like you want.”
And Megatron could tease the hell out of him, by messing with his spoiler.
Rodimus turned in the small space between the back of the couch and Megatron’s bulky frame, thanking Primus that he was a very adaptable and maneuverable mech. The grey-colored mech leaned in close and gently rocked his hips, rubbing a fully pressurized spike against the wet valve mesh of his younger lover. It felt really good and Rodimus began mewling with want. Megatron wrapped his field full of love all around Rodimus as he slid his spike into his younger lover and began to thrust slowly. The older mech kissed and nibbled on the edges of the sunbright yellow spoiler in front of him and they both climbed up into pleasure for another few hours of the off-shift, before recharging together.
* * * * *
“Oh, that looks very nice on your frame, Rodimus!” First Aid said, cheerfully, when the flame-colored mech walked into the medi-bay the day after his repaint from Drift. “The dusky yellow looks very eye-catching with the red and orange, actually. It’s got a nice metallic sheen to it, I think it’ll look pretty excellent in your vehicle mode.”
“So, what are the decals going to look like?” Velocity asked, adding her own voice to the complimentary conversation.
“Drift and I have been looking at what Auocap’s various detaillists have listed on the intergalnet websites. There are two detaillists that I like the decals for, so we thought we’d wait until we got there and went into the shops to get more details from staff,” the flame-colored mech responded cheerfully, grinning.
He had been worried that the slightly darker yellow would contrast too much with his oranges and reds, but it worked very well, especially with his reds. His oranges were a little brighter, but Drift had taken a clear-muting coat of paint and went over the orange to dim it down a slight bit. The swordsmech said it would be best to give the frame nanites as much as they could apply at one time, to get used to it.
“But we’re kind of looking at these smaller decals for the under-edges of the chestblock and a larger decal for the center. We need to make sure they can get the decal to apply over the central ridge of my chestblock,” Rodimus added as he sat down in one of the lobby area chairs of the medi-bay. Settling in it backwards with his arms over the back of the chair. “Drift is worried about the heating elements they may need to apply the decals, though—to ensure their general ‘permanence’. We had to dismiss one of the shops, because they did their decals via cold pressing and that generally involves a lot of physical pressure. Being that it’s my chestblock, we definitely don’t want them to press too hard on it.”
“Are you going to try some racing while you’re there?” The small CMO of the Lost Light asked, curiously tilting his head at the flame-colored mech.
“I’m thinking about it, yeah. Been such a really long time since I’ve done any flat-out speeding, I’m not really sure I’m in shape for it………..so, we might look for just a small weekly race or something. The types of races people enter for fun and not profit,” Rodimus answered, reaching up and rubbing his helm with one yellow servo.
“We were looking up details about the system in the Galactic Alliance database and it seems like there’s a couple planets that’ll be favorable for just about anyone on the ship,” Velocity chuckled. “So, the command crew’s authorizing shore leave—so long as we all follow proper decontamination procedures when we return.”
“Yeah, Megs was talking about that. On Tor, which is in the system, they’ve got a refinery that produces something fairly similar to Energon. So, he and Thunderclash are going to go out to see if they can negotiate trade or price for it,” Rodimus added with a big grin. “Ratchet’s going along to make sure that it’s consumable for our systems. I suppose some people will still be working, even when some of us are having fun!” He laughed.
“I think that we can finally get more supplies on Auocap—for outfitting the medi-bay,” First Aid responded. “So, I’ll be taking care of that, along with a few of the design crew.”
“Nautica and I are going to go to the bazaars on Jegger, which is the planet next to Auocap in the system. A little closer to their sun, so it’s a warm environment. A lot of the others are dividing time between Jegger and Auocap, since both places have lots of shopping and entertainment areas,” Velocity added.
The three of them kept talking for a while until some of the day’s appointments started coming in. First Aid took on his regular patients for general wellness checkups, while Velocity began seeing new patients, getting Rodimus’ help in assistant capacity. The day passed easily and normally. Rodimus was heading back to his hab suite when he saw Megatron come out of it, for his shift.
“How are you feeling, Rodimus?” The bulky grey-colored mech asked, softly.
“Pretty good, I think,” the flame-colored mech chuckled. “Sorry you have to abstain for another day or so, but we’ll have some time before the shore leave, right?”
“Yes, of course,” Megatron responded with a smile. “Perhaps you could give me a good polish up, too—that way I look impressive for my negotiations and not like a dark void standing next to Thunderclash,” he added with a chuckle as he lightly cupped the side of his younger lover’s faceplate.
“That will be fun, Megs—I can’t wait to do that!” Rodimus said, reaching up for the kiss that Megatron clearly wanted to get from him.
Megatron had never asked for a polish before in his life—so, Rodimus knew that this was something very important that his older lover was going to let him do! He was very excited about the concept. Because he knew Megatron would expect it, he was going to make the activity as sensual as possible, instead of just a general surface polish.
He kissed Megatron fondly and let his lover head up to the bridge, even though it was clear the older mech would dearly love to abandon duty for a few hours in the berth. Rodimus chuckled to himself as he went into their room. It was a wonder Megatron was ever able to do anything at all, as the Decepticon Leader, if his libido was this intense all the time—especially given that, back then, he was much more wont to giving into his desires than with the relationship he’d grown with Rodimus.
Now that was an amusing thought. The Decepticon movement being crippled by their leader’s need to frag someone all the time, every day—wouldn’t that have been a headline for news or tabloids back on Cybertron? It was probably a good thing Megatron could control himself so well, if he gave into his desires all the time, he’d be a monster. The powerful older mech’s self-control was really, very admirable.
The day after, things were back to normal for the two of them. They both got cleaned up in the washracks with a quick little frag to take the edge off and then got settled in for the evening.
“As weird as it sounds, it’ll be better if we do this on the floor, okay?” Rodimus said, unrolling his Spectralist mat and tapped it with a pede to get Megatron to lay down on it. Then he went to get the oils and polishes that he’d bought for Megatron that day back at the space mall. Megatron hadn’t used them, himself, of course……..but they were going to finally see some use today.
“You’re sure you want to spend your time doing this?” Megatron asked as he laid down on the mat and tried to relax.
“Hell, yes,” the flame-colored mech chortled. He looked at his collections of sponges and cloths and chose several of different texture types. “I’m totally gonna have fun, Megs—you just need to relax and let me take control of things for a bit. Let’s do your back first, all right? Roll over for me, you pervy oldmech,” he added, smiling down at his older lover.
Megatron chuckled wryly and turned over on the mat, to present his back to Rodimus.
“I recently found a good mechanical oil for your treads deep in the storage lockers. Crankcase told me it was a really good brand for tanks and heavy transports that have treads,” Rodimus said, getting out a small wand with a fiber-mesh sponge on the tip—it was a tool that would slip into treadplates easily.
“Wait, Rodimus…………..!” Megatron began, about to turn over. He’d never told Rodimus about the sensitivity in his treads and this was going to drive him mad if the flame-colored mech started messing with them. He almost ached at the look of disappointment on the younger mech’s faceplate. “Look, there’s something I haven’t told you. You know how your own spoiler has some tactile sensitivity? My treads have something very similar and I’ve never said anything before this, because I didn’t want you to exploit it……….” the older mech said, staring at the mat in front of him and not looking at Rodimus anymore.
“Yeah. I know. You didn’t have to tell me. I could tell when I’d dig my digits into them,” the flame-colored mech chuckled. “You already know this is supposed to be an erotic massage anyways, right? It’s like a gift for you. Now shut up and enjoy it, Megs,” Rodimus added, his good humour evident in his voice and tangled with the happiness evident in his EM field.
Megatron tried to stifle his laughter, but he couldn’t. He roared with laughter, staring at the spot on the mat right beneath his optics. Of course Rodimus had figured that out! Well, the older grey-colored mech couldn’t complain when Rodimus was growing bolder and more confident in his sexuality—it would make their partnership much more satisfying for them both in the future.
“If there’s anything I’m good at—it’s giving a good polish. Drift is probably the only one I know who’s better at it than me. I’m sure he’s way more pervy than me at it as well, with ol’ Ratchet,” Rodimus chuckled warmly and started setting all of his oils, polishes, brushes, sponges and cloths on the floor before sitting down on Megatron’s left side, near his hip. “Of course, I can give a really good………..non-erotic………polish, too. Drift and I did those to each other often, back when we first launched the ship.”
“Hmmmm,” Megatron murmured. He was unsure how he felt at that. Retroactive jealousy, he supposed—since he did actually know Rodimus harbored a great crush on Drift for quite some time. “Do you still engage in that activity, then?” He asked, even though he knew it wasn’t actually diffusing the conversation.
“I get the feeling that you’re jealous—and that’s nice of you, really!—but I don’t expect anything but a good polish out of Drift nowadays,” Rodimus answered, lightly patting Megatron in the center of his back. “He’s got Ratchet, I’ve got you…………..and, honestly, I’m pretty sure you’ve never given an actual full-frame polish to any mech or femme in your entire life, Megs.”
“You have me there, my brilliant flame,” the older grey-colored mech chuckled softly.
“I meant to ask you—how did your optical exam go?” The younger mech began as he dipped the wand in some of the oil and began to press it through the gaps in the treads on his lover’s back.
Megatron felt a shiver of pleasure course through his circuits and made himself relax and enjoy this activity, instead of worrying about it. He folded his arms and laid his head on them, incycling and exventing normally—or, at least, attempting to do so. He knew that because of patient confidentiality, Rodimus would have no idea what the results of the exam were. It proved what a great medical staff they had here on the Lost Light and amongst the Autobots.
“In my right optic, there’s a little bit of focal degeneration in my lenses. The shutters try to compensate for that by closing the optic orb, but my brain wants it open so I can see. Conflicting commands to the optical nerve system and that’s why it keeps getting stuck,” Megatron said with a sigh. “It’s nothing major and it’s due to my age. First Aid said he can schedule a corrective surgery for me soon enough.”
“You’ll probably have to wear the faceplate mask a few more times until it’s done then, hunh?” Rodimus asked, brushing the wand along the wheel pieces of the treads, rubbing in small circular motions. Megatron made a muffled little sound of………….something. “Didn’t catch that, big guy!” Rodimus laughed.
“You are seriously going to kill me, Rodimus,” the older mech said, quietly.
“You know…………you can overload a few times if you’d like. I’ve nothing against that. I mean, it’s kinda what the erotic massage is for, right?” The flame-colored mech chuckled, spreading the oil through the joints and plates in both sets of Megatron’s treads and massaging it in with the wand he had to maneuver through the tight spots.
Megatron gave a strange little whining sound and he had to control himself from doing a rough little bucking of his hips. Rodimus thought it was extremely cute, that his carefully-controlled older lover had his small, little vulnerabilities. He continued to rub some more gentle oils on the regular parts of Megatron’s frame and derma, on the backside, using the sponges to smooth it over the wide plates and against seams. Then the younger mech took a cloth and some polish and began to rub the polish over the gently oiled plating and derma, coating it nicely and evenly. When he finished the older mech’s backside, the greys were nice and shiny and looked like new, while the blacks were glistening and gleaming, even as dark as the color was.
The grey-colored mech gave a deep sigh of relief when Rodimus’ servos pulled away from his frame and he was allowed a cool-down, of sorts. The tension that had been building ebbed from his frame and he relaxed a lot more.
“You’ve really never had a good frame polish, have you, Megs?” Rodimus asked, with some sort of awe in his voice. “You know, we can do this more often. You won’t be as sensitive if we do it more often, okay?”
“I don’t let people touch me, Rodimus. It was far too painful to allow anyone to be close enough for that,” Megatron said, very, very softly.
Rodimus frowned, but he knew that Megatron had been the domineering type. Kindness had been taken from the older mech long, long ago. And after the gladiatorial pits, Megatron had no kindness for others, either. He leaned forwards and placed a gentle yellow servo over the closest elbow joint of his lover.
“Well, you have me now. You’ve been helping me out with my issues, let me help you with yours,” the flame-colored mech murmured, warmth in voice and love in his field, draping over his lover’s own field. “Getting a full-frame polish once a month will be good for you and for your frame……………and for us doing a wonderful little bonding time together.”
“It will probably take quite a long time before I can relax more in situations like this. Vulnerability is not something I care to show, even to you. Because I need to be strong for us both,” Megatron sighed. “May I ask a favor, my lovely flame?” He added, a bit more cheer in his voice this time.
“My lord, you need only to ask—I am your humble servant tonight,” Rodimus chortled softly.
“Please get me off before you attend my frontside?” The grey-colored mech chuckled, letting the bit of lust he felt trickle out into his field.
“It would be my pleasure—and probably yours, too,” the flame-colored mech laughed. “Welp. Turn over. Let’s take care of that spike and then polish up your frontside.”
Megatron carefully turned himself over so they could enjoy the rest of the night together.
* * * * *
Drift was torn between telling Rodimus to be quiet and chuckling with amusement at being asked every five minutes “does it look good?”—in relation to the brand-new flame decals on his flame-shaped chestplating. To be honest, Drift had been extremely impressed with the detaillist they’d gone to—the strange organic with three eyes and four arms and orange skin asked a billion questions about applying decals to a living frame, since all he’d ever done were inanimate vehicles up to today. The swordsmech felt that if the organic decided had done a great job on Rodimus’ flame decals, then maybe he could become an exclusive detaillist to any other Cybertronian from the ship who might want such work done……….so, it was of great benefit to the Auocapian detaillist to do his very best work on Rodimus right now for the “free advertising”.
They turned out better than Drift was expecting. He still wasn’t sold on the whole decal thing, but the flames were pretty subtle with only a very thin violet outline for them—there was a great layering effect that went over the ridges in the chestplating. The flames were noticeable if you looked, but if you weren’t looking directly at Rodimus’ chestplate, you might not have really noticed them. The thin violet outline for the flames went along ridge-lines of the chestplating, so it wasn’t anything that made them stand out tremendously. It was very artistic and creative in the way it had been done—and was definitely a fully custom design. The flames had a varying shades of golden yellow (yellows with hints of orange in there), with the now slightly-darker yellow that Drift had repainted Rodimus with—it looked almost as if the detaillist had created a decal to completely cover the flame-shape on the mech’s chestpaneling. So, to anyone who may have been unfamiliar with Rodimus, they likely would’ve thought that it was the design of the chestblock and paneling.
“Hey, Drift—you sure you’re okay at hanging out with me for the next couple days?” Rodimus said as they stopped and bought bottles of water to drink as they walked down to one of the many racetracks in the city.
“Stop being so silly, Rodimus. It isn’t like Ratchet’s around right now and you’re really the only one who has ever understood me,” the swordsmech chided, lightly swatting his best friend’s shoulder. “I would be bored and probably just meditate until I fell asleep for the next couple days. At least hanging with you will be interesting and keep me occupied.”
“Thanks. I just worry a lot. I burned many bridges,” the flame-colored mech sighed, taking a long swallow of water as they turned a corner and saw the large stadium within the next mile of their path.
What Rodimus didn’t say was that he burned those bridges on purpose, because he was tired of living and tired of trying to be around people after everything that happened. The adventure to find the Knights of Cybertron was supposed to not make his life worse, it was supposed to make things better. And a part of him, even though they’d solved the mystery of what happened to the Knights and the whole Mederi fiasco and he felt good for solving a mystery—there was a Spark-deep part of him that sincerely wanted to meet the Knights of Cybertron. Because of all the stories the oldmechs in Nyon had always told him of the Knights. Rodimus wanted to meet them and…………..he wanted to learn from them.
He wanted to know that his life wasn’t just a waste of time or a sick joke of some higher entity going by the name of Primus. The Knights of Cybertron could’ve given his life a true purpose.
“Are you all right, Rodimus?” Drift asked, suddenly, lightly placing a servo in the center of the sunbright yellow spoiler and rubbing lightly.
“Hunh? Oh, yeah. Sure,” Rodimus answered, quickly, giving his Amica a goofy grin.
“Then what’s with the melancholy rippling through your field?” The grey-and-white swordsmech murmured, taking a sip of his water and patting Rodimus’ spoiler for a moment before dropping his servo back down to his side.
“You know, I kind of wish we had met the real Knights of Cybertron. I wanted to learn from them,” the flame-colored mech chuckled. “When I was a newmech, tearing through Nyon and then taking care of it as it was crumbling around me—all the oldmechs told me such great stories of the Knights. I saw all the art in the Citadel. It was a big part of my growing up and they really were my heroes. I wish my life just hadn’t gone so wrong………..”
Drift smiled. That explained Rodimus’ sharp-straight idealism. His daring and courage to fight for what was right and protect others probably came from hearing so many stories about those ancient and great heroes of Cybertron.
“Well, I think it’s time we make our own legends, my dear Amica,” the swordsmech chuckled, sliding his field full of comfort against the EM field of the mech beside him. “Let’s talk about racing. If we can get you into a race today or tomorrow at one of the tracks around here, I’ll be your pit crew. I’ve been reviewing rules from the intergalnet sites for the tracks here on Auocap. They all seem pretty standard compared to what I remember from Cybertron and even on that planet of Earth.”
“So, a lap-style structure?” Rodimus asked, tilting his head as he glanced over at Drift while they walked to the stadium they could see.
“Yeah. This stadium here……….” the swordsmech said, motioning at the stadium they were approaching, “………it’s got fairly standard rules. It’s a five-lap course and the distance is about five kilometers.”
“A kilometer per lap—that’s a huge course,” the flame-colored mech murmured. “It’s definitely about the pacing, then.”
“That’s nothing to a Cybertronian, though,” Drift chuckled.
“True, but I’m racing to organic rules. So, no Cybertronian-cheating,” Rodimus laughed softly. “I just cue down my engine to a standard rhythm and don’t break that.”
“And here I thought you hadn’t raced in a long time,” the swordsmech responded with a grin.
“Meh, as the Earthlings say………it’s like riding a bicycle. It’ll all come back once I start racing,” the flame-colored mech chuckled.
The two of them finally reached the racing stadium—it was really big to the general organic species gathered there. They weren’t all from Auocap, judging by the physical looks of many individuals. But then that bear-guy, King, had said it was a “racing capital”, so it made sense that other species in the Galactic Alliance would visit and race at the various tracks they had there.
“Just one second. Let me confirm this—you are the driver AND the vehicle?” The orange-skinned female at the counter said, all three of her eyes wide with surprise as she looked up at Rodimus.
Rodimus glanced at Drift, who asked of those around him and motioned at people to step back a little bit. After he had enough clear space, the flame-colored mech transformed into his vehicle mode. The woman gasped and reached up with one of her four hands to rub her eyes, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just seen. Then she looked at her screen and typed in something—to search and see if it broke any rules.
“The rules don’t say it’s against them, but it might unnerve other drivers to see a driverless vehicle racing against them,” she said, a little nervously, folding two of her arms beneath her small breasts.
“I can do this,” Rodimus said, booting up his holomatter avatar. He animated it to smile, salute and wave at her from the driver’s seat. “Would this work? It’s a holographic projection, but solid holomatter, so………?” He trailed off, his avatar’s mouth moving, even though his voice was coming from the dash-panel speakers of his vehicle mode, not the avatar itself.
“Ummm. Just a sec, let me call the owner—it should only take a few moments,” the woman responded. She snapped a few photos and asked Rodimus to transform back to his primary mode, so that she could send photos of this very unusual racer to the owner. Then she put a headset on and turned to another computer area and began speaking in a language that was probably the native language of Auocap. The female tended to wave two of her hands while she was speaking, while the other two arms stayed crossed over her abdomen. Then she finally turned back to the registration window and leaned out. “The owner says its fine, as long as you and your pit crew submit to an inspection. Since you’re an unfamiliar species to us, we just want to make sure you’re not using dangerous fuels or maintenance parts. We’re going to give you pit number nine, so you may go there now. Your race is in two hours and sixteen minutes, so you have that long for preparation and inspection.”
“Thanks so much!” Rodimus said, cheerfully, motioning to Drift as he looked towards the corridors and looked for signage that would lead them to Pit #9. The two of them didn’t have much trouble finding the pit area and the portion assigned to them.
“How do we explain Energon to them?” Drift murmured, sitting down crosslegged on the floor of the large garage area.
“I figured it might come to this, so I brought a sample of standard grade,” Rodimus chuckled, sitting down next to Drift. “The thing is, by ‘parts’, I think they mean they want to open my hood and see what my engine looks like. That’s…………well. That’s why you need to be here and make sure they don’t touch anything when I pop open my chestplate, while in vehicle mode, because they’re going to probably worry about the Spark and Spark-casing.”
“I suppose I know the general terms of the ‘guts’ of our kind,” the swordsmech chuckled, softly.
The two of them played some puzzle games on a datapad while waiting for the inspection crew—which was about an hour’s wait since they arrived in the pit area. Rodimus stood up and introduced himself, then he transformed into his vehicle mode and displayed the holomatter avatar when they’d requested to see it. The chief inspector touched the avatar and felt it was semi-solid and gave off something of a static electricity level charge. One of the inspection teams used some machines and stuff to analyze the standard grade Energon sample Rodimus had brought along, while Drift explained it was basically their “food substance” and they needed it to stay alive.
Then came the weird part, where they asked to look at his engine. Rodimus opened his “hood” which was basically the reformed chestblock while in his vehicle mode. Drift pointed out particular things and explained what they did—like most organics’ cardiovascular system. They were a little worried about the Spark, because they weren’t sure it wasn’t some kind of super-booster. It was very difficult for the two Cybertronians to explain that the Spark was their core essence.
“It’s almost like a physical manifestation of the soul, but functions like the heart,” Drift said. “Sparks contain everything that makes us individual beings, but it also maintains the life of our bodies and systems.”
“So, it can’t be removed?” The chief inspector asked, tapping his stylus against his chin with one of his four arms. He had two of his eyes, the standard linear set, closed………but the third eye in the center of his forehead was open.
“To remove our Sparks would be like removing your heart and lungs,” Rodimus said, over the sound of his engine running, since they’d wanted to hear his engine in action.
The chief inspector opened his linear eyes and looked over at his two assistants. They spoke quietly with each other in the native language of Auocap. Then he turned back to Rodimus and Drift.
“Very well. We don’t see anything dangerous with your native fuel. Your internal systems are different than a standard vehicle, but given that you are also a living being as well as a car—it’s probably something to be expected,” the chief inspector said, waving his stylus in one hand as he spoke. “That you showed us the inside of your body means you took a great leap of trust to allow us to view it—as well as to explain the details and functions. That, alone, means you’re honest with us and not lying about anything—or trying to cheat in the upcoming race. So, allow me to ask you one more question.”
Rodimus paid close attention to the chief inspector, even though that was difficult to show in his vehicle mode. Drift gazed down at the four-armed and orange-skinned male, with full attention.
“Why did you choose to come to Auocap and race?” He asked, gazing attentively at Rodimus, staring at the empty driver’s seat (as the flame-colored mech had deactivated his avatar while it wasn’t necessary to run it).
“Well, I was on this one planet not too long ago—place with like little bear-like natives who all drove these huge cars over massive highways, see? Met one of them named King and he said he thought my vehicle mode was great for racing—and I did race sometimes back on my home planet, a long time ago—and he told me that if I ever went to Auocap, I should try to participate in a race,” Rodimus said, making a very long story as short as he possibly could. “After thinking about things for awhile and realizing our ship crew needed to have some shore leave soon, I suggested this system, so I could come here and race. Well, that, and I came to see a detaillist to get some decals on my frame.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Rodimus of Nyon—it is greatly appreciated. Please enjoy the race. Copies of the rules are on today’s netview, you can access it on that screen over there or on our intergalnet page,” the chief inspector responded, giving a wave with one hand as he and his crew walked out of the room.
Rodimus and Drift took some time to review the rules together—especially as to the roles for each of them. Rodimus as the racer and Drift as the designated pit crew. Soon enough, the announcers were calling for the racers, broadcasting the announcements through the pit area in about five different languages. The two Cybertronians reported to their individual areas—Drift in the mid-track quick pit region and Rodimus in his vehicle mode at the starting line.
The flame-colored mech forgot what it was like. Racing and all. It wasn’t just the actual physical racing on the track—it was the mood of the audience, the cheers as well as boos. It was also the focus and anticipation of the other drivers around him. The Cybertronian looked at the other drivers and they weren’t all Auocapian, either—so, there were people in this race from other Galactic Alliance worlds.
As soon as the announcers began listing the starting lineup and a brief recant of the rules, Rodimus set his focus only on the track and what was immediately around him. The race was perfect—it made him remember the joys of racing that he’d had when he was a much younger mech. He flew around the track, waiting his turn and initiative to slide into positions. For a mech who hadn’t raced in a few millennia, he fell back into the natural rhythm of it pretty easily and stayed consistent in the top five positions of twelve racers.
Until the final lap.
The announcer’s voice was filled with excitement as the race was careening towards its end. Rodimus’ entire focus was on the track and the racers around him as he got ready to slip into the third position in the last half of the track, but then he felt something sharp and intense deep inside of him.
Deep inside his Spark.
The world began to fade around him as pain filled his entire Spark. Rodimus began to lose focus and visuals as excruciating pain and intense waves of fear shot through his entire being. He used his exterior positioning sensors to get out of the race and off to the side, right before he bumped the wall of the track. It sent him into a spin and he had no clue what was happening anymore as danger warnings filled his HUD and his consciousness began to slip.
“Rodimus! Rodimus!” Drift cried, extreme worry in his voice and field as he ran to his Amica on the track.
But Rodimus could barely hear it or feel it—all of his systems were offlining, even as his Spark felt like it was exploding. He had one single thought as he went completely offline.
Something had happened to Megatron.