Rating: T
Chapter 3
This was pure bliss.
Starscream shifted against his towel,
enjoying the hot rays lighting upon his frame, and the even hotter
glances being shot his way. It was a little early in the orn he knew,
but soon he would be surrounded by his adoring masses, each and every
one of them tripping over themselves to bring utter joy to the
seeker's life.
And even better, there would be no
stupid Tracks to interfere.
Truly, this was bliss.
The Decepticon shrieked in horror as
suddenly a load of sand was kicked over his resting frame, sticking
to the lotion he had just applied and getting into his delicate seams
and joints. Heaving wildly, Starscream sat up, attempting to brush
the sand from his faceplates so he could see. When he finally managed
that, the seeker couldn't help but to gape in shock at the winged
Autobot smiling back at him.
“Oh, dear,” Tracks cooed
innocently. “I'm ever so sorry.... There just was this nasty
little crab 'bot. I was so busy trying to kick it away, that I didn't
see you there!” The corvette waved his servo in the air flippantly,
that smile of pure naivety still plastered on his lip components. “In
either case, I bet that'll all wash right off,” he said to the
other mech, before turning around, “I think I'll go have a drink!”
Starscream growled, leaping to his
pedes as the Autobot skipped off, humming as if he didn't have a care
in the world.
XxXxXxX
Groaning, Soundwave rose up out bed
slowly, the beginnings of a processor-ache beating just behind his
optics. For a moment, he didn't remember where he was or who he was,
but then everything came rushing back in and he groaned again -this
time in bliss. Though his memory might still be a little spotty, he
could remember that last night he had a delicious meal with one of
the most beautiful 'bots he had ever seen; followed by a steamy
interface session that still warmed his circuits just thinking about
it.
Almost giddily, the Decepticon turned
to his berth partner..... and practically deflated when he saw Tracks
was no longer there. A note though had been left on the pillow.
Soundwave snatched it up immediately, pouring over the finely
scrawled 'Gone to the Beach. See you later, Love', refraining
from brushing his own lip components over the lipstick kiss marked on
the paper. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed,
the blue mech saw that it was already going on ten o'clock.
Subspacing the note (he'd pull it out to look at it later, he knew)
Soundwave got to his pedes, hurrying for the shower.
He didn't know for how long Tracks had
already been down at the beach, but the communications officer was
determined to meet up with him before lunch. Maybe the corvette would
even allow him the honour of taking him out for another date.
XxXxXxX
“A drink for you sir,” the
bartender politely interrupted, “From the mech down the counter.”
Tracks glanced over his shoulder tire,
first at the bartender, and then the mech he'd mentioned, before
smiling sultrily and taking the glass offered to him. “Thank you,”
he said, watching delightedly as the bartender blushed a little bit
despite his attempts to remain unaffected by the corvette's coy
flirting. Swirling the nut in his martini, Tracks turned his
attention back to the beach, watching all the mechs and femmes with
half-shuttered, calculating optics.
It was almost mid-orn and the beach was
starting to swell with 'bots as more and more of them woke up and
headed out for the orn. Tracks looked forward when the masses would
hit the peak of population, resulting in new and old admirers
flocking to the beautiful, sleek Autobot, showering him with their
love and adoration. And of course, their credits. The corvette
smirked slightly at the thought, his lips just lighting on the rim of
his glass as he mulled over those gorgeous, shiny credits.
He wondered idly who he could seduce
into a five-star dinner. Maybe that Decepticon from before? The one
who so graciously offered a shower and dinner for Tracks last night,
followed by a quick round of 'facing. Tracks hummed merrily at the
thought. Soundwave was not a bad catch. He was just as good with his
servos as he was forking out credits.
Now, if he only didn't have to worry
about him.
Blue optics narrowed, scanning the
crowds again, this time with intense scrutiny. So far he hadn't seen
sign of those gaudy wings since earlier that morning, and Primus, did
Tracks hope it would stay that way. Yet, he wasn't so naive to
believe that it would. Stupidity made fools brave and this Starscream
had to be the biggest, boldest, ugliest idiot this side of Cybertron.
The Autobot wasn't about to take someone trying to steal his turf
sitting down, and he knew without a doubt that the jet was just as
ready to challenge him on every front.
It was best to be on his constant
guard.
“Hey babe.....”
But, best to worry about that later.
Tracks turned to the speaker, lip
components pursed sensually and dim optics glowing coyly up at the
handsome Autobot that leaned against the counter near him. The green
mech grinned brightly at the corvette's obvious interest before
inching closer, making sure to flex his arms a little. “Hello, to
yourself, love. What can lil' ol' me do for you?”
“Well,” the stranger said in reply
to the purr, watching as those plump lip components pressed
delicately on the edge of the glass while Tracks helped himself to
his drink, “You can- WHAT THE FRAG?!?!”
The mech jumped back as the corvette
suddenly spat his drink on him, dousing his front in a nasty blend of
warm high-grade and oil. Making a face, Tracks slammed his drink onto
the bar's counter, coughing and spitting some more as he tried to
stare down at his stained glossa; ignoring the other Autobot who was
growling and grumbling in ire, trying to wipe his chestplates clean.
“You fragging whore! What the slag
was that all about!? Why the slag are you-”
Tuning him out, the corvette turned and
spat on the sand once more, trying to think through the agony of his
taste sensors why his seemingly innocent martini was suddenly burning
his mouth! Attempting not to whimper at the aching tingle now
covering every inch of his glossa, which was starting to feel swollen
and heavy -and oh dear Primus, was it turning GREEN?!- glancing up
just as his admirer finally gave up with a frustrated snarl and
stomped off.
Only to find a magenta wing turning
around the other side of the bar; obnoxious cackling following in its
path.
Realization hitting him, Tracks slammed
his fist on the counter, snarling, knocking his evidently tainted
drink to the side. Oh, that's how the Decepticon wanted to play it?!
Fine!
This was war!
XxXxXxX
Starscream hummed as he reapplied his
sunscreen, sliding his long fingers sensually down each thigh and
cupping his codpiece suggestively. His lip components curled in a
smirk when he saw optics flash brightly at his actions, feeling all
the better as he quickly roved the crowds, finding no shine of
over-glossed white wings. It had taken him forever to wash that
nasty, gritty sand off, but the payback was worth it.
That ugly, little corvette never saw it
coming when the Decepticon poured a special, colour-changing hot
sauce into his martini.
Watching Tracks spew his drink all over
his admirer was priceless!
Starscream chuckled in memory of how
horrified the Autobot had looked, reveling in the burning pride that
thrummed heavily in his spark. He had bested the other mech not once,
but twice now, and each time, Tracks looked more and more the fool.
Soon, he'd have no more worshippers left and the seeker would finally
rule this beach as a symbol of passion and beauty divine! Wings
shivering excitedly, Starscream pondered on what he should do now in
the glory of his recent victory.
“Hmmm....,” he cooed to himself,
watching as 'bots passed by, with food and drink in servo. “I think
it's time I made another trip to the bar.”
Rising up fluidly, the jet took a few
moments to bend over slow and low, gathering his things together at a
snail's pace, while flaunting off his shiny aft to nearby watchers.
Starscream smirked again when he saw 'bots either stare in
dumbfounded lust or otherwise turn their burning cheekplates away
from the highly sexual sight. Ego fluffed up a few, hundred more
notches, the magenta mech sauntered off with a sexy stride to the
beach bar; pretending not to notice the gradual throng of horny 'bots
that grew in his wake.
XxXxXxX
Swindle loved the beach.
Oh, don't misunderstand. He didn't so
much care for the weather, or the fine sand, or the cool waves or
even the pretty 'bots slathered in lotion. No, what he loved best
about the beach was the tourists. They were a scammer's dream come
true! A one true love! You could sell anything -from poorly knitted
beanbag keychains to glitter-glue glam shell jewelry- and still make
a fortune. There was something about 'bots coming in, and even some
locals, that made them utterly hopeless romantics for the beach and
its boardwalks; loosening the lips of their purses and making them so
dumb-foundedly generous, even in the face of an obvious hawker.
Truly, if there was a haven for greedy,
sly merchant..... it would be Cyber Shores.
Looking over the roving crowds of
tourists and just regular beach-goers, the tan mech just felt that
today was going to be an exceptionally, wonderful orn. “.....excuse
me? You're Swindle?”
The merchant perked at the sultry
vocalizer, turning around and feasting his optics on the slim mech
that stood behind him; servos resting on his one cocked hip, and a
curious pout forming on rouge lip components. The red mark on his
chest distinguished him as an Autobot. For a moment, the thought of
sales and profits was far from Swindle's processor. “Y-yes,” he
grinned, shaking his helm shortly to get back into focus. The
Decepticon cupped his servos together, rubbing them slightly in
greedy fashion. “That is I. How may I help you?”
The other mech did not seem amused or
even remotely flattered by the quick leer the merchant had given him.
“Listen,” the Autobot replied impatiently, leaning forward,
giving Swindle an even closer, more personal overview of his
stream-lined chassis and freshly-waxed plating. Probably more than he
had actually meant to. “I hear that you're the shoddy pusher on
this boardwalk that sells colour-staining dyes and sauces. A regular
practical joker, you are.”
Swindle tried not to frown at the
biting accusation in that statement. “Now, now.... There's no need
to get rude. Some of my wares may be immature, sure, but I can assure
you I'm not-”
“Oh, save me the sales pitch,” the
stranger sniffed, leaning back; crossing his arms over his
chestplates as his wings gave a little twitch behind him. “I don't
care to hear your excuses, merchant. I want to know.....” The blue
optics narrowed, glimmering mischievously. “What else do you have
in stock?”
His mouth had just been opening to
protest against, first, the Autobot interrupting him and then
insulting him again, when the jeep found his complaints falling off
the edge of his glossa silently. He immediately grinned, turning his
best (and sleaziest) smile up to the corvette. “Well, my dear, I've
got some of the best items in stock. The question is,” he purred,
pulling out a datapad from subspace and handing it to the waiting
mech, “What exactly do you need?”
The stranger snatched the datapad away
from Swindle quickly, scrolling through the inventory displayed on
the screen; his optics growing brighter and brighter by the
astrosecond. “This one,” he breathed excitedly, turning the
datapad to the merchant, his slender finger tapping at the item in
question. “I would like to buy this one.”
The Decepticon beamed. “A nice
choice, might I just say? Very profound, very..... impacting. Great
for some quiet, little fun or harmless revenge plots.” Swindle took
the datapad back from the Autobot, slipping it into subspace once
more. “Unfortunately,” he continued, still smiling in that
nauseating fashion of his, “This glorious, lil' babe isn't cheap.
It's actually quite pricier on my list of wares.”
At the mention of money, the stranger
frowned. “....How much?,” he hesitantly asked.
Swindle looked at his fingers casually.
“Two hundred credits.”
“Two hun-” The corvette bit off the
rest of his exclamation, glancing to the side as he mulled over the
set price. It was more money than what he would have liked to part
with...... but this was necessary. This was his honour that was at
stake! Glancing back at the merchant, the mech fixed a sultry smile
on his face, leaning forward again; purring as he caught Swindle once
again freeze momentarily at the alluring sight.
“Maybe we can discuss a.....
discount?,” he prompted carefully, keeping his tone warm but
tempting.
The merchant actually struggled to tear
his attention away from the glistening chestplates for an
astrosecond; turning a suspicious glare up at the Autobot. “....What
kind of discount?,” he demanded. “If you're asking-”
A finger pressed itself to his lip
components softly. “Ssh, ssh, shh, darling,” the stranger
continued to purr. “What I'm proposing is only a fair exchange. You
give me what I want for, oh..... let's say, half-off. And I'll give
you what you want, for two cycles. Deal?”
Half-Off. Evil words, to Swindle. Just
as much as discount. Well..... when it was coming out of someone
else's mouth, that is. But this..... He eyed the corvette up and
down, breathing in his sweet scented wax, thinking. It wasn't a bad
trade, overall. It had been a while since he'd last 'faced with
someone, and he usually avoided street whores because of their
.....additional gifts..... and legal pleasure 'bots, though nice,
weren't worth the constant credits they demanded, he believed. But
what this Autobot was offering seemed.....
“Alright,” the Decepticon grinned
back, grabbing the other's wrist and pulling his finger away from his
mouth. “Two cycles, as you said, and you can have it for a hundred
credits. Let's complete this transaction, shall we?”
The stranger rolled his optical sensors
as Swindle turned around, following at his pedes silently back to the
merchant's hotel room.
XxXxXxX
“Why, thank you,” Starscream purred
as he was handed yet another drink from one of his growing flock of
followers. The jet barely glanced at the mech, accepting his sigh of
praise and his roving gaze, before glancing about the rest of the
beach; surveying his freshly-won territory. There was something to be
said about feeling on top of the world.
Having been there once before,
literally, Starscream felt quite at home with the level of adoration
that was surrounding him. Still, it felt as if something was
missing..... Something.....
The seeker lifted his glass to his
mouth, sipping at the straw as he tried to ponder exactly what it was
that this experience needed to be complete. He- “Ack!! G-gross!!”
Starscream lurched up in his seat, holding his glass away from him as
he gagged; too prideful to spit up, but disgusted by the unpleasant
taste covering his glossa. Covering his mouth, he turned to the mech
that had given him the drink, almost trembling as he tried to hold in
his rage.
'Calm down, Starscream. Don't kill
the impudent fool yet.... You need to get them to love you; worship
you. Then you can pick off the insignificant morons.'
Attempting to smile, and having it only
turn into a grimace, Starscream slowly lowered his servo, sitting up
straight in his chair. “L-love....,” he forced himself to say
meekly, “T-this drink.... it's not low-sulfate. Please, if you'd be
so kind, run back and get me another with low-sulfate?”
“O-o-o-oh,” the mech stammered,
blushing in utter humiliation, “Y-yes! Of course! I-i'll get you
another one, right away!” Taking the cup from the jet's servos, the
bumbling fool turned and took off across the sands, heading for the
beach's bar.
“....idiot,” Starscream hissed
under his breath as he reclined once more in his seat, sighing
blissfully at the warm rays touching down on him.
“Enjoying the sun, I see?”
The Decepticon jumped up in his seat at
the unexpected question, whirling around and facing the new mech that
stood at his chair side. “M-megatron?!,” he gaped. Starscream
flushed magenta as he realized how silly he sounded, hurrying to
smooth the stutter out of his tone and get back into control of the
situation before the older Decepticon had surprised him. “W-what.....
What an unexpected surprise! For us to bump into each other twice in
a couple orns.... You wouldn't happen to be stalking me, now would
you?”
Megatron laughed lowly at his coy
question, and the sound sent pleasant chills down the seeker's
backstruts. “That, my lil' seeker, would require subtlety. Which
would then be rendered pointless, by coming out and directly talking
to you, would it not?,” he replied.
A mech who was just as witty as he was
handsome. Starscream leaned back in his seat, shifting until he could
both comfortably look up at the larger Decepticon and show off his
glistening curves at the same time. “Yes, you are right,” he
purred, smiling sultrily, “But I must say, this is a change of
pace, I don't mind all the same. Come; join me. I'm sure you'd enjoy
the sun -you're beginning to look a little drab, dear Megatron.”
“As tempting as that sounds,”
Megatron smirked back, “I'm afraid I must decline. I only came out
to look for an associate of mine. I'm afraid he's forgotten that we
have a board meeting in half a cycle.”
A wing twitched in mute surprise.
“Oooh,” he cooed, processor racing, “A board meeting huh? I
wasn't aware you were here on business. What sort of work do you do?”
Guessing by well-maintained, if a little old, the other Decepticon
appeared, Starscream would have to guess it was a job that both
allowed Megatron freedom to do as he wished, while also lining his
accounts with credits.
Apparently, the grey mech knew what he
was thinking though, because that smirk grew a couple inches longer
in unholy amusement. “The important kind,” he answered vaguely.
Starscream tried his best not to pout.
Seeing as how he wasn't getting anywhere with that tangent, the
seeker jumped back onto a topic he was more familiar with: himself.
“Ahh,” he sighed sagely, letting a servo slide down his thigh
sensually, before resting it at the bend in his knee, “Sounds
dreadfully boring..... I'm almost insulted that you would rather
attend that, than sit with me..... but I suppose I can forgive you,
it being work and all.”
Again, Megatron chuckled richly at the
jet's brazen comments, his red optics flaring for a moment as they
settled on the smaller mech again. “Another time, perhaps,” he
assured Starscream. His gaze turned off to the side quickly, before
returning to him. “But I can see that you're busy, as it is. Take
care under the sun, Starscream. I would not want such a lovely frame
to be bleached by harsh rays.”
Starscream opened his mouth in protest
as the older Decepticon turned around, but he caught sight of one of
his admirers from the corner of his peripheral and swallowed back
anything else he might have shouted after Megatron. Stupid followers,
he scowled for a moment, turning face-forwards in his seat once
again. He couldn't have any of them around whenever Megatron was
nearby -they'd blow his chances with the grey Decepticon!
And that's when it hit him.
Megatron! He was the perfect candidate
to be his summer boy toy! Rich..... funny..... smart enough to
understand what the slag Starscream was talking about when he boasted
about his achievements or his Vosian roots..... Could there possibly
be any better choice, in this pitiful, tourist-trap on the planet?
Taking the new drink from his admirer,
Starscream leaned back in his chair, giggling excitedly as he brought
the straw to his lips. No, he didn't think s-
XxXxXxX
Waiting for the moment when the sleazy,
two-faced 'con had the drink close to his face had been almost
agonizing.
Lifting his servo up, finger poised
over the button in anticipation had almost killed him.
Watching as the little grenade in the
slut's drink responded to the wireless detonation, imploding in a
glass of frothy, pink low-grade; sending chunks of goodies, sticky
magenta and a little umbrella flying everywhere..... perfect.
Listening as Starscream leapt to his
pedes, shrieking and cursing colorfully as he tried to wipe the gunk
from his optics in rage -now that was priceless.
Humming to himself, Tracks turned away
from the bar's edge, throwing the little handheld detonator into the
nearest trash can and grabbing his drink from the bartender. He could
still hear Starscream making a foolish fuss, even as he walked down
to his spot on the beach; smiling and waving at every mech and femme
that he passed. Seeing how their optics lit up and some of them
blushed at the corvette's attentions, made the Autobot feel a little
better about the horribleness of today.
After all, he had just won his beach
back from the stupid seeker who had dared to think he could steal it
away from him -and with enough time to still soak up some sun and
maybe catch himself another mech for the night.
“Ahhh.....,” Tracks sighed,
plopping down into his waiting beach chair. “What a beautiful day.”
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