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Chapter 17: Onslaught and Skydive V
Title: Press
Rating: T
Summary: Is Onslaught only
interested in him for the physical?
Even though they'd technically already
'faced together, since it was a very “in the heat of the moment”
situation, Skydive was much more worried that Onslaught would press
for another go.... and that he, out of nervousness and inexperience,
would say no. It bothered the autodog how little he knew of
interfacing and hence, how poor his performance might be when doing
such a sincere and intimate act with the serval. A part of him wished
to make Onslaught feel good, if not better, and he fretted that he
might not be able to do so.
But the kittycon never did press for
more.
Skydive couldn't help but to enquire
about it one orn, while subtly denying the nagging doubt that perhaps
Onslaught didn't really wish to pursue that kind of relationship with
him.
“I'd like to know more about you than
in just the physical sense,” the serval had graciously answered,
his servo stroking at the younger mech's ears. Onslaught liked to pet
him often, or even kiss him. Truthfully, Skydive did not mind the
attention. “Besides,” he continued, his fingers sliding down the
autodog's cheekplate and gently grasping his chin, “There's plenty
of time for me to 'know' you later.”
Skydive had shivered at the lustful
purr, melting into the kiss that followed next. He supposed that he'd
always have those insecurities, but he would worry about them when
they became relevant. At the moment, he was content to bask in the
kittycon's passionate affections; never pushing him, nor forcing him
to take things any further than what he was ready for.
Title: Sloppy Joes
Rating: PG
Summary: His fuel tanks feel a
little strange
“I think some of it was rotten....
What do you think Air Raid? Have you been feeling slightly nauseous
at all?” Skydive turned and looked at his brother, who was at that
moment, gorging back yet another sloppy joe that he must have slipped
unnoticed into his bag.
At the disapproving look the blue mech
was giving him, the other shih tzu swallowed his mouthful, licking at
his lip components quickly before wiping at his mouth with the back
of his servo. “Oh, come off it, Skydive,” the youngling replied.
“It's just a burger. 'Sides, these things are supposed to make you
feel sick to your fuel tanks. It's the whole appeal of eating this
greasy slag.”
“Please don't swear,” Skydive
sighed, turning his face forward again. His servo rubbed a little at
his abdomen, brow furrowing as the slight, nauseous throbbing
continued. It almost felt like his fuel tanks were pulsing.
“Ooh! Ice cream parlour! Let's go!”
“Air Raid, we're supposed to be
shopping for your school things, not pigging out,” the older
autodog huffed, distracted from his thoughts as the red mech dashed
towards the store.
“Bah, we can always do that later,”
Air Raid grinned, grabbing Skydive's arm and yanking his brother
inside, “For now, I want to stuff you so full of ice cream that
you'll really puke!”
“Air Raid!”
“You say it, I make it happen. Two
monster supreme sundaes, deluxe versions please!”
Title: Formal
Rating: PG
Summary: Onslaught joins Skydive for
one of his shopping trips
The kittycon sat, watching idly as
Skydive looked through the small selection of ties, humming and
cocking his helm in contemplation as he studied each one intently.
Finally, the shih tzu selected one in an oxford blue shade, that had
a subtle box pattern across its length in a slightly lighter colour.
Immediately, those slender fingers undid the tie already around his
neck, replacing it with the new one and fluidly looping it up.
“....What do you think?,” Skydive
shyly asked, turning and showing Onslaught how the tie looked.
Onslaught let his optics slide up and
down the entirety of the smaller mech's frame, coming to a stop back
up at the autodog's blushing face. Primus, Skydive always looked
gorgeous. Surprising for his age group, the shih tzu had a preference
for semi-formal wear and could more likely be seen wearing
dark-coloured slacks and a clean dress shirt with tie rather than a
t-shirt and jeans. He'd be such a cute cadet....
Tail sweeping at the thought, the
serval smiled, giving his attention back to the waiting mech. “I
think you look absolutely stunning,” he purred, “I wish I could
tie a necktie half as good as you.”
Skydive blushed deeper, glancing away
quickly. “Y-you....um,” he stuttered, trying to focus on
something else. “You don't know how to do up a tie?”
Now it was Onslaught's turn to blush
and mutter awkwardly. “Well, no.... eh, it's been a while,
since.... I mean....” Smiling brightly, the shih tzu turned around
and grabbed one of the ties off of the shelf -a deep, slate grey one
that complimented the kittycon's plating- tossing it around
Onslaught's neck and elegantly beginning to tie it up.
“See,” Skydive said softly, “You
just cross it here, fold it up here, loop..... twist, loop again
and.....” His fingers gently eased the new knot up to the older
mech's neck cables, cinching the tie in place. “There. It's tied.”
Onslaught swallowed slowly finding
himself looking down into those gorgeous, warm optics and the
autodog's servos still pressing gently on his chestplates. Unable to
resist, the kittycon bowed his helm down the last few inches,
sweeping Skydive up into a short, sweet kiss. He almost purred when
he felt the shih tzu curl his fingers around the newly adorned tie,
using it as an anchor and a hand-hold for keeping the other mech
close.
So apparently Skydive loved a 'bot in
uniform just as much as he did.
Title: Bubbles
Rating: PG
Summary: They enjoy a peaceful
moment together
On the nights he could ensure that all
of his sons were out of the house, Onslaught brought Skydive back to
his place for a home-cooked meal. It was an enjoyable time for the
both of them; the serval could show off more of his skills and
souvenirs, and the two mechs could talk in privacy about whatever
they wished, without fear of insulting or upsetting someone nearby.
The autodog even generously offered to help him clean up after.
At this moment, Skydive chuckled warmly
as the kittycon blew a slue of soap bubbles at him, before attempting
to grab the shih tzu and pull him to the sink. “Silly,” the blue
mech laughed as a servo slipped under his guard and around his waist.
Skydive tried to swat Onslaught with the dish towel but failed
miserably.
Still, he laughed again as he was
pressed against the other mech's chestplates, their lip components
meeting in a gentle, warm kiss.
Breaking apart slowly, Onslaught
stroked Skydive's cheekplate with one of his wet servos, spark
pulsing erratically as the autodog leaned into his palm.
“.....Skydive,” he started softly.
Blue optics onlined, looking up at him
with rapt attention.
“I....I w-was....” The serval
trailed off, glancing to the side uncertainly, before cycling a deep
intake and gathering his courage. “Some day, though it doesn't
have to be now or anytime in the near future.... I'd like for you to
meet a couple of my sons. Would that be alright by you?
Skydive looked stunned for a moment,
before his expression grew warm and a soft smile pulled at his lip
components. “I'd very much like to meet your family, Onslaught,”
he replied, “They're a part of who you are and I would like to know
everything about you, if I can.”
Smiling again, Onslaught released the
anxious breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding; bending down
and kissing the kind autodog once more.
Title: Concern
Rating: PG
Summary: Skydive is upset
He had been waiting for Skydive to
finish school, sitting out on the lawn like he usually did, when the
shih tzu went running past. Stunned, Onslaught rose to his pedes and
quickly gave chase. “Skydive..... Skydive!,” he called, getting
close enough to finally grab the autodog. He turned the surprised
mech to face him, his optics searching his anxious face.
“What's wrong?,” the serval asked,
feeling a knot of dread twist into his fuel tanks.
“O-onslaught! I-i, i-it's-,”
Skydive cut himself off, forcing himself to cycle an intake before
fidgeting with his small, circle frames. “I-i'm sorry.... we had a
d-date today didn't we? I can't go. My baby brother, F-fireflight,
he's ill a-and....”
“Ssh, ssh, ssh....,” Onslaught
gently interrupted, pulling the autodog to his chestplates and
stroking his ears softly as the younger 'bot gave a little sob. “It's
alright, Skydive. Your brother is ill- I understand that. I wouldn't
want to keep you away from him when you're so worried.”
He kissed the damp cheekplates as
Skydive turned his face up to the kittycon, his servos falling to the
small of the shih tzu's back, where he continued his soothing
stroking. “R-really?,” the blue mech gaped, his optics glazed
with tears. “Y-you... you don't mind?”
Onslaught smiled wryly at the question,
not too sure whether he should be insulted or let it slide as the
young pup just being emotionally overwhelmed. “Positive. I'd be a
horrible person if I demanded you put me first before your family.”
“Now listen,” the serval continued,
giving Skydive a quick peck, “I've got business out of town that I
have to attend to tomorrow; I will be back after that, if all goes
well. I'll meet you here after your classes the day after, and if
your brother's feeling better then we can go do something. Alright?”
Skydive gave a little sniffle, wiping
his face before smiling up at the older mech warmly. “T-thank you
so much Onslaught. For everything.”
The kittycon tried his hardest not to
blush. “It was no trouble..... Now, let's get you home so you can
go check up on your brother.” Onslaught wrapped his arm around the
autodog's waist, leading them to his car in the parking lot.
Title: The End
Rating: T
Summary: Is this really the end?
Open; close.
Open.....
Close.
Onslaught sat on the bench outside of
the Academy, hunched over and waiting impatiently for Skydive's
classes to be finished. His pede tapped nervously and he kept opening
and closing the little box he held in his servos, all in the attempt
to keep from jumping to his pedes and simply pacing in place.
Primus, he'd never been this anxious
before.
A warm breeze blew through the
courtyard, rustling the plastic on the bouquet of roses the serval
had put to the side, out of fear that he might crush them to death.
He just couldn't calm down. Venting heavily, Onslaught forced himself
to sit up straight, glancing quickly at the Academy students walking
back and forth across the lawn. It didn't escape his notice how old
he was in comparison to the majority of them.
Was it too soon? It had only been a
stellar cycle that they'd known each other; even less since they'd
been dating.... Maybe he was being too impulsive. After all, who
could say that Skydive was ready for that step? He was young. Maybe
he wouldn't feel this way forever about the kittycon. Perhaps he was
just dating him out of pi-
His thoughts were going haywire again,
and Onslaught had to mentally crush that train right then and there.
Some great strategist he was..... letting his processor sour with
insecurities and doubts. Quickly, the mech shoved those doubts back
where they belonged: out of his helm. So it had only been a stellar
cycle, big whoop. The last time he'd even felt remotely happy with a
'bot, he'd been dating that individual for stellar cycles before
proposing marriage and look where that had landed him. Besides,
Skydive had not shown in the slightest that he didn't feel the same
or more for Onslaught in return.
The shih tzu brought so much life and
passion into everything he did, and his optics always seemed to shine
the brightest when the things he poured his spark into involved the
kittycon in some way. He never hesitated to share something with
Onslaught or step back when things became too much for him. It was
hard to believe that Onslaught had so much access to the blue mech's
spark and to find a deep well of love and devotion for him alone
within.
The serval didn't realize he was
smiling until his thumb stroked over the form of the ring box
subconsciously.
Quickly suppressing it, Onslaught
checked his wrist watch, before slipping away the box and grabbing
hold of his roses. He sat, warm and content in the bright sunshine of
the orn, counting down the final kliks before Skydive's class came to
an end, his tail flicking slowly behind him. A gaggle of students
flowed out of the school a couple kliks later, and the kittycon
straightened in his seat excitedly, but there was no Skydive among or
even behind that crowd. Ear giving a nervous, little twitch,
Onslaught kept his optics glued to the door; waiting.
Two kliks passed.
Five.
Twenty.
One cycle and thirty-three kliks.....
Slowly, Onslaught rose to his pedes,
turning and marching stiffly for the main office. “Excuse me....,”
he gruffed softly to the femme working behind the counter. “I am
looking to know what the status is of student Skydive. He's in the
Business Administration and Tactical Strategy course.”
“And you are....?,” the old autodog
asked, peering over the frame of her glasses annoyingly.
“Family,” the green mech answered
tersely, trying to keep from baring his fangs at the secretary's
rudeness.
The femme gave him a scornful look,
telling Onslaught that she didn't believe a word he had just said
before turning and typing something on her terminal. “He's not
appeared for his classes the last couple days,” she said, “If
he's going to drop out, we would prefer that he give us a formal
notice, if not, a-”
The kittycon turned away quickly and
walked out of the office before the autodog could finish what she was
saying. Mutely, Onslaught crossed the Academy's lawns, heading for
his car parked in the visitor's area. It took more time than he would
have liked (but less than he had imagined) for him to reach Skydive's
apartment. He scanned the buzzer door list for the autodog's
apartment number, before picking the entry lock and walking briskly
up the stairs.
The fourth floor, third apartment.
The kittycon stood in front of the door
for what must have been an eternity. Eventually, his servo raised,
giving the wood two, quick raps. They echoed almost thunderously
inside the apartment.
The astroseconds passed fairly quickly,
and still, Onslaught stood there; servo half-raised and ears perked
for any sound of life from within. He heard nothing. Fists curling at
his sides, the kittycon picked the lock a second time, storming into
the house, hackles raised and ready for a fight. He stopped dead in
his tracks as soon as he had stepped past the threshold.
Empty......
The entire place was empty.
Silently, the mech walked through the
rest of the house, peering into each of the rooms. They all looked
just as void as any other room, with the exception of a few items
dropped here and there; tossed about and discarded in what appeared
to be haste. Onslaught looked into the last room, turning around
stiffly to head back for the front door. He paused as a little squeak
erupted from beneath his pede. Bending down, the kittycon picked up a
small, slightly worn plushie in the shape of a turbo fox.
He found himself staring intently at
the doll, even as he mutely drifted back out of the apartment and to
his car down front. Once in his car, he threw both the doll and the
little box into the glove compartment, staring out his front window
as the world slowly grew dim and grey all around him.
Title: Drown
Rating: T
Summary: Sorrow can drown you
He had done it again.
Blast Off walked into the kitchen,
finding his sire passed out at the kitchen table, still in his seat
and with a glass of rocket fuel in one servo. Three, large and empty
bottles of the intoxicating fluid sat at the other end of the table;
evidence of how much Onslaught had already drank. Hopefully, the last
of his stock, after this week's binge-drinking.
With a silent sigh, the siamese set
down his things, padding toward the unconscious serval and gently
taking away his glass and bottles. It had been a long good while
since he had last seen his sire in such a state -and that was only in
the most dark of times. Blast Off could only wonder what had
persuaded Onslaught to drink himself into such a stupor this time.
Grunting, the kittycon lifted the
serval from his seat, draping one leaden arm over his shoulders and
shuffling awkwardly for the door. It took him a while to get up the
stairs and put Onslaught into his berth, made all the harder since
Blast Off was essentially carrying at least two-hundred pounds of
dead weight and the fact that he was doing his best to keep the noise
level to a bare minimum. Anything louder and Brawl would more than
likely wake up.
The younger mech did not need to see
their sire like this.
Dropping Onslaught onto the berth with
a muffled thump, the siamese straightened up, staring at his sire's
troubled expression, contorted even in his sleep. It did not escape
his notice that dry tear marks trailed down his cheekplates. The
older mech was never one to cry..... He had only done it once before
that Blast Off knew of.
And that was when his spark had been
broken....
“Fool,” the brown kittycon muttered
softly. There was no malice or ice in his words, but the fleeting
touch of sympathy. His sire did not deserve to be like this and he
was a fool for allowing himself to fall into a similar situation like
last time.
But even fools deserved sympathy
sometimes.
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