literature

Seeking for Solace

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Visions for Valong II

    Three Commander Mechs and two Commanding Femmes sit at the planning table.   “Take a look at these,” the rosy femme fans the images out across the holo-table.
    The lead commander flicks the nearest image to the far side of the table away from himself and most assuredly from the chrome and rosy one, “No thank you.   Seen more than enough already.”
    The dusky blue femme giggles and nudges her superior, “Yep, you were right.”
    Elita kicks Chromia under the table and Optimus scowls at Elita.   Folding his dignitary hands on the table top, he address his statement to everyone even if his optics are locked onto the blue one.   “Just because I do not care to look at the captured illicit images of three sleeping mechs in the privacy of their quarters, it does not make me a prude.”  Clenching his fingers, lies, “Nor jealous.”
    Elita reaches over and lays a hand on her mate’s latched ones, “Darling, if anything, they should be jealous of you.”
     He only shifts his optical focus to her trying to keep a scowl pointed at the blue one but its hard maintain it with a twinkle to his azure blue’s turning dark with arousal for his drop dead gorgeous femme.
      *Cough* from the deep red one changes everyone‘s focus, “Look I’m up for a good old frag’n or comparison like the next mech,” he thumbs to Ratchet, “but why are we here?   And more importantly, why are we looking at these three?”      
      Ratchet is the one to kick Ironhide under the table this time making him growl.   Elita and Chromia giggle for a second before Optimus bonks his fist on the table to get everyone back in line.
      “As I was saying, these three were photographed asleep,”  Elita falls in line.
      “I’m not getting you, Elita,” Ratchet tosses his hands up.
      Elita runs a finger between the three mech seated at the table, “You three are a trine yourself.   Tight as any blood brothers could ever be.”   The three mechs look among each other.  Yes, that could very well be.   “While we femmes were separated from you, it was the three of you that kept each other sane, true?”   Nodding the solemn mechs have to agree to that.  They were the only ones to see each other’s fears and tears.
        She expands one picture that contains all three of the mechs completely sprawled out and dead to the world.   “They share everything.  Stick together like scraplets on a junk heap.”   That brings a soft smile to the three.
         Chromia taps one of Starscream, “From the rumors I have heard, these mechs rarely bring femmes back to the sanctity of their quarters.   And most assuredly, NEVER let a femme sleep there.   Three of our femmes spent the night not only in their quarters, but in their arms?   What does that say to you?”
        Ironhide snorts, “Our girls drank them under the table.”
        “Inferno has drunk Firestar under the table numerous times.   Arcee NEVER ever spends the night with anyone unless they are the one in chains.   And Moonracer… I’m surprised she slept with anyone after the last mech that broke her spark.   I would have thought she would have cut Skywarp’s * off for even suggesting a frag‘n.”   All three mechs grimace for a second to that image, which brings a smile to the femme commanders.
        Optimus clears his throat and asks, “And your point?”
        “I seriously doubt either my femmes or those three fly boys are ready for a ‘relationship’ but, this could be a good sign if six of the most tenacious and skilled warriors can find solace in each other’s arms for a night.”
       Ratchet pulls one closer of Thundercracker, “Inferno’s not going to like this.”
       “Then maybe he should get his ladder out of his aft and be a mech!   All I’m saying, is this looks good for our truce.   Please, don’t screw it up by letting Prowl clamp down too hard on the regulations and stuff.  Give them a break!”   With that, shuts of the table making the images all go away.  “Am I clear?!”  
      With a curt, “Yes Ma’am,” they all let her have her way.   She nods and then rises from her chair. To the surprise of the bonded mechs, their two mates place their knees to the table top and crawl their way over their mechs.
        “Good because I desperately need some personal attention!”  Chromia snarls to her mate.
        “Yes, no brotherly games tonight.   You are coming home with me,” Elita hooks a finger into her mate’s chest piece and tugs him forward into a quite passionate kiss.
       Ratchet rises leaving the two couples to themselves.   It pangs his spark to be alone, but else can he do?
       Stepping into the hall, slams right into a teal and black femme flyer, “Oh pardon me, Ma‘am,” he grips her shoulders to stabilize them both.
        Her ruby red optics lock onto his dark blue pools.  It’s been a very long time since someone treated her with femme-respect.   “Ah, yeah, um… n-no problem.”   She steps back out of his touch.
       Looking her over, he can see so much of the Decepticon Air Commander in her facial features even though they are trimmed with a femme-tint to the accents.  Deadly and gorgeous; his systems flare like a school-bot fawning over a bad-girl.  “Ah, can I help you?   You look lost.”
      “I heard my Commander was here and so I came to find out why he’s in your brig.   I thought there was a truce on.”
      “Damn,” Ratchet cusses under his breath.  “Please come with me, let me see I can get this straightened out,”  and extends an open arm towards a hallway.  
       Skeptically, she plants both hands on her lovely hips and fires back, “How can I trust you not to lock me up as well?”
       Ratchet swallows very slowly.   Damn, yes he is a medical professional and has seen numerous bots in and out of their armor, but the rarity of a femme flier with a straight up-front attitude, cocked arrogant hip and fingers drumming along her curves….   Lust slams him like Unicron’s fist.  The look on her face is not helping either.  She easily could take him on in words or fists and he would cave….or banter right back.   For some reason though, he finds himself being oh so respectful to her in a way she has probably never heard.
         “I don’t blame you.   Autobots have been your foe for so long that you have no reason to trust me.   Still, if Prowl did lock up Starscream, I would like to know good and well why myself.   I’m sick of this war and patching up bots.   So even if you don’t follow me on your accord, I’m going to beat the ever love’n scrap out of the twerp.”   With that, he shrugs and heads down the hall.   To his delight, he hears her heels click to catch up with him.
        “Ratchet, right?”   She confirms his name by walking directly beside him.
        He sticks out his right hand, “Yes, Slipstream I presume?”
        “Herm, yes.   Not that easy to hide it, is it?”   She pulls her mouth into a quite cute sideways pucker.
        Ratchet laughs lightly patting her hand, “I have a distinct advantage.  First as an officer of high rank and second as a medic.”  With soft non-touching caress to her brow and cheek he indicates, “I see Starscream and then,” strokes the non-touching hand down her side to indicate her very clear femme features, “most certainly not.”
      She narrows her brow, “Is that a compliment, a curse or a pick up line?”
     Ratchet gives her a charming smirk and one raised brow of his own, “I’ll let you decide.”   Then cuts immediately right to pound an aggressive fist on a door.  “Open up right NOW Prowl or I will weld your door-wings to your ankles!”
      The door yanks open and Prowl juts his chin up into the medic’s angry face, “What do you want?”  Then his optics flare to the femme at Ratchet’s side, “What’s she doing here?!”
      Squeezing past the larger mech, pokes her finger at the shorter one’s chest, “Where’s my Commander!”
      “I don’t know!   Why are your both looking at ME that way?”
      Ratchet looks between the two of them, “Wait you mean you didn’t have him arrested?”
      “No, I didn’t even know he was here.  Why, what’s going on?”
      Ratchet quickly steps back, “Ah… nothing.  Sorry to bother you Prowl.  Slipstream, would you come with me.  I think know where he might be.”
     With a soft cup to her elbow, leads the femme warrior out of the over zealous law maker’s sights.   Slipstream isn’t happy but she let’s Ratchet lead her to where they can talk a bit more privately.   “I think he might be with Arcee somewhere on our base, if you know what I mean.”
       “Arcee?   Are you nuts?”   Slipstream laughs hard.   Not a harsh cackle but a nice strong amused one.   “Why would he be with her?”
       “Like I said, let’s go for a walk,” this time he takes her hand and tucks it to his elbow.  Escort?   She just blinks at him for a moment.   No mech has ever treated her like an Elite Femme.   He grimaces for a moment readying himself to be clocked by her other fist, but she is just staring at her fingers laying so sweetly to his crooked arm.   Safe, protected and yet guiding.   Could she let anyone do such a thing with her spark?   Maybe not him, but anyone?
       “Arcee, really?”  She still stares at the link.
       Ratchet’s other hand crooks a finger under her chin to look into his optics, “You know the war isn’t just ending for the factions.   Some of the sparks around here have stopped hiding behind their barriers as well.   I’m not saying everyone is bonding, but I am saying that they have found it alright to….talk.”    Then with a lit of a smile, “And walk.   May I take you for a walk, Slipstream?”
        She blinks to the gentlemech’s tender courting moment, “I think I would like a walk, Ratchet.”   Then she shows him her fist, “But if I find out Starscream’s been in the brig the whole time, I’ll break your face.”
    He smiles to her up-frontness, “Deal.   If I find out you came here to pant bombs I’ll weld your wings to your aft!”
     “I like the way you think, Medic.”   She grins back with that very evil-Starscream way, only she makes it look oh so much more charming.

~~~
      Slipstream and Ratchet make it out to the courtyard in time to see a purple and back set of wings chasing after a sea-foam green femme, “Aw come one Babe, it was fun wasn’t it?”
      She whips around and thrusts a finger into his face, “I SWEAR Skywarp, if I come down with something I’m putting Ratchet on you cod.   If you thought my rifle shots were something you don’t know anything until you have heard the screaming from the CMO’s office during a venereal exam!”  
       He pales for a second and she takes the advantage to storm away.  Seeing his new playmate escaping, Skywarp snaps to and dashes after her continuing to sputter pleas, apologies, and promises.
       Slipstream turns to her escort with wide optic brows begging for an explanation.   Ratchet rubs the back of his neck.  Yeah not quite the first impression he wanted to leave with a new femme about how the treaty is going nor how he treats his patients.
       “Well, with limited resources during the war, wasting them on cures from frivolous recreational interfacing…”   He takes a sigh and shrugs coming clean, “Why not scare the crap out of them with my wrath and give them a shot right in the cause of the issue.   Certainly makes them think twice before mucking about with just anyone again.”
      Slipstream actually smiles a little, “You would have made an excellent interrogator, Ratchet.”   He chuckles, then she curls her wrist, “As it is, too bad.   Hook had tons of that stuff.   What we really need was stuff for disruptor burns.”
       “Damn and I had a bunch of that.   Too bad we couldn’t have talked and really could have exchanged some good ideas.”
       Slipstream gives him the encouragement this time, “You know Ratchet, good time as any to try healing Cybertron.   No reason to wait any longer.   I’ll tell Hook and Knock Out you are interested in talking to them.”
       “I would appreciate that,” and they round the next corner.   Ratchet pulls her back into the shadows putting a finger to his lips.   The two watch the couple they have spotted.
      On the end of a stone bench, Arcee is in a grump with arms and knees tightly crossed.   Straddling the bench behind her, Starscream blows whispers over her audio and then gives plucking kisses to her nape, the throat side, her shoulder….  It relaxes her a bit.  Enough for him to let his chin rest on her shoulder and bring one of her light hands up to his lips.   Her face turns to watch him kiss, then lick, and finally suckle her fingers in a most naughty way.
     Arcee shivers and he beams.   Her face pulls to a scowl.  Not towards him but for herself reacting to him.  He is very good.  Leaning in closer his front slowly touches her back and he lifts his hips to glide right up behind her aft bringing the other hand down to her thigh with all intentions to pan to the inside.   He whispers something else into her audio --
      And that’s it.   She pulls her hand from his mouth and shoves the other off her leg.   Ever so slowly, he dismounts the bench showing his excellent set of muscled legs.   She wants to look away but can’t.  Rotating his hips as if to show adjusting his tasset armor, her optics latch on to the center of the tasset and his grin widens to his plan working.  With a slight shrug to his shoulders, turns his back on her giving her an excellent view of his well paneled aft and very proud wings.   Even his helm his proud and up right giving that leaving stride of   ‘fine be that way, I don’t care’.      
     Neither Arcee or Slipstream are fooled by his slow mechly stride.   It’s all a show.   Meeting the wall, he gives a final flick of his wings making it clear, ‘you want this, and I know you do.’     Arcee’s fists clench ever so tight in personal frustration to the cheeky bastard being RIGHT!  
      At the wall, he gives the hefty leap as if it was nothing.   Then in skilled dive, flicks to his alt-mode and shoots straight up into the sun’s glare and out of her sight.
     Arcee stands up screaming at the sun, “I HATE YOU!!  Do you hear me you arrogant bastard!   I HATE YOU!!”   It’s then that she notices the other two.   Humiliated at them seeing her rant at some stupid Decepticon flyer, she stomps away madder than everything.
     “Oh my, what has my brother stirred up?”   She brings a pondering curled hand to her chin.
     Ratchet chuckles quite openly.   Elita’s conversation at the planning table looks like it may have just gone bust.   Hearing another set of voices, he takes a second thought to that idea.
       Thundercracker is deep in a conversation with Firestar about a piece of literature as they walk into the open courtyard.  The mechly groan from the shadow of a fire truck he is not surprised to hear, but the hissing intake at the medic’s side is surprising. So much so to cause him turn.   Oh.
        The murderous scowl and Slipstream’s hands now curling into fists explain well enough.  “Two timing bitch,” just seems to ice the cake on her feelings.
         Ratchet’s optics go wide to the rapidly acquired information!  So Slipstream was not necessarily looking for her Commander today, but finding the mech she has her spark set on courting another mech’s femme…. Oh boy.   He knows if he doesn’t move fast, there could be a new war started right here.  Inferno will not take it well if Slipstream kills his love!
    In a brazen move, Ratchet takes Slipstreams’ tight jaw into his large warm hand and turns it towards himself.   With barely a warning, he takes her lips with his.   Like caterpillars on a leaf, his fingers ease along her jaw line to cup the back of her helm and pull her into a deeper kiss.   She may not know the mech well enough to like or hate him yet, but her body is helpless against those talented lips.  Like a goldfish’s mouth lightly plucking and suckling the nourishment off a pebble, he does the same.  Since she didn’t slap him away, adds his tongue tip to slip the kiss to the next level.  
    Her body relaxes and leans into him just wondering where he is going with this exploring kiss of his.   For he only has that one hand supporting the back of her helm, the other lays patient at this side waiting for her next move.   It takes her three tries to think what to do until she just lays it to cup his chest-side and move them even closer together.   Leaning heavier into his warmth, parts her lips to let him kiss her deeper.  Gentle and exploring, he doesn’t take it too deep leaving her longing for another time, but on the other hand making it deep enough to know, this is no joke….his is interested in exploring this further.
     Finally deciding he has tortured her enough, he pulls back with a smile to show he enjoyed her kissing him back.   The proud and deadly warrior wheezes, “Dear Primus, your femme lets you out alone?”
    Ratchet chuckles warmly, “I’m not bound.”
    Her finger tip traces his dangerous lip, “And why the Pit not?”
    He jerks a helm towards Thundercracker and Firestar still deep taking about a book.   He’s quite sure that the royal blue Seeker has no idea of the turquoise one’s feelings. “You tell me.”
   Swallowing hard she has to step back from the Autobot medic drooping her defeated wings, “You wouldn’t understand.”
   Elita and Chromia come out of another door with a red and white femme from the medical division between them.   The three of them are quite excited by the violet bangle on the medic’s arm.   Squealing when she sees Firestar, dashes over with the other two in tow.   The four femmes and one mech now are in discussion over the violet gift being carefully and delightfully examined.
    With a respectful bow to Firestar, Thundercracker steps back leaving the femmes to their conversation.   When he turns, stalls seeing Ratchet and ….his deep red optics latch onto the pained crimson ones at the CMO‘s side.
     Slowly Thundercracker walks towards them looking a bit uncomfortable.   Ratchet cups Slipstream’s elbow to keep her from dashing, “Let me guess, love during war is illogical?”
     “It only gets people hurt.”   She watches the mech of her dreams and nightmares coming closer and closer.
    “During the war Elita and Chromia found it a reason to hold strong and stay alive.   As did their mates.”   Ratchet squeezes feeling her want to fly away.   “Slipstream, the war is over.”
    “Tell that to my spark that is still afraid of getting hurt.”  She swallows hard as Thundercracker is almost within audio range of their conversation.  “It’s bad enough to be worried about your brother, but a lover too?”
   “Hello, Slipstream.   Does our Commander know you are here?”  The deep respectful voice of concern asks.
   “L-like he c-cares,” she tries to make it sound flippant, but her stumbling screws that up.
   Thundercracker sees Ratchet’s hand gripping her elbow in an restraining way and gives off a low growl.  “Medic, I suggest you let go of my Seeker-sister immediately.”
    Sister! -Ouch.  
    While the two mechs optically war over the femme’s protection, Slipstream yanks away and ends up slamming right into steaming Inferno in her retreat.   He stabilizes her with his hands but she stomps on his pede and yanks back, “Keep your damn hands off me, you idiot!”
     Although his rage is for another, it comes out directly at her, “Then watch where you are going you Ding-bat!”
     “Ding-bat?  You should know CO2 head!”
     “Excuse me?!”  He barks back causing all helms to look their way.
  Slipstream rolls her optics, “No wonder!   You know!   Pressurized gas in fire extinguishers.   Gosh you are dumb.”
   He raises his fist, “You Seeker bitch!”  And yanks her wing.  “You and your stupid wings make you think you are just ABOVE everyone else and can take whatever you want.  Don’t you!”    Everyone knows that jab was directed actually at Thundercracker, who winces to Slipstream taking the assault for his actions with rescue-bot’s femme.
   Slipstream makes it a bit more direct and punches Inferno right in the nose, “Well maybe if you had gotten down off your tottering ladder and been a real MECH someone wouldn’t have to go to a Seeker to get real action!”

     Dead silence.  
     Slipstream just spilled the beans on how sexy Thundercracker is in her sights.  His loyal spark thumps hard under his blue and crystalline cockpit.  Oh dear he never knew she saw him that way.  Seeing him with Firestar must have pushed that jealous temper she shares with Starscream too far.  His cheeks flare hot.
      On top of that, Inferno has been struck square in the face with the truth; he shouldn’t have been a jerk with Firestar thus causing her to go seeking for someone better.   Truth hurts and is bleeding down his face as he looks up to everyone staring at them.
      “I’m sorry,” he apologizes to Slipstream when he should be saying it to Firestar.
      The turquoise flyer’s throat clenches and snaps back, “Tell it to someone who c-c-cares!”    With that runs, makes the leap off the same wall Starscream had and flips to her own sleek alt form, dashing off into the afternoon sun.
      Thundercracker gives an almost inaudible, “Excuse me,” and follows after her.
Part I mamabot.deviantart.com/art/Vis… (story foundation belongs to Valong)

Part II spun off a bit I did for :iconvalong: I know I have a part three in mind, but it's still in the brewing process. This one contains Ratchet and Slipstream. And oh my my the fight with Thundercracker, Inferno, and Sipstream!

Loved Skywarp in this. Ooo things not going to see the 'morning after'.

Part III mamabot.deviantart.com/art/Bro…
{currently working on part 6}
1  Visions for Valong  mamabot.deviantart.com/art/Vis…
2  Seeking for Solace  mamabot.deviantart.com/art/See…
3 Broken Boys Flattened Femmes mamabot.deviantart.com/art/Bro…
4 Siblinghood bonds  mamabot.deviantart.com/art/Sib…
5 When Thunder Warp Screams  mamabot.deviantart.com/art/Whe…
© 2013 - 2024 mamabot
Comments4
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Metalchick36's avatar
This chapter is really great! Is there gonna be any more?