Chapter 1: Through His Eyes
Starscream finally sees himself as Sunstreaker sees him.
Starscream could barely bring himself to look.
Every inch of his frame was on display. Nothing was hidden. His panels were both open, his chestplate was cracked with sparklight glimmering through. He could see it all in the mirror, his thighs splayed wide where his legs were draped over Sunstreaker’s knees.
He leaned back against his roommate. Behind him, Sunstreaker’s optics glowed over Starscream’s left shoulder. He pressed against Starscream’s back, trapping his wings against his dorsum.
“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Sunstreaker asked as his hands slid around Starscream’s frame, black fingers in delicate contrast to Starscream’s crimson plating.
Long, artist fingers curved around Starscream’s spike, tracing the decorative whorls of glittery silver. One finger looped in his lower node piercing, giving it a soft tug.
Sunstreaker’s other hand reached lower. One finger dipped into Starscream’s valve, emerging to paint his rim with his own lubricant. It left a pearlescent sheen around his swollen rim, even as Sunstreaker’s finger moved to tease Starscream’s pierced anterior cluster.
“See?” Sunstreaker purred.
Starscream arched his backstrut. “No.”
Sunstreaker clucked his glossa. “You’re not looking hard enough. Touch yourself for me, sweetness.”
Starscream blinked. “What?”
Sunstreaker’s hands abandoned his array, much to Starscream’s disappointment. They rested on Starscream’s thighs instead, leaving his array to throb with need.
“Touch yourself,” Sunstreaker repeated and pressed a kiss to the back of Starscream’s shoulder. His hands stroked upward, cupping Starscream’s chestplate, his fingers dipping over Starscream’s chest-seam. “Show me those beautiful fingers wet with your own lubricant.”
Starscream shivered. He obeyed without thinking, curling a hand around his spike, and tracing his rim with two trembling fingers. His spark pulsed faster, visible in the mirror. His biolights glowed and flickered, inviting.
Sunstreaker hummed approvingly. He teased deeper into Starscream’s seam, pushing lovingly close to the outermost corona of his spark.
“See how lovely you are, sweetness?” Sunstreaker stroked him, sending an electric shock of pleasure straight through Starscream’s core. It unspooled slowly and softly within him.
He moaned. He couldn’t look away from himself, from Sunstreaker’s hands on his frame, from his own fingers drawing out his own pleasure. His faceplate heated. He looked so wanton. So hungry.
Starscream shuddered a ventilation. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the mirror. In it, he saw himself, but most of all, he saw himself in Sunstreaker’s optics, erotic after all.
Chapter 2: Betwixt
Rodimus was so glad Sunstreaker had convinced him. (Sunstreaker/Starscream/Rodimus)
If Sunstreaker had not insisted, Rodimus would have never believed Starscream could take them both.
Yet, here they were, all three squeezed onto Sunstreaker’s berth with Starscream pinned between them and two spikes jostling for space in the Seeker’s hot, quivering valve.
Rodimus had the pleasure of facing Starscream and seeing the bliss in Starscream’s expression. Watching Starscream gnaw on his bottom lip with fanged denta as his optics flickered and dimmed.
Sunstreaker, meanwhile, nibbled on the edges of Starscream’s wings as he embraced Starscream from behind. One hand slid down, fingers looping in Starscream’s array chain. Every little tug and pull on Starscream’s piercings made the Seeker shiver and clench, tightening on the two spikes piercing him.
“Look at you, so beautiful, taking both of us,” Sunstreaker murmured, a never-ending stream of praise that seemed to melt Starscream more and more.
Rodimus was in awe of both of them, even as he fought off overload. He wanted to savor this as long as possible.
The rippling squeeze of Starscream’s valve. Sunstreaker’s spike throbbing against his. Lubricant a messy squelch beneath him. Heat filling the air.
And Starscream whimpering, his hips making aborted jerks, his claws hooked into Rodimus’ chestplate, and his field unfurling with need.
Rodimus was so, so glad Sunstreaker had convinced him.
Chapter 3: A New Sensation
Sideswipe loved it. He hated it. He burned for more of it. (Rodimus/Sideswipe)
The toy started out soothing and warm like a caress. Sideswipe forgot it was there as he focused on tending to his master, delicately licking and savoring Rodimus’ valve as though it were a most delectable treat.
Then the toy started to cool, leeching away the heat in his frame. It was noticeable, but ignored.
Cool turned to cold turned to ice. It made Sideswipe squirm and the rim of his aft port twitch. His internal nodes started to go numb, redirecting sensation to his empty, aching valve. He hadn’t earned the right for anything to fill him there yet.
Ice grew colder, a temperature so low it burned, and Sideswipe whimpered against Rodimus’ valve. He panted, squirming, his empty valve dripping to the floor while his aft burned.
He hadn’t realized he stopped servicing his master until there was a gentle tug on the leash and a tiny pressure against his intake as the collar shifted.
Sideswipe’s fingers curled against the floor. Arousal hung heavy in his array, while his poor aft port weakly twitched.
“I don’t feel any attention, Sideswipe,” Rodimus warned with another pull on the leash, his voice soft but commanding enough to send a thrill down Sideswipe’s spinal strut.
“S-sorry,” Sideswipe murmured and got back to work, his lips suckling on Rodimus’ anterior node cluster.
“Don’t apologize. Just do better.”
Primus but his aft burned and his valve ached and he screamed for overload. But nothing hurt as badly as Rodimus’ disappointment.
Sideswipe poured himself into his appointed task with renewed energy. Anything to disgract from the icy toy in his valve – before master decided to reverse course on the temperature again at least.
He loved it. He hated it. He burned for more of it.
This toy they would definitely keep.
Chapter 4: Unspoken
There are certain words Starscream doesn’t dare say, no matter how often he thinks them.
‘I love you.’
How many times has Starscream whispered the words, but only when he’s certain Sunstreaker can’t hear him? More times than he count. Too many nights spent curled together, like they are right now, with the truth brimming in his spark, but fear keeping it contained.
Starscream should be recharging. But he’s not. His processor is too busy churning all over again, gnawing on thoughts and plans and dreams, none of them realized.
His gaze falls to his bedmate.
Sunstreaker is deep in recharge, all but dead to the world. He’s on top of Starscream, his head pillowed on Starscream’s chestplate though at an angle to accommodate his head vents. His arms are wrapped around Starscream’s chassis, and his lips are slightly parted as he ex-vents in his rest. His field thickly entangles with Starscream’s as though seeking comfort, and rightly so.
He’s always so clingy after they share sparks. Perhaps because it makes him vulnerable, and he must rely so heavily on Starscream in the aftermath.
Starscream cycles a ventilation and shutters his optics. He gently strokes a hand over Sunstreaker’s upper back, feeling the purr of his roommate’s frame against his. Idle and content. He smells of cleanser, expensive wax, and beneath it all, an underlying, lingering scent of paint. Starscream’s memorized it by now, this unique mingling of scents that whispers Sunstreaker to his chemoreceptors.
How many grand plans has he concocted, Starscream wonders. How many fanciful dreams of a future where his debts are paid and when he leaves, he takes Sunstreaker with him? He promises so many things. He vows to find the best medics, the best spark-specialists, the best of care. Surely there is an answer to Sunstreaker’s malady. Surely.
He crashes back to reality eventually. He remembers how stubborn Sunstreaker is. How independent. How he might view such an offer, no matter how sincere.
Love is as foreign for both of them, as is the concept of unrestricted wealth and opportunity. Love is a silly concept for two mechs who sell their time and their frames for creds. A fair bundle of creds, to be fair, but creds all the same.
They don’t have time for love. It has no place here.
Starscream’s spark surges. He strokes Sunstreaker’s back again, and Sunstreaker makes a soft murmur, burrowing harder against him. His legs slide against Starscream’s into a tangle. His field knots tighter, as though afraid Starscream will leave him in the middle of the night. Starscream can still feel the faint pulses of Sunstreaker’s spark.
His under-energized, under-powered spark.
That’s what keeps him here, the overwhelming cost of his medical care. He’s one of the longest residents of Blue Sun, and as far as Starscream knows, Sunstreaker never intends to leave. It’s the only job he can hold that doesn’t penalize him for needing frequent breaks, and that allows him time to pursue his true interest in the arts. Of all the escorts, he’s been here the longest. He’s a pillar, a fixture, as much a part of Blue Sun as the polished flooring and the glittering skylights.
It’s not even a bad job.
But Starscream has only started realizing just how much he wants to keep Sunstreaker to himself. How much he wishes he could spoil his roommate, could bring him all the best things because he deserves them. And even more than that, how much he wishes he could be honest, that they could live together freely, as lovers do.
‘I love you,’ Starscream thinks, again, and he murmurs it ever so softly. He knows Sunstreaker can’t hear him right now, and it’s the only reason Starscream is so brave.
Sunstreaker will recharge the night and half the morning. He always does after they share sparks, after he draws on the energies of Starscream’s to help him get through another week without having to summon a medic.
Starscream strokes the back of his hand over Sunstreaker’s cheek, feels the warmth of his face against the dermal metal. Handsome and inexplicably kind, how can he not love this mech? How can he not long to keep Sunstreaker for his own?
How can he bring himself to let go?
Starscream cycles a ventilation and sinks back into the pillow behind him, letting it absorb the weight of his wings. He half-shutters his optics, and he calculates once more.
Ten more years at his current rate, he thinks. Ten more years and he’ll have enough creds to pay off his student loans, and cover living funds until he finds somewhere he plans to establish himself. Less if he continues to improve the value of his base fees and attract the high-tipping customers like Nightshade.
‘Will you let me keep you?’
Starscream wonders this as his fingers gently trace armor seams, memorizing what his optics have already learned.
‘Will you let me care for you? Will you let me love you?’
They are foolish notions, he knows. Which is why he balls them up and buries them down, shoves them so very deep, into the pit of his tank. Only now, in these rare moments of unguarded quiet, does he let himself dream. He lets himself whisper to audials that aren’t listening.
‘I love you. Won’t you come with me? Won’t you stay?’
There’s never an answer, and Starscream is relieved for it. He’ll never admit aloud that he’s afraid of what that answer might be. He doesn’t want the dream to be shattered. Better to hold it close, nestle it in the core of his spark, cling to this impossible hope.
Ten years. Maybe less.
Perhaps that’s how long it will take to build the courage to say the words aloud.
Starscream brushes his fingertips over the crown of Sunstreaker’s head, and firmly meshes their fields together, filling his with affection and comfort both.
For now, however, there is this, and only this. And it is enough.