Transformers - Tracks/Blaster

[beckyh2112.livejournal.com]

Title: Little Red Corvette
Author: beckyh2112
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 809
Summary: Just because one is undercover doesn't mean one can't have a little rendezvous with one's lover. Especially if he's also undercover.
Author's Notes: This takes place in the early '00s on Cybertron. Also, I fell back on using semi-appropriate song titles for my fics since I couldn't think of anything better.

Thanks to lunatron, charles_rb, and ravynfyre for help on this fic.

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He shouldn't be out here. In fact, if either of his superiors knew his wheels were currently singing over the delicious roads of Perihex, he would be shot or recalled from this assignment respectively. But this was the closest city to his current post, and the Corvette could easily lose himself in the crowds of the groundpounder bars and the neutral quarter.

Music pouring out from a passing bar caught him by the steering wheel, and he transformed with a flourish. A few nearby Decepticons gave him appreciative looks; if they thought he looked good now, they should see him in his true colors.

He did have to admit, however, that the dark, smoldering red color of his car-form went smashingly with the Stygian black bodywork. The ash-grey face with those sinful scarlet optics underneath that night-black helm made him look positively sinister! All in all, the new paintjob rather made up for the new symbol he had to wear for this mission.

Really, he had no idea why Jazz asked things like this of him.

Inside the bar was the usual disarray of tanks and armored ground-vehicles. A bronze helicopter'former manned the bar, and Tracks cut through the crowd in that direction. But his head kept turning to the jade green mech on stage singing a traditional Decepticon drinking song to a tune that was anything but. In fact, if he wasn't mistaken, the jet'former was using Earthen instruments and melodies with only the stately Iaconian backbeat providing any bit of Cybertron in the music itself.

It enraptured the bar, and when he managed to wrest his attention away from the singer to both order a drink and survey the crowd, he noticed a proliferation of mechs with Earth-style lines to their alternate modes. Not true Earth forms, of course, but it definitely seemed to be in style to look as if one had served on that planet.

Interesting.

The bartender set a fizzy blue drink down in front of him, and a plum hand snaked out to snag it. Tracks glanced sidelong at the warm purple mech who had joined him, wondering if Blaster would actually let him drink any of his own Ion Thunderclap.

After taking a draught, the stereo'former handed it back to him. The red oil had gotten rather hopelessly mixed with the rest of the drink, and Tracks vented a sigh at that. He did so love them unspoiled.

"Long time, no see," Blaster said with an easy grin. "What brings a mech like you out to a place like this?"

"The music." Tracks gave his friend a longer look. He wasn't sure about the deep purple-red they'd chosen for him, or the opaque dead-grey visor. It clashed with Blaster's natural zest for life and vivacity.

"That trash?" Blaster gave the singer a disdainful look, then cozied up to Tracks's side and started humming. "I can give you a lot better than that, my little red Corvette."

Tracks had to smother his snickers in his drink. But the vibrations passing from Blaster's body to his stirred an interest. His optics flickered dim, and he considered the possibilities of the alleys he had driven past. Yes, that would do just fine.

Oh, right. He couldn't do that. "Stop. Please."

"Skytouch?" Blaster's hum faded into deep basso notes that sunk deep into the Corvette's systems, coaxing gears that had no use in this form to turn ever-so-slowly.

Tracks flexed his wings, grip tightening on his mug. "Ah- One of my barracks-mates, oh!, installed a little device inside my passenger compartment-!"

"Yeah?" Blaster wrapped an arm around him, a hand sneaking up to stroke musical notations on one sable wing. "Man, you're heating up fast."

Tracks shuddered. "It prevents overload. It's supposedly some sort of-"

"Toy. Yeah, I know about those."

Tracks could just hear the grin on his friend's face.

"It doesn't really prevent overload, you know." Blaster leaned in, his visor thunking lightly against Tracks's forehead. "It gets you all hot, makes your gears whirr and your coolant systems go into overdrive to keep up with things, and when it gets to be too much- Boom. Blackout, total system shutdown. But no reboot of your overstressed systems unless someone does it manually. So you get to come back online just as revved up as you were before you went down."

Tracks shuddered at the positively salacious way Blaster was molesting those words. "Is that so-?"

"Yeah." Blaster kissed him lightly. "I've heard of a mech overloading seventeen times in a row before someone got it off him."

Tracks arched back against Blaster's arm as bass pounded through his systems. "Decepticon. Such a marvelous Decepticon you make."

Blaster's laughter sent lightning-thrills through Tracks's body, making his grip tighten too much on the mug and his optics blaze bright.

"And we're just getting started," Blaster promised.

End

Comments

[wanderingscroll.livejournal.com]

Okay, someone is having wayyy to much fun.

[beckyh2112.livejournal.com]

Tracks is going to be so very, very sore in the morning. And want to murder Blaster. ^__^