Disclaimer: I own nothing here but the plot (not that there really is one) and I don't own Transformers. Unfortunately.

PLEASE READ, IF NOT YOU WILL BE CONFUSED. Author's Note: So, this is my own little Bayverse AU, set sometime in the future when lots more bots have arrived and their appearances are far more similar to their G1 counterparts. Also, they have faces like in G1. In this AU, Starscream DID start out looking like that hideous thing Bay approved. As a devious science experiment, Megatron helped Starscream and the Constructicons build a new type of flyer body that is smaller and sleeker than the current seekers. Also waaaay more attractive (e.g. it resembles his G1 self Bayverse-ized). Starscream ends up being the unwilling first test subject for the body, and his spark is transplanted into the new body. I know, this is all complicated. Anyways, furious at Megatron, he flees to the Autobots for shelter, which they give him. This snippet is set sometime a ways into that future, where Starscream has, apparently, made some friends. Hope you enjoy!

Victory is so sweet…for some

By Elora Vashara

It wasn't that he had suddenly developed a keen interest in the Autobot leader, oh, no. It was just that…well, this new body of his was very trim and attractive, and perhaps its interface drive was a bit more vivacious than his previous body's had been. And perhaps, in light of the situation, the handsome red and blue mech was looking quite acceptable as a berth-mate. And quite delectable. And he had the mech—how did the humans say it? Hook, line, and sinker—as he watched the line of sight from those cerulean optics drift across his form. From his perch on the desk corner, legs crossed, he delicately slid the tip of one thruster up the length of his other leg, stopping at the knee and sliding it back down slowly. He arched his back in a slow stretch that showed off his sleek chassis and really showcased his slim wings as they flared out behind him, the red and silver-white paint glittering in the light.

Following that move (which had done its job and spiked Optimus' core temperature considerably) he absently rolled his cherry-red hips, lightly grinding his aft against the table, almost as if he were just adjusting his position. His helm tilted back, exposing the slender wires and cables running down his neck and, making sure he had the mech's gaze where he wanted it, he slowly slipped the tip of his glossa out to run along his lips, finishing the movement with a small, innocent smile. His prey was totally vulnerable now.

"Optimus?" He purred lowly, making sure his crimson optics were practically smoldering with need (which honestly wasn't hard).

"Aaaah?" Was the slightly slack-jawed response. In order to keep him that way (too much talking would revive his processor and the whole thing would be a bust) Starscream slowly settled one servo on his raised knee, glancing down semi-thoughtfully with a small pout as he slowly dragged a single digit up his thigh.

"Would you mind, terribly, if we were to have a party? Say, something arranged by the twins?" He continued his finger's path up his chassis, delicately coming to rest at the top of his cockpit. "That would be nice, hmm?" He seemed to find something on the tip of his finger, and with a moment's pause for effect he slid the finger into his mouth, glancing sideways at the nearly non-functioning Prime.

"Party…nice…hmmm…ahhh…" Optimus was helpless in the seeker's grasp, his core temperature spiking even higher at the stimulating image before him.

Swiftly popping the finger out of his mouth, Starscream slid a datapad towards Optimus, making sure to turn and slide his upper body across too, giving the Prime a rather nice view to observe, which he took advantage of. On the datapad was a formal request that, when signed by Optimus, would give the twins (and Starscream) authority to make arrangements for a grand party on base. All the details of supplies and what would be allowed were included. However, Starscream was fairly certain that Optimus' processors weren't capable of reading at the moment.

He kicked his pedes up behind him, waving them in the air and arching his back and legs so that his aft stuck up at a rather nice angle. He made sure to wiggle it a bit. He settled a full-on sexy pout on his face and went for the kill.

"It's such a shame, I can't have my nice party unless you give your consent, right here, Optimus." Optimus was still ogling him, so he decided to help him out a bit. He reached out a servo and gently trailed his fingers down Optimus' face, making a line to the datapad on the desk. He pointed at the box where Optimus' signature was needed.

"Right…there…Optimus." Came his breathy whisper, and all his efforts were rewarded when Optimus (seemingly by reflex) saw the box and entered his signature. He slipped the datapad into his subspace and rewarded Optimus with warm smile.

"Perfect, darling," he murmured, "as always, you're too kind." He pressed the tip of one of his fingers to his lips and kissed it, then pressed it gently to the Prime's lips.

"See you around, Optimus," he purred, before sliding gracefully off the desk and vanishing out the door, leaving a slack-faced Prime wondering what had just happened.

Just around the corner, a gold mech and a cherry red one were leaning against the wall, waiting for their partner. Starscream practically strutted around the corner, producing the signed datapad from his subspace with a flourish.

"Ha! See? I told you I could do anything." He grinned as the excited twins grabbed for the datapad.

"Tch, yeah, do anything." Sunstreaker snorted, artfully maneuvering the pad out of his brother's grasp and examining the signature for himself.

"Ha! Yeah! More like do anybot, Screamer." Sideswipe chuckled and peered over his brother's shoulder while Starscream huffed in annoyance.

"Hey, just because I'm the most attractive bot here doesn't mean you two can say stuff like that about me…!"

The trio continued bickering as they walked down the hall, eventually turning to planning the party. Optimus was discovered some time later, forehead resting on his desk while he muttered something about Primus-damned sexy seekers being too devious for their own good. Prowl decided not to ask.

~Fin~