So over on the kinkmeme on Live Journal, this prompt caught my attention, and I've been working on it as well as Running Wild. I was going to wait for the whole story to be completed before I posted it, but now I've decided against it now. So I'm going to post it here now. Just, why not?

This was the original prompt:

So, this story: . ?thread=8668794#t8668794
To those that don't have the stomach for rape fic, the basic outline is as follows: Astrotrain wants to frag Swindle. He offers Swindle money. Swindle refuses. Astrotrain gets mad and forces himself on Swindle, then throws the payment he offered in his face. Astrotrain then leaves, leaving Swindle crying curled up on the floor.

I'd like to request a fic that picks up from here (yes, the author gave me a green light for it).

Either the other Combaticons come looking for their missing teammate, or Swindle drags himself back to their quarters. Either way, the Combaticons are HOPPING MAD that someone would treat one of their own like that. Of course they'd try to be all gruff and "We told you you'd get yourself in trouble one day." about it, but the truth is, seeing their eternally smooth and silver tongued brother in such distress is hurting them in ways they didn't think possible.

So, first order of things: pamper Swindle until he feels better. Gently washing & polishing away all traces of the violation, offer treats and promises of revenge, emotional comfort through the gestalt bond, that sort of thing. All heading towards a nice gestalt orgy. Swindle for his part is surprised at how much his teammates actually care, but isn't about to argue.

After they get Swindle back on his proverbial feet comes the second part: Slagging the slagger that tried to slag THEIR slagger. Clear? (How that plays out I'll leave to the author.)

So here are the first three chapters. This one was not beta'd.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Also, I have stared another story that is a A03 exclusive called Victor's Spoils. Basically, its seeker smut if anyone is interested.

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Vortex hummed as he wandered lazily down the halls of the Combaticon base, his claw tipped digits tapping against the wall in time with the melody he made up in his head. He passed Astrotrain on his way down to Swindle's little on base storage area; the triple charger himself was humming a merry tune.

The larger purple Decepticon shot Vortex a nasty smirk and a wink as he walked by; the smaller Decepticon frowned behind his battle mask. There was something wrong with Astrotrain, there was a certain spring in his step, a certain brightness in his ruby optics, a certain sway in the way he moved.

Vortex's frown turned into a smirk as he cast a glance over his shoulder to watch the triple charger disappear down another hall. Lucky slagger just got laid! No denying it, not with how that mech moved just now.

Must be what Swindle had been pinging the team about, and Vortex felt a flair of disappointment at missing a chance to frag the triple charger. Rumor had it Astrotrain was, as the humans would say, hung and it made the 'copter's mouth water. A bolt of lust shot through the Combaticon as he continued his way to Swindle's storage area; it wasn't often that Swindle liked to share, but when he did it was always worth the effort.

Vortex felt his smirk crawl back into place, maybe Swindle would still be in the mood and his trip down to the other end of base wouldn't be a complete waste of time. Not that Vortex was doing anything important of course, but still he could be doing other thing rather then harassing Swindle.

He could be harassing Blastoff, for example.

Picking up his pace, Vortex hurried the rest of the way to the storage bay, his interface equipment heating up at the thought of Swindle, already revved up and ready to go, already wet and moist from his time with Astrotrain; the Combaticon knew Swindle would have had to taken it rather then spiking Astrotrain.

Who in their right mind would waste a chance with a triple charger and not get spiked?

Lubricants were pooling behind Vortex's closed interface panel and the nose of his spike prodded at its cover, begging to be released. Want pooled in the Combaticon's belly and the thought of having Swindle bent over one of his precious boxes filled with his goods occupyed the Decepticon's mind, making his frame heat up.

Primus Vortex wanted a good hard frag, and even if he had to tease Swindle back into the mood, he was going to get it.

At least, that was what Vortex though as the double doors to Swindle's storage area slid open easily and the 'copter strut into the bay. Only to freeze in place the moment the door slid shut again.

Lust and arousal died at the feeling of wrong hit the Combaticon like a brick wall. So much so that Vortex's spike depressurized and he could feel his valve dry as the scent of ozone and overcharge hit his olfactory center.

Those scents should have sent the Combaticon into a higher state of lust, should have driven Vortex into such a state of want and lust that nothing else should have been able to touch his state of mind.

Yet, that feeling of wrong knocked all of the want, the lust, the deep seeded need right from Vortex's systems like a blast from Megatron's canon. The bay was quiet, too quiet for what should have been a great frag session.

Vortex shifted from one pede to another, unsure if he should leave. Maybe find Onslaught and let him deal with whatever went on here; but what would Vortex tell him? That there was something scary and wrong going on in the storage bay and could he please go check it out?

Yeah, like that would go over really well with the Combaticon leader.

Gathering his courage, Vortex moved easily through the storage bay, firmly ignoring his churning tanks and nervousness. Where the nerves suddenly came from, Vortex had no idea; he had spent enough time on the battle field and had never been this nervous.

Yet, the feeling of wrong just got heavier and heavier in his usually cold spark the deeper and deeper into the room he went. Vortex thought he was prepared for whatever he was about to find, he had seen a lot in the war.

Nothing could have prepared Vortex for what he found; not all the time he spent at war or as an interrogator. One simply couldn't prepare themselves to find one's gestalt mate, curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing brokenly into their servos with energon and transfluids pooling from his torn valve and ruined cover.

Vortex froze, every strut, every iota froze into place as the 'copter watched Swindle sob and hiccup softly on the floor of his own storage bay in a puddle of transfluids, creds, and his own spilt energon. Something Vortex couldn't identify flared through his spark, cutting through the numbness and shock he felt, churning his tanks.

Shifting and rotors flicking, Vortex clenched and unclenched his fists and glanced around, not wanting to watch Swindle sob yet couldn't help but watch. The Combaticon knew what had happened here, knew what Astrotrain had done to Swindle, it was all too obvious, and rage swept through Vortex.

That feeling, Vortex at least, knew and knew how to use as a weapon.

Glancing back down at the sad sight that had become Swindle, the soft, unidentified feeling tricked back into Vortex's spark. Oh, the anger was still there, only softened by...something.

Glancing around once more, half hoping that maybe Onslaught or Blastoff had come down to see what Swindle had wanted as well, only to find he was, of course, alone. Vortex focused back in on his gestalt mate, fidgeting. He wasn't good at this, he didn't know how to comfort. He only knew how to hurt.

The soft, unwanted feeling to touch Swindle, to wipe away his tears, to comfort tore at Vortex. That wasn't him, he didn't care. He didn't comfort. Yet the 'copter couldn't stop himself from crouching down next to the ground pounder and press a gentle servo to his tan shoulder plate.

Swindle cried out from the touch, jerking away from his gestalt mate to press himself flat against one of his crates; his thigh snapped together, hiding his exposed valve and his arms wrapped around his knees in a death grip.

Purple optics widened in fear and hurt as more tears made trails down his dark face plates, "T-T-Tex?" the jeep squeaked out between hiccupping sobs.

Vortex wanted to pull the other into a tight hug, tell him everything was going to be okay, crack open the gestalt bond they never used and let Swindle know that everything was going to be fine. That he would be taken care of.

Instead Vortex sighed, looking away. Shaking his helm, ignoring the feelings he shouldn't have, Vortex wrapped a servo around Swindle's upper arm, and drag the jeep to his pedes as gently as he could, "Come on Swin, let's get you back to your quarters."

The jeep watched Vortex with wide violet optics that flickered to white in his distress, and it enraged Vortex all the more. This was their base, their safe place. Astrotrain had no slagging right hurting any of them in their own damned base!

The snarl that slipped from Vortex's vociliser was unintentional, and it made Swindle flinch further away from the 'copter, pulling his armour and EM field tight to his frame. Taping down on his rage, Vortex dragged Swindle from the bay, not even bothering to pick up the discarded creds on the floor.

The 'copter tried to ignore how Swindle pulled away from him, how he flinched at his touch when he had been craving it days before.

It made Vortex angry. It made him want to rage, to kill, to get revenge.

It made Vortex want to peel back the blocks on the gestalt bond and let Swindle know that everything was going to be okay.

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