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For the first time in Swindle’s life, he truly had no money. His secret savings accounts were bone dry, his checking, hell, his investment portfolio were all showing the same red balance, zero. There wasn’t even an offshore account he could tap into, Swindle was out, and he had no idea how that happened.
He scratched at his helm, looking at Onslaught with big clueless optics, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief as the other combaticons looked on expectantly, the new weapons all waiting for Swindle’s dollars to release them.
The merchant stood expectantly beside the blasters and cannons, a familiar greedy light in his eyes as he eyed the Cybertronians in front of him. His smile strained at the corners the longer the deal went on.
“I’m sorry, Boss, I don’t have the money.” Swindle weakly said. His voice cracked on the last words, the reality striking him dumb.
“What do you mean?” Onslaught asked, a sharp edge to his voice.
The visors of the others all turned to him, and Swindle felt condensation dripping down his back plates.
“I-I mean, I’m tapped out. I ain’t got no money.” Swindle replied honestly.
Vortex snorted derisively, always the first to cast doubt. “What? Leave your credits at home again?” the rotary mocked.
“Yeah Swin, we covered you last time, you agreed to pay for it.” Brawl dogpiled on.
Swindle glanced nervously at Brawl’s servos as he cracked his knuckles, gulping, “I was gonna pay for it, honest, but Boss,” He said turning to Onslaught, “I don’t have any money.”
His optics filled with pleading as Onslaught stared silently down at him. It felt so awkward to be in this position. He always had money, and with that stripped away, he wanted to run away, out into the hills of Afghanistan, never to be seen again.
Onslaught betrayed nothing as Swindle squirmed. He was a second from showing his bank account to prove his innocence, when Onslaught spoke to the merchant.
“Can you put a hold on these?” Onslaught asked, pointedly turn away from their financier.
Swindle sagged in relief, silently thanking Onslaught. But now, there was going to be bigger problems. Swindle scrambled through his accounts, trying to find where all his money went.
The merchant clasped his hands together in a show of affection that never reached his eyes, “I have someone else who is interested in buying these items. If there is no money in three days, I’ll have to sell them to the other party.”
“That’s fine.” Onslaught said, his attention now back on Swindle.
He looked into Swindle’s panic-stricken optics, the purple bleaching to white at the center. The jeep was fidgeting, pulling on the ends of his digits as his mind was busy working through his finances. The colour was draining from Swindle’s face, going from it’s lively grey to white as the numbers kept coming back to zero.
“You have three days. Get the funds.” Onslaught ordered.
Swindled nodded frantically, his neck practically snapping with the motion, “You got it boss, I’ll get it. Three days. I can do it.” He promised.
“And Swindle,” Onslaught added, “You better not be tricking me.”
For once, Swindle wasn’t.
It took him half a day to get down to the Nemesis and force his way into the accounting office. Blackjack had tried to deny him an appointment but one call to Shockwave, and another to Octane and Swindle was given the royal treatment. He had Blackjack sitting behind his desk, putting punch sheets through readers as Swindle stared him down from the rim of his energon cube. He looked around his cramped office, cigar hanging from his lips as Swindle sneered. He adjusted from his place on Blackjack’s sofa, fluffing a throw pillow aggressively. Blackjack’s desk was stacked high with papers Swindle knew were blank, only set out as props to prover he was working on so hard on things. It was disgusting.
The click of keys turned into a dull drone. The minutes passed and Swindle grew impatient, “Well? Can I get an advance on my pay or what?” Swindle snapped.
Blackjack flicked his optics over to Swindle, glancing back at the pay role sheet, “Your wages are being garnished, I can’t give you an advance.”
“Garnished?” Swindle said in disbelief, “Why are they being garnished? I’m not in debt.”
Swindle had never been in debt his entire time he was with the Decepticons, he made sure of it.
Blackjack’s mouth went tight, his jaw clenching for a second. He sighed from behind his closed lips, a soft frustrated sound, “Well that’s what it says. It says your wages are being garnished because you have a debt to the Decepticon empire.”
“What about my accounts? My money? Who made those transfers?” Who knew about his stash?
The tight frown got tighter. Blackjack offered the machine’s screen to Swindle in lieu of speaking. The glyphs sat blinking and mocking, Skywarp’s petty little signature sitting in the corner of every transfer request, all of them approved by Starscream’s seal.
Suddenly, a drunken night weeks ago appeared in Swindle’s mind. The laughing and music as he drank his fill after a recent victory. His mouth had gotten away from him, and in a moment of drunkenness and stupidity, he got into a pissing contest with some bot. Over money. He’d shown his accounts, all of them over that table, bragging about how much he’d managed to shave and squirrel away from official budgets, and at that table, was Skywarp.
“Frag.” He said, “He musta told screamer about the extra budget funds goin’ inta my wallet and scooped them. But why my wages?”
Blackjack stared at Swindle and the conmech felt stupid for even asking. Right. The command trine was petty.
Swindle growled in frustration, energon going sour in his cube. He leaned over the back of the couch, covering his optics. Onslaught was going to have his helm if he couldn’t get those guns. They’d waited weeks for that deal to line up, and the only reason Onslaught agreed to the weapons upgrades was because Swindle had promised the dosh.
He needed cash now.
‘Oh, JG Wentworth, we’re in for it now.’ Swindle lamented.
Blackjack checked the clock, his field taking on a nervous tinge as he confirmed the hour, “Listen, if this is it, I need you get out of my office. I have another appointment after you, and I can’t keep him waiting.”
“What?” Swindle said, sitting up in offense, “No this isn’t it! My money’s being stolen from me. I need you to fight this, undo the transfers.”
BlackJack’s fists balled under his desk, his optics moving from Swindle to his office door, “I can’t do that. It’s Starscream’s seal. I’d need another member of high command to approve it.”
“Awe c’mon Blackjack, can’t ya just do it for me? Like old times.” Swindle smiled sweetly, fluttering his optic lids in a pretty display.
Before Blackjack could respond, someone knocked on the office door. The air cooled as Blackjack hissed in distressed at Swindle, “You need to leave right now.”
“They can wait; I need my money Blackjack.” Swindle arrogantly declared.
“And you’ll get it- but you need to-“
Before Blackjack could finish his sentence, the door swung open and Soundwave walked in.
The words died in Blackjack’s throat and Swindle froze, his frame stiffening as that red visor scanned the room.
Their optics met for a second, and Swindle began performing the mental math of how much Soundwave could have heard from outside of the door. The telepath stood in front of Swindle, his presence questioning as he stared down at the combaticon. Swindle smiled, offering his half-drunk cube of energon to the TIC, a frightened smile forcing its way onto his lips, “Ah, hi boss, care for a drink?”
Quietly, Swindle swore he heard a soft chuff from Soundwave. A second later, the telepath’s servo wrapped around the cube, taking it like an offering for a god. He held the cube up to the light, shining the cheap fluorescent light through its translucent surface before giving it back to Swindle and turning to Blackjack’s desk.
“Financial records required; Department under audit.” Soundwave said, his modulated voice grating
Swindle perked up at the words. Another glance from Soundwave, had Swindle sensing the opportunity.
Blackjack scrambled, pulling the prepared files from his desk doors with flourish. “All here, um, Soundwave-sir.” He nervously corrected.
Soundwave said nothing as he collected the files. He looked over the folders, thoroughly checking everything he needed was there.
From behind him, Swindle moved closer, sneaking into the spot near the TIC’s elbow. “Hey um, Boss, you won’t believe this but, I said somethin’ that torqued off Starscream and now he’s unfairly garnishing my pay. Is it possible ya could help me out?”
Soundwave turned his helm, his unblinking visor drilling holes into Swindle’s optics.
Swindle swallowed, feeling a bit of hope rise in his chest at the lack of outright dismissal. He kept his voice small and careful, not willing to squander his chance, “I didn’t do anythin’ bad I promise. I just need a month’s pay; there’s this weapons deal and-“
“Swindle’s monthly pay; how much?” Soundwave interrupted.
“A-about ten grand,” Swindle stuttered.
“Blackjack: transfer fifteen to Swindle from my accounts.” Soundwave ordered.
Keys pressed as Blackjack got to work. A ping hit Swindle’s coms a second later, informing him of the transfer.
Swindle lit up, his optics flashing in surprised delight, “Really? Oh, thank you Boss, you really saved my plating.”
He wanted to leap at Soundwave, kiss the toes of his pedes. Swindle went to do as such, arms spread wide, when a servo was held up to his face.
“Money: not free. Swindle: owes me favor.” Soundwave clarified.
Swindle nodded along, “Sure boss, anything you need, I’ll get it done.”
Soundwave’s visor glinted at Swindle’s words and suddenly the conmech felt nervous. “My quarters: tonight at 9pm, we will discuss details. Use this door code.”
The four-digit pin appeared in a com that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Swindle blinked, committing the sequence to memory, his helm turning into a bobble as he stepped away. “9pm, I’ll be there.”
“Be discrete.” Soundwave ordered and left.
Swindle watched the telepath go, his helm still going with its own momentum. He was stuck nodding stupidly at nothing as alarm bells rang in his helm. This was too easy. Two sentences, and he was given more than he asked for? Oh, Swindle was in for it. This was gift horse he was staring right into the mouth of. Whatever Soundwave wanted, Swindle knew it would have to be big, and he was dreading it.
When 9pm rolled around, Swindle found him in the hallway leading to the command quarters. His helm on a swivel for any mech that would question why he was here, after hours, scuttling to Soundwave’s room like a mistress trying not to get caught by the wife. He walked fast, ducking around corners to avoid others as he made his way discreetly to Soundwave’s room. He punched in the door code and the lock clicked open.
Swindle tried to force himself to breath, but his nerves only strung tighter. What was so scary? It was just the third in command waiting for him, oh and he owed him money. Money he could not pay back right now for an unspecified favor. A favor being discussed at 9pm in his private quarters, alone. Yeah, Swindle had put together the pieces rather quickly on what that favor was going to be, and yeah, he had never pegged Soundwave as the type.
“Swindle: coming in?” Soundwave’s voice said from above him, causing Swindle to jump.
“Yes boss!” He called, turning to rush into the room.
Soundwave stepped aside, letting the door lock behind them as Swindle shuffled his way through Soundwave’ s quarters, pointedly stopping to stare at the open berthroom door. Soundwave observed him, quietly amused as Swindle whistled and flatter the décor, optics casting back constantly to his private berthroom until Swindle couldn’t stand it anymore.
“So- uh, we talkin’ here or in the berth room?” Swindle nervously asked.
Soundwave leaned against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest, “No preference.”
Swindle swallowed, “Right. Berth?” He put on a watery smile that shook at the corners.
Soundwave nodded, following silently behind Swindle.
Swindle tried to move like he wasn’t attending a death march. He made an effort to pick his pedes up high as he crawled onto Soundwave’s berth, turning over onto his back. He batted his optics, peering up at Soundwave in a demure pose. “How do you want me?”
He’d already taken the money; the least Swindle could do was commit to it.
Soundwave stepped closer, until his pelvis was at the edge of the berth. “Swindle: can decide.” He intoned.
Swindle’s servo twitched involuntarily. The smile on his face twitched as he began the awkward move of scooting back down the berth, closer to where he could grab at Soundwave.
“I ain’t got a preference but you, Big strong powerful bot like you, nothing you know negative bouta bot like you, the cold silent thing works for ya boss, honest, I think I know what’ll please ya.” Swindle rambled.
He punctuated his point with a few taps to Soundwave’s spike modesty panel. “I’ve been told I’ve got a real gift when it comes to gab, I wouldn’t mind gettin’ your opinion on it.” Swindle joked.
He smiled, waiting expectantly, but hardly even the stir of fans was heard from Soundwave. Swindle’s smile began to dip, and a deep desperation began to grip his spark. Swindle reached out, tugging Soundwave’s hips closer. He traced over the buttons above his array, dipping digits into seams, putting his lips to open joints to suck on wires, anything he could touch. When that didn’t work, Swindle stopped what he was doing to look up into Soundwave’s visor. He clung around his waist, helm pressing just off to the left of his spike, lips pouting. A perfect show of horny fragility Swindle had seen plenty of mechs swoon over, “Pretty please?” He cooed, his voice a practiced sugary sweetness.
Soundwave huffed. His spike released and Swindle suppressed the urge to gawk. That thing, it wasn’t a spike. It was a fat club with spikes on the end of it. It was at least as thick as four of Swindle’s digits and twice as long. Swindle swallowed for a whole new reason. He felt his valve clench in fear and anticipation. He needed to get Soundwave off with just a blowie, because that thing, that monster of a spike, was never going to fit into his premium suite.
He covered his fear with another smile, tentatively reaching out to stroke down the shaft. The organ gave a slight twitch under his touch but remained soft. Swindle gave it another few good strokes before he put his mouth on it.
The metal tasted clean, Swindle’s nose caught the subtle scent of Soundwave’s soap as it clung to the base of his spike. He lapped at the underside, wetting the metal and sucking on the sensitive nodes and sensor strips that lined the underside. He gave each sensor special attention, blowing cool air over his spit to send a jolt through Soundwave’s systems. when he’d gone up and down the shaft, Swindle gave the crown of Soundwave’s spike a kiss, dipping his tongue into the slit to taste a hint of his transfluid. He looked up at Soundwave was triumphant eyes when Soundwave’s spike stood on its own, and the soft sound of fans filtered into Swindle’s audials.
“How’s that boss?” Swindle asked.
“Do not call me that.”
“Okay.”
“Keep going.”
He dipped back to the spike, committing to sucking it into his mouth. He tongued over the ring of short spikes that separated the head from the shaft like a dog collars. The girth stretched Swindle’s mouth, making drool pool and spill over his lips in thin strings. He sucked, slurping some of his spit back into his mouth, creating a nice suction effect around Soundwave’s spike. Under his servos, Swindle felt Soundwave’s hips twitch slightly at the sensation.
Swindle did it again, sucking and moving his helm back and forth on Soundwave’s spike, feeling the spikes rub into the top of his mouth. He lost himself in the sensation of it, feeding more of Soundwave’s spike into his mouth until it stretched his jaw to an achy, uncomfortable degree.
His servos wrapped around the base, spreading his spit until his servos could properly glide across the metal, practically giving Soundwave a spit polish as he did. Soundwave let out the occasional hard puff of air as he fought to keep his hips still, not pushing or pulling at Swindle to get closer. Soundwave was clearly content to let the conmech do his work and enjoy.
In all honesty, it wasn’t bad, just a little quieter than the partner’s Swindle typically liked.
The problem was, even after fifteen minutes of head, Soundwave wasn’t finishing. He wasn’t even close to it.
Swindle had went from kneeling by the edge of the berth, to resting on his elbows, to dragging Soundwave onto the berth to lay down as he fit himself between his legs, mouth stuffed with Soundwave’s spike. Drool had thoroughly seeped into the button housings, and Swindle’s face was become a flushed mess. The little spikes had rubbed the roof of mouth raw and Swindle was starting to think he’d always have the taste of titanium on his tongue.
He pulled off Soundwave’s spike, looking at it in personal offense. It stood stiffly, the same as the start, just wet now. “I promise, I’ve never had this problem before.” Swindle swore.
Soundwave didn’t say anything. He stayed laying back, corpse like on the bed. The only hint of his enjoyment being the fact his spike wasn’t recessed into his housing. “Swindle’s technique:fine.” He said, the monotone breaking.
Swindle flinched, giving Soundwave’s spike a few strokes with his aching wrists. Primus, just fine? Soundwave might as well have told him to kill himself. Maybe he couldn’t get off without penetrating something. Swindle looked at Soundwave’s spike in trepidation. He’d never fit it, and it’d be a painful experience to try, especially when he was the furthest thing from turned on right now.
Maybe, if he could-
“Swindle: come here.”
Swindle’s thoughts were promptly cut off by Soundwave’s command. The jeep quickly scrambled up the berth, planting himself on the spot Soundwave motioned to beside his helm. He sat primly, his big purple optics blinking in surprise as Soundwave sat up and pointed at the spot he’d been lying down.
“Lie here.”
Swindle slid into place. Servos reached out and manipulated his limbs, pushing thighs into servos to be held until Swindle was on his back, lifting his pedes in the air, valve pointing up wards. Swindle marvelled at how broad Soundwave’s frame looked from this angle when the next order came.
“Release: valve modesty panel.”
Dammit, Swindle hated being right. That wasn’t true, but in this instance it was.
Swindle gritted his dente and pulled back the cover for his valve. The lubricant was minimal, what was there to maintain the part, but nothing indicating arousal, or even a willingness to engage in coupling. It was damn embarrassing.
“Sorry, it takes me a bit to get aroused. Maybe if you-“
Soundwave didn’t care to listen to the rest. His face mask snapped away, revealing a handsome jaw and thin lips, and a second later, Swindle felt them against his valve.
The act pulled a surprised ‘Oh!’ from Swindle’s lips, Soundwave’s warm mouth kissing and nibbling on the outer mesh with surprising care. Swindle let his helm fall back, lifting his legs slightly higher to let Soundwave work. He relaxed, letting the gentle sensations wash over him as Soundwave moved from the other mesh to lick at his anterior node in a way that Swindle’s hips squirming.
“Oh, yes! Yes, right there. That’s so good.” He praised, practically shoving his valve into Soundwave’s face.
Soundwave let out a pleased rumble, dipping his tongue inside the first ring of quivering calipers. Swindle moaned, dropping one leg to greedily reach for the back of Soundwave’s helm and force him in deeper.
Soundwave let him, nestling in the new spots, Swindle directed him too, giving each node a healthy dose of attention. He buried himself in sensations, slipping his tongue inside, sucking on Swindle’s bright anterior node as his helm was yanked back and forth. His jaw grew sore, but the erection between his legs only grew harder.
Swindle kept him there, demanding overload after overload. His legs shaking after each one, and yet still, demanding Soundwave stay. Soundwave let him, indulging in the mechs greed. Another wave of arousal crashed into Soundwave and Soundwave finally let out his own soft moans when he came undone.
When he finally pulled away, Swindle whined. The conmechs valve was puffy and swollen, coated with a sheen of lubricant as it twitched helplessly, begging silently for Soundwave to keep touching it. Swindle helpfully reached down to splay the outer mesh lips to show off his eager inner workings in an attempt to coax Soundwave into touching more.
“One more, c’mon can I overload one more time? You’re so good, I want to keep going.” Swindle begged.
Soundwave looked at the tempting display and snapped his facemask back in place, “Negative, favor still needs to be discussed.”
The words were a bucket of ice water to Swindle’s after glow. His frame stiffened as he looked up at Soundwave in horror, “You mean, you didn’t want this from me?”
He’d done this for free?
Soundwave nodded, “Swindle: assumed. Favor: something else entirely.”
“But it’s 9pm, it’s your quarters. You said-” Swindle cut himself off. Soundwave hadn’t said anything. He’d just invited him in and followed Swindle’s lead. Oh god, he really had just assumed and done it for free.
Soundwave chuckled, a dark menacing sound. “Swindle: short sighted. This is how Starscream was able to steal your funds. Swindle: fool, and amusing.”
Swindle felt his spark sink. Motherfucker. This was officially the worst hook up he’d ever had.
“Assertion: correct.” Soundwave said, “Swindle: worst hook up Soundwave has ever had. Previous Partners appreciated his ‘fat club’ perhaps next time, Swindle can learn to appreciate it in his premium suite?”
Soundwave’s visor glinted in mischief and Swindle couldn’t help but laugh. Damn, he’d really gotten played.
“Alright then, tell me what’s ya favor.”
Soundwave straightened up, getting off the berth in one fluid motion, a stark contrast to the wobbly legs Swindle found himself on.
“First, details. Then, execution.”
Swindle smiled, saluting his new partner’s back, “You got it boss, anything for you.”
For now at least, and then maybe again in the future. He still owed him money after all.