Trigger Warning: non-con in the sense of unwanted sexual attention; nothing graphic!
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– starship Fool's Fortune –
"How long will it take to reach the rendezvous?"
"About a chord, possibly a chord and a half."
"I suggest we take a brief reprieve at one of the Stations. We're in need of some supplies."
"And fuel!"
Doubledealer leans back in his chair, tapping his chin. While he doesn't want to waste more time than necessary delivering his current employer's package, he can't very well deny his crew or his ship of their own necessities. He shrugs and replies...
"Fine. The mech's been waiting for millenia, he can wait a little while longer."
They plot a course for the closest Station, approximately sixty-five space miles away from their current location. When they arrive, they park their starship at one of the refueling stations, and all but Doubledealer deboard. A couple mechs remain by the ship, manually checking the exterior systems and tending to any damages, while the rest of the crew wander off to grab supplies and do whatever else they want.
Honestly, Doubledealer doesn't care what his crew gets up to, so long as it doesn't impede a job, or worse, draw attention from the Autobots.
Doubledealer sighs and shakes his helm. Thinking of that faction just rubs him the wrong way, seeing them as nothing more than goody-goody hypocrites. At least work wouldn't have become such a hassle if anyone else was in charge. Speaking of which...
"Might as well see how our precious cargo is holding up. Can't deliver damaged goods."
The mercenary rises from his seat and ventures into the depths of his ship. A hallway here, a corridor there, some twists and turns, a short lift down...
Eventually, Doubledealer finds the door to the room he's looking for, opens it, and steps inside.
"The crew decided to set up shop on a Station for a bit. Would any of you like anything while we're here?"
He then chuckles.
"Oh, right, I forgot..."
Doubledealer turns on his heel and faces a pair of stasis pods secured to the left wall, holding the unconscious forms of Steeljaw and Ramulus.
"You can't hear me."
A clattering of metal-against-metal from behind redirects the mercenary's attention. Smirking, Doubledealer turns back around.
"It's not very becoming of a spy to cause such a ruckus, you know."
"Keep your damn input to yourself!" Phantomjaw snarled, struggling against his restraints.
Doubledealer just laughs, not at all concerned by any threat the black and white Lupicon makes towards him. He walks over, saying...
"I can't believe how temperamental you are right now! The old Phantomjaw I knew would never!"
"I'm still the same as I was before," Phantomjaw argued. "Just because parts of my life are different doesn't mean that I have changed."
"If that's the case, then you wouldn't be here."
Phantomjaw takes an unintentional step back when Doubledealer gets too close. The mercenary notices this and surges forward, his speed and heavy armor providing ample conditions to pin his captive against the wall. Phantomjaw flinches as his bound servos dig into his lower back.
"I know you always had your brother, but come on! You two were never really close to begin with. I wonder what's changed? You said it isn't you, so what else could there possibly be?"
Keeping his frame pressed against his captive, Doubledealer grabs their lower jaw and forces them to look at him.
"Or would it be a who? That tall blue fella you were with looks pretty tough, almost as tough as your brother's mate. And isn't it interesting how you two seem to have the same taste in mechs? Not that I'm one to judge. Like I said, he looks pretty fine to me."
His servo releases Phantomjaw's, well, jaw, and glides down his neck to rest on his collar.
"He must mean a lot to you, considering you sacrificed yourself to make sure he got away."
"He has history with my brother, so the two of us enjoy tormenting him," Phantomjaw explained curtly, determined to not reveal the true extent of his feelings for Thunderhoof to the mercenary.
"That's it?" Doubledealer scoffed.
"That's all I'm telling you. I recommend dropping the subject altogether."
Unfortunately, that isn't where the subject is dropped.
"I thought so," Doubledealer chuckled. "You love that mech, don't you?"
Phantomjaw can't deny it, but he isn't going to directly admit it, either. He leaves himself void of any emotion except irritation as Doubledealer remains standing there, staring at him. The servo on his collar moves onto his shoulder and glides down his arm, stopping at the joint.
Doubledealer suddenly tightens his grip on Phantomjaw, and without warning, presses his flush frame even closer and forcefully kisses his captive.
"Mmm... get... off!" Phantomjaw growled, writhing under the hefty frame that's practically grinding him into the wall.
"I'm just picking up where we left off oh-so-long ago," Doubledealer vented, taking pleasure in being the dominant one this time around. "Tell me, how good of a partner is your mech friend?"
Phantomjaw doesn't take the bait.
"Really? Won't even give me a hint?"
Phantomjaw averts his gaze, refusing to look his abductor and assaulter in the optics. He hears Doubledealer vent, then feels him pull back. Almost immediately after, he feels one of his legs being lifted.
"What are you... OUCH!" Phantomjaw cried.
Pain ripples down his leg, along his waist, and up his flank from where Doubledealer pinched a part of his proto-form where sensitive wires are located. Though, with the pressure he's adding, it feels more like being stabbed. Phantomjaw tries to close his legs, but Doubledealer has an iron grip on the leg he holds.
"Hm, nearly forgot this part is a soft spot for you," Doubledealer hums, then growls when he's interrupted over the commlink. "What is it?"
"Customs, sir. We need to provide registration if we want to leave."
"You've got to be fragging kidding me..."
Doubledealer vents and releases Phantomjaw.
"This better not take long."
He locks the door on his way out and retraces his steps back to the bridge. He changes direction a few hallways down and enters the hangar. From what he can tell, half his crew is back. He spots the pair of mechs responsible for fueling the ship and walks over to them.
"You there! Where are the inspectors or whatever? You told them we wouldn't be staying long, right?"
The mechs come to a halt in their conversation. They look at Doubledealer, then each other.
"What are you talking about, sir?" One mech asks.
"We didn't call you. Maybe you somehow intercepted someone else's frequency?" The second suggests.
This is when Doubledealer knew he fragged-up. He sprinted back into the ship, through the halls, down the lift, and back to the room he was just in, cursing up a storm the whole way. He fell silent just long enough to unlock the door. The second it opened, Doubledealer stomped inside and looked to his right, where Phantomjaw should have been. Now, there's just blank space.
Well, except for the message.
Doubledealer couldn't stop reading it, and he was so distracted that he completely ignored the calls he was receiving from his crew.
Eventually, they all gathered downstairs to see what was keeping Doubledealer.
Then they saw the message.
– Never share your tricks with a spymaster, mother-fragger! –
Lovingly signed by Phantomjaw.