My Kryptonite: Chapter 1

Warnings:Dubcon & possible OCC-ness

It had been several orns since the ambush and the doubts nagging Silverbolt were starting to take their toll.

He and the other Aerialbots had surprised the Combaticons while out on a routine patrol. After all, the moon they had just landed on was orbiting a gas giant out in the farthest reaches of the Milky Way and there wasn't anything out there the Decepticons could want. But the surprise lasted only a moment before Brawl opened fire, badly damaging Slingshot. Somehow during the chaos Silverbolt had captured Onslaught causing the other Combaticons to retreat. And it was from the on that Silverbolt became suspicious. Why had the rest of Onslaught's gestalt abandoned him so quickly? After putting Slingshot out of action, why didn't Onslaught take advantage and form Bruticus? And why, after being taken prisoner, did he not try to escape? In fact, Onslaught had been nothing but a model prisoner from the moment he'd been captured. The Combaticon had been downright pleasant to him ever since he'd been taken prisoner, even becoming downright chummy with the lead Aerialbot. It just didn't fit his Decepticon counterpart. Unless…

Unless Onslaught wanted to be captured. Then it would explain the other Combaticons' withdraw and his docile behavior. But that only made Silverbolt wonder what Onslaught planned to do after being captured. And the cunning bastard had to have a plan, because that's just how Onslaught functioned. He always had some devious scheme hidden up his metaphoric sleeve. But what could it be?!

When they had brought him to Earth, both Red Alert and Ratchet had run scans over the Combaticon. And they both found negative results for hidden bombs, viruses, Cosmic Rust, and a myriad of other surprises. There were no handy ports or access points to allow a prisoner to hack Teletraan-1. As long as he was in the brig, Onslaught was unable to do anything more threatening then just sit and make small talk with whoever was on guard duty.

And guarding the Combaticon had become a job which Silverbolt decided to make his own, devoting all his time and energy to watching Onslaught, only relinquishing his post to go refuel and attempt to recharge. That was why Smokescreen was standing by the cell door, shuffling his feet and rapping his fingers against his arm as Silverbolt came back to resume his vigil.

“It's about slagging time!” barked the Datsun with mock despair. “I was afraid I'd miss poker night…”

“Has he said anything?”

“Not a thing. He's just sat there. Staring...” Smokescreen paused then added. “Oh, wait. He did ask if you were alright.”

Silverbolt raised an optic ridge. “Really? Is that all?”

“That's it. Now may I go?”

He nodded absently, barely catching the hasty goodbye. Silverbolt's thoughts were now focused entirely on the mech in the cell. Onslaught had been asking about him? That was…strange.

“Has he gone?”

Silverbolt jerked around to stare at the Combaticon now standing behind him. The closeness of the other mech was uncomfortable, even with a force field separating them. He took a small step back, trying his best not to show just how unnerved he was by Onslaught. “Yes. He's gone.”

“Good.” He moved a bit closer. “Did you rest well?”

“Yes,” Silverbolt replied stiffly, edging away some more.

“Liar.” Onslaught's tone was disturbingly friendly. “You haven't had a decent recharge since my capture. And I know exactly why that is…” He moved forward, stopping barely millimeters from the field. When Silverbolt retreat even further back, Onslaught laughed. “What are you afraid of? See?” He pressed his fingers against the field. “I can't touch you. You've got nothing to fear.”

“I'm not afraid of you,” he snarled, walking right up to the field so they were now dangerously close.

“Then why do you keep backing away?” Another cold laugh. “Do I make you nervous? Or does guarding me excite you? Makes you feel so strong… so in control…”

Silverbolt leveled a glare at him. “What are you planning, Onslaught?”

“Haven't you figured it out yet?” When Silverbolt only continued to glare at him, he shrugged. “Alright then. As Swindle's say, let's make a deal: I'll tell you exactly what my plan is on one simple condition.”

“What's the condition?”

Onslaught's hand moved down the field as if caressing at Silverbolt. “You let me fuck you.”

For a long time, Silverbolt stared blankly at the other mech. Then his lip curled in disgust. “Are you serious?”

“I'm always serious.” Behind the face mask, Silverbolt could swear he was grinning. “You wouldn't be the first Autobot to take liberties with a prisoner…”

“Those are filthy lies!” he snapped angrily. “Unlike you Decepticons, we don't do that to our prisoners.”

“Fine…” Onslaught turned away. “Then I guess you'll never get your answer…”

Silverbolt groaned aloud, frustrated as to what to do. He wouldn't…he couldn't stoop to that level… But trying to figure the Combaticon out was literally making him sick. It was an impossible choice: Betray his principles or drive himself mad. Finally, he made his choice…

~ ~ ~

“Overpowered in the struggle and offlined by a hidden stunner.”

That was what Red Alert told them when he brought Silverbolt to the med-bay. It really was the perfect explanation, especially since there had been a major glitch in the surveillance cameras during that time so there was nothing to prove or disprove the story. A stunner hit would explain the total system overload and it was only natural to assume that the minor damage came from a brief but desperate fight to stop Onslaught from escaping.

Of course, it was all a lie, but Silverbolt was too ashamed to confess. He should've known Onslaught wouldn't keep his end of the bargain. How could he have been so stupid? He should've known the slagger would leave him laying there, deep in recharge on the cell berth. And what made it even worse, even knowing that he'd been used like a cheap pleasure drone, Silverbolt actually wanted more…

He wanted to feel those arms wrapping around his body again, crushing him tightly against the heavily armored body. He wanted the fingers delving into every gap and seam in his armor, the firm grip on his wings as he was slammed down onto the floor. Oh, how he wanted to feel those pulses ripping through his systems again as Onslaught brought him screaming into an overload…

Silverbolt had still been in recharge mode, ports open just as Onslaught had left him, when Red Alert found him. At first, he'd been absolutely terrified at being discovered in such a state but the security officer had seen everything. The other mech had been unexpectedly sympathetic to Silverbolt's dilemma, telling not to worry, he's “take care of things”.

But, despite everything that Red Alert had done for him, Silverbolt still couldn't get over the guilt and the rage. The moment he was released from the med bay, he had gone straight to his quarters and spent at least a cycle scrubbing himself nearly down to bare metal in the wash rack. He still felt dirty when came out again and was about to collapse on the berth when he happened to see a datapad propped on his desk. It hadn't been there when Silverbolt had stepped into the wash rack. Hesitantly, he picked up, reading the hasty but precise scrawl with a dull surprise.

“Silverbolt,” ran the brief message. “You kept you end of the bargain. Now I'll keep mine. The plan was to seduce you. Nothing more, nothing less. And I cannot overstate my satisfaction with how well things worked out. Until we met again, Onslaught.”