Warning: Mature scene in this chapter of a sexual nature.

Chapter 6: Momentary Freedom

His luck was absolutely terrible.

Though, he had actually managed to get the whole way to the battle field, to rage, to rip and to hate all he wanted. He didn’t want to talk about his emotions, his suffering, and his faults. He wanted to be strong. Not weak and helpless… the second born. Too bad, just as he was about to rush forward and meet the line of Decepticon’s with a square punch to the face, a white arm lashed out and the next thing he knew he was pulled behind the main line by a very angry Prowl.

“What are you doing here?” demanded the tactician in his usual professional tone, though Sunny could tell that the cruiser was eyeing every visible inch of Sunstreaker. Probably seeing if he was injured. It was undoubtedly a widespread rumor by now that Sunstreaker was confined to Ratchet’s care… and that he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this battlefield.

“To fight,” added Sunstreaker quickly not wanting to blurt out the truth, blood and pleasure. “I’m an Autobot!”

“An off duty Autobot who was left to Ratchet’s care,” added Prowl as he quickly looked over the battlefield, searching for said medic. “Which means you are not supposed to be here. I’d discipline you for insubordination but that’s not my choice right now, its Ratchet’s.”

Sunstreaker felt his rage rise and pulled his arm away. He was about to yell at the tactician about minding his own business when a well-aimed shot hit the ground a yard or two from their location, Prowl and him were separated by a spray of dirt. Noticing an advantage when he saw one, Sunny didn’t remain to help Prowl to his feet or whine about his paint getting dirty. He just wanted … relief. Instead, he ran into the fray kick a Decepticon in the chest, Prowl yelling behind him through the smoke and dust.

“Sunstreaker!”

Sunny knew he’d pay for this; the tactician was already pissed about when he slammed him into the wall, but he’d suffer the consequences later. He had just spotted what he wanted across the battlefield…

…

Sunstreaker’s spark lurched and his tanks turned, his optics desperately searching the landscape for an opening so he could get to his pain medication: Megatron. He knew it was wrong, his Autobot programming was screaming he should be doing anything else but this. He should be taking down a flier, relieve his superior –Prowl- of his worry and do as he was told, shoot some poor slagger in the aft, but no… he knew he was not going to fight today or listen to a superior. He was in pain and he needed to get away.

Finally spotting an opening, Sunstreaker got to his feet and started to run towards the Deception’s side and up the hill where Megatron was located. He knew this was stupid, that any minute now Prime would probably be up the hill as well, challenging the warlord to a one on one scrimmage.

He ran through the fray of bullets and gunfire nonetheless. He was running for peace, for release, though it didn’t seem as such to the ones around him. As far as everyone else was concerned, Sunstreaker was running for cover from the Seekers’ barrage on the battlefield. Some, such as First Aid, Prowl, or Ratchet, would think that he was running from them. In truth, they probably were all correct in way or the other, but in Sunny’s mind he only had one objective: a release from pain.

Megatron.

He knew that he was ripped up slightly in his port and that he should be thinking about anything but trying to get behind the main line and locate the cause of his injury, but suffering and pain were not, in fact, the same thing. The thought of Sideswipe’s new lover, of his near rape by his own brother, the revelation to the whole base that he was the second born, his breakdown in the medical bay, and the mental examination; it was easy to say that he as suffering. Megatron was pain. Pain wasn’t always a bad thing. It reminded you that you were alive.

And Megatron was the first one to make him feel alive in a long time.

There was just war, rage, and his brother. He had never had such a release, a completeness. When his spark grasped Megatron, he felt something new; something he thought only belonged to his brother. He liked it. It felt familiar, and he was claimed all at the same time as if he now was a possession, wanted. He needed to feel that rush so he could keep it deep inside and maybe, maybe, he could use it to get through his torture that was his false brother.

Stalling halfway up the huge incline of grass which belonged to the dam, vents heaving, he smiled. Not a hungry or lusty grin, but one of relief like he was meeting an old lover who held continued affections, the one that had gotten away.

There he was, Megatron, standing on top of the hill near the dam’s main control room, the humans since retreated and the energon being cubed a few yards away. The warlord was watching over them like a hawk and was probably waiting to do his usual tango with Prime.

Yet, despite the promise release, Sunstreaker’s hand became a fist. The slagger was now inside him, soiling him as he absorbed the other mech’s nanites, defiling his title of Autobot, the cause of banishment of his brother’s bond, so why would he want more inside him? Perhaps it was just a physical need of his spark, the want to stabilize… Yes, that was it, and something to dull the burn of hate and pain inside him. He’d frag the warlord here on the battlefield if he had to. He just needed five minutes. Just five minutes and perhaps he could live the next few days pain free, absent.

Feet suddenly feeling heavy, he struggled to place one in front of the other. He was going to climb up the remainder of this incline and tell the slagger he didn’t care if everyone on this battlefield though he was being raped. He needed relief. He needed it now.

He barely even got to the top of the hill thought when he found himself having a gun pressed into his back, his intake freezing in shock.

He offline his optics and cursed himself with every human curse word he could think of. He had been so one-minded he forgot the most important thing about Megatron: he was surrounded by Decepticons. Slowly onlining his optics, he turned his head slightly to see a flash of blue. He should have known. Where ever Megatron was, Soundwave was never far behind.

“Diagnosis: badly planned assassination plan,” stated the mech as he pressed the gun roughly into Sunny’s back. The Communications Specialist knew that Megatron enjoyed the interface he had gotten from this particular Autobot the other day, but today wasn’t in some no-man’s desert, it was on the battle field. On the battlefield there were no lovers, only soldiers and Sunstreaker was still an Autobot. Sunny raised his hands, trying to be docile though he had a gun to his back. It took a lot of self- control not to yell out profanities, instead stating, “I just want to talk to Megatron before Optimus gets up here.”

Opening up his telepathic connection towards the ‘Bot to see the truth, he immediately recoiled. Sunstreaker’s mind was in complete shambles when it came to emotions. Emotions were hard for the ‘Con and that was one reason he hated his ability of being an telepath; he just didn’t understand emotions. There was want there, no doubt about that, but also hate and rage and regret. It was hard to say which emotions would be enacted at his glorious leader, but it was easy to tell that all that energy was directed at the gun-former.

Soundwave knew he had to be careful about this, but neither would he deny Megatron the sight of his little, interface model. Sunstreaker was the only reason they were attacking the dam as a full force today and winning. Megatron had a clarity and a drive he hadn’t had in months… a pompous pride was helping him win this battle. Maybe his lord should get laid more often.

Pressing the buttons on his chest he stated, “Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy: release.”

Immediately, all the cassettes popped out of the tape-rack’s chest and transformed, landing with gapping expressions that soon became snide smiles. The twins automatically laughed, and quickly both ran up and kicked Sunny in the shin, earning a growl from the Autobot but nothing more.

“Wo, boss-bot. You caught one of the front-liners. You want us to watch you offline him?” snicker Rumble as he eyed the hellion. He was going to enjoy this.

“Negative,” stated the blue mech as he pressed the gun deeper into Sunny’s back, forcing him to walk the last few yards towards the warlord that had yet to notice what was happening behind him. “You are backup. It will be Megatron’s decision.”

“You going to let him execute the mean slagger in front of the other Auto-dorks?” added Frenzy. “Great idea, boss bot. Let’s watch the Auto-slag cry!”

Soundwave, noticing the waves of hate radiating off the sun-colored mech, said nothing. It was a short walk to Megatron but he didn’t need the front-liner turning on him. Sunstreaker was renowned for a reason: he was mean.

Strangely, the ‘Con didn’t get to see that renowned truth with the few minutes it took to get the slagger up to Megatron. His voice, emotionless as possible, called out his leader’s title, “Lord Megatron: Autobot apprehended trying to sneak up behind you. Directives as to what to do with Autobot?”

The warlord turned with a cold glare, his red orbs making Sunstreaker’s spark skip. In lust or fear, Sunstreaker wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered. The cold gaze quickly turned into a surprised one, even a hurt one.

“Ah… Sunstreaker,” stated Megatron, his feet heavy as he walked over the hostage. “Not the Autobot I was expecting. I certainly wanted to see you again… but not like this. It seems that our night in the desert was a onetime thing, yes?”

Sunstreaker, not knowing how else to convince the warlord that he had, indeed, come to be conquered, pulled an arm free from the blue mech and immediately ran said hand over the larger mech’s groin. Soundwave immediately let go of the golden warrior, his mind suddenly getting why Sunny wanted Megatron. It sure the pit wasn’t so he could shoot the Decepticon; he wanted angry interfacing.

Ravage, meanwhile, choked and the two twins gasped, echoing everyone else’s thoughts, “He just molested Megatron!”

Then there was silence amongst the cassettes, looks of horror covering their faces, Ravage even going so far as to cover his face with a paw. This is why they needed to be an escort, to witness something none of them should ever see? Megatron, for Primus sake, already had a lecherous grin on his face, grabbed the sun-colored warrior by the arm. He slammed the smaller mech against his chassis, growled, and stated in a lustrous voice, “I know I said I wanted to do this again with you… but right now really isn’t the time.”

Sunstreaker paid his growl no mind, his hand already trying to reach between the war lord’s legs and release the latches to the cod piece. His voice breathy and desperate as he stated, “I want it now! I don’t care if everyone on this field sees and thinks you’re raping me. I … want … you … to… take … me!”

He made his want even more evident when he started grinding against the other, groaning into the titan’s audio. It was so raunchy that Soundwave actually seemed embarrassed, grabbing his two youngest cassettes and pushing them towards the hill, telling them to go to the battlefield. Ravage also turned, ready to leave as well, face flush with energon, but Megatron’s raspy voice caused them all to stall.

“S-stop,” he could barely get out, his systems already turned on by Sunstreaker’s desperation.

Did he need to be saved from this sex fiend?

“I-I need a look out. Prime’s bound to be n-nearby. I-I’m going over to the building, o-out of sight,” choked Megatron, his cod piece falling into the grass and hungry fingers dipping into the revealed equipment, the fingers quickly finding the port and nearly making the gun-former fall to his knees.

Ravage whined and turned his back, Soundwave coughed, saluting, and turning his back as well, thoughts jumbled. He didn’t know that Megatron liked it in the port or even liked a lover touching his port. He was certain, in fact, that his lord didn’t like anyone touching his port. That was why Megatron usually only got femmes for lovers… they normally didn’t stick anything in his port.

Port tightening around the pumping fingers and lips greedily grabbed his own, stifling any moans, Megatron recognized that Sunstreaker wanted him here, right now. As much as he’d love to have a gapping audience, he didn’t need Prime rushing up the hill and ruining all of this. Also, he was sure that he had better be getting the upper hand to his before he ended up being on the bottom, his port being slammed into.

He was never the recessive one in interfacing.

Grabbing Sunstreaker’s arms so harshly, the yellow mech pulled away with a hiss. Megatron quickly forced the yellow mech towards the building, slamming him up against the back of one of the stone walls. Sunstreaker grunted, growling as his paint was scrapped.

“Don’t scratch the paint,” whined Sunstreaker as Megatron started to suck on a neck cable, hands fumbling for the latches to his claim. The cod piece fell into the grass below and fingers soon were fondling Sunstreaker. The yellow warrior didn’t even put up a fight, making himself the recessive as his cord slid below. He wanted Megatron’s port so badly, but he also wanted to be protected, held. He wanted to have his port belong to another lover besides Sideswipe. “Playing rough… demands some sacrifices,” grunted Megatron as he started to get down on his knees, ready to use his tongue. Maybe he’d even give the spike some attention. Sunstreaker was wet, but it felt… thin.

Tightening, not wanting the pleasure to end if Megatron was put off by the thought of his partner being ripped and bleeding, grabbed Megatron by his neck and raised him up trailing kisses all the way from the top of his helm to his chest. He then raised his head back up, stating, “We don’t want Prime interrupting. Hurry up and fill me.”

Megatron raised a brow, optics going dim. He was great with his tongue and it was obvious that Sunstreaker needed this attention right more than he did. Usually, he wouldn’t care about an Autobot’s feelings but given last night when they were together and the sun colored mech’s desperation today, it was obvious that he was getting a repeated lover.

He didn’t want it to be bad for Sunstreaker. He had meant what he said, he was good to his lovers, and he did recall that Sunstreaker had probably bled according to their size difference last time. Chuckling, he sank back down, purring, “I don’t want you to be dry. Just relax. I’m sure Soundwave has his cassettes annoying Prime as we speak.”

…

Elsewhere…

“Time to dance, Prime,” cackled Rumble, Optimus struggling to keep his balance along with a nearby Inferno.

Frenzy wince, grabbing onto his twin’s waist to keep his balance, “Why do we hav’ to take on the Prime? Meg’s should be down here; not up there doing… stuff.”

The two twins wince at the thought, not innocent but still young enough that they thought it disgusting. They didn’t really want to know who their boss’s boss was fragging.

Rumble nodded, stating, “Yea’ bro, which is why I’d rather take on the Prime. It keeps me from thinking about … stuff.”

…

Sunny was about to protest more when suddenly he felt hot breath on his lions. He then felt the soft- metallic steel of lips kissing him around his entrance nearly make his knees fall out. He even felt Megatron flick his tongue a few times, tasting his port and even being kind enough to kiss his spike tenderly. He had wanted this to be rough and hard, but this was … nice.

Until Megatron drew away, looking up at him.

“The bleeding is more than I expected. Perhaps we can play another time, my little Autobot? I don’t wish to rip you up anymore,” stated the warlord, optic turning to the side for a moment as a loud explosion echoed over the field. He was even about to rise and check on the battle.

Sunstreaker caught the scent of abandonment and desperately clawed at his lover’s shoulders, pushing the warlord down. He knew it was a dumb action, especially when the mech growled at him, but his voice was frantic despite himself, “Please… don’t leave me too. I thought you wanted me.”

The titan stalled, shocked. His young Autobot didn’t want to merely fuck… he needed to feel wanted, to be fulfilled. Megatron was not the kindest mech but he considered himself a kind lover. He liked the young mech, like his tightness, like his rage and lust, and enjoyed his spark. The Autobots didn’t know what they had… and they might not know much longer. It seemed that night together had affected the younger mech more than Megatron thought. After all, Sunstreaker was coming to him for comfort.

… He generally didn’t recruit his men by seducing them, but if he did get Sunstreaker to convert to the right side, it didn’t mean the youth had to be a soldier. Warlords were allowed concubines.

Smiling at the thought of always having a warm berth and something to stick his girth into whenever he was in the mood, he smiled lustily and lowered himself once more, huskily stating, “Of course I want you, young lover. Just tell me if it hurts. I told you once: I don’t hurt my lovers… unnecessarily.”

Sunstreaker actually gasped as a wet glossa entered his port and started doing godly things.

In, out.

In, out.

Around the port and a soft suck.

In, out.

In, out.

Megatron hadn’t even been down there a minute when Sunstreaker’s knees gave out, and he started to slide down the wall, whimpering when the gun-former pulled out from the crook between his legs.

“You taste wonderful. I don’t mind a little blood… it just allows me to taste you in more ways than one. Now, put your knees over my shoulders and … enjoy,” stated the gray mech as he placed hands underneath Sunstreaker’s aft to stop him from sliding all the way to the ground. He then tugged behind one knee, forcing Sunny to slowly position himself so all his weight was on his back against the wall and on Megatron’s shoulders.

Giving Sunstreaker one more wicked smile, he dived in and Sunstreaker howled as if he had been shot. Soundwave actually ran around the building’s corner only to have his visor go bright and stiffly walk away. Megatron pulled away and bared his teeth, taking one hand off Sunstreaker’s aft and growling, “Suck… we don’t need Prime hearing you.”

Sunny whimpered but quickly took some of the fingers into his mouth, sucking violently in tune with the tongue’s prying. Megatron purred at the enthusiastic response and went back down, tongue flicking in and out of the port once more, silkily penetrating the port and pulling away to run his tongue over the top of the spike making Sunstreaker howl once more, but at least it was muffled this time.

A few more yowls and Megatron gave one more arousing suck over the port before he pulled away, shifting Sunstreaker so that his legs were now removed from Megatron’s shoulders and placed on the gray mech’s hips as he rose to a standing position.

He gave a wicked grin and whispered, “You’re nice and wet now. Hold on for the ride.”

He didn’t even give Sunny time to speak when he pressed his mouth over the other and started to twist his tongue into the yellow mech’s mouth making his gasping sound muffled. A deadened yowl was followed after as Megatron started to slide in, not forcing it. It took a little longer than last time, dragging it out, and Sunstreaker certainly was not helping as he tried to make the penetration hard, especially when they started to position just right for Sunstreaker to enter him. The warlord barked at that, when Sunny finally entered him, glad for the lip lock as his port greedily started sucking on the offered cord. He even started to moan. Once they were both acceptably penetrated, Megatron had to let the kiss break, panting into the other’s neck.

Sunstreaker actually had to chuckle, whispering, “Maybe next time you let me be on top.”

Megatron growled into his throat and then, to make his point, he pulled out partially and slammed back in, making Sunstreaker gasp. After that, Sunny allowed the warlord to set the pace. It wasn’t as violent as the last time, but the more heated the interfacing got, the more it seem that the warlord was fucking him in tune to the sound of explosions around them.

Despite the pings of pain from time to time when Megatron would re-enter, the pleasure was winning out, and Sunstreaker soon found himself holding on tight for the ride and trying his hardest not to yell out in pleasure though he was sure the battle field would drown out his cries. Nonetheless, he was finally able to speak.

“Fill all of me… p-please,” whimpered Sunny, his spark oddly demanding it as he drew closer and closer to a sweet release from his emotions, from his pains, from his brother, from everything.

Another grunt escaped the larger mech as he continued to pump as fast as this position he was in would allow, growled, “As satisfying as that sound my little fuck-toy, hh-has no one ever told you that gun-n-fire and b-bared sparks don’t mix?”

Sunny meowed as the warlord slammed a little harder into him, the pace picking up as well, antagonizing at his already torn valve. He could feel the blood dripping down his leg now, but he wouldn’t tell Megatron to stop no matter how ripped up he was becoming inside. If having a ripped up valve was the price to pay for a freed mind and a satisfied spark than that was what he would take. Pulling his legs up in silence acceptance of Megatron’s decision, Sunstreaker allowed Megatron to now completely support him by holding his aft and slamming his back against the wall; he’d just hold on for the reminder of the interfacing as well as give his spike some wet flavor because the position allowed him deeper access to the warlord’s port.

Megatron’s port gave a hungry, satisfied, throb as the younger mech got deeper into him, and he felt his knees nearly give out in pleasure. It surprised him for a second, his port suddenly feeling far more wonderful than his spike and its wet housing. He never allowed another mech to enter him and certainly, rarely, ever took pleasure from masturbating with his port. His spike was the thing that enabled his sexuality, yet he now found himself pumping at a different angle so that Sunstreaker’s rod was now slamming into him deeply. Unable to stop himself, Megatron yelped and buried his head in the crevasse between Sunny’s neck and shoulder in a slight shame, the next few pumps slow and deliberate as his allowed his valve’s wall to measure and taste the wonderfully hot, nicely sized, and pulsing spike inside him. Maybe next time he’d allow the younger mech to fuck him so he could have a little more of this rod. The younger mech had offered.

Not that his pride would every really allow that.

“Y-you like my rod, don’t you? Is it nice and b-big for you,” whined Sunny as the pace continued at the slow tasting level, Megatron gasping every time the rod went deeply inside. “You want it to spill side you, don’t you?”

Another moan. “T-then fuck me so I’ll spill into you. P-pick up the pace. I don’t care i-if I bleed,” said Sunny in a husky voice, his body screaming for the pleasure-pain that would steal all emotion away and kill them temporally in one huge wave of emotion.

Megatron didn’t deny him, slamming down with such a harshness on the Autobot’s spike that it felt more like he was impaling his port and not fucking with it. Not that he really gave a slag because a second later his port overloaded, making him tightened, fingers digging into Sunny’s aft. Sunstreaker, feeling Megatron’s port overload due to his finger fucking earlier probably, didn’t want to be denied overload like he had been denied that wonderful grey spark, so he started to pump downward for the orgasm overcome lord, putting weight into his valve. His body reacted quickly and soon both his port and spike released in the rising tension, taking Megatron’s spike with him.

Sunny, immediately, choked a cry that echoed over the whole battlefield, “M-Megatron!”

Megatron, as his port gave out its last few spasms of his orgasm, moaned and gave a breathy whisper, “Sunstreaker.”

And, with that word, Sunstreaker was hooked. It was purely a sexual relationship, but it was his relationship, and Megatron was his. Sideswipe could go frag himself. Though, given that fact that he directly disobeyed, to shorten the rising list, everyone, it might be a while until he’d get to have his large warlord again. That thought it mind, he buried his head in the other’s neck as Megatron slowly sank to his knees, Sunstreaker’s back losing paint to the wall. They merely sat there a few moments, throbbing around each other’s cones until a blue burr appeared at their side.

Megatron looked up with blurred optics, slurring, “What is it Soundwave?”

His words were simple yet caused Megatron to pull away from his lover, “Optimus Prime is coming.”

Sunstreaker whimpered as Megatron pulled out of him, sighing slightly at the bloody energon that pooled from between Sunstreaker’s legs. Maybe if the next time was soon, he would allow Sunstreaker to just enter him. Yes, he’d laid back and just moan as the young mech overloaded him.

Maybe… but right now, taking the cod piece offered to him by Soundwave, Megatron grabbed a rag from his sub-space and placed it down for his port before clicking the cod piece over it. He then offered the pleasure overloaded mech one peck on the forehead as he rose. He warmed up his cannon and stated firmly, “Clean him up slightly, Soundwave, and make sure no other ‘Cons get to him.”

Sunny started to overcome his fuzzy feeling and slowly turned his head, hoarsely whispering, “W-wait. When will I see you again?”

Megatron turned and grinned, “The next battle, probably.”

Sunny wanted to say more but he became distracted as Soundwave spread his legs, trying to see what was going on. Sunny was about to rebut, and close his legs, when he felt a cool rag suddenly placed on his valve, pressing in slightly. Sunstreaker jumped, thinking the mech was going to finger fuck him with a dry rag, but no further movement came except that Soundwave took the rag away momentarily to do a brief –and embarrassing- scan. Ugh, Sunny couldn’t even recall the last time Ratchet had scanned down there, and he was his medic.

“Diagnosis: port damaged. Recommending valve repair by profession to strive off…”

The mech didn’t even get to finish his statement when a semi came rushing up the hill, nearly running Megatron down like a deer on the road. The slagger managed to jump out of the way just in time though, semi wheels spitting up mud. Soundwave, wanting to help his lord, quickly wiped Sunny’s thighs despite the patients complaint, and stuffing said rag as extra padding for the cod piece, clicking it shut. He barely even had time to stand up when he let out a huff, Brawn coming out of nowhere and tackling him.

Sunny quickly stood up, wanting to get away from the crime scene, realizing how bad this looked with the small pool of blood. He wasn’t even allowed a small dash when he legs gave out due to the ache in his port and a weakness in his loins, and he found himself falling down backwards towards the hill.

This was going to hurt.

He didn’t even get down the hill though when a red hand lashed out, pulling him down into almost a protective ball as gunshots rained where he had just been standing on top of the hill, the cassettes growling and Megatron raging. Sunstreaker, so caught in the moment, was about to strike out and kill the slagger who had touched him until he turned around and saw two blue optics looking at him.

Angry, blue optics.

“Ratchet?” croaked Sunstreaker in worry. Had Soundwave cleaned him up well enough?

“Idiot, fraggen slagger!” growled the medic as he kept low and tried to drag his patient with him. “Not only did you run off, you tried to take on Megatron! We heard your scream halfway across the battlefield!”

Prowl, who had Cliffjumper at his bumper, slid to a stop and quickly assisted the medic in dragging Sunstreaker away from the pending battle between Optimus Prime and Megatron, Cliffjumper pulling out a gun and taking up the rear.

Sunstreaker blushed, feeling like an idiot. That wasn’t a pained cry, but it certainly was a loud one. He quickly tried to rise to his feet and walk of his own free will, but Ratchet soon stalled behind the cover of a heavy wall. Prowl immediately nodded to the medic, offering a glare at Sunstreaker as he watched Ratchet scan the mech before going to assist Brawn.

Ratchet waved him off as Cliffjumper kneeled down nearby to protect the patient and the team’s medic, grumbling, “Your systems are stressed, hotter than slag they are. I’d be surprised if you haven’t melted something! Your back is in shambles though not bleeding and there are also a multitude of other scratches, though none of them seem extensive. It also seems your legs have regained motor functions since your initial fall. The Slag Maker might have been shaken some loose from a harsh throw or punch. Slaggen idiot! Just wait until we get back to the base!”

Nonetheless, there was a bang as Ratchet hit him with a wrench.

“What was that for?” Sunstreaker yelled, grabbing his helm.

“For being stupid enough to think you could take on Megatron! If you think a wrench was horrible, just wait until Optimus gets to talk to you. You know he doesn’t like anyone confronting Megatron in melee combat. The slagger’s huge!”

Sunstreaker continued to rub his head, not liking the look cliffjumper was giving him as he whispered, “You have no idea.”