Disclaimer: I would, if I could but I can't, so I don't.
Notes: Well this was my first piece for this fandom...it's a little angsty. But yeah. There was originally more to it, in fact I have more written out, sort of like the extended version, but I wasn't as happy with it. So I cut it. I hope you all likeys. BTW: I typed this completely in the dark of my room with only the warm soft glow of my monitor to guide me, has anyone else ever done this, cause it's really hard!
He knew that his attachment to Sam was wrong—it had to be wrong. Why else would he feel that silent, seething rage every time she came around. That feeling that was always tinged with just a bit of some emotion he couldn't place--wouldn't place. He didn't want to think that maybe it was guilt for his feeling towards Sam obvious object of lust.
He wasn't quite sure what about her presence irked him so much. She'd done nothing to wrong him, in fact she'd probably saved his life out in the battle field. But still something inside him wanted to lock his door and not let her in every time Sam went to pick her up for a date. Every time Sam flashed his beautiful smile at her—for her.
But here he was at the look out point—again; with them his hood—again. Not that he really minded Sam on his hood. It was the other fleshing that made him so...jealous wasn't the right word. No, he wasn't sure what the right word for it was just yet, but he was fairly sure it was close to possessive.
Yes, he was His Sam. Not Mikaela's, those noises that Sam made on top of him should be for him. Not her.
Bee resisted the urge to rev his engine in frustration. He couldn't disturb Sam, not when he knew how much he enjoyed what he was doing. Not even if when,deep inside him, with every grunt, and murmur that sprung forth from Sam's perfect mouth made his spark ache in a way he thought wasn't possible; and all because it wasn't for him. It was never for him.
He had, briefly entertained the idea of leaving. Leaving Sam, Mikaela, all those painful, yet wonderful memories behind; But he knew he wouldn't—couldn't do it. He was as addicted to Sam as any old high grade junkie on Cybertron had ever been addicted to their juice. He was Sam's, and always would be. And whether Mikaela knew it or not Sam would always be his. Always.