Ms.Devil

• Grunting when you laugh so hard you accidentally push his spike out, his door wings tremble slightly. And his head thumps softly against your shoulder as he starts laughing, too. “You honked!” You gasp and he’s shaking laughing. ‘I’m allowed to honk,’ he manages, hearing you snort and he’s losing it all over again. “I think I’m deaf in that ear now,” you cackle and he eases down to lay on his back beside you. ‘Oh, come on, you make noises all the time.’

• Snickering as you look at him, you raise your eyebrows. “They’re cute noises,” he adds at your look as you try to rein yourself in. Up until he breathily moans ‘Blue’ in a bad mockery of your voice and you start laughing all over again. ‘I don’t sound like that,’ you protest, grabbing his chassis and swinging yourself up to straddle him, seeing his optics brighten with heat. ‘Where’s the accidental sex horn?’ You ask, fingers running along the gaps in his seams to make him squirm under you.

• “Stop,” he laughs, catching your wrists and venting to scent you. Feeling the dampness of you against his plating where you’re sitting on him to make his spike pulse. ‘Why? It’s cute,’ you tease, fingers wiggling in his grip and he lets his head fall back. “It’s kind of embarrassing? Please, don’t tell anyone I did that, okay?” Feels you tremble with laughter as his lips twitch into a rueful smile. “The twins would never let me live it down.”

• Claws digging into the sandy bottom to anchor himself, this is the closest you’ve gotten to the water since he’d almost dragged you under the last time. Can’t decide if it’s only that you’re that naïve or if you really have no survival instincts. Trusting him to not drag you under and devour you even though it’s tempting. That instinct he can at least understand, but the other hunger that sparks through him around you? It’s obscene. Wanting to claim you, to figure out if your body can take his. The tip of his spike already out of its sheath and he hasn’t even gotten close enough to scent you, yet.

• Startling when he surfaces far too close, those alien features of his leave you jittery as the spines and fringes of fins lift slightly. He’s a monster, awful and lovely. Listening to the rumbling rise and fall of his growling, you wonder what he’s saying. Or are you deluding yourself? Wanting to believe he’s intelligent to justify the fascination. Remembering when he’d grabbed your ankle and tried to drag you under, you think of kelpies from old stories. Maybe he’s something like those. Dangerous and hungry. And he lunges, claws digging furrows in the wet sand as he drags himself up onto the beach and you fall back. Staring with wide eyes as he leans over you, water dripping from him onto your face as he frowns down at you, lips parted to show those sharp denta.

• Head lowering as you lay there under him, his spike pulses, pushing completely free of his sheath. Mouth opening, his glossa slides against your neck, feeling your frantic pulse. Sharp denta closed, he presses them against you. Imagining biting, how the salty, metallic tang of your blood filling his mouth would feel. And knowing he won’t bite. Raising his head, he growls and your soft hands lift. Cup his face. Like you don’t understand how easily he could hurt you. How can you trust so much that it feels ruinous? Like he’s coming apart at the seams.

“That’s it, eyes up for me, darling,” he whispers into your ear. You can see the smile growing on his lips through the reflection in the mirror. The exhaustion in his eyes seems to lessen as he tilts your chin back with a gentle nudge from his fingers. Oh, right, you forgot another word that describes him- embarrassing. 

The man can fluster you like nothing else. He wasn’t called the billionaire playboy for nothing. But unlike the frenzied and empty touches between him and the groupies he used for media attention, he touched you as if you were a masterpiece. His other hand not holding your chin was trailing down your body- down your collarbone, over your chest, dipping to your abdomen, and then stroking softly between your thighs. He’s careful not to touch you yet. Even if he’s eager to lose himself in you, he still has the audacity to continue teasing you. 

The negligee he bought you barely covers your skin, but to Bruce, it’s still too much. His hand lifts the ends of the fabric, tugging it up and revealing the lacy underwear he purchased for you as well. He looks smug as he sees the wet patch forming there, the subtle clenching of your thighs to hide that fact even as it stares both of you down in the mirror. 

“Ah, ah, ah, no hiding from me, darling,” he teases, letting his index and middle stroke over your sensitive slit. You close your eyes and exhale sharply in response, earning yourself a click of the tongue. “No, no. Keep them open. I want you to watch yourself.” 

You obey easily and Bruce rewards you with long kisses against your neck. 

“Bruce, please,” you whine, already too strung up with his dirty promises from earlier that day. 

“I know. It’s been a while since I’ve treated you properly, hasn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ll fix that,” he vows, pressing one last kiss to your neck before undoing his pants. He makes a show of it, watching your eyes locked down to between both your legs. He can’t help but feel confident at your eagerness, loving how your body reacts to his. 

He’s already hard, and seeing as how both of you need this, he wastes no time in removing your soaked undergarments and throwing them off. You protest the action before he smirks. 

“I’ll buy you a hundred more tomorrow, if you’d like.” 

You don’t even get the chance to respond before he’s inside you, filling and stretching you perfectly. Much like everything else he manages to do. The feeling is overwhelming, making you arch against his chest while he strokes your body to relax you. 

“So damn tight,” he mutters, starting off slow for the both of you. The rocking motion makes your legs quiver, prompting Bruce to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you standing. “Eyes on us, dear. Keep watching how perfect I fit in you.” 

Your dazed eyes look into the mirror, making you groan as you watch his thick member moving in and out of you. You can see your combined fluids dripping down his length, a sight he relishes in. 

“That’s it… just like that…” he breathes against your ear, tugging on your lobe with his teeth. 

It isn’t long before you both are grinding faster against each other, yearning to get your fix. 

“Bruce, god, it’s so deep-” you moan, inciting him to go harder. He puts a hand over your abdomen, pressing down so you can feel him thrusting between your walls. You watch him devolve before your very eyes, busy kissing and sucking on whatever available skin he can access. He looks positively feral in the mirror, strands of his slick black hair falling over his face, hands groping and touching wherever, and sweat dripping down his skin. 

“You can take it, babe. You always do,” he growls. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” 

He presses your ass further into him, arching your back more. “Oh-!” You let out a loud gasp, reaching forward to grip the edges of the mirror as Bruce hammers into you. 

“God, I missed this sweet body. Always so soft and-,” he grunts after a particularly deep thrust that brushes against that sweet spot inside. “-so beautiful.” 

Even in the midst of fucking you like an animal, Bruce still can find a way to make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. 

“Watch us. Look at us. Look how gorgeous you are. Don’t you know how much I adore you?” He pants. “Can’t get enough of you. Need you every damn day.” 

The coil in your belly tightens, and judging by the way Bruce’s thrusts are getting sloppier, he is close too. You watch yourself take him easily inside and tighten around him, earning you a choked moan from Bruce. The heat is intense and threatens to consume you both, the mirror shaking with every slap of skin against skin. 

Your fingers shakily grasp onto the edge, feeling your impending climax when Bruce’s larger, more calloused hands wrap around yours. The reminder of your size difference only pushes you more, and a well timed thrust from Bruce sends you over the edge, moaning his name loudly. 

The fluttering of your walls makes Bruce clench his teeth together as he continues to push you through your orgasm, feeling his coming. 

“I love you,” he says before tilting your head to his and kissing your lips passionately, swallowing your moans as he finishes inside you. As you two separate, a string of saliva connecting your mouths, he chuckles, gesturing you to look back at the mirror. 

In the reflective glass, you see the evidence of your lovemaking dripping down your thighs, his cum leaking out slowly. A silent claim over you and a reminder of how much he adores you. It makes your heart race and you can’t help the bashful smile on your face. 

“Oh, fuck, Megatron!” You moan beneath him.

He’s currently swarming you. His derma are planting hot, needy kisses along your neck. His servos are grabbing and running along your sides, and his thigh struts are tucked under your thighs. He’s practically clung onto you, unable to leave you alone.

He’s been fucking you now for the better part of an hour, and he’s still going. Multiple orgasms, too many to count, have already been wrung from your body. His transfluid soaks the sheets below, your womb entirely filled.

“Can’t get enough,” he rumbles along your neck. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re ovulating.”

You whimper, bucking up against him. Thank fuck you are ovulating, otherwise you might not have been able to keep up with him.

“Your body begs me to breed you when you’re ovulating, you know that?” He continues, thrusting his fat spike into your aching core. “I can smell it on you. It’s why I can’t recharge next to you when you’re like this, because I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

“Oh my God, Megatron! Breed me, please— fuck, fill me up!” You pant hot breaths, eager for every drop he has.

“You’re like an aphrodisiac to me when you’re like this,” he says with a harsh thrust, making you scream out. “Making me lose control of myself, unable to stop fucking this tight little pussy.”

You’ve died and gone to heaven. That must be it. This is euphoria on an unprecedented scale. You haven’t been this turned on since you were drugged with an aphrodisiac.

Resisting you is a skill that Megatron has not yet mastered, nor does he particularly want to. The only drawback is that he’s technically supposed to be on bridgewatch right now. But here he is, stuffed inside your cunt because your natural pheromones called to him. You are a tempting little thing.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. My little breeding Conjunx,” he moans, hot and gravelly.

Megatron, ever the attentive partner, ensured that you were bathed and returned to clean sheets. Thank the Heavens, considering the two of you drenched your bed coverings with squirt, cum and transfluid. That wouldn't have been the most comfortable night's rest for you.

He's currently next to you on the berth, sitting up against the headboard and reading through his latest chapter of Crime and Punishment in complete silence, mindful to let you get the rest you need.

You murmur something quietly, but Megatron can't make it out. He peers over at you, but sees that you're still asleep.

Huffing an affectionate laugh, he leans down to pepper some light kisses on the top of your head, nowhere near strong enough to startle or wake you. He pulls in a vent to smell your hair, feeling comforted by it.

"I'm really starting to fall in love with you, Starlight," he says just below a whisper. Again, it doesn't even cause you to stir. You are well and truly out like a light. "One day, I'll say it to you. I promise."

You are everything he ever could have wanted and more, and no words can describe how grateful he is for that. How he, with all his transgressions, could be graced with such benevolence is beyond him. The powers that be work in mysterious ways.

He sits back up against the headboard, but shortly after, you start to shift. He watches as your eyes open slowly, and you search for him. He smiles down at you, surprised to see you awake so soon.

You hum at the back of your throat, hoisting yourself up from your sleeping position groggily. He doesn't say anything, not even as you clamber to swing one leg over him and sit on his lap.

He places his datapad down on the bedside table before resting both servos on your hips.

"Awake already?" He asks.

"Kept dreaming about you," you reply quietly before moving in to kiss him. He returns the kiss, moving his derma softly over yours.

"Happy dreams?" He questions.

"Horny dreams," you answer almost immediately, pairing it with a roll of your hips over his interface panel. "Dreams about you eating me out, sucking on my tits, fucking me silly."

He hums, squeezing your hips to help move you back and forth over his lap.

"You're getting me all worked up again," he says against your lips.

"Good," you hush back, "I think the aphrodisiac is still in my system."

"Oh?" He chuckles, "Is it now?"

"Mmhm," you vocalise, stealing more kisses from him as you grind your hips, searching for friction. "Might need you to carry on fucking it out of me."

"You realise you were on the brink of exhaustion not even three hours ago? You remember how I had to carry you to and from the bath?" He asks before running his glossa lightly over your bottom lip.

"I remember you making me scream until my throat was sore, and I remember squirting all over the bed, and how you fucked me like a beast. Do you want me to carry on?"

"You're the horniest person I've ever known," Megatron replies, gripping your hips to move you faster against him. You're not opposed to a little bit of making out and dry humping to get the emotions running high.

"Is that a complaint?"

"Most definitely not."

When he was the leader of the Decepticons, he rarely had the time to indulge himself like this. The amount of time he remained celibate must have been centuries. He was always too dedicated to his goals and aspirations, about making dreams a reality. But now he has you, which he'd describe as his greatest dream, you make it too easy to be a lustful being.

"So come and fuck me again, Megatron. Come and show me who I belong to," you request ardently.

"You know full well who you belong to," he rumbles, his voice tantalisingly low. "When you're walking around tomorrow, if you even can, you'll know. Your poor pussy will be so used you'll feel me for days."

"God, Megatron," you curse, feeling your slick grow between your legs. He certainly has a way with words. "That's exactly what I want."

"I have an idea," he says, tapping your ass to get you to sit up. You abide, interested in whatever idea he has. He hoists you off him, leaving you a little flushed at the show of his strength. It still gets you every time.

He swings his legs off the berth, standing up before taking a few strides over to your full-length mirror. Your eyes flash with excitement, understanding a bit better now what he has planned.

Dragging the mirror over, he positions it at the side of the bed. You catch your reflection in it, gazing up at him to see that flirtatious smirk on his derma. He knows what he's doing to you.

"Strip," he orders lightly, curling his digits around the top of the mirror. He places more weight on one leg strut, resting for a moment so that he can enjoy the show.

You maintain eye contact with him, trailing your hands down to gather the hem of your top. He watches hungrily as you pull it up your torso, throwing it over your head and flinging it to your pillow. You don't lose contact with him, but you can just about see yourself in the mirror in your peripheral vision.

"Keep going," Megatron demands, deploying his spike as he watches you. Your thumbs hook under the waistband of your shorts, and Megatron follows your hands whilst he starts to jerk his length.

You shudder a breath, pushing your shorts down whilst wiggling out of them. The freshly cleaned sheets feel so soft against your bare skin, and it's a shame Megatron is going to have to change them again after this. Magnus will surely demand an answer for the increased usage of cleaning water.

Now naked, you reposition to your hands and knees before crawling across the width of the bed, still not breaking eye contact. You see what you want, it's thick and heavy in his servo.

"Let me suck it," you say in a low tone.

He pumps his length a little more, boring his bright red optics down at you with the very essence of temptation.

"Open wide," he whispers sultrily, and you heed his instruction. You loosen your jaw, giving him an easy opening.

He slides his spike straight in, venting hotly at the warmth. It's only been a few hours since you last sucked him off, but it's still a welcome gesture.

His spike hits the back of your throat, but you manage to quell any gagging. You hum around him, your jaw impossibly stretched to take his girth. You go down as far as you can before pulling your head back, proceeding with a bobbing motion.

Your fingers curl around the edge of your bed as you wet his spike with your saliva, already tasting an essence of his transfluid over your taste buds. It's dangerous how good he tastes, and how the fluid fizzles over your tongue like soda.

"Keep sucking it just like that, Starlight," he says as he tilts his helm, his optics dimming. His servo comes up to cup the back of your head, mussing your hair in the process. You moan at his touch, finding it only motivates you more.

You feel him slide down your throat with each suck. You'll have the shape of him memorised in no time. He's yours, for now and forever, so you have to make sure you treat him right and learn the way he likes to be serviced.

Megatron moans, using his other servo to reposition the mirror at a slight angle. He grins down at you before speaking.

"Take a look, see how full your mouth is," he tells you. You manage to look out of the corner of your eye to the mirror, seeing your reflection and how your mouth glides back and forth on his spike. You see how large his servo is at the back of your head, and that makes you more excited than you'd care to admit.

The reflection is downright sinful, one you never thought you'd see. He fits so perfectly in your mouth, it looks as though he belongs there. Flitting your eyes from the mirror up to his face, you see the smugness written over his features.

Your mouth pools with saliva, bubbles of spit already forming around his spike as he lets you fuck your mouth on him. He tightens his digits in your hair in search of a semblance of purchase, groaning lightly.

He watches his thick girth disappear in and out of your mouth, feeling your throat muscles tense and hug him each time he slips far enough in. Your wet mouth is a luxury that Megatron is convinced men would go to war for.

"Even when your mouth is wrapped around my spike, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," he compliments you, hypnotised by the way you move on him.

Your eyes are the same as earlier, clouded with need and arousal. It's dangerous when you look at him like that; it makes him want to pounce on you and have you all night long. It should not be underestimated how powerful your hold is over him, especially when you're playing with his spike.

He can't help but lightly buck his hips, feeding you more of his spike. You moan around him, making his circuits zap with charge. It's a full-frame experience that has his helm tipping back.

You look over to the mirror again, seeing a mixture of his fluid and your saliva running down your chin. It catches in the light as you move your head.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you suck him hard. The inside of your cheeks conforms around the panels that make up his spike, surely leaving a small indent.

"Primus, yes— Just like that. I'm so close," he whirs, clenching a fist through your roots. You keep going, refusing to let up. Having his transfluid is the greatest reward, and you're desperate for it.

With a hearty moan, he spills his load straight down your throat, forcing you to drink every drop. He fills you with more fluid than you know what to do with, some of it pooling into your cheeks from how forceful the overload is. You moan crudely, swallowing around him so you don't waste any of his offering.

Once you're set, you pull back off his spike, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips to his spike. You can feel your lips throbbing and your tongue tingling, slowly getting addicted to the sensation.

Catching your breath, you look up at him under your lashes. You're far from done, and by the look on his face, he's the same.

He sidesteps, turning in front of the mirror before sitting on the edge of the bed. You get what he wants, so you make haste in delivering it to him.

You walk round to the front of him eagerly, turning in the same way he did so that your back is to him. His hands immediately find your hips, helping you to straddle him backwards. You settle against him like he's the other piece of the puzzle, your shapes aligning perfectly.

He manoeuvres you to get you to the tip of his spike. Shivers skitter up your spine as you let out a shaky breath, shifting your weight to sit properly on him. He doesn't protest, allowing your aching core to swallow him for a second time tonight.

You look down at the floor as you start bouncing, purposely evading the reflection before you. It glares right in your face, it calls you to look and admire the view like some insatiable temptress.

"Look at how beautiful you are when you ride me," he chirps into your ear, smoothing his servo down your body to reach your pussy. Hesitantly, you tear your gaze from the floor to the mirror. As you do so, his servo curls under, spreading your lips so you have a very graphic view of what it looks like when he's inside. Your breath catches in your lungs, watching how your hole stretches to accommodate him.

His other servo ghosts up to hold your jaw gently, forcing you to keep looking in the mirror.

"My pretty Starlight," he coos smoothly in your ear. His voice is like silk, it brushes along your body in a heavenly way. You whimper in response, creasing your brows into a pitiful frown.

"Say it," he goads, "Tell me that you're my pretty Starlight."

Resisting him would be pointless. He'd pry out of you either way, even if you might enjoy what he does to get there.

"I'm— your pretty Starlight," you echo his statement, still watching how your pussy swallows him whole.

"You're so good for me," he whispers against the shell of your ear, which is surprisingly sensitive. He chuckles at the way you shiver in reaction, and you'd hazard a guess that he knows what he's doing when he speaks in such a low tone.

His servo falls from your jaw, settling instead on your hip to give it a squeeze. You don't falter in your ride, taking needy strides over him like it's all you know how to do.

The two of you have been fucking like crazy since the first time. You can hardly keep your hands off each other, only ever pulled apart by Megatron's captain duties. Even then, he's thinking about you. Coming up with all the ways he's going to fuck you once he's off duty. You spend more time having sex in this bed than you do sleeping.

"Bigger," you whimper out just below your normal talking volume.

"Hmm?" Megatron voices, not able to catch what you said.

"I— I want you bigger," you say, rolling your hips over him like it's your lifeline. You settle back against him, embracing the warmth of his chassis. "Change the mass displacement settings."

"Oh, my love," he moans into your ear, "You know that isn't a sensible idea."

"Please, I need it. I wanna be your little fucktoy," you babble thoughtlessly. "I want you to use me and bounce me on your spike."

That is a tempting thought, and Megatron doesn't have the same stubborn resolve he once had. He finds the size difference sexier than he'd like to admit, and the idea of spearing your pussy with his large spike has his processor running wild.

"Okay, just a little bigger," he says lowly.

He brings his arms around your front, looking over your shoulder before using a digit to scroll along the display of the wrist-mounted mass displacement device. He adds about two feet onto his height, bringing him to about 8'5.

You whine as you feel him grow, both inside and beneath you. Your legs have to spread marginally wider to still fit over his lap. He brings his servos to your hips before giving a chaste kiss to the side of your neck.

"Is this okay?" He asks, slowly rolling your hips over him.

"B—Bigger, more, want more," you say desperately.

"Let's get you used to this size first, hm?" He suggests.

"Megatron," you whine, bouncing as best you can. You'll prove to him that you can take it. Your pussy works so well with him, slickening every glorious inch with your pleasure.

He brings his servo back around to your pussy, singling out his middle digit to start drawing little circles over your clit. You let out a fractured moan as you tip your head back, feeling infinitely more motivated to drain him dry.

"So eager," Megatron coos. He's melting from how good your cunt feels wrapped around him, squeezing him tight.

"Want your transfluid," you answer, tensing your pelvic floor to really suck him in. He groans as his spike gets a milky ring forming around the base. You're too tempting to resist.

You ride him like you were made for it. Like your entire life's purpose is to please him. You can't get enough of him, sex with him is the best you've ever had, and nothing else even comes close.

Your pleasure is imminent, you feel it stirring in your stomach. You chase it with sole intent, envisioning it in your mind's eye whilst you reach for it.

"Close— so close!" You say.

"Be good, cum for me, and look at yourself when you do so," he tells you, grabbing your jaw again to align your sight with your face.

You reach your climax as fireworks set off throughout your body. You moan, watching how your face floods with unquantifiable bliss. This is the face Megatron sees every time he gets you to your high.

"Fuck, Starlight!" He curses, unable to resist his own overload from how your pussy milks him. It's so gratifying to have him overload just because you did. He fills your womb with hot transfluid, his tanks finally replenished after you took every drop from him earlier.

"Please make yourself bigger!" You blurt, insistent on it.

If he were a stronger mech, he'd be able to deny you. But it gets something stirring deep within him, awakening a dormant coding that makes his resolve brittle. He wants this just as much as you do.

But if he gets any larger, he won't fit on the bed anymore. He vents, nodding his helm before kissing along your neck.

"We need to get on the floor," he tells you whilst pulling you off his spike. You whimper at the loss of him, but understand it's a necessary sacrifice to bring about greater pleasure. You step onto the floor, immediately feeling the gush of his transfluid spill down the inside of your thighs.

He stands from the bed before adjusting the mass displacement settings again, adding another two feet. He enlarges straight away, taking him to a staggering 11'5. You have to stifle your gasp as he looms over you.

Next, he moves the mirror aside and lowers himself to lie flat on the floor. He taps your leg, urging you to come over. You step over him, one foot on either side of his hip armour. It's actually a little intimidating to straddle him with the now very evident size difference, but the lust that plagues you corrupts any logic or reason.

"Come, Starlight, take it easy," he says, extending his servo up to you. You take it, bringing your body down to press him against the arch between your legs. You can't fully bring yourself to your knees yet, so his stable servo is a saving grace.

"I've got you," he says, using his other servo to hold your waist. The tip of his spike engulfs so much of the apex of your thighs. But you wanted this, begged for it relentlessly. No use in backing down now, right? You're up for the challenge.

His servo slips from your hand, grasping on the opposite side of your waist. He harnesses you, making sure you don't slip or hurt yourself. He allows you to go at your own pace, letting the moment unfold as it needs to. You lower a bit more weight, and you feel the head of his spike struggle to fit in your hole, but sense that it is going in.

Oh God, the stretch is unreal. You're holding your breath as you focus on taking as much as you can, holding onto his wrists to help calm your shaking hands.

"Look at you taking it so well," Megatron praises, watching you sink down gradually on his spike. He didn't think you'd actually be able to take it, but here you are, exceeding expectations again. "It helps that you're dripping wet."

"Because of you," you moan out, rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you start to move. He holds you, making sure you don't slip any further down his spike than you can take.

He peers down at where the two of you connect. He is a monster against you, and the sight only turns him on more.

"It won't all go in," he says, being a voice of reason. You're about ¾ of the way down his length, leaving only the base free.

You let out a shaky sigh before nodding, content with how much you've managed. You suppose this is as good as it'll get.

"Will you help me move?" You ask, your breath a prisoner in your lungs.

"Of course," he hushes back to you.

He takes it easy at first, pulling you up and down at a snail's pace. He does most of the lifting, saving your thigh muscles. You whimper a sob as he pushes your cunt to its limit. You bite down on your lip, trying to stifle any further sounds so that he doesn't get cold feet and pull you off him.

Putting in some effort, you start bouncing along with his assistance. Your knees still aren't touching this ground, he's simply too large. Luckily, he's strong enough to help without breaking a sweat.

He claims every inch of you as his own, declaring dominion over your organic body. It's so incredibly hot to have him like this, you're utterly lost in a haze of lust. Your pussy leaks all over him, trying to keep up with how large he is.

"You're so tight like this," Megatron says through lightly gritted dentae.

"Loosen me up then," you answer.

"Oh, I will. Trust me, we're no where near done," he tells you.

That's what you like to hear. You won't be surprised if you're up for the rest of the night fucking like bunnies until your head is spinning. How lucky you are to be blessed with a partner who has so much stamina.

If he'd known a heaven like this was waiting for him, he would've ended the war aeons ago. Nothing comes close to how your pussy feels, he's never known satisfaction like it.

He's starving for you, moving you quickly and roughly so that he can constantly feel you surrounding him. To your delight, he actually moans for you, deep and chesty. You respond with a moan of your own.

You're not being shy with your volume, moaning as though shame is completely lost on you. It strokes Megatron's ego in a special kind of way. He hopes everyone can hear it. He hopes that everyone knows that you belong to him, and that he's the one who brings you otherworldly pleasure.

His spike drags against your walls perfectly, stimulating every bit of you. You've never been so full, but you can't get enough. He's yours, and you'll prove that you can take him at any size. The two of you were meant for each other.

Your walls throb around him as you have sex at a dizzying pace. His optics are shuttering with faded light as you make him pliable beneath you. His servos are still dragging you up and down his spike, running after his own pleasure.

"Megatron! Fuck!" You cry out, your orgasm spraying from your pussy. He continues pulling you up and down on his spike, causing you to spurt like crazy.

"Primus have mercy," he moans as he watches you soak him. "You're like a fountain."

Your first time squirting was earlier tonight, during your first session, but he's still amazed at how much just came out of you. At least this will only require a quick mop of the floor rather than hassling with the bed sheets.

"More," you mewl as your pussy flutters around him.

"New position?" He asks, holding you steady.

You nod emphatically, your glassy eyes hold an expression he finds hard to deny.

He pulls you off his spike, causing you to gasp. He handles you with shocking ease, gathering himself to his knees whilst spinning you around. He sets you on the berth by your feet, pulling down on your waist to prompt you to get on your knees as well.

As soon as you do, he places a warm servo that spans nearly the entire width of your back along your spine, pressing forward to get you down into a new position.

He leans over you, planting his servos on the berth. You're face down, ass up. Ready to take everything he's got.

Like this, he practically houses you. You're completely engulfed in him and his shadow, and that somehow only makes you more excited. Getting to fuck him when he's so much bigger than you is such a treat.

Sheathing his spike back inside, it goes easier than the first time. Your eyelids bat rapidly at the feeling of being stretched again, and you realise in this moment that there's nowhere in the universe that you'd rather be.

Your pussy quivers as he starts up again, thrusting his solid hips carefully to make sure he doesn't push more in than you can take. You moan, feeling his fat spike right against your G-spot.

He grunts, finding it hard to hold back. He has to be extra careful with you, but Primus, he wants nothing more than to wreck your little hole.

"I want it all," you whimper, grinding your hips back. "Put it all in, Megatron. Please."

It seems you read his mind. He groans weakly, dropping his helm to peer down at you. You've got tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, your brows furrowed, but something beyond horny fogging your eyes.

"I can't get it all in, Starlight. I'm too big," he tries to reason, but you can hear the edge in his voice that tells you his resolve is weakening.

"You can! It will fit! Please, pleasepleaseplease, I want you to fuck me until I faint!" You beg.

"So demanding today, my love," he chides playfully.

Relenting, he gives you what you want. On his next thrust, he eases a bit more of himself in. Then a bit more on the thrust after that, and a little more, until you feel the familiar press of his metal armour against your ass. You've never been so glad to feel him against you once again.

"You actually took it all," Megatron says with awe, stunned with surprise. "You are such a resilient little thing."

He's enjoying the experience of learning your tells, understanding how far you can be pushed and what your body can handle. Your pussy feels insane like this, and Megatron fears he won't last long under these conditions.

You let out a throaty, sweet moan as he stretches you beyond belief. You can feel him in your lungs, causing a ball of air to form in your throat. You've never been so full, you can feel him everywhere.

"Holy fuck," you worble. You've met your match, you definitely couldn't take any more than this. There isn't a millimetre of room left inside you.

"You doing okay, Little Light?" He asks, slowing his movements to get you used to the entire size of him.

"Fff—mph," you struggle to take a proper breath. "Fuck me," you finish, the words strained.

"How could I refuse?" Megatron burrs, pulling his hips back to slam them into your ass. You let out a startled cry, realising you're maybe a tad out of your element here. He's huge.

You struggle to believe that he's considered old by his Cybertronian peers. The way he blows your back out attests to the fact that he's anything but old. In some ways, he's even hornier than you are.

You outstretch your hand, wrapping your fingers around his thumb to ground yourself. He angles his thumb out a little further towards you to make it easier on you. You feel the sanity being fucked right out of you, every critical thought you had is nothing more than static in your mind now. He's not being as fast as he usually would be, clearly cautious of your enormous size difference, but it's no less wonderful.

Fantasising about this doesn't even come close to the real thing. Of course, you've dreamt about what it'd be like for him to take you at a bigger size. That comes with the territory of dating a 36-foot-tall transforming tank. But actually getting down to it? You could get used to this.

"Starlight," he moans airily, "You feel so good."

"Degrade me," you say in the heat of the moment, not thinking straight.

He looks down again, slightly confused by your request. You want him to… Degrade you? Why? Would you not rather hear praise? You're so deserving of it, after all.

"Please, Megatron!"

Being the mech he is now, he isn't one to degrade you. Sure, maybe his old self, but a lot has changed since then. You've made him soft and tender. But if it's what you want, he'll gratify you.

"You're my little slut," he says, watching how your mouth drops open in a hearty moan. You try to fuck yourself on his spike, but his size makes it a challenge.

"My little spikesleeve, my perfect hole to fuck. What do they call it? A cumdump? That's what you are."

Wow. That's more than you expected. He's a natural.

"Did you just get wetter from that?" Megatron chuckles cockily. You're filthy, he thinks to himself. And he loves every bit of it. You whine as you let him fuck every rational thought you have right out of your brain.

You're sopping wet, so much so that if Megatron isn't precise with his movements, he's going to lose traction. Squelch, squelch, squelch, as he fucks his own transfluid out of you and gets you lubricating more in the process. The mix of fluids drips down from your pussy and over the berth, some of it running down to your belly button before dropping off.

"Mmm," you whine, "Master!"

His hips falter, stuttering for a moment. It's been a long while since anyone called him Master. His thrusts stop, but you hardly notice. You're grinding your pussy back against him like you don't have a thought in the world. His optics are wide as he gazes down at you, realising that you haven't even registered what you said.

One servo leaves the berth, wrapping around your waist for some physical contact aside from his spike. He wants to check that you're still conscious and aware of what's going on, and it's a relief to feel your breath under his touch.

You manage to battle through the haze, rolling your head to look up at him with half-closed eyelids.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask, your tone whiny and needy.

"You called me 'Master'," he answers softly.

"Sorry," you mewl, pushing your hips back against him. In a clearer state of mind, you would've known better.

"No, don't say sorry. Just say it again," he replies huskily.

"Master, please, I need you," you say with pure pity woven into every word.

The next thrust he gives is so strong and powerful that it causes your body to jolt harshly forward, tearing a scream from you. Oh, you get it. You've wanted to be bedded by the warlord he once was and were never sure how to ask for it, but this might be the way to get it.

"Master! Fuck me! Ruin me!" You chant like it's gospel.

He jackhammers his heavy spike in and out of your plush walls, demanding the space inside of you. It's unreal. You knew dating a mech would be far from what you're used to, but he takes it to a whole new level.

"I'm cumming," you whine, grinding your hips back against him. He groans as his optics flicker, losing his train of thought as your pussy milks him. The pleasure that swarms you is unbelievably satisfying, manifesting so well that a forceful stream of cum sprays from your pussy to splatter on the berth below.

"You always squirt so much when you're turned on," Megatron moans, revelling in the sound of your orgasm decorating the berth.

"Make me squirt again," you desperately plead. How are you still going? You were fucking until exhaustion earlier, but somehow, your energy is revitalised.

He vents, pausing his thrusts for a moment to shift positions. He slips his spike out of you, earning a saddened mewl at the immediate emptiness. He brings himself upright on his knees, clutching your waist with his huge servos before flipping you round onto your back.

He gathers both of your calves in one servo before pushing them up so that your knees are closer to your chest.

God, why is that such a turn-on? That's your legs fit in one servo, and he's bending your body however he wants it? Like you're some sex doll curated for his pleasure?

Anyway—

Leaning forward once again, he braces against the berth before slipping back inside of you.

You moan out shamelessly, folded in half and stuffed full of spike. The flurry of noises you make is perpetual, high-pitched and needy. The heels of your feet are placed against the swirling decor on his chassis, and fuck, this really puts into perspective how big he is.

"Deep— you're so— deep!" You choke on every syllable.

You ghost your hand down your body, settling it over your abdomen. Like this, you can feel him. Another moan bends in your throat, somehow getting even hornier. He's so big, you're not sure you're going to stay conscious.

Plaplaplap, non-stop. Over double your size with a spike to match, fucking you like you're nothing more than a fleshlight. Your wet pussy is making the most obscene, salacious noises as he hammers away at you.

"Your little pussy is so perfect," Megatron moans. "Tell me, who does it belong to?"

"You!" You blurt without hesitation, "Fuck. It belongs to you. I belong to you. Everything is all yours, Megatron!"

"That's my good Little Light," Megatron praises, sensing his next overload boiling in his tanks. You always take it all, you let him fill you up with every drop, time and time again.

You love it when he gets a little rougher with you, when he unleashes a fraction of the mech he used to be. His dirty talk is unmatched, and you know it comes from a time when he was bolder and more forward. He'd never talk to you like this outside of the berth, but when he's got every inch stuffed inside, he lets loose.

Your body is limp as he fucks you, your tits are bouncing, and your brain is melting right out of your ears. You'll be covered in bruises by the morning, but you won't hear a single complaint.

The metal slapping against the back of your thighs and ass feels similar to being spanked, which only adds to this whole thing.

There's something unbelievably comforting about having his weight on top of you, leaving you swarmed in his metal frame.

He bullies his thick spike meticulously through your tight walls, thrusting strongly to keep him deep inside. He's not being as gentle as he could be, which you're grateful for. A sheen of sweat clings to your body that makes you stick to the floor below.

He grunts as his next few thrusts are slower and harder. It doesn't take long for him to reach his next overload, filling you up nicely to top up what's been fucked out of you. You whine, bucking your hips up to plead for more.

Starting up again, he resumes his previous pace. He ruts into you like he needs it to live. You feel his transfluid start to pool out of you, running down the valley of your ass to puddle on the floor.

Being fucked against metal by a metal man is not the most comfortable of experiences, but you're too worked up to care. He's your metal man, and you'll never take it for granted.

"My beautiful little sex pet," he burrs. "So tight and warm."

"Don't stop, Megatron! Don't stop!"

"You were made for me, weren't you? Whoever designed you knew that you'd be a perfect thing to scream and cry on the end of my spike."

"Yes, yes!" You chant, "Yours. All yours! Perfect for you!"

"You better squirt for me," he says.

"Nearly! I'm nearly there!"

"Squirt, cover me in your orgasm."

As though he compelled your peak to come forward, a cry tears from you as you spray him once again. It covers his hip plates, some of it dripping down on the back of your thighs.

Your body shakes with the force of your orgasm flooding through you, your breath hitching as you try to control yourself. Your vision blurs as your head starts to spin.

The lightheadedness is starting to get to you. You're whining non-stop, but your eyelids are starting to flutter. You don't know how much more you've got left in you.

"Meh—uh. Mmmph," you spill breathlessly.

He looks down at you again, noticing how your eyelids are flickering, and your eyes are in the back of your head. This time, he can tell it's not the strictly pleasurable kind of lightheadedness.

"Little Light," he gasps, stopping immediately. He cranes himself further up a little so he can place a huge servo against the side of your head.

Slowly, he pulls his spike out of you.

Floods of transfluid immediately gloop and pour from you like a waterfall. He grabs your ankles again, lowering your feet back onto the floor before hoisting himself off you.

"Are you okay?" He asks, clearly concerned.

"This is the best night I've ever had," you reply breathlessly.

"You reckon it's all gone from your system now?" He asks, brushing tender digits affectionately over your features. You huff with a short smile, nodding in return.

"Let me get you cleaned up and back in bed," he suggests.

⋄✧⋄

Megatron has one arm strut wrapped around you as you sleep. He's been humanproofed, as you like to call it, many pillows lined against his chassis. One of your legs is slotted between his and one arm drapes across his front. You're fully lost to the realm of dreaming, and Megatron is memorising the way your short breaths puff from you. It sounds like you're getting a much-needed recharge, and Megatron is utterly besotted with how peaceful your aura is.

'I dread to ask, but how are they faring? The hallway is finally quiet, so I thought it'd be a good time to check in.'

Your lover hears the familiar ping of his co-captain over the internal comms link. He vents briefly before peering down at you, rubbing his thumb over your back.

The former warlord did not realise that you were loud enough to cause a disturbance in the entire hallway. But, he can't say he's mad about that. Maybe a bit prideful, in fact.

On stiff but shaky legs, you manage to get to your feet. You plant one hand against the wall for stability, taking a deep breath before looking down the length of the hallway. It's glum and gloomy, and humid beyond belief. With no clue as to where you are, you decide that exploring your surroundings is your only option.

Your hand runs against the cold wall as you walk, moving closer to the pinprick of light you can see in the distance. You assume that the cheering you can hear will be revealed to you in full once you emerge from this dark hallway, and maybe someone who can help you get back to the Lost Light, and most importantly, Megatron.

Stale oil and crusted energon collect under your fingertips as you continue on your path. The air feels dangerous, like it's coiling around the width of your throat and threatening to snuff out your life. You do everything you can to battle through it, focusing on the deific light that presents itself before you, getting closer with each step.

As you reach the end, the unison of cheers and chants becomes so loud that it makes your eardrums vibrate. You have to squint at how bright it is now, but you remain fixed to the wall. Adjusting your sights, you realise that you're in some kind of stadium. Rows upon rows of spectators lined up in a huge circular space, all pointing towards the centre so that they can enjoy the show.

"Megatron!"

"Meg— A— Tron!"

"Yeah! Get him!"

"Megatron!"

The yowls are thundering, like hooligans at a sports match. As your eyes cross the arena floor, you realise that you are indeed watching another form of sport. Blood sport. Or maybe better described as energon sport.

You witness a large, grey mech with red accents and black decorative swirls on his plating pummeling another mech. You recognise the attacker immediately as Megatron. You're reminded that Megatron once told you he modelled his current look off the appearance he had when he was a gladiator, so that he could always remember where he came from.

He's visibly far more staunch and aggressive like this. Spurts of energon spray everywhere as Megatron demolishes his opponent below. He has his dentae bared, his optics blazing wildly. It's the image of desperate survival. Of doing what he must in order to see the next cycle. It's kill or be killed, all for the viewer's pleasure. It's unethical and immoral under every definition of the word, and you can't help but observe in morbid awe.

For a moment, a damning moment, the aggressive beast looks up from his opponent. His optics dart in your exact direction, which steals the oxygen from your lungs in a startled gasp.

As he stares, he realises that there's nothing to be seen. There's nothing where he's looking, despite some invisible force urging him to gaze in that direction.

The faltering second is all it takes for Megatron's opponent to grasp at what little power he could. Wrapping his arm struts around Megatron, he rolls with him to turn the tide. Megatron grunts as he suffers a blow to his faceplate, but it doesn't cause any lasting damage.

Resorting to more violence, Megatron secures his arms around his enemy before engaging in his alt-mode transformation.

The act, whilst wound around another mech, causes his poor opponent to be ripped in half. A piercing, shrill sound cries out from the loser, a sound so pitchy it causes you to wince. You squint, shielding yourself from the graphic view.

The uproar from the crowd is enough to cause the supports to shake. Their golden victor reigns supreme once more, never failing to be entertained by such barbarity.

Megatron's engines idle, rumbling lowly as he basks in the glory. It's a desired side effect of the role he plays. They're chiselling away at him like he's fine marble, forming him into something mortals could only dream of.

He transforms back into his bipedal form, clenching his servos beside him before raising one fist to secure the win. The mechs circling him continue to clap and cheer, as if they didn't just watch a murder right before them.

Maybe, just maybe, you see how the warlord was born.

With this, it's his third win of the day. Which means he can now retire to his cell for a much-needed rest. Other gladiators can now take the centre stage to sate the endless need that these bloodthirsty aristocrats have.

He storms through the stretch of the arena, heading straight for the exit that you're currently glued to the wall of. You watch with bated breath as he approaches, but it doesn't seem he knows you're there. The crowd claps and chants his name to bid him a farewell, until next time.

Energon drips off his servos, leaving a trail behind him. It seeps into the cracks and seams of the metallic floor, threatening to rust it even further. A deep scowl is present on his features, one you recognise from the first few meetings you had with him.

This is where the miner-poet died, and the tyrant was born. These fights hardened him, they whittled him down until he snapped. You're not sure how far through that transformation he is at this point. The gravity that bends around him isn't quite as noticeable as the mech you're married to. He carries less sin, less tragedy. Less bitterness and anger.

The egg is only just starting to crack, from what you can tell. You like to think you know Megatron pretty well at this point.

He closes in on the exit, swallowing you in his shadow. You keep close to the wall as your eyes follow him, contemplating whether or not you should say something and make him aware of your existence.

Up close, it's definitely Megatron. Younger, but still him. He doesn't have those lines in his face which you know signify his age, and his optics are shaped a little differently.

He walks past you a few paces, but then, he halts. That same invisible entity roots him in his place. He turns his helm, looking back at the way he came. Just as before, he doesn't see anything.

That is, until your small form shifts in his peripheral vision. His optics snap to you, and he slowly pivots on his pedes.

"What are you?" You hear him ask just under a whisper. You're a tiny little thing, even smaller than a minicon. Yet… Strangely Cybertronian in structure. Bipedalism, a similar facial structure, and apparently sentient. Like some distant cousin of his species that was abandoned by evolution.

Before you can answer, he darts down to grab you around your waist. A squeal spills from you as he brings you closer to his chassis, shielding you as though you're a fine bottle of engex that another inmate might try stealing from him. Perhaps you are his winnings for today. He would've preferred a full meal, but he won't look a gift horse in the mouth.

He marches towards his habsuite, if it could be even described as such. A cell is probably a better term for it. It lacks security or privacy, with no door or barrier to prevent outside forces from coming in. He moves quicker than you can register as he turns into the equally derelict, barren space, which shares its atmosphere with the hallway connected to it.

Despite your struggle, you're not being very loud. No verbal protests except the meek sounds of writhing and huffing. Something gentle courses through Megatron's circuitry at your presence, as if you're slowly sedating him. Bringing him down from the adrenaline high of tearing through a dozen enemies for the upper echelon of society's entertainment.

He feels an innate sense to protect you, to keep you shielded and safe under his powerful servo. The same servo that just tore helms from shoulders will now guard you under his safety.

Sitting on his chipped, worn berth, he pulls you back to take a good look at you. He recognises the air of familiarity that you carry, and he knows it can only mean one thing.

"Why do you have my mark?" He asks, "You have my scent."

To be extra certain, he brings you to his faceplates. He presses your midriff up against his hooked nose, inventing to drag the smell of you deeper into his sensors. You yelp, not expecting such boldness. Your Megatron has never resorted to smelling you so overtly before.

"Megatron!" You cry, planting your hands on his helm. He continues to pull in your scent, nuzzling under your t-shirt to drag the bloodied metal of his nose along your bare skin.

"How do you know my name? I've never met you before," he remarks, the words bouncing off your skin. Aside from the fact that this mech literally becomes your husband in the future, he should've guessed that you'd pick up on his name from the endless chants of it in the arena.

"N—Not yet," you manage to respond.

"What does that mean?" He asks, pulling back from you to look at you. The red of his optics is much richer and deeper than the mech you're married to, like he's truly yet to see any authentic light in his life.

"Well… You do meet me, eventually. In about four million years," you explain to him, knowing how absurd it sounds. "This thing keeps happening to me where I'm sucked into portals and it's spitting me out into different timelines, each time I stumble across a previous version of you. I know that sounds insane, but you have to believe me!"

He studies you for a moment, notes the glint in your eyes and the slight tremble of your bottom lip.

"I believe you," he speaks lowly, pulling you close to smell you again. "Why would I have any reason to think you're lying?"

Huh. That's certainly a different tune from what you've received in the past. Maybe he's not incredibly cynical and suspicious at this point in his life.

"That's… That's great, I appreciate that," you mutter, a little flustered. "I miss you, though. I'd like to return to you. The future you. Do you know anyone who might be able to help?"

Pulling back again, he turns your question over in his processor. His optics scan down your body as his other servo comes up to drag his pointer digit down your torso, feeling you up.

"I do not," he mumbles, tracing the curves of your body. "It's nothing but brute strength and bellows down here."

Disheartening to hear, but you aren't surprised. Perhaps the same thing that happened last time will happen again, where the portal returns to spit you back out into your current timeline. You'll just have to wait and see, or maybe wait for your Megatron to find a way to retrieve you. You do not doubt that he will.

"What are you?" Megatron asks for the second time. He grabs your ankle between his thumb and foredigit, letting go of your waist with his other servo. You yell as your body flops down, dangling now by your ankle. He rotates you slightly to get a good look at all of you. He's never seen anything that looks like you before.

He's far more curious than the mech you're familiar with. You can tell he's younger, not yet hardened and brutalised by the cold, cruel universe.

"I'm a human!" You yelp. You trust that he won't drop you, but you can't be sure. Falling from this height would definitely kill you.

"Huuuman?" He repeats, tasting the word.

"My species doesn't exist yet for you," you try to tell him, struggling with the pressure of being hung upside down. "Can you please put me the right way up? This is uncomfortable."

He hums before satisfying your request, grabbing you by the waist to spin you back into the position he had you in previously. He pokes against your thighs and stomach with the digits on his other servo.

"You're so soft," he remarks, "How do we know each other?"

"We met on a ship," you say vaguely. You're mindful of what they call the Butterfly Effect. You don't want to say anything damning which might alter the trajectory of the future.

"We must be close," he speaks, his optics honing in on the vial that hangs around your neck. With a delicate digit, he knocks the vial to slosh the liquid around inside. "You have my innermost energon, as well as my mark."

"Yes, we have a strong bond," you answer.

"How strong?" He counters, shooting you an intrigued look.

You feel your cheeks flush with heat at the expression he's giving you. You aren't sure what to make of it, whether he's teasing you or genuinely unaware.

"We uh— We're what humans call married," you reply, hoping that the term is alien enough for him not to understand.

"Hmm," he vocalises, "I've never had a sparkmate before."

So he does understand. Maybe he can sense it, like he could the last time. Something about the Conjunx bond transcending timelines.

"How does that work?" He asks curiously, looking down at your legs. He grabs your ankle again, but this time pulls your leg outwards to spread you wide. "You are so small, after all."

You fight his hold, yanking your leg away to close yourself off from him out of mild embarrassment. You never thought Megatron could be so outspoken and borderline crude. He's immensely curious about you, not being shy to poke and pull at you to sate his questions.

"We— We have our ways," you stutter, "You'll find out for yourself."

"I suppose I can be patient," he answers, tilting his helm to the side as his hungry optics continue to roam you. He looks as though he wants to strip you bare and find out how the two of you make things work right now, but he senses your uncertainty.

And you're not uncertain because you don't want to, or that you're uncomfortable. It's the nagging voice in your head reminding you of the Butterfly Effect, which Brainstorm has lectured you on endlessly. Having sex with past Megatron, when he was in his stealthbomber form, was risky enough. The only difference was that at that point, Megatron was too far gone in his twisted ideology. Nothing you did would ever have steered him on a different path.

But to a Megatron this inexperienced? Things could work out differently. For better or worse. Maybe you'd have the chance to stop the war from ever happening, or you could cause a fate far worse. It's not something you want to tamper with. Only monsters play with the universe like that.

"How did you get back to your timeline before?" He asks, running his digit up and down your side as though he's gently petting you.

"Uhh… I just did, I guess? Another portal opened up and I got sucked back through," you recount your previous experience.

"Until that time, you're mine, right?" He concludes with a dull glint in his dark optics.

"Yours in every lifetime," you reply quietly.

"How romantic," he chuckles airily.

"Coming from the poet," you retort with a sly smile.

"Gladiator," he corrects pointedly, as if he's ashamed of being labelled as anything else.

"Yes, miner-turned-poet-turned-gladiator," you reply coyly, "I remember your history. I'd never forget it."

He brushes his nose against your torso again, addicted to scenting you. He's never laid his mark on another before, but he's enjoying the experience. You receive the gesture more easily this time, relaxing into the touch that is foreign yet familiar at the same time. It's soft, wrapping you in a fur-lined piece of heaven to make sure you feel protected and secure.

"Well, little human, I must recharge following my victory. Would you like to rest with me?"

"Is it safe to?" You ask, mindful of how open this place feels. You wouldn't be surprised if an attempt on his life is made.

"With me? Always."

You should never have questioned it. Of course, you'll always be safe with Megatron.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Shooting up from a gust of wind startling you, you yelp as your head hits the underside of a table. Whatever is on top of it rattles, the metal object undulating as it balances again. You groan in pain, placing your hand on top of your throbbing head.

Gathering your senses, you shimmy out from underneath the table. Looking around, you recognise that you're in your greenhouse, and spawned right under the table that hosts your very first plant from Megatron.

You stand, still cradling your sore head, making sure that the striking golden vase didn't sustain any damage from your knock. All seems to be okay, so you huff before rubbing your head a little to soothe it.

Turning, you start to walk towards the door. You should probably find Megatron. You have no idea how long you've been gone, so he might be worried.

As if the Devil heard you speak, the doors open before you can reach them. Megatron immediately moves into the room, seemingly relieved to see you.

"Little Light!" He announces, clamping the wrist-mounted mass displacement device on. He shrinks down to the height you're used to, closing in on you.

"What's happened? Are you hurt?" He asks semi-frantically, eyeing up the hand currently placed over the top of your head.

"Just had a little bump," you reply. He ushers your hand away, insisiting to let him take a look. He cups your head with his servos on either side, tilting your head down so that he can inspect the damage. No blood, and no obvious swelling.

"Where were you this time?" He probes, ducking down to give the gentlest of kisses to the top of your head.

"If you can believe it, with you. Again. Gladiator you," you explain with a sigh. All these portals really take a physical toll on your body. It's not natural for you.

"So, a much younger version of me, hm?" He says, hooking his foredigit under your chin to angle you so that you're looking up at him. He has an optical ridge perked, and you know exactly what he's thinking.

"Nothing like that happened this time. You were more just curious about what I am and where I came from."

"You really need to draw back how many portal adventures you go on, you frighten me to death when I can't find you," he says before picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You sling your arms around his shoulders as he walks with you.

"You know I don't mean to go on them, right? It just keeps happening to me," you defend yourself playfully as he sets you down on the counter.

"I'm going to need to chain you to me at this rate," he jests, placing his warm servo against the side of your head. He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone tenderly, billowing a relieved exvent from his grates.

"I'm not strictly opposed to that idea," you respond with a toothy smile. "Are you sure you wouldn't get sick of me?"

"Me? Sick of you? I don't think such a thing is possible. In fact, I think your presence would make much of my work go much quicker. Especially Magnus' tedious ship reports."

"Hey," you protest lightly, "He's just being thorough. Besides, you always pay every report a lot of care and attention."

"Of course, someone has to. Primus knows Rodimus won't," he replies before pressing a gentle kiss to your browbone.

"It's a hard life, isn't it, Megatron?" You coo with faux sympathy.

"I'll lock you in the brig for that," Megatron jokes with you, poking your side softly with his other servo. You giggle in response, finding his response endearing.

After a few moments of stifled laughter, you come out with another question which has hung in your mind for a while now.

"Can you… Smell your bond to me?" You ask curiously.

He shoots you a curious look in response before a small smile stretches over his derma.

"Smell it?" He repeats, "It's less of a smell, more of a sense, I suppose."

"And can others sense it?"

He chuckles lightly, dipping down to kiss you. You sigh into it, wrapping your legs around him almost on instinct. He brings himself closer, pressing his hip panels flush against you.

"They can," he whispers against your lips, "So yes, every Cybertronian we come across knows you're mine without even having to ask."

You pull him in for more kisses, settling your hands over the back of his helm.

"Your former selves call it a mark," you say through the kiss. "Pray tell, how did you mark me?"

Propped up on the kitchen counter of your idyllic cottage, your clothes are strewn on the floor, long forgotten at this point.

Your lips are in a heated battle against his derma as his servos roam you. Kneading the mounds on your chest, squeezing your hips, grabbing you to his spark’s content.

His hips thrust like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to experience your needy heat. He slides in and out, making sure you feel every inch. You’re moaning and whining into his intake, your hands snaking up to curl around the back of his neck.

Deft fingers find their way into the cabling you find along his neck, teasing them with fleeting and sensual touches. He vents into your mouth as his hips stutter for a moment.

“Put another baby in me, Megatron,” you request ardently. “Keep fucking me until I’m carrying a whole litter of your sparklings.”

He moans, moans, against the soft flesh of your tongue. He grabs your hips with both servos, gripping you tight. You know he has a breeding kink, and he keeps bringing up the topic of trying for another baby. He’s such a good father, so what’s the harm in gratifying him?

“We’ll need to fuck all night in that case, Starlight,” he utters.

“It’ll be worth it,” you reply before ghosting your hand down to one of his. You grab it, leading it over to where your womb is. His servo cups over it so tenderly, as though he still feels the remnants of your pregnancy.

“Think about your seed taking, about my stomach growing just like before,” you whisper, pulling his servo north to cup your tit. “And how full of milk I’ll be. You liked sucking on my tits last time, didn’t you?”

Next, he whimpers. He actually whimpers, and it takes you by surprise. You make a small yip of a noise, pulling back in shock. In all your years together, you’ve never heard him make a sound like that.

The neural relaxant Ratchet had pumped into your system was supposed to buy you eight hours of dreamless, uninterrupted stasis. For the first few hours, it had worked perfectly. You were suspended in a warm sleep, blissfully unaware of ledgers, audits, or the terrifyingly complex socio-political web you had tangled yourself in like some fly in a web. Deep in your processor, behind your shuttered optics, a faint pink light began to pulse. It didn't wake you, but it did pull you from the comforting depths of the deep-cycle recharge into a restless, somehow semi-lucid state.

You "looked" at your internal HUD. You watched the seconds tick down lazily, just like counting sheep. 02... 01... 00...

Then, the numbers stopped.

The pink text flickered, shifting rapidly from its cheerful magenta to a corrupted neon green, then to a harsh blaring red.

[ SYSTEM_THREAD_EXCEPTION_NOT_HANDLED ]

[ ATTEMPTING DEFRAGMENTATION... FAILED. ]

[ CRITICAL DIMENSIONAL ANOMALY DETECTED. RECALIBRATING... ]

Recalibrating? your sluggish mind echoed. What does that mean?

A sudden, piercing whine tore through your audio receptors, a sound so high-pitched and violent it felt like a physical needle driving into your processor. What the fuck was going on¿¿¡?!

[ WARNING: REALITY ANCHOR COMPROMISED. ]

[ INITIATING EMERGENCY SHIFT... ]

The void around you inverted. The darkness shattered into a blinding, negative-color flash, and the sensation of falling through a cold, frictionless vacuum seized your entire frame. Just like the first time you got here. Then, you hit the ground.

You jolted awake on the floor. The floor beneath you was freezing although ridiculously clean. You scrambled backward until your backplate hit a wall, your optics cycling rapidly to adjust to the lighting. You were in your habsuite.. Or, a twisted mirror image of it? "Trapster?" you whispered, your vocalizer trembling. "Jeppy?" You called out silently, but only the vibration of the Iacon outside greeted you.

You pulled yourself up, your joints aching with a phantom stiffness. You looked down at your servos. Your polished silver plating looked dull, scratched. What the hell? Even you didn't.. Where even were you? On your wrist you saw-.. A purple.. Purple autobot insignia.

Fuck you, you stupud fucking sy-*@#^@;..

"No!" you breathed, backing away from the window that overlooked a dark skyline filled with menacing spires. "No, no, no. The System was glitching. This is a nightmare. The relaxant gave me a nightmare! A nightmare!"

The sound of the door chiming made you jump nearly a foot in the air. It made you feel defensive on who was about to come inside the habsuite. The override keypad on the wall blinked green, and the heavy metal doors slid open without your permission. Who would you give your override key? Why would you give anyone your override key?? As you looked closer, you could see It was Orion Pax. But it wasn't your Orion. His silhouette was the same. Broad shoulders and all.. But his colors were off. Purple and Green. You could feel yourself wanting to dig a burial site. For yourself of course. Of all people in Shattered Glass it had to be this insane bot?

"There's my perfect little Aide." Orion purred, making you furrow your brows as he approached. His tone dripping with a condescending sweetness that made your plating crawl. You pressed yourself flat against the wall, your processor screaming at you to run, but there was nowhere to go.

"O..rion?" you stammered, your voice coming out as a pathetic, terrified one. In this universe, the System wasn't here to give you options. It wasn't here to force you into a [NOBLESSE OBLIGE] posture. But you quickly realized that even if it was, it wouldn't matter. In the Shattered Glass universe, your counterpart wasn't a snarky, corrupted corporate fixer, with how he acted, that was obvious. You were probably a meek and timid aide.. Not that it was an inherently bad thing, but it was if you were in Shattered Glass.

Orion Pax paused, his red optics gleaming as he took in your cowering form. His smirk widened, revealing slightly sharpened dental plates. "You're shaking!" he cooed, crossing the room in three long strides. "Oh, my sweet, fragile little thing. What has you so frightened tonight? Did Proteus raise his voice at you again? Did the big, bad Senator make my precious pet tremble?" What was he saying? Pet? You stared at him, confused as he reached you, looming over your frame. You tried to turn your face away, but his cold servo snapped out, capturing your jaw in a grip that was firm. He didn't crush you, but the threat was implicit: I could, if I wanted to.

"Look at me when I speak to you, [Y/N]." Orion murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek plate in a mockery of affection. "You know how I hate it when you hide those pretty optics from me." You couldn't move as you stared up at him, paralyzed by a terror so profound it overrode your vocalizer. This Orion Pax wasn't a naive scholar dreaming of a better world, he was a sociopath.

And in this Alternate reality, the 'Aide' you occupied was PROBABLY his favorite pawn. A timid, terrified, easily broken plaything he used to siphon secrets from the High Council.

"I..." You tried to speak, to form a coherent sentence, but your mind was blank. "Shh, shh.." Orion hushed you, leaning down until his faceplate was inches from yours. He nuzzled his olfactory ridge against your temple, a gesture that should have been romantic but felt entirely parasitic and overwhelming. "You don't need to speak if you're too overwhelmed. You just need to be a good, obedient little Aide and tell me you got the data I asked for." He pulled back just enough to look into your optics.

"The access codes to Proteus's private vault," Orion whispered, his voice dark albeit thrilling, vibrating with a scary magnetism that lulled your spark. "You promised you would slice them for me today. Did my clever, sweet [Y/N] do as they were told?" Codes? Vault? Your processor scrambled, desperately trying to piece together the life of the alternate 'Aide' you had apparently possessed. You had no idea what he was talking about. You didn't belong here. You were the Aide who cooked ledgers for Kaon, not the one who stole vault codes for a megalomaniacal archivist! Or something! A spark of your defiance, born of pure adrenaline and the visceral wrongness of the situation. Without thinking, you jerked your helm to the side, breaking his grip on your jaw. "Don't touch me!" you snapped, your voice finding a fraction of its usual aristocratic bite. "I'm not your pet." The moment the words left your vocalizer, you felt dread pile up inside of you.

Orion froze. His servo remained suspended in the air where your jaw had just been. Slowly, a twisted smile of amusement crept across his faceplate. He didn't look angry, in fact, he looked absolutely delighted. "My, my." Orion purred. "Has the little glitch-mouse finally found its teeth? After all these vorns of trembling and weeping, you decide to snap at the hand that feeds you?" He took a step closer, completely erasing the distance between you. He towered over you, his massive purple and green frame trapping you against the cold metal wall. "I find it endearing, really." he murmured, bracing his servos on the wall on either side of your helm, caging you in. "But let us not forget our places, my spark. You are a fragile, delicate thing, and I, I am the only reason Proteus hasn't had your processor scrubbed and your frame sold for scrap." He said, the sudden change in his tone made you flinch.

Your human survival instincts, you know, the ones that told you not to poke the bear, especially when the bear was a giant, sociopathic robot, kicked into overdrive. If you pushed him too far, he wouldn't just kill you, the look in his optics promised something far worse.. You had to play along, you had to survive until the System fixed whatever dimensional glitch had dragged you here! "I... I don't have them!" you stammered, forcing your posture to shrink, lowering your optics in a display of submission. "The codes-.. I couldn't get them."

Orion’s smirk vanished. The faux-sweetness dissolved into a blank one."You don't have them..?" he repeated, the words coming out flat.

"It was too heavily guarded," you lied frantically, your mind racing to construct a plausible scenario. "Proteus... he changed the encryption algorithms this morning. He stationed two Elite Guard bots at the terminal! If I had lingered, they would have noticed. I needed more time." You looked up at him through your optics, letting the genuine terror you felt bleed into your expression. "Please, Orion. I tried. I swear I tried.." Orion stared at you, his optics searching your faceplate, analyzing the tremors in your frame.

Then, he sighed, an exaggerated sound. He lifted a servo and gently, almost a bit reverently, cupped the side of your helm. His thumb stroked the edge of your audio receptor. "You poor, sweet thing." Orion cooed, his tone reverting to that sickening sweetness. "You were frightened. I can feel your cooling fans overworking.. The Senate is simply too harsh on your delicate processor, I push you because I know your potential, [Y/N], but I shouldn't expect you to do a warrior's job."

I kinda feel offended.

He leaned down, pressing his faceplate against yours. You squeezed your optics shut, shuddering as his cold metal scraped against your cheek. "It's alright," he whispered against your audio receptor, his breath hot, "I forgive you. You are trying so hard for me, aren't you? So desperate to please." Suddenly, your vision flickered violently.

Through the blinding terror of the moment, a static-laced pink window tore its way into your HUD, glitching and sparking with corrupted code.

[ S-S-SYSTEM ERROR... ]

[ UNAUTHORIZED ENTITY DETECTED... ]

The window flashed, struggling to render the UI. It overlaid Orion's face.

[ CAPTURE TARGET: O R I O N P A X ]

[ UNIVERSE ID: S H A T T E R E D G L A S S ]

You stared at the text. The Affection Meter materialized beneath his profile. It wasn't a standard bar. Fuck, no it wasn't at all!

[ AFFECTION METER: 100% ]

[ WARNING: TARGET WILL NOT HESITATE TO DISMANTLE YOU TO KEEP YOU SAFE. ]

[ ROMANCE TIP: S U B M I T. ]

A choked gasp escaped your vocalizer. 100%. The system had warned you about hitting 100%. Orion felt your gasp. He pulled back slightly, his optics narrowing as he studied your terror-stricken face.

"You're completely overwhelmed!.." he murmured, his gaze tracing the lines of your trembling frame. "Look at you. You're falling apart at the seams. The Senate is breaking you, my spark. I cannot allow them to keep treating what is mine so carelessly."

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" you whispered quickly, desperately trying to de-escalate. "I just need to recharge. I can try again tomorrow!-"

"No." Orion interrupted, his voice firm and absolute. His servo slid from your helm down to the sensitive cabling of your neck. He didn't exactly squeeze or choke you, but the weight of his servo resting over your most vital lines was a paralyzing threat. "No more trying, no more Senate.. You are too fragile for this world, [Y/N]. I have been patient, allowing you to play at being an Aide, but your utility has run its course."

"What... what are you saying?"

"I'm taking you with me," Orion said, his optics wide and manic with a twisted sense of devotion. "Back to the Archives. I have a private vault there, climate-controlled, Secure. No Enforcers, no Proteus, no data-slicing. Just you, and me, and the quiet.."

Your spark stalled. He's going to lock me in a vault. Oh scrap. "Orion, no!" you pleaded, your servos coming up to weakly push against his chest plates. It was like pushing against a solid wall of iron. "I can't leave. They'll hunt me down! They'll find us."

"Let them try." Orion scoffed, a laugh rumbling in his chest. "I control the flow of information in this city. I can erase you from the registry with a thought. You will simply... cease to exist to the outside world. You will belong entirely to me. I will keep you safe. I will hollow out your fears and fill you with nothing but my voice." He leaned in, tilting your helm back to expose the junction of your primary energon line. His derma parted, his sharpened dental plates grazing the sensitive metal of your neck. It wasn't a kiss but it was a brand, a promise of eternal suffocating captivity.

System! you screamed internally, your mind fracturing under the sheer weight of the horror. SYSTEM, GET ME OUT OF HERE! PULL ME BACK! The pink, corrupted window in your vision began to strobe wildly.

[ CRITICAL DIMENSIONAL OVERLOAD. ]

[ ANCHOR TETHER SNAPPING... ]

[ FORCING EMERGENCY REBOOT... ]

"You are so enamoring when you tremble." Orion whispered against your neck, his grip tightening. The sensation of falling returned, a violent, wrenching pull that felt like it was tearing your very spark out of your chassis.

You hit a soft surface with a massive, rattling gasp. Your cooling fans were screaming, your entire frame vibrating with tremors so violent your dental plates were clattering together. You threw your arms up, scrambling blindly to push away the heavy phantom weight pinning you to the wall.

"Master! Master, please! Do not malfunction! I am here!" You froze, your optics snapping open, your chest heaving with desperate breaths.

You were lying on the berth of your own habsuite. The ambient lighting was soft, soothing, and familliar. And standing at the foot of the berth was Trapster, your cleaning bot. "Trapster?" you croaked, your voice weak, raspy, and thankfully, blessedly normal.

"Yes! Yes, it is I!" Trapster squeaked, edging closer but keeping a safe distance from your flailing limbs. "You... you were cycling your vocalizer loudly in stasis, Master. You were thrashing, your temperature spiked. I thought you were experiencing a localized processor loop!" Trapster spoke fast, panicked. You sat up slowly, clutching your chest plates. You pressed your servo against your neck cabling. There was no heavy, possessive grip there, phew No sharpened dental plates.

You were back.

[ GOOD MORNING, USER! ＼(＾▽＾)／ ]

[ I am back online! Maintenance is 50% complete! Your UI is now 12% shinier! And look, no bugs!.. So far! ]

You stared at the window, your spark still hammering violently against your ribs. "System-.." you whispered, your voice shaking with residual terror. What.-.. what was that? Where did you send me? The pink window bounced aggressively innocent in front of your optics.

[ Send you? Silly User, I didn't send you anywhere! (˘³˘)♡ ]

[ You've been right here in your comfy berth for the last eight hours! Ratchet's neural relaxant is notorious for causing vivid, hyper-realistic processor simulations, also known as 'Nightmares'! ]

That wasn't a nightmare! Orion was... he was insane!.. He had a 100% meter! You showed it to me! You glitched!

[ Error 404: Memory not found! ¯_(ツ)_/¯ ]

[ I assure you, User, the Shattered Glass continuity is purely theoretical and definitely NOT an accessible dimension due to copyright constraints and extreme quantum instability! You just had a bad dream! Stress does terrible things to the imagination! ]

You're lying! you breathed, a cold sweat of condensation breaking out across your forehead plating. I felt him-

[ Just phantom tactile feedback from the relaxant wearing off! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ:･ﾟ✧ Drink some fluids! Take a walk! Forget all about the terrifying alternate-universe yandere clerk who wants to turn you into a submissive data-puppet! He isn't real! ]

The window vanished with a cheerful chime, leaving you alone in the quiet of your room with Trapster standing by the side. You sat perfectly still, staring at the empty space where the text had been. Your servos were still shaking, nervous and jittery. You knew it wasn't a dream, you knew exactly what you had felt. And worst of all, you knew that the System was capable of far more horrifying things than just blocking your comms or forcing you to work 3,200 hours. It could manipulate reality itself, and then smile while it lied to your face! It was a weird.. "Trapster." you whispered, pulling your knees to your chestplate. "Lock the doors. Override the external keypads, and shut down the automated entry protocols." You sighed out tiredly.

"I don't want any visitors in the meantime."

---------------------

As hard as it was to concentrate when he was mass-displaced, you’d have to set that intrigue aside if you wanted to be attentive to his needs. Your little hands could get into places between his armor that he couldn’t with his own servos. That was your expertise to him, able to ease and massage that tense frame of his.

The trust within the bond the two of you shared made this possible. He placed a servo on your back and eased you in closer to his frame, the touch gentle yet firm. “So, how was your day?” That question was something you’d ask him frequently, but today it just felt out of place and even inappropriate to ask.

With how tense his protoform was under the neck cabling, you could take an educated guess on that. “I can’t tell you…” His tone was apologetic and you chose not to grill him for further information. What sucked was you didn’t have that kind of clearance to be able to know about certain things going on and off the base. He’d tell you bits and pieces of what he could, maybe even a little more than he was supposed to…

As one of the very few civilians on base you knew far more than the others but that’s because he trusted you enough to share things with you. Your hand found a particularly tight area right under his chassis and his expression became far more relaxed as your fingers gently massaged it. His free servo positioned itself on your waist and kept you angled as you searched for any sensitive areas between his audial fins.

The tips of his digits massaged into the side of your waist, returning the favor unintentionally. When you glanced back at his faceplate you noticed him staring and looked away, a heat raising within your cheeks. Just friends. Friends that trust each other a lot, that's it.

That was the truth, but when he looked at you there was something else present in his optics, and it wasn’t just trust. He could feel it too. His optics examined you the exact same way you examine him. Different, yet so similar.

A shiver ran over you with his longing stare so you cleared your throat. “Alright you big metal bucket of rust, you’re alright and relaxed.” You tried to sit up but both of his big servos held you in place firmly. Your hips rocked on his chassis as you tried to wiggle out of his grip and there was a glint of humor within his tired blue optics.

Optimus gently lowered your top half down further to him until your face was a mere few inches from his own. You watched as his nasal bridge adjusted as his olfactory receptors took in a scent, maybe two. An optical bridge raised and he allowed you to sit yourself back up. That was a far different scent than he was used to you having. As different as it was, his systems recognized it immediately.

It shouldn’t distract him as much as it did as he has identified the same scent amongst humans before but with you it became disruptive. You were what Ratchet called ‘ovulating’ with something else mixed in this time. “Is there something wrong?” His optics flicked over to meet your eyes and for a moment he felt a hint of shame.

He was far more disciplined than that. As a Prime the mech spent eons of being controlled and methodical, and yet he scents the indication of potential mating along with arousal and almost unravels. “There is nothing wrong.” The rumbles of his deep voice had you adjusting your hips on his chassis. He noticed that.

You didn’t believe him at all but chose to only to avoid the thoughts of having done something to make him this uncomfortable. His servos on your hips continued to keep you in place while you both mentally dwelled on something unsaid between the two of you.

If he wasn’t uncomfortable then what could he possibly be hiding at the moment. The stoic old mech was vulnerable enough around you to show you various sides of him but now he appeared to be hiding all that away. Optimus sat up, sliding you down to his lap and keeping you there. You were now looking up at him instead of looking down at him and further away from his faceplate entirely.

“There’s clearly something wrong.” You folded your arms together glaring up at him and he acknowledged your irritation by moving a servo to the small of your back allowing the warmth to radiate there. “Easy.” Which was both a command and an attempt to deescalate from him. That scent was still there to beguile him while your writhing form stirred something within him.

You wanted off of his lap, immediately. If he was just going to deflect from the situation then he could do that alone in his quarters by himself. The future loud complaints you had in the back of your throat were drowned into silence when he lifted you up to pull you into a kiss. As much as you wanted to be surprised, you couldn’t, there was always something resonating there and unmentioned.

The taste of his mouth against yours was more than just foreign and alien. It was pleasant, so pleasant that it made you feel warmth at your thighs. As his glossa explored the inside of your mouth you realized it was strangely softer than you thought it would be.

Maybe they are just like humans, they just have a rather hard metal exterior compared to soft human skin. Even his lips or dermas as they called them were made of a more pliable metal that the rest of him. It had some give to it, and that excited you. The way his mouth moved against yours was a telltale sign of something else brewing.

Abruptly he pulled away from the kiss, he then stared at you momentarily with turmoil in his optics. Clearly trying to find every possible justification for what he was going to do. All the excuses he’d have to have handy to explain this if the relationship the two of you shared took this route. It would be controversial… to say the least. Yet that didn't seem to deter him from you.

His thumb digit ghosted over your lips, the physical touch reminding him that the kiss you two shared actually happened, and he was responsible. You were so much smaller and softer than him and the thought of him injuring you during such an act kept him at bay for the time being.

You’d be in grave danger if the mech began a much more intimate relationship with you. Keeping this a secret would be difficult and internally you both knew that. The warmth of his servo heated your palm as you placed your hand on top of it. The conflict radiating off of him happened to bother you.

“Optimus, it’s okay I promise. You’re not going to hurt me.” As if you two were already spark bonded, you could tell just what he was thinking. Always knowing just what to say to ease the Prime, it was certainly a talent of yours.

Your mouths connected in a kiss for a brief moment before you felt his servos guiding you onto your back. “This only happens if you want it to. I am not going to be disappointed if you refuse me.” Chivalrous as usual. You flashed Optimus a smile as you guided his servos down to your hips.

How could you refuse him? He’d saved your life more times than you’d even be able to remember, he’s gentle with you, he’s learned to trust you, and if you’re being honest he’s actually really attractive for someone that’s not even human.

“I don’t think I’d ever be able to deny you, Chief.” Chief. The nickname you gave him the day he brought you to the now back in operations N.E.S.T base after an accidental run in. Once on base he was far too busy to even acquaint himself with you, so you called and referred to him as Chief for almost an entire day before he finally introduced himself. To you the nickname just fit, you rarely use it now after he’s told you that you don’t have to formally address him.

After hearing that his optics dimmed slightly. A particularly heavy vent left his intake. Suddenly he likes that nickname. His servo hooked itself underneath your shirt in the process of pulling it off, but then he paused to look at you. In your own alien way he found you beautiful. You resembled a cybertronian femme so much but your uniqueness of your species made you special to him.

The shirt you wore was grabbed and lifted off by your own hands. You sat up just to unhook your bra band’s clasps and free your bare breasts. “Please don’t let me be the only impatient one.” There was humor in your voice, but little did you know his spike ached dreadfully behind his interface panel. He’d give anything to free it but he didn’t want to potentially scare you so early on.

He helped you remove everything else you wore, but you could sense the hesitancy in his actions. As if he was still unsure about all of this. You were so eager before and now you held your exposed legs tightly shut, finally the seriousness of the situation setting in and making you absurdly nervous.

Reality hit you hard when you remembered you’d never done anything like this before. That’s right, there was still the chance you could utterly embarrass yourself in front of the mech from lack of experience. Optimus noticed your shut legs and raised an optic ridge, you were just eager moments ago and now you seemed unwilling.

“If this isn’t something you want then we can just stop.“ You shook your head no as you tried to find the right words to explain to him what had you so shaken up. The expression on his faceplate did little to hide his confusion so you just blurted out your situation.

“So this is going to be my first time.” Saying it out loud didn’t ease you, not even just a little. You expected him to look at you with regret but there was only a countenance of understanding. A servo lifted up your face to his own faceplate and the two of you were close enough to kiss again.

“I will be very gentle with you. We will do this slowly.” He meant every word to you. He was going to try his hardest to control his strength and keep you from being overwhelmed. The fact that you trusted him enough to allow him to be your first made his spark hum within its casing.

After a few deep breaths you were calm enough to allow him to position his helm between your now parted thighs. His gaze lingered upon your sex making you feel rather self conscious, which was short lived once you felt the swipe of his glossa at your core. His ‘saliva’ if it could even be called that slathered along your slit. For him you were far from being anatomically different from a cybertronian femme, even the positioning of it. was the same. Which meant that he thankfully already knew just how to please you.

The next time his glossa came into contact with your cunt, it was to glide across the sensitive bundle of nerves between your folds. That gesture made you gasp and your hips involuntarily buck up into his faceplate. That kind of heat and wetness against it was unlike anything you’ve ever been able to do with your fingers or with a toy. He began circling the tip of his glossa around your clit and that made you writhe and moan loudly. The slowness of it felt like he was teasing but he promised he’d be gentle with you and take this slow.

He got closer to your slit and took your clit into his intake and you immediately tried to shut your legs. A quick servo of his stopped you while keeping one leg parted and letting the other close around his audial fin. His other servo slid up your heaving chest, digits rolling one of your nipples. Clearly he was just as intrigued about your body as you were with his.

His movements became faster and you threw your head back. Your hands became tangled in the plush blankets below you as you felt the hot pressure building within your abdomen. There was no way you were about to finish this fast, it was almost shameful.

A few more circles with his glossa before he closed his dermas around that precious bundle again and you came undone under him. The orgasm was quick but your cunt clenched and spasmed fiercely. Your climax didn’t make him stop pleasuring you, in fact he believed you needed more. That servo of his which fondled your perky nipples descended down, its destination between your legs. His pointer digit gathered some of your wetness on its tip before he gently pushed in inside you.

His finger was of course much larger than your own so the stretch didn’t surprise you. His intake never left your sex as his optics looked up to you to make sure you were handling this okay. When he was sure you weren’t in any pain he pumped his digit inside you while you mewled. The grip you had around his digit worried him, it created some doubt about whether he could actually fit his spike inside of you.

What relieved him was that you could take his digit all the way past the last joint, proving you had far more depth to you than expected. His audio receptors captured every whine, moan and gasp that left your lips. If only he knew he could get you to create sounds like these much sooner.

Your second orgasm was actually tear jerking, just so immensely powerful that your eyes rolled back and stayed there for a moment. The rhythmical circles he worked around the precious bundle with his glossa combined with his digit pumping into you would be the death of you. Even during the high of that climax his motions didn’t cease, he didn’t budge when your thigh pushed firmly against his audial fin.

When he removed his digit from your walls and replaced it with his glossa you saw stars. The size difference between his digit and glossa made you whine. In the Prime’s processors he consistently reminded himself that he needed to be gentle with you but the desire to taste you overpowered all of that. And no it wouldn’t have been enough to taste it from his digit, he needed it straight from your core.

Witnessing the usually very composed mech behave this way was startling to you. All that hard work he’d done to restrain himself, his discipline and morals becoming completely futile in a moment of intimacy. His glossa meticulously roamed your begging walls while you writhed in his grip. To him this moment of risk was well worth its reward, the taste of you within his intake proved to be sweet and palatable.

When his interface panel slid off with a loud hiss his shoulder axles unstiffened, the confinement of his spike a mere memory. The relief he felt was immense. To keep his interface panel sealed while his pressurized spike pulsated against it was borderline torture. Yet he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again to make you feel comfortable and prevent you from being overwhelmed.

He pressed two digits into you this time to collect your slick and applied it to his hardened spike. You caught a glimpse of the slickened metallic shaft standing tall at his hips and your attention focused there. He squeezed himself to show you that it had some give to it and you let out a relieved sigh. Even with that positive factor it still seemed just far too big.

“I’m going to be gentle.” Which came out more like he was reminding himself than easing your worries. That overwhelming feeling of doubt within his processors about whether this will work would stay stagnant until he actually made an attempt. While looking at your dripping slit his hardened spike twitched causing you to shudder.

You even clenched a little seeing its abrupt movement at his hip-struts. He moved to get on top of you, spike accidentally sliding against your slit causing you both let out a small moan. A pronounced moan in that deep voice of his had you clenching around nothing. You were so eager and overly excitable that he probably didn’t even need to touch you to cause a reaction.

While on your back you lifted your head up to look down and see that thick red and blue plated shaft he was angling at your entrance. Before the tip dipped between your thighs it dribbled and left a dense clear fluid trail from your belly button to your sex. Soon you felt the head of it pressing at your dripping hole. ‘Far too big’ you thought as he attempted to press in for the second time after being unsuccessful.

He tried again pressing it at the opening slightly hard that time and the result was the same as last time. “Wait there’s an easier way. I could uh just sit on top of you and gravity will help us?” Your voice became meek the further you explain the suggestion. The explicitly of it sounding completely out of place coming from you, and the notion that he may not even be a mech that would want a ‘femme’ on top of him anyways.

Optimus hesitated for a moment, clearly not as keen about switching positions just as you expected. You were going to tell him nevermind but he rolled over onto his back-strut pulling you on top of him. The movement was quick and swift and yet you still squealed expecting to somehow be crushed in the process. “Sorry.” His tone was apologetic, but you could have swore from the corner of your eye that you saw just the faintest smile just before it vanished.

Ignoring his oddly sly behavior you focused on the thing you’ve been waiting for him to give you this entire time. Your hand reached down between your legs and wrapped around his spike and it felt just as warm as the rest of him. The metal plating of it had just as much squish to it as the metal of his faceplate.

This skin of his never ceased to amaze you, soft pliable metal in some areas and strong hard metal in others. His spike was rather heavy in your hand, the weight of it making it even more imposing. Truthfully you weren’t shocked he was unable to sheath himself without hurting you, your four fingers and thumb couldn’t even connect to wrap fully around his girth.

You could feel his tip begin to dribble fluid again right down the back of your hand. This was good, you sincerely needed any kind of extra lubrication you could get. The weeping tip was guided to your entrance by your hand for you to make your first attempt at sitting yourself down on it. With the first try your walls didn’t budge, not even a little. The disappointment you felt heightened until on the second try you felt a tearing pain while hearing him groan.

That pain left you no longer able to support yourself on top of his chassis so you collapsed on top of him. If you had to guess only an inch slid in, and yet your legs were already trembling. Looking down at you he felt worse than he thought he would. He knew you’d be in pain but not to this level. That vice grip you had around him almost entirely clouding his judgement about whether or not he should stop this. Deciding to make the right decision to protect you he placed his servo on your lower back, coaxing you off of his spike and you of course disobeyed.

Instead you took your chance to sink further down even though it hurt like hell. He tried to help you off once more, and again you ignored him. The lower you sunk down the more your pain had diminished. After those painfully aggravating minutes had passed your body was flush with his own, surprising you both.

None of your toys had ever provided you with feeling this degree of fullness. The kind of fullness that made your head feel heavy and caused your legs to tremble. “You did it.” He praised, while letting a servo cup your delicate face. Yeah, you did it, now just how were you going to manage it. You decided you’d start by letting your hips rock back and forth while around his length.

That was all you could do for the time being as you had not found the strength in your legs yet to fully ride him. The height that you needed to raise your hips just to lower them was just far too much for you to do right now. You were able to grind your clit against the rim of his spike casing leaving you whimpering on top of him. The more firm and smooth metal rubbing against your swollen nub had you reeling.

Optimus had never removed his servo from your back, confident that leaving it there would help keep you stable. Every unsteady movement you made kept his optics in a trance. He watched as you struggled to find your rhythm, rocking against him in shaky motions while searching for a pace that finally felt right. The way your little heart beat far more than it should have during a moment like this meant he needed to assist you and ignore your impending stubbornness.

His servo moved to one of your hips followed by another servo on the other, both latching on adjacent from one another. Both servos gently lifted your lower half up around his spike and then down again, fully sheathing himself once more. “Hey! I can do that myself.” Before you had the chance to writhe in his grip and give him an issue he did the same movement again with your body and you keeled over in his grip. He quickly found a soft rhythm that pleasured the both of you and had you burying your face into his chassis.

The noises your cunt made every time he raised your hips were almost embarrassing, you didn’t know it could get that noisy when you were that wet. Soon you were moving your hips in sync with his servos drag of them. Then not too long after that you were able to raise your hips all on your own, setting a slightly faster pace that caused you both to moan. It sucked being so much shorter in comparison to his mass displaced height. It essentially made the occurrence of you kissing him during this very low.

Low but never zero, you learned as he leaned up and you raised up half way on his spike to meet each other’s mouths. The kiss lasted a few moments before you brought yourself down on the rest of his spike. Hips rocking momentarily before you resumed your previous movements.

His servos wrapped around your hips again, but before you could tell him you didn’t need his help anymore he flipped you over onto your back and began thrusting into you. The quickened pace made your bare breasts bounce hard upon your chest. His spike knocking the air from your lungs with every jab of his tip at your cervix.

It was already pleasurable before, but him taking the reins left you making incoherent babbles amongst your slew of moans. Thoughts certainly happened but the words came out jumbled. Your walls spasmed and clenched desperately around him squeezing his spike beyond belief. He already found you tighter than his closed fist so every clench spurred him to thrust harder.

He tried to control himself, contain his desire and his need for you. To listen to your body instead of his, repelling a side of him that wanted to do this to you roughly. A side of him from his younger years before becoming a Prime that wanted to leave you spike drunk. If you told him to stop and that this wasn’t the way you wanted your first time to be, he’d place your needs over his and listen. When you said nothing and wrapped your legs around him he took it as a sign that you needed this too.

The whining of scouts who didn’t want to complete their duties. The incessant fighting in between mechs on base, and all of his stressors from today seemed to release with every quick snap of his hip-struts. Just one more harsh spasm of your walls and you were coming around his spike.

To say that surprised you was an understatement. Neither your hand or his strummed at your clit for that to even happen, causing that orgasm to startle the hell out of you. You didn’t even know you could do that, an orgasm with an untouched clit? And you thought you knew everything there was to know about your own body.

That climax of yours only galvanized him to pound you harder. He minded his own strength and set a limit for how far he’d go but it was getting harder to control that by the minute. The way your heat fisted and constricted itself around the malleable plating of his spike made his processors spin.

Your nails dug into his chassis, causing him to let out a low growl. A noise you’ve never heard him make before, you liked it. And if you didn’t say that then he certainly felt it with the way you clenched in response. Suddenly he stopped thrusting, you whined and bucked your hips practically begging.

The whining pleas you vocalized had not gone unnoticed. He pulled out the entire length of his spike causing you to whine and whimper even more. You were maneuvered off your back and onto your belly, during that you got a view of his erect spike drenched in your slick with a white ring of cream around the base.

While on your knees you pressed your face into the plush blankets beneath you and arched your bottom higher to allow him a better angle. You understood the change of positions at least from what you’ve seen in porn. When the tip of his spike slid against your slit you felt it twitch against your folds. He was ardent on having you like this, the heavy vents from his vocalizer told you that much.

His spike slid in and your breath hitched, the tearing burning stretch you dreaded was felt all over again. It started to fade so much faster than it did the first time. He placed a warm servo on your back once more to soothe you, apologetic for the pain you’re experiencing.

He waited for you to become adjusted to the stretch again even though he badly wanted to continue thrusting. He would never do something that he knew would hurt you and leave you in distress. Once you felt ready you rocked your hips back against his letting him know the pain had subsided.

The first thrust pulled a loud moan from you. The change in angle felt like a different experience entirely. You buried your face in the blankets below you when the thrusts continued and slowly built up pace. This time you felt his servo move to between your legs while the other was on your hip. His digits zeroed in on that tiny bundle of nerves, circling it and causing you to cry out his name.

The loud slap of his metal exterior against your skin became louder than the noises of your slick sex. You could still feel his optics on you, scanning your back, watching your movements for any sign of pain. He was still not too far gone to cease his protectiveness over you.

Soon you felt an orgasm building, and you wouldn’t be caught off guard this time. The growing tightness within your abdomen, that coil of heat there threatening to snap at any moment. You could hear Optimus venting from behind you a lot louder now. Between his thrusts he’d groan and say something in his native language that you couldn’t possibly understand. His frame ran hot as his spike bullied through every tight clench of your walls, tip of it leaking beads of thick pre-transfluid against your cervix indicating his soon coming overload.

Then your legs began to weaken, moans got louder and you finally felt it. That knot within you unraveled causing your hands to tightly grab the blankets below you. Every thrust from him only made each wave of your climax stronger. Your eyes teared up and suddenly you felt his-struts snap harder against you. The walls of your cunt sucking him in with each pulse wanting to desperately milk him.

“You’re mine.” You almost just barely heard it amongst the other noises going on. He said it so calmly amongst his vents causing you to shiver. His spike twitched inside you sporadically then you felt hot thick streams of fluid spilling into you. With his continued thrusts his blue transfluid frothed out from around his spike and trailed down your thighs. He rode out his overload pistoning inside you without any clear rhythm. Following his completion, he stilled inside you. His spike depressurizing with a faint throb.

His servos caressed the sides of your hips, feeling the indentations of his prior grip on them. He looked you over, looking for any signs of damage and injury. A gasp left your mouth when his spike pulled out of you, allowing more fluid to escape. You were gently turned over onto your back, he checked again for any injuries and found none.

“I’m fine, I promise.” Your tone seemed upbeat and normal to his audio receptors. A smile on your face eased his worries. His servo entwined with your hand causing you to smile even harder. All of that tension between the two of you finally had an ending. It was quite a pleasant and unexpected one. Yet the question in your mind became what the two of you were now? Still just friends or something more?

He pulled you onto his chassis, the recent memory replaying in your head of him allowing you to ride him. Your cheeks flushed remembering the expression he made after he bottomed out inside of you. The two of you engaged in another deep kiss, his servo wrapped gently in your hair. His mouth leaving yours to whisper something to you in a language you couldn’t decipher. Whatever he said while cupping your face caused his spike to pressurize again and prod at your thigh.

• Eyes sleepily opening as his chin brushes the top of your head, you shift and are immediately aware of his spike stretching you. Making you remember you’d let him stay inside you after. Flushing as you remember his big hands on you, him shifting to his knees and then awkwardly to his peds while you’d wrapped your legs around him to try and help keep his spike from slipping free. And apparently you’d fallen asleep with him buried inside you while he’d been working.

• Servos flexing against your hip, gently squeezing to make you suck in a breath. “I’m almost done,” he growls, watching you as he keeps writing with the other hand. Feels your little hands gripping his chassis, and he can’t believe you actually managed to fall asleep with him inside you. Can’t really understand being willing to be that vulnerable and it’s humbling.

• How many times have you woken up to him shifting against your back, lifting one of your thighs before his spike stretches you? Not even after sex, just wanting to feel you. Like he’s desperate for the intimacy, to feel someone that close. To not be alone. Makes you wonder if he was lonely before. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say on a yawn, laying your chin against his chassis to look up at him.

• How can you be so completely at ease with him? Know the things he’s done and still be able to look past them? Shifting faintly under you, he growls as his spike swells and knots inside you, both of you groaning at the sensation. Didn’t mean to do that, but he can’t deny that it feels good. You feel good. “Megs,” you laugh, no real censure in your voice as his lips twitch. Should be embarrassed about that, but at this point, he’s too old to care.