Y'know Like... Yeah

Beachcomber looks out over the little, sparkling waves rolling in and crashing gently against his frame, a contented sigh leaving him. The moment breaks as he hears splashing next to him and he turns to wave at Perceptor who’s finally come to join him.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Beachcomber smiles broadly at Perceptor, the afternoon sun glinting off of his denta.

Perceptor looks dubiously at the surrounding water, distracting himself as he walks and slips because of it. Beachcomber catches him with a soft chuckle, pulling him to his pedes before holding him close.

“Careful there, it’s hard for someone with your kind of altmode to resurface…”

Huffing, Perceptor rights himself with his hands on Beachcomber’s shoulders, “Why did you ask me to come out here in the first place?”

“I just… “ Beachcomber sways the two of them in time with the gently rolling waves, “wanted to share this with you…”

They two of them sway together as Perceptor’s normally stern face softens and he sighs before laying his helm on Beachcomber’s shoulder.

“You’re far too sweet for this war…”

Beachcomber pulls him closer, “I could say the same about you, sweetspark.”

Perceptor’s hold on him tightens at that and he pulls away to look Beachcomber in the optic through that dorky visor of his, “You think far too highly of me.”

“Nah,” Beachcomber reaches up and cups Perceptor’s face, “I know a good bot when I see one…”

There’s a long moment between them but, as always, Perceptor caves to the sheer kindness of Beachcomber, moving in to kiss that darling grin off his face. A soft sound of surprise burbles in Beachcomber’s intake before he melts into Perceptor, his hands roving over Perceptor’s back exploratorily, feeling the odd bits of kibble at the apex of his frame. Perceptor’s touch is hungry as he pushes his glossa into Beachcomber’s mouth, pulling the mech closer to him, earning himself a fond chuckle from Beachcomber that rumbles pleasantly in his chest. He grabs Beachcomber’s hips who gasps and that little sound sends heat through Perceptor’s systems, driving him further, delving into Beachcomber’s seams.

Beachcomber shuffles as much as he can in the deep waters, his leg lifting shyly to rub his thigh against Perceptor’s only to retreat, thinking better of the action and refocusing on just the kiss. A hand snatches his leg and Beachcomber yelps softly, breaking the kiss as Perceptor hikes Beachcomber’s leg up onto his hip, causing their panels to bump together.

“P-Perceptor…” Beachcomber meets Perceptor’s optics, hugging him as his spark feels like it’s spinning a hundred kilometers a second.

“Is this okay?” Perceptor asks softly, pulling himself flush with Beachcomber who grins sweetly, making Perceptor feel like he’s falling all over again.

“Yeah… if you’re sure…” Beachcomber ducks his helm a bit bashfully, “Didn’t take you for such a wild bot, Percy.”

“Just for you, sweetspark,” Perceptor murmurs and Beachcomber can only chuckle, too flustered to put his excitement into words.

They kiss again, slow and sweet as they grind against each other, the salt water making their charge go wild so that even the faintest touch creates a tangible shock between them. Just the anticipation has Beachcomber moaning into Perceptor’s mouth and for the first time in his life his panels pop open without him thinking about, making him shiver as the cold water brushes against his valve. Preceptor grunts at the feeling of the soft mesh against his panel and he pressurizes his spike to meet it and grind against Beachcomber’s node, the water becoming electrified them so that it’s hard to tell when it’s a caress of a hand or just a shift in the water that builds the charge between them.

Hiking up Beachcomber’s other leg, Perceptor breaks the kiss so that he can focus on positioning his spike to Beachcomber’s entrance, concentrating hard on that enough that the look on Beachcomber’s face when he finally looks up makes him freeze. The sunlight bounces off the water to highlight Beachcomber’s features as his optics flare with excitement and his mouth tilts into this little, anxious smile that has Perceptor craving to kiss him.

“Something wrong?” Beachcomber bumps his helm against Perceptor’s.

“You’re gorgeous,” Perceptor whispers like a confession.

Beachcomber flubs for a second only to decide to hide against Perceptor, “Heh, how’d I land a mech like you?”

“Easy, you smiled,” Perceptor whispers and slowly pushes his spike into Beachcomber’s valve that’s so warm compared to the cold water of the ocean that it almost feels like it burns.

Beachcomber shudders in his arms and moans softly as Perceptor’s spike parts his folds, the head pressing at his sensitive mesh and making his nodes flutter to life until Perceptor’s spike settles all the way inside. The head of Perceptor’s spike nestles against his interior node, sending a wave of charge through Beachcomber who clings to him desperately. Their mouths meet in a messy kiss as they begin to roll their hips together, Perceptor grinding his spike into Beachcomber’s valve with their movements churning the water around them. They rock together without any sense of hurry, taking all the time in the world as the heat and charge builds in their joined interface, the waves rocking with them. Perceptor pulls from the kiss to press his lips to Beachcomber’s neck, pressing light, fluttering kisses against him, reveling in the feeling of Beachcomber’s frame as he pumps his hips faster, properly thrusting into Beachcomber now.

“Your valve is so soft,” Perceptor murmurs and groans as he feels Beachcomber’s valve squeeze down around him.

“Ah, Percy…” Beachcomber groans out softly, tightening his legs around Perceptor’s hips to press closer into the feeling of his hot spike.

The charge builds and builds pushes faster and harder into Beachcomber, excited by the little sounds Beachcomber makes as he kisses everywhere he can reach.

“So lovely…” Perceptor whispers to Beachcomber only to grunt as Beachcomber tenses around him, digits scrambling against Perceptor’s wet plating as he overloads.

A warm rush of charge flows directly into Perceptor’s spike as the walls of Beachcomber’s valve constrict around it, connecting all the nodes possible, drawing him quickly and sharply into his own overload. He holds Beachcomber close as he releases, his transfluid filling the tight space.

They come down together, neither one eager to separate, so they stay there tangled with each other as the waters cool their frames so they don’t need to activate their fans as they enjoy this moment of calm, of peace. Pulling away slightly, Perceptor is about to say something when something suddenly bumps into him and he jolts before looking to find a dead fish. As he looks around he sees more and more rise to the surface.

Beachcomber laughs a little uncertainly, “Uh, I guess we kind of over did it…”

Percpetor pinches his nasal ridge, frustrated with himself, “Right… the charge… it must have electrified them.”

The little bot sits there on a crate, looking around nervously at the cons wandering around the warehouse, unhurried and almost bored. Their spark spins rapidly at the sound of every heavy footfall of the large mechs, keeping their optics trained forward as they curse their captain and that stupid mission. Now, they’re stuck here surrounded by the infamous combaticons while not even cuffed because they pose that little of a threat to these hardened criminals. All the cons are speaking in jargon they’re unfamiliar with so that they can’t even pry out any useful intel in their terrified state, and even if they get out of this alive it’ll still have all been just a waste of time. Why did their grappling hook have to fail?

The boss of the operation is a hulking and icy beast of a mech who the others keep calling Onslaught and he seems to be the only one keeping any sense of order among the chaotic party as the ones called Vortex and Blast Off argue with much more talon than necessary. The heaviest, Brawl moves massive crates around, unbothered by the others as he does his job while occasionally checking in with likely the most infamous of them all, Swindle. This is a living nightmare and they feel like they’re just waiting for them all to get bored enough to remember that they’re still there. In the meantime though, everything seems… manageable.

A chill runs up their spinal strut as the sound of metal on metal gets louder and louder behind them before finally stopping. After a long, silent moment, they look up behind them to be met with piercing red optics and the massive form of Onslaught.

“What rank are you?”

“C-cadet…” they answer weakly.

He scoffs and snaps his attention to Swindle, “Told you this one was useless. Take them out with the rest of the cargo, maybe they’re worth something.”

Their optics go wide and they shudder.

Swindle sighs dramatically and wanders over, barring the little bot in between the two massive cons.

“You haven’t even tried to get anything from them…”

The two of them proceed to argue which catches the attention of Blast Off and Vortex who come over to join in the banter, succeeding only in making things increasingly frustrating for Onslaught. Brawl, finished with his work, comes over as well but doesn’t join in, rather, he simply observes the verbal carnage between his associates. As they watch all this happen, they quickly realize their disadvantageous position as their field of vision is filled with Decepticon panels. Warmth floods their lines and they look down, absolutely mortified by their frame’s reaction at such a sight, and quietly curse their roommate for showing them those banned vids… They belatedly notice that everything has gone quiet, getting them to look up only for their optics to go wide as they see all optics on them.

Swindle smirks, “See something you like, cadet?”

They’re certain that they’re practically glowing pink with the energon rushing to their faceplate, “S-sorry…” It’s all they can think to say in the face of a small hoard of Decepticons that have them completely surrounded… with their crotches all in their face.

Onslaught lowers himself, “Maybe you can be some use after all…”

Blast Off runs a digit over their helm curiously, the touch making them shiver.

“W-what do you mean?” they stutter out, trying to stay calm.

“How about…” Swindle taps their intake, “you put that cute little frame to work for us?”

They look up at him, screaming internally at how close he is, scared out of their mind, “What do you want me to do…?” As they meet his optics, they send a silent prayer to Primus that they won’t ask them to infiltrate an Autobot base for them or bait their comrades here or…

The sound of a minor transformation sequence whirrs behind them and they look up to find Onslaught’s spike out there in the open, the biolights along it pulsing eagerly. Their mouth falls open in shock only for them to snap their helm back up to attention as a chorus of panels moving away erupts around them, and before they know it, they’re surrounded by massive spikes in a situation that feels crazier than even their wildest fantasies. For a bit, they just sit there, stunned as they struggle to process exactly what’s going on and who exactly decided that this would be a good idea. Then, the head of a spike presses impatiently against their cheek and they instinctively bat it away, turning to object only for it to be pressed to their open mouth instead. It’s heavy and warm against their mouth, making them shiver, and there’s an oily scent to it that has their intake producing more oral lubricant than normal as a hazy warmth forms in their frame.

It’s too easy to give in to this, they chastise themself even as they grip the large spike, stroking it as they lick at it hungrily. Another spike nudges into their other hand, desperate to be attended to and they oblige, quickly falling to the whims of these horny Decepticons. A large hand pulls their helm from the spike and back onto the crate before the head of yet another spike is pushed into their mouth as they continue to stroke the other two spikes, forcing a moan from them at the feeling of being used. Skilled fingers rub at their panels, urging them open before finding their node and playing with it with practiced touches, sending pulse after pulse of charge through them as they feel the spikes in their hands and mouth twitch. Digits slip into their already wet valve, touching them more experimentally, curiously rather than to pleasure them as though they really are just something fascinating to play with. The thought of that makes them move their hands desperately as their jaw aches from sucking on the spike head in their mouth reverently.

Lubricant drips from their valve as the spikes in their hands twitch in a way they think is almost… cute, and they continue on harder, faster with their touches like petting over-eager cyber foxes. Their hands stop and squeeze down hard as a moan is ripped from their intake as a spike pushes at their entrance, nuzzling into them slowly as their frame adjusts to allow a spike that’s bigger than any other they’ve ever taken before. Squirming, they try to regain themself only for strong hands to pin down their hips, keeping them still so that they can be filled to bursting with con spike, and with their fogged-up processor, they don’t think they could be happier. Regaining just the tiniest bit of sense, they get back to working the spikes in their hands and mouth in time with the lazy thrusts stretching their greedy valve, not caring enough right now to feel embarrassed at how easy it was for their frame to accept such a spike.

They don’t know how long it’s been nor do they care, surrounded by throbbing spikes all eager for their attention as they roll their hips into the thrusts from whoever it is, they don’t care, it all feels too good. The thrusts get faster and faster, rocking their entire frame and they try to match the pace with their touches and glossa. Warm transfluid fills their valve suddenly, dragging a needy cry from them muffled by the spike they’re still suckling. They keen weakly as the spike in their valve is drawn out slowly followed by a soft gush of transfluid that has them shivering and needy; they need to be filled again. Seeming to sense this, another spike fills them, their only indication that this is someone else is from the sheer feel of the spike, slimmer and longer so that it hits deeper into their valve and drags out more slowly.

At this point, they’re fully out of control, their frame being used as the cons see fit until another load of transfluid is dumped into their valve as ropes of the hot, sticky liquid coat their frame. They moan and try to swallow as much as they can as Onslaught unloads in their mouth but it’s too much, leaving the rest to spill over their face and neck. They lay there completely spent, covered in transfluid without a single thought in their head, if they did, they might feel a bit ashamed at the leering looks over them from the cons they just pleasured. The warehouse is several degrees hotter now with all of their frames giving off so much heat that a light steam has formed in the air around them all driving all of their fans into overdrive just to cool off.

They wait in the dim light of the alleyway, the hood of their hoodie pulled over their head to obscure their features as their eyes flick over the street barren of all life except for the occasional car passing by. As the minutes tick by, they become more and more nervous with a hand clutching the wad of cash in their front pocket with a vice grip.

“So you came after all…”

The smooth voice sends a jolt of electricity up their spine and they whirl around, their heart beating out of their chest as their eyes land on a man dressed to the nines in a gold-colored silk suit and what looks like a million in ice on his fingers. Purple eyes that seem to almost shine in the hazy light of the street lamps look over the heavy frames of gold-gilded sunglasses. His very aura oozes sleaze as he leans back on his similarly colored jeep which is oddly clunky compared to the man but likely filled with all manner of contraband.

“Y-yeah, I’m here… It’s Swindle, right?”

He tucks his thumbs in his pockets and nods.

  “Do you have it?” they manage to stutter out as their eyes flick around nervously, still not sure how he managed to sneak up on them in a jeep of all things.

Swindle pulls out the simple USB from his pocket, such a little, innocuous thing but it’s the answer to all their problems, “You good for it?”

Slowly, they slide the slim wad of cash so that it just peeks out for him to get a good view of it.

His eyebrows flick up, clearly amused, thankfully amused instead of annoyed by them and he huffs a soft chuckle, “All the way out, if you wouldn’t mind…”

They slip it out into plain view only to hold their breath as he steps over to them with a casual swagger like this is just a regular Tuesday for him, it probably is… He reaches out and they do their best not to flinch as he thumbs the bills and clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he pulls away.

“Not enough,” Swindle sighs, grinning to reveal teeth with gold-tipped canines when they gawk at him.

“Not enough?? This is five gr-,” they cut themself off and lean in closer to hiss, “This is five grand just like we agreed.”

“Circumstances change, sweetheart,” he shrugs, “These files were a might harder to snag than expected, one of my guys got hurt and needed some patching up; that’s just how the business goes sometimes…”

They grimace and glance at their phone to see the time and sigh, “Hypothetically, how much more are we talking here?”

The dealer sucks a breath in through his teeth and they swear he’s enjoying this, “Oh, a measly five-hundo ought to do it.”

“Five hundred?!”

“Oh come on, if anything I’m giving you a discount… gunshot wounds don’t come cheap, you see,” Swindle grins like the Devil himself, sliding into their space like oil on paper.

“I can’t just come up with that right here right now. Can’t I owe you, or something?” cold sweat begins to run down the back of their neck.

His grin smooths out into something flat and lifeless, sending a chill through them, “You can’t call one of your buddies or something?”

They stare at him for a long moment, terrified as they remind themself he might be armed as their thoughts freeze and they can’t think of any way to get what he’s asking for. Seeing this, he sighs and moves away to turn back to his gaudy jeep, waving to them over his shoulder.

“Well, that’s too bad, I was rather looking forward to this payday…”

They tense, breath caught in their lungs as the USB quickly slips away from them and everything they were hoping to find along with it.

“W-wait!”

Swindle stops in his tracks and glances back at them, those purple eyes glaring into their soul.

“I… Can I pay… some other way?”

His lips part softly, momentarily speechless, and then he scoffs, “You don’t know what you’re offering, sweetheart.”

“Look, I get that I might not be your type but I’m desperate here, okay?” they step a bit closer, not brave enough to cross the full divide.

He sighs and then to their astonishment, flickers out of existence before the jeep starts to move on its own, its pieces shifting and whirring out of places with the soft hiss of pistons breaking up the strange buzz of different mechanisms. Before them suddenly stands a being, an entity the likes of wish they’d never seen before with glowing, purple lights for eyes set in a metallic face atop a boxy yet sleek body that was clearly once in the shape of a jeep. They stare at Swindle with their mouth open wide in shock. With that same voice, albeit more modulated now, he chuckles and leans down to carefully close their mouth with a broad, metal digit.

“You sure about this now?”

They swallow and whisper, “If you’re open to it… sir.”

“Ha! You know what? I like you…” he pulls back, propping himself up on a nearby wall, “...and I guess you’re an alright height for it.”

They blink and watch Swindle get to his knees, motioning for them to come closer with the slow curl of his fingers and a smirk on that metallic face. At his beckoning, they approach him, caught in a daze by his alien form and getting almost… excited. 

He tilts their chin up gently, “How about this? You do a good job and hand over that five-k afterward and we’ll call it even.”

They swallow and nod only to gasp as, suddenly, the metal plates at his crotch move apart to reveal a thing made of metal and mesh that pushes out of its housing segment by segment with lights that flash all along it. For a moment, they’re mesmerized by the pulsing thing that’s quickly broken by the alien dealer pulling them forward so their face is just a breath away.

“Well,” he looks them over with a cocky grin, “get to it.”

Steadying themself, they reach out tentatively, running a hand up the length of what they can only describe as a robo-penis, surprised to find that it’s warm to the touch and more malleable than they expected. They slowly run their hand up and down over the mesh and strips of light that seem to make it twitch every time their fingers run over them so they pay more attention to those, bringing up their other hand so they can rub his cock along both sides, their fingers barely tapping together. Leaning forward, they lick the head to be met with a zap of static that makes them gasp in surprise, pulling away for a second before moving back in, lapping at the head as they stroke him. They close their mouth over the head of his dick and press their tongue into the divet there, finding that he just tastes of metal and ozone which isn’t too bad in their opinion.

Heat begins to pool between their legs as they continue to lick and stroke him, the feeling of Swindle’s spike firm yet pliable between their hands as something electric makes it feel like it's gently buzzing against their tongue. Their cheeks flush with embarrassment, hardly believing they’re getting excited from sucking on an alien robot’s cock but even just that thought makes them shudder ever so slightly. There’s a smell similar to over-heating electronics and they open their eyes to glances up and they go still in surprise at the sight of his eyes flaring bright as he bites his hand hard, staring down right at them.

“Hm?” they hum curiously, keeping their mouth on him as they feel him shiver, his plates clanking together softly.

“I didn’t tell you to stop…”

They shut their eyes again at that, sucking a bit on the head of his cock as they squeeze a bit while stroking him, pulling their lips off of him with a pop before running their tongue along the strips of light. A hand lands on their head, petting them gently as they continue their work, urging them on. Panting, they lap at him while thumbing that divet in the head of his dick until their hands are pulled away, making them look up at Swindle with a gulp.

“I think there’s been enough foreplay,” he vents out and they can feel the heated air wash over them as he cradles them and pulls down their pants, “Let’s get to the good part…”

They shiver as he paws at their ass, spreading their cheeks so he can rub over their entrance.

“W-wait, but I thought you just…” they cut themself off with a moan as he gently presses a bit into them.

“Relax, sweetheart.”

He works them slowly, spreading them open with a surprising amount of care until they’re a mewling mess in his hands held just a few feet from the ground. They moan in protest as he pulls his finger away only to yelp as they feel him press his metallic cock against their entrance.

“Just breathe…”

Nodding, they grip his arms as he slowly pushes into them, making them shake at the sheer pressure as he slips into them segment by segment until they feel fuller than they ever thought possible. Their head lolls back as their legs twitch, overwhelmed by the sensation of his massive dick pulsing inside of them, that same strange charge feeling like it’s connecting directly to their nerves, making them go haywire. Swindle stays still inside them for a long moment with the sound of fans buzzing in the air, covering up their weak, little moans until something… gushes. The squeak as something warm and slick blooms inside them, feeling weirdly good as it eases the tension inside them and smoothes out the path Swindle’s spike took.

“Did… did you?”

Swindle shakes his head, “Just… hah, pre-fluid, don’t get your hopes up…”

“That’s not…” they shut themself up, blushing darkly at the thoughts swirling in their head. This doesn’t need to get any weirder.

He moves, finally, and they keen as the shallow ridges of his dick rub inside them, the odd fluid making it feel all the sweeter with a soft buzz like local anesthesia. Writhing helplessly in Swindle’s hands, they hold on as he uses them like a living cocksleeve with deep breaths as he moves almost too slowly like he’s afraid of breaking them. They wish he’d move just a little faster, the stretch of his spike achingly good but the touch of it is teasing almost to the point of agony, turning their mind into a cloud of fog. That strange buzz increases gradually in rolling waves, overwhelming their nerves and making every touch of his cock inside them feel heightened. No one’s ever fucked them like this before…

The heat within them builds gradually, their body getting tighter and tighter with each pleasant bloom of sensation that has them letting out incoherent noise and saying things completely out of their control. This liquid pleasure he’s pumping into them doesn’t form into a sudden peak but builds and builds like he’s forcing them into a corner until their mind goes blank and they go totally still, overwhelmed by the energy and heat coursing through them until they go limp in his hands. They shudder and keen weakly as Swindle quickly slides out of them, grunting as he holds them close to his chest and they feel his spike bump against their butt as he releases over the ground.

It takes a second, but once he’s done he pulls them away and they immediately miss the warmth of his body. They squeak as he cleans them with a cloth that he pulled out of… somewhere. Gathering themself, they pull their pants back up with an awkward cough, unable to meet his eyes.

“Well, I can’t say that I’m disappointed,” Swindle rolls his shoulders, looking them over out of the corner of his eye, “you still got the cash?”

Without any delay, they rummage through their pocket and pull out the stack of bills that’s now slightly out of its bind, handing it over as he passes them the USB.

“Pleasure doing business with you…” Swindle stretches out his neck cables as he steps past them and transforms back into a jeep, driving off down the dimly lit road.

They look down at the USB, still a bit in a daze, and spot the puddle of… something on the ground.

“Four-hundred thirty-six.”

“Come again?”

Ultra Magnus sighs, “You made popping noises with your derma four-hundred thirty-six times during my presentation. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were purposefully trying to get under my plating.”

Rodimus grins cheekily up at Ultra Magnus from his desk, his optics sparkling with mirth “Yeah? That many times, huh?”

“I assure you that my count is completely accurate down to the single ‘pop’,” Ultra Magnus cuts his servo down through the air decisively. His optics catch one of Rodimus’ fangs tugging at his lower lip as his smile broadens and he shuts them with a sigh as Rodimus opens his mouth, dreading another barrage of those incessant pops just to mess with him, just to spite him.

“You were looking at my derma the entire meeting?” Rodimus chuckles and Magnus’ optics snap open.

“I!” Ultra Magnus reels back and then scowls, huffing, “Don’t try to distract from the subject! And speaking of distraction, that popping sound nearly drove me up the wall so I need to find some other way to keep your body busy while I speak my piece.”

Rodimus just scoffs, leaning back in his chair rather smugly, “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“No one else seemed to care or notice and I didn’t want to interrupt myself just to have a petty argument with you,” Ultra Magnus crosses his arms, glaring down at his captain.

“Yeah,” Rodimus clicks his glossa as he puts a cocky tilt to his helm, “It’s ‘cause I was being quiet, you know, respectfully. You’d have to really focus in on me to notice…”

Magnus grits his denta, unable to come up with a retort because it seems, unfortunately, Rodimus has a point and what’s worse is that he seems to know that.

“What’s wrong, Mags?” Rodimus smirks, “You look like you have a clogged exhaust pipe.”

Curling his hands into tight fists, Magnus steps closer to loom over Rodimus’ desk, “I am trying to approach an issue calmly and rationally so, I’d appreciate it if you’d take this conversation seriously.”

With a long vent in, Rodimus nods and then presses his lips together, stifling a smile as he looks Magnus right in the optic before parting his derma to make a soft “pop” sound. Anger flares in Magnus’ spark as he watches the display, heating up his frame so much that his roiling emotions threaten to fan into an outright fire of rage. He takes a steadying vent, cooling himself only somewhat before propping himself up on Rodimus’ desk, the light of his optics focused into points that pierce into Rodimus. There’s a slight flutter to Rodimus’ spoiler as he leans in, unbothered by Magnus’ aggressive display.

“I need you not to dismiss-”

Pop.

“Take this ser-”

Pop.

“Rodimus-”

Pop.

Magnus’ engine rumbles loudly, his digits scratching at the desk as he curls them in his optics locked onto Rodimus’ lips while he pops them over and over and over. He grabs Rodimus by the shoulder and pulls him in, silencing the speedster with his own mouth in a fit of what he feels must be madness, unable to pull away once his lips meet Rodimus’ own soft derma. In that single moment, he feels magnetized to his captain even as that heat in his spark refuses to die down, and his frame moves before he can think on it further, spreading Rodimus’ lips and feeling how warm and delicate they are. Magnus’ hand shakes as he forces himself away, taking all the effort he would use to pull himself from a pool of tar and moving just as slow.

He looks down with dread to see Rodimus half on his desk now, that all too proud mouth of his parted ever so slightly as he quietly pants, and to Magnus’ great dismay, Rodimus’ lips twitch into something like a smirk. There’s a blaze to Rodimus’ optics, letting Magnus know all at once that, somehow, he’s lost.

“Come on,” Rodimus hand cups Magnus’ face almost sweetly if it weren’t for the self-satisfied look in his optics, “Don’t stop now. We were just getting to the good part.”

“No, that wasn’t what I’d meant to do,” Magnus tries to pull back only for Rodimus to pounce on him, joining their lips yet again. Ultra Magnus has to steady Rodimus as he almost throws himself off his desk, delaying himself long enough that he’s lost in Rodimus’ kiss.

Rodimus draws him further and further in, coaxing Magnus with his glossa until Magnus gives in fully, sliding his own glossa over Rodimus’ as his hands move up over Rodimus’ sides along his biolights. Magnus feels Rodimus run his hands up the back of his helm, keeping him close as Rodimus takes his mouth hungrily and Magnus finds he’s lost the will to fight the feeling. Moving Rodimus so that he’s lying on the desk, Magnus spreads his legs and shivers at the feeling of Rodimus’ moan in his mouth, sending heat and charge down through him to pool in his aching spike that’s still trapped behind his panel. It takes just the light brush of Rodimus’ fingers against Magnus’ panel to get him to pressurize right into Rodimus’ hand who squeezes it roughly, drawing a low rumble from Magnus’ engine and he has to ignore the twitch of his spike as he realizes Rodimus’ hand circles just over half of it. Rodimus doesn’t let up, roughly stroking Magnus’ spike as he kisses Magnus with little moans slipping into Magnus’ mouth that he struggles not to meet with his own as charge buzzes over his spike, crackling over Rodimus’ hand as it throbs within his grasp.

Magnus catches himself thrusting shallowly into Rodimus’ hand, immediately grabbing the edge of the desk, ready to pull away when he feels Rodimus’ spike bump against his, the built-up charge of Rodimus’ spike bursting all at once as it grounds against Magnus’. He shivers as he feels the smaller spike twitch excitedly against his and groans into Rodimus’ mouth. They grind their spikes together, charge and heat swapping unevenly between them, driving Magnus to madness for that’s what this has to be otherwise why the hell would he be doing it? It feels too good. He can’t stop himself.

Rodimus parts from the kiss, softly crying out as his overheated transfluid spills over Magnus’ spike, his hand moving to continue to stroke Magnus as his hips go still as his back arches, spreading his release over Magnus’ spike. There’s a loud creak as Magnus’ hands crinkle the thick metal of the desk at the feeling of Rodimus’ hot, sticky transfluid on his spike that shouldn’t feel so good. His efforts to hold back only make his overload that much more intense, releasing his load over Rodimus’ abdomen as he bites Rodimus’ shoulder to stifle his shout of ecstasy.

Magnus lands heavily on his forearms as he pants, his fans roaring in his audials as the last waves of his overload rock through him, thankfully still conscience of the mech beneath him, however, that feeling is quickly replaced with irritation upon looking down to find Rodimus’ smirking face.

“You could’ve just said you needed a good frag, you know,” Rodimus chuckles, looking far too pleased with himself for someone covered in transfluid.

Seeing that and knowing some of it is his has Magnus turning his face away, his faceplate flushing with shame, “I… I had no such interest.”

“Uh huh,” Rodimus licks the sticky fluid off his hand, “Sure.”

Magnus shivers for reasons beyond him and frowns, growling out, “You’re impossible."

Soundwave stiffens up when he feels two arms snake around his waist and he looks as Starscream rests his chin on Soundwave’s shoulder, huffing at the sly smirk on the seeker’s face.

“I’m reading,” Soundwave taps the datapad in his hand against Starscream’s helm pointedly.

“I can see that. After all, you’ve been reading for hours now,” Starscream nudges the datapad away but quickly returns his hand, running it gently over Soundwave’s abdomen, “You should take a break.” Starscream kisses Soundwave’s shoulder, smirking at how Soundwave tries to suppress a shiver.

“I…” Soundwave sighs, “Fine.” He gasps as Starscream’s hand travels lower to toy with the wires in the seam at his hip, “Ah, so that’s what you mean…”

Soundwave shuts his optics at the feeling of Starscream’s soft chuckle on the back of his neck and lays his hand over Starscream’s, rubbing it fondly with his thumb.

“Let’s go to the berth, shall we?” Starscream purrs.

“Sure.”

Guiding Soundwave by the hand, Starscream keeps his optics locked with Soundwave’s, an eager light to his gaze that speaks of promise as Soundwave keeps his movements slow and deliberate. He can’t move too fast, can’t let Starscream know how much he wants this, needs this. Starscream urges him onto the berth, never letting go of his hand and even going so far as to interlock their digits, sending a thrill through Soundwave as he watches Starscream move over him and settle between his legs. For a moment, they just stay like that with Starscream gazing down at him intensely, making him shift awkwardly as he tries to resist looking away from those piercing red optics.

“What?” Soundwave finally breaks the silence.

“Nothing,” Starscream smirks and lowers his helm to nuzzle in under Soundwave’s chin to get at his neck cables, tracing his lips over them delicately, “Just never thought I’d be here.”

Soundwave hums softly in acknowledgment, tilting his helm back as Starscream moves in and places a hand on Starscream’s back. Charge sparks lightly along his lines as Starscream presses his denta lightly into the sensitive cables while his hands trail down Soundwave’s frame with barely restrained fervor. Already, Soundwave can feel how hot Starscream’s frame has become, his hot vents brushing heated air over Soundwave’s plating and cables as charge pings off his frames in quick bursts. Soundwave huffs in amusement, hooking his leg on Starscream’s hip to drag him down and grind their panels together.

“It seems like you want something,” Soundwave emphasizes his point with a roll of his hips, pressing more firmly against Starscream, earning a soft groan from the seeker.

Starscream eyes Soundwave hungrily and grabs his hips, pulling him in roughly, “I have everything I want.” He pauses for a long moment as he tucks his thumbs into Soundwave’s seams, sending a low level of charge directly into Soundwave’s lines, and then chuckles as Soundwave twitches with excitement, “Except maybe…”

It takes a moment for Soundwave to steady himself until he can trust his vocalizer not to sound absolutely wanton even as his panels heat up at Starscream’s delicate touch, “Except what?”

Laying a hand on Soundwave’s lower abdomen, Starscream lowers his helm to kiss Soundwave’s chest reverently, “A sparkling?”

Soundwave pulls more air in through his vents, his spark whirling rapidly at the thought.

“You…” Soundwave grabs Starscream’s chin, forcing the seeker to look him in the optic but Starscream seems nonplussed by the gesture, smiling confident as ever, “That’s a big ask.”

“There’s no rush,” Starscream murmurs, taking Soundwave’s hand in his and shifting his helm to kiss the palm of it.

Prodding Starscream’s forehelm, Soundwave leans back as he opens his panels for Starscream’s viewing pleasure, his anterior node aching with need just from the thought of touch, “Convince me.”

That earns him a wolfish grin and Starscream is upon him all once with hands and glossa that overwhelm him. Soundwave tosses his helm back with a soft cry as Starscream’s soft and hot glossa leaves a slick trail around his anterior node before he feels pressure as the node loses the ability to ground the buzz of charge making it pulse with need. Then, he’s left painfully untouched, shivering as cold air brushes his folds as Starscream moves to hover over him, removing Soundwave’s face mask to press his lips to Soundwave’s. His movements are soft and deliberate, taking his time to worship Soundwave’s lips, gently spreading them with his own so that he can slip his glossa in and nudge Soundwave’s, chuckling at the vulnerable gasp Soundwave makes.

Soundwave grabs at Starscream’s side, pressing into the kiss hungrily, and moans when Starscream’s spike finally nudges against the folds of his valve, urging Starscream closer by wrapping his legs around the seeker’s waist. Starscream hums appreciatively and spreads Soundwave open with a thumb as he continues to kiss his conjunx.

“Doesn’t seem like you’ll take much convincing,” Starscream teases as he presses the head of his spike against Soundwave’s already clenching valve, “I think you’re more excited by the idea than you let on.”

Soundwave grits his denta and looks away, energon flooding through his lines at being caught, “Just… just take me.”

A kiss lands on Soundwave’s faceplate and he turns with surprise to see Starscream’s optics dim yet warm. It sets Soundwave’s spark ablaze. Starscream lowers Soundwave to fully lay out on the berth before grabbing Soundwave’s thighs firmly and, grinning with a mischievous light in his optics, practically pulls Soundwave onto his spike. The sudden insertion lights up the node clusters in Soundwave’s valve in rapid succession, forcing him to grip the berth as charge and liquid pleasure fill him to the point that it’s almost painful, and in a moment of clouded lust, he unlocks his tank.

“Fill me,” Soundwave groans, “I want your sparkling, I do.”

Starscream peppers kisses all over Soundwave’s chest and shoulders while gently rocking his hips, grinding into Soundwave, “Then you’ll let me have your spark?”

Wordlessly, Soundwave lets his chestplates part, and in an instant Starscream returns the gesture in kind, the two of them flooding the room with icy blue light that washes out all other colors. Soundwave steadies himself on Starscream’s shoulder, his optics trained on the seeker’s spark, still marveling even after so long that this has been given to him in totality. Starscream rests his temple against Soundwave’s and lowers himself slowly until the coronas of their sparks brush, making him stop with a gasp at the sudden flood of sensation and Soundwave is left shaking. It’s intense, feeling Starscream’s everything within him, the charge now a ceaseless loop leaving Soundwave almost dizzy. He feels his full valve and yet he can now feel the delightful warmth Starscream feels with his spike buried in Soundwave’s wet, greedy valve.

Pushing past the corona, Starscream completes the bond and it’s almost impossible to tell where one of them begins and the other ends by touch alone, intensified all the more once Starscream finally begins moving his hips. Now able to feel what Soundwave feels, Starscream can feel what makes Soundwave twitch and writhe with pleasure all the more acutely and he thrusts faster and faster, both of them urging the other harder, needing more, their hips meeting in a messy cacophony of clangs and the lewd sound of lubricant gushing from Soundwave’s valve. The head of Starscream’s spike bursts into Soundwave’s tank, making them both stiffen up and gasp and though Starscream makes a valiant effort to hold back his overload, the wave of charge coursing through Soundwave pulls him under. They cry out as Starscream releases his load into Soundwave’s tank with weak moans and grunts as Starscream’s hips spasm, his frame wanting to unleash every nanite his frame has produced, determined more through instinct than conscious thought to get Soundwave thoroughly sparked.

Slowly, their sparks separate, and they’re able to pull away with heavy vents and frames clinking back into places as they rapidly cool with the dissipating charge no longer overworking their systems. Starscream kisses Soundwave sloppily, completely uncoordinated in his post-overload daze but he needs to show Soundwave how delighted he is, his vocalizer totally fried from the intense bought they shared.

“Starscream…” Soundwave calls out amidst the kiss, his hold on Starscream is desperate, “I… I want this to work.”

“Me too,” Starscream’s voice is fried and sounds like it’s been put through several gate filters, only exciting Soundwave as a sense of satisfaction rears its head in his spark  knowing he has this kind of effect on his seeker, “If it didn’t happen tonight, there are more to come…”

“Yes…” Soundwave sighs, pulling Starscream close, “Yes, please. Oh, Primus.”

Fulcrum pushes Misfire’s face away with a hand over his mouth, feeling energon flood his neck cables as he becomes increasingly flustered by the flier’s words. This, as he expected, doesn’t deter Misfire who continues to babble on even with his mouth firmly covered to Fulcrum’s dismay. The words are muffled but Fulcrum can easily guess what Misfire is spouting from his previous innuendos and lascivious offers.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near my valve!” Fulcrum snaps, keeping Misfire at arm's length.

Misfire’s retort is completely muffled but that doesn’t stop him from going on and on while bobbing his shoulders suggestively. Fulcrum sighs and removes his hand, regretting the action even as he makes it, before crossing his arms to hear Misfire out.

“What’s the hold-up? I just want to get that landing strip slick-”

Fulcrum covers Misfire’s mouth again and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Do you just… not know subtlety?” Fulcrum huffs.

Misfire pulls off with a laugh, pushing Fulcrum’s arm away easily, “Subtlety and I don’t get along… So, why not? Just don’t wanna?”

Scoffing, Fulcrum shakes his head, “I’m just not going to let that mouth get anywhere near this valve.” Fulcrum points down between his legs.

Propping his arm on Fulcrum’s shoulder, Misfire grins, “Aww, I grossed you out that much?”

“No…” Fulcrum flushes, “I just… don’t like to do that sort of thing.”

MIsfire’s wings droop slightly, “Ah, huh, never met anyone who didn’t like having their valve licked clean but I guess someone out there wasn’t going to be down with that sort of thing.”

Rubbing his helm awkwardly, Fulcrum glances away, “Uh, well… I just don’t like doing that sort of thing for other people and that’s why you’re offering, right? You want me to…”

“What?” Misfire holds his hands out as if to brush the words away, shaking his head, “No, no, I… I like doing it for other mechs, especially if they’re as handsome as you.” Tapping his cheek, Misfire turns a bit bashful which is a rare enough sight to pull back Fulcrum’s attention fully, “I, um, maybe like it a bit too much.”

A strange feeling goes down Fulcrum’s spinal strut, “Oh, uh…”

Misfire’s optics go wide, flaring softly as he presses his hands together, pleading his spark out.

Fulcrum shuts his optics and sighs, “You really aren’t asking that I return the favor?”

“I swear! I just want to get my face messy in those soft folds of yours and make you drip lubricant,” Misfire grins cheekily, chuckling at Fulcrum’s groan.

“Fine!” Fulcrum snags Misfire and starts dragging him off to the nearest berth. “If it’ll get you to finally shut up!”

They get to a room on the W.A.P. with Misfire eagerly following Fulcrum like a loyal dog, giggling excitedly as Fulcrum pushes him onto the berth.

Misfire flares his hand dramatically over his mouth, “Your seat, sir.”

While glaring at the flier, Fulcrum hefts himself onto the berth to sit on Misfire’s chest and pops his panels open much to Misfire’s delight.

“Tha’s a tasty looking-”

Fulcrum grabs Misfire’s helm and shoves his face into his valve, “Just shut up and get to work already.”

Misfire couldn’t look happier with a face full of valve as he grabs Fulrum’s thighs to pull him firmly against his mouth, nuzzling in to lick Fulcrum’s anterior node slowly with his wet glossa swirling around the circumference. It’s embarrassing to Fulcrum how quickly he gets wet just watching Misfire bury himself into Fulcrum’s valve and then he feels Misfire swirl his tongue and he has to grip both of his hands over his mouth to keep himself from making any sound. As lubricant meets his lips, Misfire is none the wiser, lapping away at Fulcrum’s valve lips, his glossa lighting up node clusters with slow, purposeful strokes as he takes his time to enjoy the feeling. He groans into Fulcrum’s valve which earns him a small gush of lubricant that he licks up greedily before moving to suck gently on Fulcrum’s anterior node. His hands grip Fulcrum’s thighs more firmly as he feels him begin to twitch, not letting Fulcrum escape the onslaught of his glossa.

The effect that this is having on Misfire is obvious almost immediately, his spike fully pressurizing as he slips the tip of his glossa into Fulcrum’s entrance, feeling the calipers there starting to clench. He circles the entrance, moaning at the crackling charge that tickles his glossa as he presses it to the soft mesh there dotted with sporadic node clusters and he can feel his spike throb. Fulcrum grabs his spike and squeezes which only urges Misfire on, unable to think as well with Fulcrum’s hand pumping him while he licks mindlessly against Fulcrum’s anterior node. Trying his best to not just overload over Fulcrum’s hand, he moves his glossa back to Fulcrum’s tasty entrance, releasing a buzz of charge from his intake into Fulcrum’s valve, getting him to stiffen up with a shout that has Misfire’s spark melting.

Fulcrum holds onto Misfire for dear life, his digits digging into the flier’s shoulders as he feels Misfire lazily frag him with an eager glossa that hungrily seeks out his nodes only to graze them teasingly. Suddenly, he’s on his back but he doesn’t care with Misfire softly sucking on his anterior node as he nudges it with glossa, keeping a steady flow of charge coursing through his valve that has him completely incoherent. Then, Misfire slides a digit into his entrance and strokes his spike while he keeps that sinful mouth on Fulcrum’s node, easily tipping Fulcrum into overload who grabs Misfire’s helm, pressing Misfire hard against his valve. He humps Misfire’s face, riding out his overload panting and moaning with abandon.

Once spent, Fulcrum lays back with his vents on full blast and immediately regrets looking down where he finds Misfire licking his lips, his face completely drenched in lubricant.

“Good, huh?”

Fulcrum stiffens up and clears his intake, “It was alright. I guess…”

Misfire pushes up a bit and Fulcrum blushes at the sight of Misfire’s still-twitching spike covered in transfluid above a quickly forming puddle, “Well, I certainly had a good time.”

“I… I see…”

Ducking down to kiss Fulcrum’s valve, “Primus, this thing is great.”

Fulcrum pushes at Misfire’s forehelm only to be met with laughter, “Don’t talk about it like that!”

“Oh? Should I shut myself up again?” Misfire smirks.

Krok presses the panel next to the door, and it slides open in front of him, revealing Grimlock curled up a bit on the berth in the room. A shiver runs down Krok’s spinal strut but that doesn’t stop him from stepping inside to lock the door behind him.

“Look, I know you’re having a hard time but Misfire can’t do this for you, he just doesn’t…” Krok trails off when Grimlock’s piercing, red gaze lands on him with the intensity of something far more primal than he’s used to. “I… but…” Krok sighs and takes a few tentative steps towards Grimlock, “I… I’m a beastformer. Gave up on ‘embracing’ it or whatever some frame equalists will spout.”

Grimlock straightens up slowly, “You could… incubate them?”

Krok covers his face with a hand, steadying himself, “I can’t believe I’m doing this…” He pulls himself together and looks up at Grimlock, “Yeah, I could and I guess I’m offering…”

Reaching out, Grimlock lifts him easily and moves to lay Krok out on the berth as Krok flails a bit.

“Careful! Careful…” Krok feels his spark start to spin faster as he’s moved and suddenly, Grimlock is looming over him, reminding him just how massive the dino mech is. Grabbing Grimlock’s wrists tightly, he ducks his head and murmurs, “I… be gentle, yeah?”

Grimlock leans in and nuzzles Krok’s shoulders as he rumbles deeply, the sound vibrating Krok’s whole frame while triggering some primal part of his processor that has him loosening up. He nuzzles back, his face plate brushing Grimlock’s as he makes low, booming clicks in response that get Grimlock to pin him down bodily. Broad fingers rub insistently against his quickly heating panel and Krok lets it slide away, shuddering as Grimlock rubs against his folds with a delicate touch. The chill that hits Krok’s frame as Grimlock pulls away has Krok reaching out after him only to suck in a sharp vent as Grimlock spreads his valve wide with a large thumb. Grimlock studies it with something like fascination and experimentally presses a digit into Krok’s entrance, earning a flustered moan.

“Don’t look at it like that!” Krok covers his face with his arms as he does his best not to let moans slip from his intake as Grimlock continues to prod and rub at his valve, teasing but never quite touching his nodes.

Krok keeps his face covered as Grimlock continues to play with his valve, urging it to produce lubricant with little bursts of charge sparking from his fingertips and testing its size by putting one, then two digits inside him. Trying a third finger, Grimlock finds resistance against Krok’s caliper and makes a low, contemplative noise which gets Krok to look down to see what the problem could be.

“This could be a problem…” Grimlock muses, letting his spike pressurize and rest between Krok’s legs, the slightly prehensile mesh sliding over his lower plating to curl slightly against Krok’s hip.

Krok’s optics go wide at the bulky, pulsing, pink thing, making him shudder as he thinks of it actually being inside him.

“H-here…” Krok grabs the tapered tip of Grimlock’s spike, gasping at the low rumble resounding in Grimlock’s chest. Carefully, he presses the very tip to his anterior node, gasping as it molds over it with a soft suction and the connection completes itself, initiating minor transformation sequences in Krok’s valve and tank. His plating around his abdomen releases somewhat and he shivers, feeling his calipers spiral wider to accommodate Grimlock’s specialized spike.

With an appreciative hum, Grimlock slides three fingers easily into Krok, pumping them lazily to watch Krok writhe under him. Krok looks down at himself and a nervous energy courses through him as he flexes his hands.

“That… that’s a lot…”

Grimlock leans down and nuzzles Krok’s helm, “Having second thoughts?”

Krok nudges him away with a huff, “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Grimlock says simply, grabbing Krok again to flip him over with his aft in the air, settling close behind him.

Krok grabs at the berth and keeps his helm down as he spreads his legs wide, offering himself to Grimlock who grabs his hip firmly. The tip of Grimlock’s spike slides in easily, tugging at the walls of his valve with the firm mesh of the spike pushing against him. As it slides deeper and deeper with its own lubricant easing the way, Krok feels it stretch his valve wider as the base sinks towards his entrance. His whole frame shakes once Grimlock is inside him to the hilt, his valve spasming around the large spike that’s pushed all the way through his valve and into his tank. Grimlock’s warm presence completely surrounds him with hot vents rushing down the back of his neck as Grimlock wraps Krok up in his arms.

For a moment, it seems like nothing’s happening while Grimlock holds Krok close but then Krok feels something large press at his entrance, and his optics go wide. The egg nudges in past his entrance and slides along inside Grimlock’s spike, pressing up against his calipers as its width stretches out Grimlock’s spike, pushing the nodes of the spike to press those along the walls of Krok’s valve. Krok claws at the berth with the egg now firmly in his valve, pushing in further still as the calipers squeeze around it, the pressure drawing the egg in towards his tank. It meets the opening of his tank, nuzzling its way in, the feeling of it pressing into Krok almost too much to handle as charge crackles over his entire frame but Grimlock’s arms keep him right where he is. Krok cries out as the egg finally pops free of Grimlock’s spike to settle inside his tank, leaving him shuddering, panting, and moaning.

“Ah, finally…” Krok relaxes under Grimlock who gives him a static kiss on the back of his helm.

“You’re doing well,” Grimlock makes those wonderful clicks again, the vibrations of which seep into Krok’s frame.

Blinking with confusion, Krok tries to twist to look at Grimlock only to feel another egg bump against his entrance, making his optics go wide.

“Oh…”

The next one slides in a bit more easily but it leaves him feeling weak in Grimlock’s grip, his valve aching with need that’s slowly and tortuously stimulated by the slow crawl of the egg letting their nodes connect and hold for far too long. By the time the fourth is making its way in, Krok is incoherent with his vocalizer fried from shouting so much, completely at Grimlock’s mercy as he feels no longer in control of his frame. The fifth finally pops into him leaving him an overstimulated mess incapable of doing anything other than moaning weakly as Grimlock pulls out of him slowly. Grimlock pulls Krok close, cradling him close to his chest to nuzzle at Krok’s helm and shoulder while rubbing his now full and distended frame affectionately. Krok experimentally runs a hand over where the eggs now sit and a satisfied shudder runs through him that he’s not sure how to feel about.

“Thanks…” Grimlock murmurs against Krok’s audial, his low voice making Krok have to choke back a moan, “You make a good carrier.”

“Yeah, sure,” Krok acts unaffected but he can’t stop rubbing his abdomen, “It doesn’t feel… too bad.”

Grimlock chuckles and rests his hand on Krok’s full belly, “You look good like this. I think I should mate you as well…”

Cosmos takes Soundwave’s hand and brings it to his face plate, playfully zapping the digits with a spark of charge, and quietly chuckles as he feels Soundwave form a vice grip on his hand. He looks over to see Soundwave’s visor burning into him, feeling the silent challenge in the piercing red light.

“It’s alright, you know,” Cosmos moves to settle between Soundwave’s legs on the berth, bending to hover over his chest, “You can trust me…”

Soundwave snatches Cosmos’ helm with his free hand, pulling him closer, “You don’t need to be so gentle.”

With wide optics, Cosmos takes in the tension in Soundwave’s frame and covers Soundwave’s hand with his own, “No one’s been soft with you before, huh?”

Cosmos weaves his digits with Soundwave’s as he tries to snatch his hand away from Cosmos, his whole frame jolting away at the accusation but Cosmos forges on, nuzzling the palm of Soundwave’s hand.

“I don’t need your pity,” Soundwave snaps.

Sighing, Cosmos looks at Soundwave who’s still so incredibly on edge, and shuts his optics, “That’s not what this is.”

He pulls his hands from Soundwave’s and moves down his frame, planting little static kisses on Soundwave’s plating until he reaches the codpiece to look up at Soundwave. The former Decepticon watches him with the gaze of a predator as if daring Cosmos to try something.

“Let me take care of you…” Cosmos murmurs while running a hand gently down Soundwave’s thigh.

Soundwave hesitates, curling his hands tightly against the berth, and eventually lets his panel slide away to give Cosmos access to his valve.

“Thank you,” Cosmos almost whispers and lowers his helm to nuzzle into Soundwave’s awaiting valve, sending little, affectionate zaps against the folds of the valve before him. He quickly gets lost in the act, feeling the little pathways of nodes light up in response to the charge he emits, getting a feel for their pattern. Pressing a quick charge kiss to Soundwave’s anterior node, he moves back to the delicate folds, sending a gentle current through the mesh to feel it bloom out in thin lines before drawing it back to focus on the circle of nodes around Soundwave’s entrance. Cosmos feels lubricant begin to form against his face plate and nuzzles the valve again to spread it around before releasing a pulse of charge that starts at the base and then spreads out before receding upwards to focus in Soundwave’s anterior node where he intensifies it slightly.

Soundwave rips Cosmos’ face from his valve, startling Cosmos out of his almost meditative state with a rasping plea, “St-stop that… just spike me already.”

Blinking, Cosmos stares at Soundwave, surprised to see the mech now without his face mask that is nowhere in sight, and scratches against the berth that weren’t there before. The berth creaks slightly as Cosmos shifts so he can kneel in front of Soundwave, tugging the stereo’s legs so he can grind his spike against between Soundwave’s folds. With a growl of frustration, Soundwave sits up and drags Cosmos towards himself to lick Cosmos’ face plate clean of lubricant as Cosmos returns his licks with charge kisses.

“Come on, I’m prepared enough. You’re not going to hurt me,” Soundwave emphasizes his words with a roll of his hips.

“I know,” Cosmos cradles him and lays him back down, the two of them now face-to-face, “I just want to take my time.”

“Don’t.”

Cosmos stares at him for a second before sighing, caving into Soundwave’s demand and positioning his spike against his lover’s entrance to sink his spike slowly into Soundwave’s warm valve. He steadies himself with one hand on Soundwave’s hip as he finally bottoms out, hiding his version of a grin as Soundwave wraps his legs around Cosmos’ waist but he still doesn’t move just yet. Shifting them around, Cosmos takes Soundwave’s hands in his with their fingers threaded together to place them over Soundwave’s head, gently pinning him down. The tension in Soundwave’s frame changes from uncertainty to anticipation as Cosmos finally moves his hips, thrusting slowly and gently into Soundwave’s valve. Cosmos savors the feeling of Soundwave’s valve wrapped around his spike, the calipers tightening with Soundwave’s excitement causing Cosmos’ spike to catch a little, making it hard to complete thrusts at times almost like he’s trying to keep Cosmos inside.

“Heh, cute…” Cosmos murmurs close to Soundwave’s audial.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

There’s no rush to the pace Cosmos keeps, fully enjoying the feeling of Soundwave’s valve walls dragging over his spike, their respective nodes connecting and clinging together with charge before the push or pull provides enough pressure to pry them apart. Soundwave’s grip pinches against Cosmos’ hands, his vents in overdrive as he slowly comes undone.

“Faster… please,” Soundwave’s helm falls back with his plea that falls on deaf audials.

Humming his acknowledgment, Cosmos continues his sluggish pace only to gasp as the head of his spike slips into Soundwave’s tank, causing him to halt altogether so he can steady himself to the protestations of Soundwave. Cosmos nuzzles Soundwave’s neck cables and starts up again, still very slow but now thrusting into Soundwave with a bit more force, enjoying the tiny gasps Soundwave makes every time the head of his spike forces its way into his tank.

“You’re insufferable,” Soundwave grits out through his moans even as he rocks up to meet Cosmos’ thrusts at a steady pace.

“You’re wonderful,” Cosmos retorts, planting a pulse of static against Soundwave’s helm, “and smart, and beautiful…”

“Wait, no,” Soundwave tries to protest but Cosmos can feel the effect his praise is having on Soundwave as the calipers of his valve tighten around Cosmos’ spike with each sweet nothing.

Now that the floodgates are open, Cosmos can’t stop himself from saying every nice thing he’s ever thought about Soundwave at that moment as his thrusts get faster and faster, leaving Soundwave a mewling mess beneath him. Soundwave’s vocalizer is too wracked with moans to refute anything and then he cries out, dragging Cosmos in further as he overloads with his back arching up into Cosmos who watches him without slowing down. Cosmos feels the aftershock of Soundwave’s overload as a wave of charge that floods his system and pushes him over the edge to release inside Soundwave, his transfluid filling Soundwave’s tank.

Cosmos can’t move his optics away from Soundwave’s flushed face as they come down together, still holding Soundwave’s hands intertwined with his. Soundwave sucks in a sharp vent when he sees the flaring light of Cosmos’ optics.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Cosmos nuzzles his cheek, “I love you.”

Swindle shivers as Blurr kisses his neck cables, glancing up at Jazz who watches some distance away with his shoulders tense in anticipation of… something. Blurr parts Swindle’s legs over his lap so that Swindle’s legs hang on either side, his panels on full display for Jazz’s viewing pleasure.

“So you came after all…” Blurr smirks over Swindle’s shoulder, kissing it briefly.

“I thought… Never mind what I thought,” Jazz takes one step and then another, his movements slow and deliberate, “I never thought the rumor that you had a Decepticon wrapped around your finger would turn out to be true but learning that it’s Swindle…” Jazz reaches out and hooks a finger under Swindle’s chin, lifting it to get Swindle to meet his optics, “it makes sense.”

Swindle’s mouth works as he tries to think of something smart to say, maybe something to get these two to actually start doing something but his spark is whirling in his chest and Jazz is touching him just like Blurr said he would. Then, he’s suddenly in the air with Blurr’s arms hooked under his legs, keeping him spread wide and now face-to-face with Jazz.

“Come on, he’s been waiting so patiently,” Blurr nuzzles Swindle’s helm as he lets his spike pressurize which bumps against Swindle’s panel, making him jump and gasp.

Jazz grabs Swindle’s hip, moving in while letting his spike pressurize to press it to Blurr’s like falling into an old habit, “As if I’d say no to something so tempting. You know me too well…”

Swindle flexes his hands on Blurr’s arms as he stares down at the two, warm spikes waiting against his panel, watching them rub against each other and wondering if he’ll be able to fit them. He lets his panel slide free and shivers as the charged spikes bump against his valve, already slick with lubricant.

Jazz grips Blurr’s spike, squeezing it playfully, “Here, since your hands are full.” Pressing the tip of Blurr’s spike to Swindle’s entrance, Jazz teases Swindle’s valve with Blurr’s spike before pushing in just the tip as he watches both Blurr and Swindle jolt and moan together with a cheeky smirk.

“S-slagger,” Blurr grits out only to choke on his own words at Jazz pushing into Swindle next to him.

Feeling far too full already, Swindle’s helm falls back onto Blurr’s shoulder and he can feel his anterior node throb with far too much charge being sent his way. He grabs onto whatever he can get as Blurr and Jazz slowly rock into him, pushing into him further and further until his plating has to release somewhat to accommodate them both, his calipers struggling to tighten down around them with his valve choked with spike. Swindle keens helplessly at the feeling of Jazz getting even closer, sinking him further onto their spikes and that’s when he realizes he’s clinging to Jazz’s shoulders.

Jazz takes one of Swindle’s legs, running his other hand over Swindle’s chest to tuck his fingers under a panel and tug gently, earning a soft moan. The air becomes a touch cloudy around Swindle, now filled with the heated vents of the mechs around him, inside him, kissing him to the point it’s almost dizzying and then they start moving. Slowly at first, Blurr rocks against Swindle, hissing as his spike grinds against Jazz’s with each little movement of his hips while teasingly only lighting up a portion of the nodes in Swindle’s valve. Swindle tries to move only to be stopped short by Jazz grabbing his hip so tight it almost hurts and any retort on his glossa is silenced at Jazz finally moving as well, creating a storm of charge in Swindle's valve. The two spikes churning his valve light up his nodes unevenly as they rub over each other inside him, making little vibrations that shake his calipers and spread the charge unevenly.

With Blurr at his back and Jazz at his front, Swindle is completely cocooned in warm, inviting frames that curl around him almost protectively and it’s strange, despite being surrounded on all sides by former enemies, filled by former enemies, he’s never felt safer. He’s helpless -happily so- as Jazz and Blurr use him, moving faster and faster, deriving pleasure from each other’s spikes, hot and trembling bundles of charge, just as much as Swindle’s now dripping valve. Blurr bites into his neck cables and Swindle can feel himself squeeze down around them, making their movements stutter as it becomes harder to move inside him, his valve drawing them both in, charge crackling between all their frames.

Swindle’s mind goes still when, suddenly, Jazz is kissing him as he continues to thrust into Swindle without so much as slowing down even as he takes Swindle’s mouth with his glossa. A memory of Jazz holding him at gunpoint enters Swindle’s processor unabated, contrasting the near devotion Jazz kisses him with now, his lips pressing against Swindle’s with a touch of desperation. Blurr grabs Swindle’s chin, pulling him from the kiss so he can kiss Swindle instead to the sound of a breathless chuckle from Jazz.

“It’s not a contest, champ,” Jazz licks Swindle’s neck cables, “you were right though… your little Decepticon really is sweet.”

Swindle sighs into Blurr’s intake as their spikes continue to piston into his valve and he lets go, the charge building in his frame releasing more like a flower blooming than a wave crashing down. He forgets everything other than the warm feeling flooding his lines and the pleasant buzz of charge coursing through his valve. Even as he grows limp, Blurr and Jazz keep at it, using his valve as they grind against each other, panting and groaning until one and then both of them thrust deep into Swindle, filling his valve with transfluid to the point of overflowing until Swindle is twitching with overstimulation.

Kisses cover Swindle’s chest, shoulders, and neck as Blurr and Jazz come down but Swindle becomes increasingly nervous as neither mech depressurizes their spikes.

“So…” Jazz pants, “Again?”

Brainstorm sighs as he finally opens the door to meet Getaway who’d been pestering him from behind the thick (but clearly not thick enough if Getaway’s voice could still make it through) metal, glaring at the sly mech. Getaway doesn’t wait a moment before pushing in past Brainstorm while rambling off but Brainstorm had stopped listening a while ago.

Grabbing Getaway by the shoulder, Brainstorm turns him around, “I told you to lay off already! I have too many projects as it is, I don’t need to take on whatever inane idea you have.”

Undeterred, Getaway presses into his space, “Aw, c’mon… It’s just a little pistol. You love making those!”

Brainstorm scoffs and pushes him back before going to his workbench, determined to ignore Getaway but now that menace is actually in his lab, and knowing that is like an itch on the back of Brainstorm’s helm… There’s a long beat of silence before Brainstorm feels a light tickle on one of his mounted guns and he whips around to grab Getaway’s wrist only to be crowded against his workbench.

“What’s all of this for anyway?” Getaway’s tone dips into something smooth, confident even, “You’ve been on strangely good behavior lately… why is that? It’s not because of Perceptor, is it?”

Brainstorm stiffens and tries to push Getaway back only for the speedster to grab his hips, thumbs gliding over his plating.

“There’s no use in trying to impress the guy, Stormy, he’s just his own kind of mad genius stuck in his own little world,” Getaway insists as he tucks his pointer digits into the seams of Brainstorm’s panty plates, teasing the delicate wiring there, “You should focus on someone who already appreciates your talents…”

It’s pointless to resist the sensation, Brainstorm shivers at the charge crackling from Getaway’s hands, all the way up his spinal strut.

“You make it sound like your idea is actually worth my time,” Brainstorm scoffs but his cocky attitude is severely diminished by the soft hum of his fans.

“But Stormy…” Getaway’s hand travels around Brainstorm’s hip and trails down lightly to cup his codpiece, earning a soft grunt, “You know I’m good for it.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Brainstorm grits out as Getaway starts rubbing over his panel, sending little sparks of charge through it. He stumbles back a bit, propping himself up on his workbench while Getaway rubs his panels.

Getaway follows after him eagerly and Brainstorm groans at the soft hiss of Getaway releasing and pressurizing his spike, “Ugh, how do I keep letting myself get here?”

“You know I can give you what you want, what you need,” Getaway purrs, finding the manual release on Brainstorm’s panels and dipping a digit into Brainstorm’s warm valve to coax it into producing lubricant.

Brainstorm sucks in more air through his vents and spreads his legs, letting Getaway finger his pale valve, the thin strips of biolights flaring as lubricant begins to trail down Getaway’s fingers. Getaway slips his digits out of Brainstorm’s valve and slides his slick fingers up Brainstorm’s spike before curling his hand around it to squeeze firmly, forcing a groan out of Brainstorm.

“Just make up your mind already!” Brainstorm snaps only to be cut off by a moan as Getaway starts pumping his fist over Brainstorm’s spike.

“Actually, I was thinking of trying something. You like innovation, so, you’re gonna love this,” Getaway taunts as he shifts his legs, hooking one over Brainstorm’s hips.

There’s a distinct creak of metal as Brainstorm grips the edge of the workbench at the feeling of Getaway pushing his valve onto Brainstorm’s spike, the tight little space already feeling so wet and hot.

“Hah, n-now the tricky part…” Getaway swallows down his moans and moves back slightly to grab his own spike, basking under Brainstorm’s rapt attention as he watches Getaway move his spike down to rub against the folds of Brainstorm’s valve. It takes some maneuvering and more than a little cursing until Getaway’s spike is rubbing against Brainstorm’s spikes now both firmly pushing into each other’s valves.

“Ah… this is definitely one of your more creative ideas,” Brainstorm pants out only to grab at Getaway as he starts to finally move.

The movements of their hips are awkward and jittery at first, unused to the position until they’re just pushing and grinding against each other, their spikes no longer rubbing roughly together now sliding with the aid of the lubricant building between their valves. As they grind against each other, their anterior nodes bump and flare as the touch completes the circuit, making the charge bloom between them. It’s a mess of heat and charged lubricant that has Brainstorm feeling like he’s losing his mind, finding it hard to tell where he begins and Getaway ends. He feels so full as Getaway’s spike pulses in his valve, the shallow ridge just under the head of his spike catching and connecting with the strips of nodes along Brainstorm’s soft walls as he feels his own spike practically milked by Getaway’s valve that spasms and squeezes around his spike.

Brainstorm hefts Getaway up and flips them around to pin Getaway down, hiking his leg up higher to get closer, deeper as he curls his own leg up over Getaway’s other leg to plant a knee on the bench, now properly fragging Getaway. Lubricant drips onto the pristine surface as Brainstorm uses Getaway’s spike and valve, their valves kissing every time Brainstorm thrusts against Getaway who can do nothing now locked in Brainstorm’s hold and wracked with the charge building between them. Getaway grabs at Brainstorm’s back, trying to find a purchase on anything as his legs twitch uselessly against Brainstorm and he tucks his head against Brainstorm’s shoulder, his processor feeling fully fried. His back hits the bench as Brainstorm slams him down, pushing as deep as he can into Getaway while taking his spike in equal measure and Getaway feels heat bloom inside his valve as a sudden wave of charge overwhelms him, dragging him into overload by force.

Getaway’s digits scratch up Brainstorm’s paint as he cries out, shaking as he spills his own load into Brainstorm as more and more of Brainstorm’s transfluid fills his hungry valve until he’s weak and fully spent. Transfluid and lubricant run down his thighs as Brainstorm pulls away, leaving him feeling far too cold as the frigid air of the lab brushes against Getaway’s exposed spike and valve now a mess of fluids, his spike still twitching in the air. Brainstorm picks up a cloth and starts cleaning himself of their mixed lubricant and transfluid, unbothered by the mech he’s left mewling on his workbench.

“Fine, I’ll work on your stupid pistol while you clean that up,” Brainstorm flicks his chin and Getaway follows the motion to look at the small puddle that formed along with the small patch on the edge of the workbench that’s dripping down.

The sky is darkening, painted with sunset colors as they rest in the driver’s seat of Rodimus’ altmode, leaning against the door while he drives himself since no one can see them on the twisting mountain road he takes maybe a little too fast. He’s playing some old rock on his radio to fill the sleepy quiet of the summer afternoon, soothing them further into a state of rest. They don’t know when they fell asleep but when they blink awake to a soft touch, they see Rodimus has parked himself in a lot on a cliff that overlooks the shimmering sea. A hand brushing their cheek makes them jump and press themselves to the door to look at the unfamiliar man in the seat next to him.

The man with fire-red hair chuckles at them, “Hey, it’s me…”

“Roddy?” they gasp and he grins cheekily.

“You know it. Do you like it? This is my holoform…” he pulls at the sports jacket he’s wearing, tugging it a bit off his shoulders which are a bit broad as his white t-shirt rides up a bit, showing off some midriff.

They can’t help but blush at the sight and look away, “Uh, yeah, you look…nice.”

Rodimus moves in and cups their cheek to get them to look at him, a heated glint in his eyes, “Just nice?” He moves in slowly, crowding around them as he plants a hand on the back of the driver’s seat, “I was hoping for a bit… more.”

A soft gasp escapes their lips, parting them in anticipation, “I… I guess it is a bit more than just nice…”

Smirking, Rodimus ducks in and kisses them, shocking them with how real it feels, his holoform lips feeling warm and soft. It’s so real that it’s almost uncanny as they melt into the kiss, letting him taste them. Reaching up, they slide their hands over his chest and to the back of his neck, sighing at the feeling of his baby hairs at the nape of his neck tickling their fingers as they move them to comb through his hair. The seat suddenly shifts, laying back so they’re parallel to the ground with Rodimus propped over them, looking down at them with a heated gaze that ignites a small fire in their chest.

“Wh…” They swallow nervously but can’t help but press their thighs together with the excitement building between their legs, “Aren’t we… aren’t we inside your body technically?”

Rodimus chuckles and kisses their cheek, “Well, it’s my body. I can do whatever I like in it…”

They gasp as he kisses their neck, “I… that’s true…”

“Just relax,” Rodimus nips their jaw, earning a soft squeak, “Besides, I plan on being inside you, so isn’t it just more fair this way?”

They huff as they relax under him, “You’re so weird.”

Rodimus laughs softly at their words, sliding his hands under their shirt while he kisses and nips at their neck only breaking when they pull his jacket off, desperate to touch him. He sits up enough to pull off his T-shirt, taking their shirt off eagerly as well so he can plant kisses all over their chest and stomach while his hands tug at the waistband of their pants. They bite their lip at the sight of the bulge building in Rodimus’ jeans and they don’t even try to resist the urge to rub him through his pants, sucking in a breath when Rodimus groans low against their skin appreciatively. Rodimus drags their pants down to their ankles, suddenly impatient, and slips his hand between their legs to spread them a bit with his hand on their ass. He kisses them again while squeezing their butt appreciatively, moaning into their mouth, and his dick twitches against their hand that’s still rubbing him firmly.

“You’re so soft,” Rodimus murmurs against their lips, grunting when they press harder against his cock.

He pulls back up much to their disappointment that’s quickly quelled at the sight of him undoing his pants to reveal the dick he designed himself, he must have and they blush at the possibility that maybe he had designed it with them in mind. It did look a bit… familiar. Shuffling through his glove box, he pulls out a small bottle to waggle it triumphantly with a smirk to their mild mortification as they realize it’s lube.

“You planned this all out, huh?” they grip his seat nervously.

He moves back over them, kissing their cheek, “I just wanted to show you a good time… you still okay?”

They nod and spread their legs as best as they can for him, suddenly very aware that the nylon pressed against their bear skin and the man above them are both Rodimus, enveloping them completely in him. Rodimus clicks the spout open and squeezes a generous amount out onto his fingers, coating two of them in the slick substance with his eyes trained on their flushed skin, taking in the sight of them. He’s on them again, nipping and licking at their shoulders as he slides his fingers between their pillowy cheeks, sliding one finger into their warm hole just a bit to rub the tense muscle there. The pressure makes them grunt, gripping his shoulders as they try to relax for him, curls of heat shooting through them with Rodimus’ teeth digging into their skin.

He slowly thrusts his finger into them while keeping them spread with his other hand, clearly lost in the feeling of them as he licks and sucks their shoulder, neck, and chest hungrily. They hold onto him, running their hands over his back, struggling to hold back their moans with him rubbing inside them, pressing deeper and deeper as it feels better the more relaxed they become, a bloom of heat forming with every stroke of his finger. When he slips in a second finger, they feel more than just good, they feel full.

“Ah, Rodimus…” they moan low with their nails digging into his back as their legs twitch every time he hits a sweet spot.

They can feel the shiver that goes through him when they moan his name and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of them, leaving them painfully empty and in desperate need of his touch. He grabs them and flips them easily onto their stomach, pressing them down into the seat until they smell their sweat mixed with the scent of his seat that’s artificial yet so alive. Spreading their ass cheeks apart, he sinks his fingers into the soft flesh, making them shiver as cold air washes over their hot, little hole. They jolt and gasp when they feel the tip of his cock press against their hole made slick with lube, groaning low as he starts to push into them. Hugging themself to his seat, their fingers dig into the cushioning while they’re slowly driven to madness as Rodimus pushes deeper into them. They arch their back to get him to sink in as much as he can, grinding up against him thoughtlessly.

“You humans are all so cute and soft…” Rodimus groans, now holding them down by their shoulders, “I should have done this ages ago, you feel so good…”

They suck in a breath as he starts to move, rocking his hips to thrust shallowly into them. He moves faster and faster, feeling them adjust to him until he can freely thrust into them, his cock pulling out until just the tip is inside them before he slams back into them. Soft keens and little gasps are forced out of them as he fucks their ass, his hips smacking against them hard enough to push them into the seat with their cheeks jiggling with every smack. The little space is quickly filled with heavy pants, moans, and the sound of sweaty skin slapping together.

Rodimus bends down, biting into their shoulder as he continues to take their ass roughly, gripping their hips so tight that they can’t move so they have no choice but to take the rough pounding of Rodimus’ cock. They moan helplessly under them, clawing at his seat with their skin pressed against the now sweaty fabric, suddenly tensing when Rodimus practically growls against their ear. Their eyes roll up when the pleasure becomes too much and their whole body spasms under Rodimus who doesn’t let up his brutal pace, forcing his cock into them over and over. With one, last thrust, he sinks deep into their hole and they shudder and cry out as they spill into them, flooding them with heat and growling against their shoulder.

Slowly, they both come down, leaving them limp on the driver’s seat as Rodimus pulls out to look down at his handiwork, rubbing their butt almost lovingly. They breathe deeply, trying desperately to cool down while they lay there, their brain completely fried, and shiver when the heat inside them suddenly dissipates. Rodimus kisses over their shoulder blades to try to help soothe them with his hand rubbing gentle circles over their hips.

“You okay?”

They can only manage an affirmative grunt which makes him chuckle as he pulls them up to lay back against him where they nuzzle under his jaw.

“My cute little human,” he sighs happily and kisses their cheek.

They look down at the seat and blush, seeing that it’s now a complete mess. Rodimus tracks their line of sight and then smirks, hugging them tighter.

“Looks like it was good for you after all,” Rodimus chuckles softly, cuddling them without a care in the world.

“S-sorry…” they rasp out, shocked at how used their throat feels.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Let’s get you cleaned up first and then…” Rodimus falters and blushes, glancing away.

They swallow and cover his hands with theirs, “And then… I can clean you up…”

Rodimus swirls his glossa around Thunderclash’s anterior node, savoring the feeling of charged lubricant on the soft material of his glossa. Thunderclash has his hand in his mouth, trying to keep himself quiet, a task that grows increasingly difficult with Rodimus slipping a digit into his valve. Watching Thunderclash with a smirk even as he continues to lick at Thunderclash’s valve, Rodimus gently teases the nodes at Thunderclash’s entrance, only just pressing the first caliper. A moan that quickly turns into broken whimpers spills from Thunderclash when Rodimus manages to hit a sweet spot. Rodimus focuses in on that spot, teasing and urging Thunderclash further into lust, losing himself in the sensation almost to the point of losing his composure.

Pulling away, Rodimus grins smugly down at his handiwork with a purr, “You look good like this…”

Thunderclash blushes and glances away, “Rodimus… don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” Rodimus insists, moving his hands to Thunderclash’s hips to rub the sensitive cables between the plating there, “You should know how gorgeous you are. Half the population of Cybertron loves you.”

Thunderclash covers his face partially, not really convinced, “And you’re one of them…?”

With a gentle squeeze of Thunderclash’s hips, Rodimus declares firmly, “Yes.”

He dips his helm down and kisses all over Thunderclash’s abdomen, running his hands down Thunderclash’s thighs. The heat of his frame has reached a fever pitch just from kissing Thunderclash’s node and his spike throbs with growing demand but he still takes his time. He’s so used to being the insecure one, so seeing the one and only Thunderclash looking like no one had ever so much as touched him before is doing something to Rodimus. Thunderclash’s hand pets Rodimus’ helm and he can’t help but nuzzle back, snatching the hand to place a kiss on the palm.

Weaving his digits with Thunderclash’s, he positions himself so he can press the head of his spike to Thunderclash’s valve. The warmth of the soft mesh sends shivers through Rodimus and he hisses as some pre-transfluid leaks from his spike. The sound makes Thundeclash’s hips twitch, pressing hard enough to slip Rodimus’ spike between his folds, the hot, slick mesh enveloping Rodimus’ spike and forcing him to balance on the berth as he leans heavily over Thunderclash.

Unable to wait any longer, Rodimus pushes into Thunderclash slowly until he bottoms out. He pauses there for a moment, looking up at Thunderclash only to choke on a moan at the sight of Thunderclash watching him with flushed cheeks, flaring optics, and parted lips. Twisting ever so slightly lights up a cluster of nodes, dragging a soft cry fromThunderclash, and the look he makes, desperate and full of lust, has Rodimus feeling near rapturous. The charge builds higher and higher as Rodimus starts thrusting steadily into Thunderclash’s valve, all the while watching Thunderclash twist and moan. Rodimus really can’t deny it now, this beautiful mech in front of him is truly the only one he wants.

Thunderclash squeezes Rodimus’ hand and wraps his legs around his waist, meeting every thrust with a rock of his hips, wanting Rodimus harder and deeper but unable to articulate it with the whimpers and moans on his lips. He gasps when Rodimus releases his hand and hikes up Thunderclash’s legs so he can practically fold up Thunderclash a bit, thrusting in deeper but still far too slow for Thunderclash’s liking. At Rodimus’ intense gaze with his spike deep in Thundclash’s hungry valve, Thunderclash feels a surge of embarrassment which causes energon to flood his cheeks and he hides his face with one arm only to mewl with need as Rodimus suddenly stills. Rodimus tugs at his arm, pulling it away so that he can see Thunderclash again who dares to look back up at him making something in Rodimus’ spark twist at the clear uncertainty in Thunderclash’s optics. Those deep red lights go wide when Rodimus kisses him, their lips molded together in a chaste kiss that feels like an eternity to Thunderclash and yet is over far too quickly, his optics chasing after Rodimus as he pulls away to gaze down at Thunderclash.

“Don’t hide from me…” Rodimus whispers, “I want to see you.”

Thunderclash swallows thickly and grabs Rodimus’ shoulder even as his spark spins a million times a second, nodding wordlessly. At the go ahead, Rodimus starts up again, returning his grip to Thunderclash’s thighs as he thrusts in a steady rhythm, running the shallow ridges of his spike over the edge of Thunderclash’s entrance every time he slides. It’s too much. It’s not enough. It feels like hanging off the edge of a cliff for Thunderclash while Rodimus takes his time, unable to control his mouth, moaning and whimpering wantonly for Rodimus.

“Rodimus… faster… please,” Thunderclash begs while gripping Rodimus’ shoulders almost to the point of denting the metal there.

Rodimus chuckles and tilts his head to kiss one of Thunderclash’s wrist, “Be careful what you wish for.”

Thunderclash yelps as Rodimus shoves him further on himself and doesn’t give Thunderclash so much as a moment to cath up before pounding into the warm, awaiting valve that draws in his spike with the frantic spasming of calipers. Gasping at the mix of pain and pleasure, Thunderclash just holds as Rodimus takes him with abandon and he’s unable to look away from those beautiful optics of Rodimus’ that bore into his own. He grabs at the berth and his back arches against his will as charge seems to erupt in his valve with Rodimus’ spike setting off a cascade along his nodes. The sounds Thunderclash is making now are genuinely obscene with him no longer caring what he sounds like with Rodimus finally and truly taking him, laying claim on what had already long been his.

“Rodimus!” Thunderclash screams his name as his overload takes him, feeling his own valve tighten around Rodimus’ spike desperately.

Rodimus slams his hips into Thunderclash one last time, hitting deep before overloading as well and spilling his transfluid into Thunderclash, still unable to look aaway from Thunderclash’s pretty face. When he calms down, he sits heavily on his legs and then gently lowers Thunderclash’s legs, rubbing them as he goes to soothe the tension in the cables between his seems. Slowly, Rodimus pulls out and bites his lip at the sight of his transfluid slowly leaking from Thunderclash’s puffy valve, flush with energon and he can’t resist ducking down to lick him clean, savoring the soft squeaks Thunderclash makes from overstimulation. He licks his lips he pulls away to nuzzle Thunderclash’s hip, running his hands over Thunderclash’s frame to try and help him relax.

“Well, you must be pissed.”

Soundwave stiffens and then glares at Brainstorm, angry at his insinuation as well as the fact that he’d been so distracted that he didn’t notice Brainstorm’s approach.

“I’m fine,” Soundwave puts flatly, looking away in annoyance.

Brainstorm comes up behind him and pulls Soundwave to his chest who grabs his wrists, failing to pull Brainstorm off.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Soundwave snaps.

“Relax…” Brainstorm takes off his mask and kisses Soundwave’s shoulder, “Autobot? Decepticon? Doesn’t matter. The war’s over, sweetspark.”

Soundwave scoffs, “You’re still pretending to be an Autobot?”

Brainstorm bites his neck cables, earning a gasp, “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.”

As Brainstorm’s hands trail down, Soundwave tries to think of a good reason not to fall into old habits but then Brainstorm’s rubbing his panel and he doesn’t care anymore. His hands tighten on Brainstorm’s arms as he lets his panels slide apart only to softly cry out at the feeling of Brainstorm’s fingers on his anterior node. Brainstorm’s other hand curls around his spike, pumping slowly but twisting roughly while slipping two digits past Soundwave’s folds to run around his entrance. With nowhere for the charge to go, it builds and builds, leaving Soundwave wracked with needy little sounds. He can’t keep quiet as his hands grab at Brainstorm behind him, unable to find a satisfying hold. Then, Brainstorm removes his hands to Soundwave’s chagrin now standing there so charged up it almost hurts.

“What… no… ah… Brainstorm,” Soundwave calls to him, his mind hazy with lust.

Without a word, Brainstorm pushes him against the wall so that his back scratches the chilly metal, the material feeling like ice against his plating. Before Soundwave can say anything, Brainstorm is on his knees taking Soundwave’s spike into his mouth with a cheeky look up at Soundwave. Just as Soundwave recovers enough to say something coherent through his broken moans, Brainstorm shoves two digits into his valve with his thumb pressed against Soundwave’s anterior node, grounding the charge and forcing an overload from him. Soundwave bends forward, gritting his denta and grabbing at Brainstorm roughly with the force of his overload. He can’t help bucking into Brainstorm’s mouth as shockwave after shockwave of charge surges through his system until he’s left unable to do anything but twitch, slumping onto Brainstorm.

Brainstorm watches this display delightedly, swallowing down everything Soundwave gives him until he feels Soundwave depressurize on his glossa. He pulls off Soundwave and pushes him up, moving him until he’s upright so he can hold Soundwave to the wall. Hugging Soundwave possessively, Brainstorm kisses his neck cables while running his hands over Soundwave’s frame, delighting in the feeling of the warm metal.

“See? Now we can be together without any worries our supervisors venting down our necks…”

Soundwave huffs and nudges away weakly, “Fuck you.”

Even with his hands bound above his head, his spike and valve on full display, Springer still manages to look smug with that charming smile of his.

“Why don’t you come over?”

They answer his beckoning, sauntering over slowly with their hips carving through the air in a soft sway. Springer watches this with rapt attention, his optics flaring in excitement, biting his lip. Hiking one leg up, they straddle Springer and plant their hands on his chest, a sweet yet mischievous smile spreading over their lips.

“You look good like this…” they sigh while trailing a hand down, rubbing his panel which slides open at their touch. “Oh, you’re bigger than I thought…”

Springer grunts as they squeeze and stroke his spike, shutting his optics as he grunts, “Hah, is that okay…?”

“Mmm, yeah,” they sigh as they let their own panel open to grind on his spike.

He ducks his helm down and they accept his offered kiss, basking in the feeling of his lips, all the while sliding their slick folds over his spike with their own spike twitching helplessly against Springer’s plating. They can feel his spike pulse between their folds, the light touch barely grounding the nodes at their entrance. With a careful roll of their hips, they get close enough to brush their entrance against the charged-up nodes under his spike but not enough to truly connect, keeping him just on the edge.

“Ah, please,” Springer breaks the kiss briefly to beg, his voice husky with desperation.

They don’t have the will to tease or argue, already losing themself to lust, and quickly mount him. A jolt rushes through them with charge flooding their systems from practically falling onto his spike with how excited they’ve become, their valve dripping with lubricant. It’s so overwhelming that they have to just cling to him until the feedback loops between them finally lessen to a pleasant buzz instead of an ion storm. Springer begins kissing their shoulder and neck while they brace themself against him, recovered enough to come back to himself. They capture his lips briefly before sluggishly grinding down on his spike.

“You gonna start?” Springer pants, and they can’t help but think of how cute he is, all dazed like this.

“Mmhm,” they bite their lip and smirk at Springer’s surprise as they activate their mag-locks.

Locked on his spike, they use their calipers to massage his spike, their hips spasming as their nodes fire off like miniature fireworks. Springer moans while they rock their hips to grind their anterior node on his plating. Gasping, they squeeze his shoulders when they change the mode setting of their valve, causing their calipers to move up and down, rolling snuggly over Springer’s spike. The sensation has Springer bucking his hips but he can’t move inside them with the mag-locks still firmly in place. Their calipers begin to move together, starting at the base of his spike, gripping him in a tight hold before sliding up to suddenly release at the tip, leaving Springer a moaning mess. While their valve milks his spike at a steady, lazy pace, they roll their hips, never pulling their optics away from his face and delighting in how he struggles helplessly in his binds.

They tighten up in surprise and then tense with a mini overload that almost knocks them over the edge at the burst of warm transfluid spilling into their tank. Springer’s optics remain screwed shut with his hands curled into fists and a low groan on his lips as he overloads into them. As soon as his overload releases him, he slumps in his binds, his vents pushing out steam. His spike remains inside them, twitching and hot.

“Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to give in so soon…” Springer looks at them with dull, lidded optics, recovering from his intense overload.

They lean in to cup his chin and murmur, “It’s okay, we just started after all…”