#queuebbs

“I can’t believe I’m letting this happen in my bar…” Swerve covers his heated face but leaves gaps between his fingers so he can watch everything that’s currently going down.

Trailcutter pants as Brainstorm’s hand works his spike, fingers curling to play between the ridges of his spike and the expressive yellow biolights that are flashing wildly. A bead of transfluid escapes his slit and Brainstorm dips his helm down to lap it up with a slow lick of his glossa, his optics flashing with excitement. Trailcutter grips the edge of the bar until the metal creaks under his fingers, trying not to be too loud even though he knows practically everyone’s optics are on him. Brainstorm squeezes the base of Trailcutter’s spike and he can’t keep the soft cry from escaping his intake.

“Give it to me all in one go, yeah?” Brainstorm urges with delight edging his breathy voice, clearly no less turned on by this than Trailcutter.

Trailcutter nods frantically, not trusting himself not to just moan anything he would or could say to that and shuts his optics as Brainstorm’s grip becomes tighter and movements faster. Brainstorm takes the head of Trailcutter’s spike into his mouth and sucks hard, pulling back slowly as he continues to stroke Trailcutter’s spike. Trailcutter’s optics snap back open to watch as Brainstorm’s lips slide off his spike, the faintest part of it visible through the gaps in Brainstorm’s cheeks before he pulls off with a pop. With a soft grunt, Trailcutter overloads and Brainstorm is there ready with a glass to catch all but the few drops that manage to land on his face, stroking Trailcutter through his overload until he collapses back, spent. As Trailcutter pants while slumped back onto the bar, cooling down after his overload, Brainstorm pops up back onto his pedes to accept a cloth from First Aid to wipe off the transfluid on his face and to set the glass full of bright pink transfluid on the bar in front of Swerve. Swerve stares at the viscous fluid with a bit of trepidation but prepares the cocktail anyway, pouring the dangerous-looking green engex into shot glasses. Then, he hesitates to add the final component.

Seeing this, Brainstorm sighs and picks up the glass and swirls around the transfluid casually while saying, “Come on, Swerve, why the cold pedes? It’d be a waste to not use this transfluid that Trailcutter so kindly offered us. You don’t have to drink any yourself, you know but there are those of us eager to try it.”

Off to the side, Trailcutter finishes tucking in his spike and looks away with no small amount of embarrassment and coughs awkwardly. Swerve’s optics flicker between Trailcutter and the ominous glass before him to settle on the glass before taking it from Brainstorm’s precarious hold. Rodimus stifles a snicker on one side as he patiently watches the entire scene go down. With care, Swerve pours small measures of the transfluid over a bar spoon into the five shots and sets aside the glass that still holds a reasonable amount of transfluid. Then, with a practiced hand, he sets each shot ablaze. After waiting just a moment to let it burn, Brainstorm picks up a shot to blow it out and down the engex in one go, savoring the salty-sweet tang of the engex mixed with the familiar burn of triple-filtered. First Aid is the next to try it and to Trailcutter’s great dismay, makes a show of it by licking his lips afterward and even winking at Trailcutter. More to get over with it than anything, Trailcutter takes his and downs it quickly, so quickly he coughs at the burn of the engex. Swerve bites his lip as he lifts the glass hesitantly and nervously blows out the flame before also downing it in one go before looking away with his face bright with shame mixed with other feelings that are vibrant in his field. Without hesitation, Rodimus lifts the glass pours the shot, still burning bright into his mouth and holds it there for a few moments before swallowing it down. He opens his mouth to let the built-up smoke escape past his lips in gentle curls then smirks at their dumbstruck expressions.

A tap on Brainstorm’s shoulder brings his attention away from the scene and his smile falters somewhat when faced with the abrasive, cold stare that has been practically perfected by his lab partner. Perceptor’s unimpressed expression almost dampens Brainstorm’s good mood but with effort and a significant amount of practice, he manages to not even look phased.

“Oh, hey, Percy,” Brainstorm greets him with glee, “Come to join in on the fun?”

“How in any way is this something you consider to be appropriate behavior? And in public of all places?” Perceptor snaps and Brainstorm has to suppress the urge to roll his optics.

Rodimus steps in and tries to assuage Perceptor’s feelings with a friendly, “Come on, Percy. We were just-”

He’s cut off by Perceptor’s cold gaze being shot towards him, so, Rodimus decides to put his hands up and back out of the situation altogether. Brainstorm does appreciate the effort though and with First Aid suggesting other “cocktails” to Trailcutter who stays very quiet and Swerve who is very pointedly cleaning glasses, it doesn’t look like he’d get much help otherwise. Perceptor waits for his explanation as his optics wander to the others before landing back Perceptor and a particularly devious idea comes to his mind.

“What is it, Percy?” Brainstorm coos mockingly as he puts the empty shot glass back to his lips with his optics locked with Perceptor’s, “Jealous it wasn’t yours?”

Perceptor stiffens with surprise then settles on scowling and is about to undoubtedly tell Brainstorm off but then Brainstorm is licking the dregs of the shot in a purposefully provocative way that has Perceptor speechless. Setting the shot glass aside, Brainstorm grins cheekily as Perceptor scoffs, anything he could have said dying on his glossa and Brainstorm grins cheekily with a victory on his servos, however petty and underhanded it is. Of course, never one to know when to stop playing with fire, Brainstorm leans on the bar and waves over to Swerve to catch his attention, making him flinch and almost drop the glass he’d been drying.

“Y-yeah, Brainstorm?” Swerve sets the glass aside and his optics flicker for a moment to Perceptor.

“Could you make one more of those shots?”

“Uh,” Swerve stalls and glances at Perceptor again then sighs and shrugs, “Sure, why not?”

In no time at all, Swerve puts another flaming shot in Brainstorm’s hand who offers it to Perceptor. Looking at it with open disgust, Percpetor’s glare only grows darker but Brainstorm is determined to get Perceptor to drop his guard, to dip a little into the depraved. He’s always wondered what kinds of things Perceptor would be willing to do, what it would be like to do those things with him…

“Here,” Brainstorm dangles the shot between, and with the precarious til of his hand, he realizes that maybe the engex is getting to him, “It’s all been consensual. No one’s done anything they didn’t want to do. So, try it. We’re scientists, aren’t we? It doesn’t hurt to be curious even if it verges on the side of morbidly curious.”

“Your strange fascination for the unnerving and nonsensical is not universal,” Perceptor puts firmly, holding up a hand to create a slight barrier between him and the flaming drink.

Brainstorm does roll his optics this time and sighs with no small amount of sarcasm, “Weren’t you a Wrecker? You must have seen and gotten up to things far more wild and depraved than this. Whatever happened to that Perceptor? Did he ever really exist?”

Perceptor grits his denta, going quiet and Brainstorm knows he’s struck a neurotransmitter, however small it might be and decides to really dig in his heals knowing full well that this could be one of his worse ideas. When has he ever let that stop him?

“You don’t have to drink of course,” Brainstorm sets the shot to the side and waves it all off, “but you can’t come in here and call me a degenerate when everyone knows your record.”

For a moment, everything is still and Brainstorm feels very full of himself as Perceptor stays quiet, knowing he can’t argue with Brainstorm but then Perceptor picks up the shot. Perceptor blows it out while looking Brainstorm right in the optic and pours it into his mouth. Not expecting that, Brainstorm doesn’t move, doesn’t even think to as Perceptor cups his face and kisses Brainstorm fully. Their lips mesh together and the warm burn of engex fills Brainstorm’s mouth as the drink pools out from Perceptor’s and his glossa slides past Brainstorm’s lips. He tastes the drink on Brainstorm’s glossa, holding his face firmly as he kisses the breath from Brainstorm. Brainstorm’s intake works as he drinks down the shot, intoxicated more by the taste of Perceptor than the engex itself. Then Perceptor is pulling away and Brainstorm doesn’t know what to do except hold tight onto the places on Perceptor’s frame he’d instinctively grabbed. Perceptor wipes away the trail of engex at the corner of Brainstorm’s mouth with his thumb and leans in close once more.

“The difference between you and me, Brainstorm,” Perceptor whispers so his vent brush Brainstorm’s lips, making him shiver, “is I know when to be depraved and when not to continue to procrastinate on my latest job.”

With that Perceptor, pulls away from Brainstorm and walks out of the bar, leaving a stunned Brainstorm in his wake. First Aid comes up beside him with a low whistle.

“I guess he really did have it in him, huh?”

Before he knows what exactly is happening, Thunderclash is pushed against Rodimus’ desk with a surprising amount of strength from the speedster that has his helm spinning. He looks down to meet optics burning into him that pin him to the spot and make his spark burn in his chest that heightens as Rodimus’ hands drag down his sides, digging into him. Those hands are claiming him, his thoughts provide oh so helpfully and he dismisses the thought as quickly as it appears.

“I want to suck your spike,” Rodimus declares over Thunderclash’s chest, his hot vents tickling Thunderclash’s plating.

Thunderclash swallows thickly and he knows he’s panting already but he can’t get himself to stop as he nods.

“I-I’d like that,” Thunderclash feels the whirl of his spark in his intake and grips tightly onto the desk as Rodimus slides down over his frame until his mouth is hovering over Thunderclash’s spike cover, “I’d like that very much.”

Rodimus smirks up at him, his gaze dimming with hunger and he closes his optics as he places a searing kiss on Thunderclash’s plating and licks over the seam, the plating snapping open for him. He chuckles and Thunderclash feels heat rising to his face, embarrassed at how much Rodimus is effecting him, at how easily Rodimus could get to him. Then, his captain is running his glossa over the tip of his still depressurized spike and he forgets any shame and moans low in his chest. Rodimus takes the tip of his half-pressurized spike into his mouth and sucks hard while running his glossa underneath it, igniting the nodes there. Thunderclash leans heavily against the desk, dizzy with the feeling of heat burning into his very core, making it feel like his processor is melting. He can’t think about anything except  Rodimus’ mouth around his spike and chokes out a half cry as his spike suddenly pressurizes fully into Rodimus’ intake. He’s about to apologize but the words die on his glossa as Rodimus moans around his spike and as he sucks on it hard.

The door to the office opens suddenly and a datapad falls to the ground with a loud clatter and Thunderclash meets Ultra Magnus’ stunned expression and immediately wants to die as something aking to shame burns in his chest. Unbothered, Rodimus frees Thunderclash’s spike from his mouth with a pop then takes it one hand to stroke it lazily as he places an open-mouthed kiss at the base of it. Momentarily, Thunderclash is distracted by the yellow hand squeezing his spike just below the tip, clashing with the stripes of teal and the soft lip brushing his spike. Rodimus runs his glossa along the base of Thunderclash’s spike as he looks up at him, his blue optics freezing Thunderclash to the spot, unwilling and near unable to move. As he almost casually jerks Thunderclash off, Rodimus presses his cheek against Thunderclash’s pelvic plating as he looks to Ultra Magnus who now has a noticeable blush on his faceplates.

“Close and lock the door,” Rodimus orders, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Ultra Magnus obeys then his senses seem to come back to him somewhat as he asks, “What?”

Rodimus looks back up to Thunderclash, looking for something while calling back over to Ultra Magnus, “Join us.”

Thunderclash shrugs then nods and Rodimus gives him a brilliant smile, clearly delighted as he looks back over to Ultra Magnus who hesitates at the other side of the room. Ultra Magnus tears his optics from Rodimus to Thunderclash who beckons him over with one hand. Outbid by even himself, Ultra Magnus walks over and kneels behind Rodimus, running his hand over Rodimus’ hip then lower to his valve getting him to gasp against Thunderclash. Rodimus takes Thunderclash back into his mouth, taking his spike in one go, his intake tightening on Thunderclash’s spike as he swallows experimentally getting him to completely forget his embarrassment.

“You’re so wet,” Ultra Magnus grumbles low and Thunderclash can hear the soft, wet sounds of Ultra Magnus’ thick fingers thrusting in and out of Rodimus’ valve and moans.

Then, Ultra Magnus hooks an arm under Rodimus and stands up, his other hand hooking one of Rodimus’ legs up. Reacting quickly, Thunderclash wraps an arm under Rodimus to help support him. Now fully off the ground, Rodimus stills around Thunderclash’s spike and moans deeply as Ultra Magnus pushes slowly into his valve and lifts up both of his legs. Rodimus digs his fingers into the seams at Thunderclash’s hips, getting Thunderclash to thrust sharply into his throat and hums with approval. Getting the hint, Thunderclash thrusts slow and deep into Rodimus’ intake, Rodimus’ wet glossa running over the nodes along the bottom of his spike. Ultra Magnus thrusts into Rodimus’ valve steadily and hard enough he occasionally pushes Rodimus further onto Thunderclash’s spike. Rodimus makes quiet noises, whimpering and moaning around Thunderclash’s spike as they thrust into him, oral fluid running somewhat from his mouth. His lips tighten around Thunderclash’s spike as he sucks idly while Thunderclash practically uses him like a frag toy and Ultra Magnus’ spike stretches his valve. 

One sharp thrust from Ultra Magnus has Rodimus taking Thunderclash’s spike into his intake roughly and Thunderclash feels himself shake, knowing he’s close to overload. Carefully, he pulls his spike from Rodimus’ mouth with a low grunt and shivers when Rodimus presses his lips to the tip lick over the slit, his hot vents brushing over Thunderclash’s spike.

“I’m close,” Thunderclash pants as Rodimus’ frame bounces in his arm with every thrust from Ultra Magnus.

“Then why did you stop,” Rodimus replies breathlessly sounding frustrated.

“I…” Thunderclash trails off then he clears his intake to ask, “Face or intake?”

“Intake,” Rodimus gasps and moans as Ultra Magnus thrusts roughly into him.

Thunderclash pushes his spike past Rodimus’s lips, his spike suddenly deep in Rodimus’ intake as Ultra Magnus’s thrust pushes him forward onto Thunderclash’s spike, shocking both of them. Rodimus sighs and swallows around Thunderclash’s spike making him moan. Thunderclash thrusts into the tight, wet heat of Rodimus’ intake with sharp thrusts until charge is peaking off his frame and he stiffens as his spike twitches in Rodimus’ mouth, spilling transfluid into Rodimus’ intake that Rodimus swallows down as best as he can eagerly. Venting heavily, Thunderclash pulls out of Rodimus’ mouth, a strand of transfluid follows his spike and stains Rodimus’ lips. He moves to lift Rodimus as he moves closer to Ultra Magnus who shifts his grip on Rodimus so Rodimus is all but pressed between them. Looking down, he can see Rodimus’ valve lips spread wide, stretched as far as they can go by Ultra Magnus’ spike and watches almost entranced by the way his plating bulges slightly every time Ultra Magnus thrusts into him. Rodimus’ hands dig into Thunderclash’s shoulders bringing his attention back to him and he leans in to kiss away the transfluid at the corner of Rodimus’ lips.

Thunderclash puts a hand against Rodimus’ abdominal plating, feeling the press of Ultra Magnus’ spike as it pushes into Rodimus then trails lower to take Rodimus’ spike in his hand. He kisses Rodimus, pushing his glossa between Rodimus’ lips and tasting himself on Rodimus’ glossa while stroking Rodimus’ spike in time with Magnus’ thrusts. Rodimus pants and moans into his mouth, wrapping his arms around Thunderclash’s neck. Then, transfluid spills over Thunderclash’s hand as Rodimus screams into his mouth in overload and Thunderclash can feel his frame still with Ultra Magnus who overloads deep in Rodimus’ valve. Thunderclash breaks the kiss and Rodimus’ helm falls to his shoulder while Thunderclash pulls away enough to see transfluid push past Ultra Magnus’ spike from Rodimus’ valve to drip onto the floor. He swallows down a moan as Magnus pulls out of Rodimus and transfluid gushes from Rodimus’ valve who shivers in his arms at the feeling.

Pushing Rodimus against Magnus, Thunderclash runs his fingers through Rodimus’ folds and over his node. Rodimus pulls him back into a kiss as his hips thrust involuntarily into Thunderclash’s touch, demanding more. Thunderclash presses his spike against Rodimus’ entrance and pushes in slowly, savoring the feelings of Rodimus’ soaked valve around his spike. He loses all sense of control, and thrusts fast and hard into Rodimus making him whimper as he takes him against Magnus. Magnus’ spike, hot and firm presses against them and thrusts between Thunderclash’s thighs in time with his thrusts into Rodimus. Rodimus breaks the kiss so he can vent as he cries out loudly, feeling like he could break as he writhes in Magnus’ grip with Thunderclash thrusting into him like this, pressing against his ceiling node hard with every thrust. His optics white-out and his valve clenches down on Thunderclash’s spike, getting him to overlord with a yell, screaming Rodimus’ name. Ultra Magnus grunts over them and Thunderclash can feel hot transfluid run down his thighs as Magnus’ spike pulses between them.

They cling to each other as they collapse to the floor, venting heavily as they come down from overload. Thunderclash presses kisses thoughtlessly all over Rodimus’ face and shoulders, getting him to giggle and sigh into the touch. Thunderclash pulls out of Rodimus and Magnus releases him, letting Rodimus fall limply into Thunderclash’s arms, his optics growing dull with exhaustion. Magnus rises shakily and opens the door to peek out and check the halls then gestures for Thunderclash to come. He nods and hefts Rodimus up as he stands, faltering for a moment as his legs give slightly beneath him then walks to follow Magnus, quickly moving through the halls to get Rodimus back to his quarters.

Minimus heads to Rodimus’ habsuite after receiving a message from him that he was struggling with some paperwork and being the mech he is, he agreed without hesitation. When he walks into the room to find Rodimus lounging on his berth with a datapad covering his array and a devilish smile on his face. Immediately, Minimus turns around to walk out the door.

“Wait!” Rodimus shouts and scrambles off the berth after Minimus, datapad falling to the floor harshly.

Minimus sighs and turns back around only to feel heat rush to his face fast enough to make him feel almost faint and his hand instinctively reaches to the door controls to shut the door, effectively trapping himself in the room with Rodimus. Frozen in the middle of getting off the berth, Rodimus blinks curiously at Minimus not seeming to notice or care how exposed his valve his. Covering his mouth to keep himself from saying anything, Minimus stares far too long at Rodimus’ gently blinking valve, his legs spread just wide enough to reveal his softly glowing node and entrance. He stares for too long so that Rodimus notices and a smirk curls up on that handsome face of his finally getting Minimus to look away but it’s too late, the damage has been done. Rodimus leans back on one hand, curving his back to show off his frame and spreads his valve wide with two fingers with his gaze burning into Minimus.

“C’mon Mims,” Rodimus sighs and flutters his spoiler to try and entice him, “Help your captain out?”

Minimus turns and presses his helm against the cool wall, feeling uncomfortably hot very quickly so that he feels like the room is trying to suffocate him.

“This is ridiculous,” Minimus mutters even as his hand reaches to lock the door.

When he turns back and starts walking towards Rodimus, he can’t help the little flutter in his spark when Rodimus grins in a genuinely happy way at him that quickly turns into confusion as Minimus bends down to pick up the discarded datapad. There is, as Minimus suspected, unfinished paperwork and he sighs as he hands it to Rodimus who takes it with a soft frown. Minimus gets up on the berth next to Rodimus and runs a hand over his hip until the tips of his fingers just reach Rodimus’s valve. Rodimus bites his lip and wiggles under Minimus’ touch, trying to move into the feather-light touch but ultimately failing much to his frustration.

“Lie back,” Minimus commands gently and Rodimus does so eagerly.

He rubs his thumb over Rodimus’ node and moves his legs so he’s seated between Rodimus’ thighs.

“What’s the first item on the form?” Minimus asks as he continues to press circles into Rodimus’ node.

Rodimus responds with a small sound of confusion too focused on Minimus’ touch to process the question so Minimus stops cold, getting a frustrated grunt from Rodimus.

“What’s the first item on the form?” Minimus repeats.

Rodimus groans and lifts up the datapad to look over it and grumbles, “Total number of crew members to go planetside, average number of crew members per team, and total number of teams.”

Minimus hands him a stylus from his subspace before returning to his ministrations while slipping a finger to rub around Rodimus’ entrance.

“Fill that item out,” Minimus demands, his voice remaining unaffected even as Rodimus’ hips begin to twitch under his hands.

“Ugh, are you serious?” Rodimus all but whines and looks over at Minimus who gives him a look that makes him roll his optics and he fills out the first item.

Minimus starts thrusting his finger in and out of Rodimus, finding the shallow nodes just at his entrance and says, “The next item.”

Rodimus pants and writhes under Minimus’ hand pinning one of his thighs to the berth. After he doesn’t respond for a while, Minimus stops again and Rodimus keens while moving his hips into the touch, trying to get him to continue.

Rodimus makes a dismissive noise, “Seriously?”

Minimus just stares at him, keeping his hand very still but still pressed firmly against Rodimus’ valve, enough to stimulate but not enough to derive pleasure. 

“Ugh, purpose of venture,” Rodimus admits and Minimus slips two fingers into Rodimus’ valve, feeling how Rodimus’ valve is starting to clench around his fingers.

“And what is the purpose of this venture?” Minimus asks while pushing up into a bundle of nodes that has Rodimus gasp and choking on a moan.

“T-to collect s-s-supplies to make repairs,” Rodimus gasps out with Minimus’ fingers steadily pumping into him.

“Good,” Minimus praises and squeezes Rodimus’ hip, “Now write that down.”

Rodimus’ hands are shaky as he writes but what matters is he’s writing so Minimus adds another finger and bites down the pleasure that shoots to his spike as he sees Rodimus’ hand spasm on the stylus.

“What supplies are being collected?” Minimus asks almost casually, his optics traveling down to see Rodimus’ valve lips stretched around his fingers and lubricant running over his plating onto the berth.

Rodimus gasps and pants, “It’s hard to write like this…”

Minimus hums, slipping his fingers out of Rodimus’ valve, and before Rodimus can complain commands, “Flip over.”

Rodimus complies, flipping onto his front with his knees propped up, exposing his valve fully to Minimus. Minimus lifts up on his knees and pushes his fingers back into Rodimus while running one hand over his thigh appreciatively.

“Now,” Minimus calls over, the definition of authority, “the question.”

Rodimus bites off a moan as Minimus spreads his fingers to stretch his valve then, as best as he can, replies, “Natural pockets of iron, carbon, and copper.”

“Those will be helpful,” Minimus notes and removes his fingers so he can press his stiff spike against Rodimus’ wet folds, rubbing the length against Rodimus’ pulsing node. “Put that in the next section, after that will be what they’re going to be used for.”

“Minimus,” Rodimus groans with his face against the berth, “You’re k-killing me here.”

Minimus stops and Rodimus growls with frustration but Minimus makes no move to continue.

“I’m waiting, Rodimus,” Minimus can’t keep the amusement out of his voice with Rodimus’ shaking under his touch, charge peaking over his frame.

Rodimus scribbles it in quickly and looks over his shoulder at Minimus with a rather upset look that only succeeds in getting Minimus to chuckle.

“Very good,” Minimus coos and pushes his spike into Rodimus’ valve, getting him to completely forget his frustration in favor of the spike pressing against neglected nodes, “Now the next item… What are these materials being used for?”

Rodimus moans into the berth but manages to mumble, “To forge steel to make… to make repairs… repairs after the last gunfight and…”

“And?” Minimus doesn’t fight the smile that forms on his face as he thrusts lazily into the wet heat of Rodimus’ valve.

“And… and for wiring,” Rodimus sighs as Minimus continues to rock into him.

“Excellent, now write it down,” Minimus thrusts in roughly, getting Rodimus to jump with a choked off moan.

Rodimus quickly writes and is about to set the datapad and stylus aside when Minimus stops. He instead tightens his hands onto the items and groans with frustration.

“Oh come on, Mims,” Rodimus snaps, his hips struggling to move in Minimus’ strong grip.

“It’s just your signature now, Rodimus,” Minimus leans down and plants a kiss against Rodimus’ back, “You can do that for me can’t you?”

Rodimus huffs and shuffles so he can sign off the document and tosses the offending items to the side then glares back at Minimus who sighs at the discarded datapad and stylus. Even so, Rodimus did finish it so he deserved his reward. Minimus pushes Rodimus down onto his chest earning a soft grunt of surprise then wraps his hand around his hip before slamming his spike into Rodimus. He holds Rodimus down as he thrusts roughly into him, Rodimus’ valve spasming around Minimus’ spike as his hands grip the edge of the berth. Heat and charge build quickly as Minimus pounds into him, lubricant and pre-transfluid dripping onto the berth. Rodimus cries out Minimus’ name, his hips twitching and pushing back into every thrust.

“Overload for me,” Minimus demands with a sharp thrust and Rodimus shakes as charge erupts from him in overload, his valve squeezing down on Minimus’ spike making him grunt.

A few more thrusts has Minimus moaning into overload, feeling his spike milked for all it’s worth by Rodimus’ valve then settles back with a sigh. Rodimus collapses fully onto the berth, venting heavily.

“That was cruel, Mims,” Rodimus mutters, not moving from his position.

“Well,” Minimus says between vents, “If that’s what will get you to actually finish your paperwork, I might be convinced to help you out in such a way in the future.”

Rodimus is quiet for a moment before he says, “I have some unfinished forms sitting on my desk in the other room.”

Brainstorm’s hands dig into the back of the booth he’s in, his fingers almost gouging into the metal, definitely leaving dents. He bites his glossa to keep himself quiet, the taste of engex still strong in his mouth making his head spin with the charge flooding his systems. Cooling fans whirring out of control in the tight space of the booth that sounds so loud even with the music and soft chatter of the bar around them. All of his attention is pinpointed on Whirl’s valve stretching over his spike, the lips of his valve dragging along its length with the slow drag of Whirl’s hips as he pulls up only to fall roughly back down and grind against Brainstorm’s spike. Even so, Brainstorm, really both of them know that people are watching them. Sly glances turn their way for the briefest of moments or linger with a dim glow with the noise around them interspersed with the soft hush of distant cooling fans or stifled gasp. Whirl eats up every giveaway from their audience, chuckling softly as he rides Brainstorm without any sense of haste, happy to drag this out as long as he can with building the charge between them little by little.

Digging his pedes into the floor, Brainstorm struggles to keep himself still as he watches his spike disappear into Whirl’s valve, feeling the wet heat tighten around his spike making him spasm in an effort to stay still. Whirl laughs lowly letting Brainstorm know that was fully intentional, clearly taking pleasure in it by how his spike twitches between them with a thick drop of pre-transfluid rolling from its slit. Brainstorm can see how Whirl’s almost golden node pulses steadily and how Whirl’s hips jolt whenever it catches against the raised plating when he grinds down. Pulling up again slowly, Whirl pulls all the way off then rubs his node against the head of Brainstorm’s spike making Brainstorm loll back his head against the back of the booth with heavy vents. Whirl lifts Brainstorm’s head back up so he looks down to see Whirl sink back down on his spike getting him to groan and bit his lip. Longing for more contact, any contact, Brainstorm presses his exposed face against Whirl’s forearm and kisses it, humming happily when he feels Whirl’s hips twitch in response.

Whirl’s pincers grip Brainstorm’s shoulders and he raises up to slam down roughly onto Brainstorm’s spike, riding him hard and fast suddenly, chasing his own release with static burbling from his vocalizer. Brainstorm’s fingers tear into the metal under them as he begins to shake beneath Whirl, the mesh of his valve tightening around Brainstorm’s spike. The more obvious gasps and soft moans of those watching them become more apparent, driving Whirl on until he jolts as charge shocks his entire frame in overload. His valve squeezes down on Brainstorm’s spike, his hips shifting erratically against Brainstorm’s with the friction against his node being too much and not enough at the same time. Thick rivulets of transfluid pour from his spike and drip down onto Brainstorm’s plating as it spasms between them throughout his overload.

Brainstorm watches him with bright optics, drinking in every soft sound and reaction, his spark feeling full knowing he’s the one making Whirl feel like this. As Whirl calms down, he looks back down at Brainstorm with a hazy optic, dim with the warmth of post overload and hums contemplatively. He can feel the charge still buzzing through Brainstorm’s frame and see that goofy grin of his that makes Whirl’s spark flip in his chest. With less vigor than before, Whirl rides Brainstorm, his abused valve squelching obscenely with excess lubricant. He lifts up Brainstorm’s helm with one pincer under his chin so he can watch Brainstorm’s face as he rides him and tugs one Brainstorm’s arms so his hand rests on Whirl’s hip. Taking it as the invitation it is, Brainstorm’s hands roam Whirl’s frame eagerly, feeling the curve of his thin waist and kneading into the sore and taught wires of his back to ease the ache. Brainstorm’s vents hitch and stutter with static as his digits dig into Whirl’s hips possessively and pull Whirl’s hips down onto his spike as he tenses in overload. Whirl shivers as hot transfluid fills his valve and Brainstorm bites down onto his pincer to cut off his shout of pleasure.

Brainstorm collapses back in a daze and Whirl pulls off delicately and sits upon the table behind him, his legs spread wide so transfluid and lubricant run from his valve onto the table and floor. As he comes back to himself, Brainstorm can hear the satisfied, heavy breathing from indistinct parts of the bar around them and grunts of withheld pleasure. His face heats up quickly and he ducks forward to hide his face against Whirl under his cockpit. Whirl laughs hard enough that Brainstorm can feel the soft vibrations of it through his chassis.

“What? Now you’re embarrassed?” Whirl teases, his voice needling and harsh but he doesn’t push Brainstorm away.

Instead, he puts his arms around Brainstorm almost protectively.

“You okay?” Whirl says softer and Brainstorm nods, his faceplate rubbing against Whirl’s warm plating.

“Good, you have to be in your lab in ten so you should probably be more focused on that anyway,” Whirl snarks.

Brainstorm pulls back quickly to look up at Whirl in horror but Whirl just shrugs and slides off the table.

“I’ll see you back in out hab after work,” Whirl says with an edge of finality and promise that has Brainstorm venting in sharply.

As Rodimus pushes into them, his optics flare erratically and he gasps, their hand twitches on his throat as a shock of pleasure courses through their frame. They bite their derma as he thrusts into them, releasing their hold to watch him suck in cool air that makes his optics fritz at the contrast. His frame is burning hot with no hope for relief with his vents shut and his fans stalled. They can feel it as his spike sinks into their valve, hot and solid between their wet folds and the burning plating against their thighs and hand. Steam floats off his frame, clouding the air as he vents heavily, kissing their face and neck before bringing their hand to his neck once more. Getting the hint, they slowly close their hand around his neck, gradually applying more pressure. Out of the corner of their optic they see his hands curl, digits digging into the berth as his thrusts get faster. Rodimus looks down at them with dim optics full of lust and adoration, there’s no one he’d rather be with as he sucks in thin vents as much as he can.

“You’re doing so good,” they whisper and he chokes out a moan, “You’re making me feel so good.”

Rodimus ducks his helm down and thrusts hard into them that they meet with just as much force, just as eager as he is. The charge and heat between them are rising to dizzying levels with Rodimus’s frame surrounding them with a blanket of heat. They feel like they’re melting on the inside with how hot his spike is, hitting them to their very core. Pushing their hips up onto his spike, they pull him down and he goes still as they pleasure themself on his spike while keeping a firm hold on his neck. His hips spasm into them as they loosen their grip, cold air hitting his overheated systems which creates more steam as they kiss his cheek and rub his neck to calm the ache in his cables. They flip them over and ride his spike hard, holding him close so they can kiss Rodimus as their wet valve drags over the raised nodes on his spike. He thrusts up into them, his hands firmly wrapped around their thighs, leaning into their touch on his neck. They kiss him as they dig the tips of their digits into his neck, applying pressure but not cutting off his vents. Rodimus’s hot vents brush their lips as they deepen the kiss, riding him hard enough to leave paint transfers with the wets sounds of his spike spreading their valve wide open.

“I love you,” Rodimus gasps against their lips, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” they smile and press their face against his neck and moans as the head of his spike pushes against their ceiling node.

Rodimus moves his hands to hold their hips still as he thrusts into them making them throw their helm back and grip his shoulders, catching onto the seams of his plating making him suck in sharp vents.

“Open your vents,” they command and he obeys.

All at once, cool air floods his systems, shocking him into overload with his spike hilted all the way into them, the feeling of the heat and charge coursing through him sends them over with him. They both come down fast, falling back onto the berth in a tangle of limbs as Rodimus’s plating audibly pops and pings as it cools. Rodimus’s spike slides out of their valve as it slowly depressurizes making them groan as it rubs oversensitive nodes. He holds them close as he rolls them over onto their sides and kisses the top of their helm.

“Thank you for that,” he whispers into their helm, his arms wrapped tightly around them.