Handcuffs || Fingering {o||o}
{MTMTE Swagnus smut where Swerve tries his absolute darndest and still struggles}
They never usually had to do any prep before interfacing, but it was extremely necessary for what they were planning now. That didn’t mean Swerve couldn’t voice his opinions though.
“Maaaagnuuuus,” the minibot whined, pulling at the stasis cuffs at the head of the berth keeping him from thrashing too much, “C’mon, i-it’s enough!”
Despite his pleas, Ultra Magnus didn’t remove his digits from the other’s dripping valve, already sensitive from an overload. It was his first of the night and very likely wouldn’t be his last. It certainly wouldn’t be if Magnus kept rubbing and scissoring his innermost nodes as precisely as he was.
“Calm yourself,” Magnus ordered, although his voice was uncharacteristically soft as his free servo traced a comforting pattern into Swerve’s hip, “I need to make absolute sure that I will not harm you; that was part of the agreement.”
Swerve whined louder, trying and failing to grind back on the massive servo working him open.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but can’t you go-oh!- a little faster? You’re k-killing me here Mags!”
Magnus only hummed lowly, his chassis rumbling and sweet Solus, Swerve wished the mech was pressed against him so he could feel the vibrations of his deep voice tremble his spark to its very corona. Then again, that would probably send him over too easily and he knew he only had limited stamina with things like this and he really wanted to feel Magnus’s spike inside him. He had to refrain from even fantasizing about it as oral solvent would undoubtedly drool from his intake if he did.
When Swerve had first brought up the subject to Minimus, it had admittedly been from out of left field and had left the green minibot flustered and fighting to keep his fans off. Swerve had hidden his disappointment well enough when Minimus had refused to entertain such an idea, but the fantasy still followed him into his recharge cycle regardless. In all fairness, Minimus had some very understandable concerns to reason the denial, but the offer clearly hadn’t completely left the other mini’s processor either as Ultra Magnus was the one who brought it up a few cycles later— with a few addendums to delegate with him.
Thorough stretching and stasis cuffs to make sure Swerve didn’t hurt himself were the biggest points that Magnus refused to be dissuaded from. But in truth, Swerve wasn’t too bothered by the ‘being restrained’ part— it was the hours of slow, meticulous movements that kept his charge high but rarely allowed it to peak that was driving him up a wall. He had been using just two digits for so long now, he was almost sure Magnus was purposefully torturing him at this point!
“Magnus, please!” he finally gave up and started begging, “I- ha!- I promise it’s enough!”
“Not yet Swerve. I did the measurements and I need to work you up to three digits at the very least for this to work,” Magnus denied him yet again, though he seemed to feel some pity when Swerve practically sobbed in desperation, “I’m sorry, I know how badly you want this, but I could never forgive myself if I hurt you.”
The care in his normally even voice made his calipers cycle erratically and when Magnus caressed a reassuring servo down his spinal strut, he couldn’t help but cry out as he overloaded again. His valve clenched hard, as if trying to urge Magnus’s digits further, and charge crackled across his plating as his entire frame tensed up. It lasted for a few amazing seconds before his struts released and he went limp on the berth, the only things holding him up being the cuffs, pillows, and Magnus’s free servo.
His vents heaved to cool him down, all the while Magnus helped him through the overload until he slowed his thrusts to a complete stop. Somehow, the digits merely sitting in his valve was worse than if they had continued their pace into painful overstimulation. After a long klik to cycle down to a more stable level, Swerve groaned and turned his head to look back at his berth partner the best he could, wearing his most convincing pleading optics despite his visor.
“Please Mags…” he panted, having to reset his vocalizer with a click before speaking again, “I… I can take it. All of it, please. I’m st-sturdier than I look, ha…”
For a moment, it seemed like Magnus’s infamous loyalty to code and safety may be melted under the heat of desire, his faceplate nearly glowing with warmth. Any hopes of that was whisked away when the mech shook his helm and gently leaned forward to place a sweet kiss on Swerve’s upper back kibble. With a deep vent and one more kiss, he finally spoke.
“I just need to be sure,” Magnus whispered, voice going enticingly husky, “Can you hold on for a little longer? For me?”
Swerve smashed his faceplate into the pillows cradling his chassis, muffling the embarrassingly pathetic, long whine that escaped him. Hold on for a little longer? How the frag was he supposed to do that when he’d already overloaded twice now and was positive he wouldn’t make it past three?!
Magnus, clearly sensing his partner’s frustration, rested the crest of his helm against Swerve’s shoulder closer to his audial.
“I know you want my spike inside you right this moment, but I,” he paused to gather his words, “I don’t want to risk injuring you— especially not while interfacing.”
Swerve cycled his vents a few times, letting the cool air filter through his overheated systems and let his processor recollect itself from the puddle it had become after two overloads. As badly as he wanted to hurry this up and get to the good stuff already, Magnus was one-hundred percent right.
“I know,” he admitted with a groan, struggling to look over his shoulder again to meet the other’s optics, “I get it, and I appreciate the care. I just… I want you to get the chance to feel as good as you make me feel, y’know? That’s all…”
Despite his limited field of vision behind himself, he could more-so sense Magnus stiffening, his constantly controlled EM field suddenly flaring out wildly with adoration/lust/sickeningly sweet fluttery feelings one would never guess Magnus could feel. Swerve knew him better than that of course, but it was always incredibly enjoyable to feel the mech’s emotions escape his carefully curated persona in such an adorable way.
And all because Swerve managed to say just the right thing in so few words— with most situations, he found he was better at blathering on and on about nothing to keep tensions either relaxed or focused on something unimportant rather than letting the atmosphere get too heavy. But with Magnus and Minimus, he didn’t need to keep up the façade, just like he didn’t need to hide behind the mask of the rule following, hard-aft enforcer around Swerve.
Surprisingly enough, the dynamic of their relationship was incredibly beneficial for both sides. The ‘facing was almost an added bonus at this point— not that Swerve would ever complain about that! He’d never had a partner as caring or who made him overload until all his senses crashed like Minimus did and while he gave just as good as he got, Swerve couldn’t stop himself from discreetly sizing the Magnus armor up every time the enforcer found an excuse to (scare away any possibly illicit activity) visit the bar.
Call him a little shallow for it, but Swerve couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of a strong, towering mech hiding a sensitive side behind a shield of gruff authority. Sure, it was cheesy as all hell, but c’mon! Any mecha would want to take a bite out of Magnus if they knew anything about the sweet little load-bearer hiding just beneath the surface.
“Okay,” Swerve finally managed to get a hold of himself, shuffling back onto his knees and wiggling his aft in what he hoped was an attractive manner, “I’m good, all good. We can keep going.”
“Are you sure?”
“Magnus, I’ve never been so sure in my entire function.”
Magnus conceded with a curt nod and resumed moving gently, giving Swerve plenty of time and ability to change his mind. He wasn’t going to, but the consideration was nice.
Finally, after what felt like eons, Magnus pulled his digits out and slowly inserted three. Swerve choked on a moan, trying his best to vent properly and stay relaxed, but it was definitely a challenge when his entire sensor suite was solely focused on the incredibly thick, long digits stretching his valve to its limit. Maybe Magnus was right about needing to make it to three digits before his spike because Swerve was starting to struggle.
He moaned then gasped in surprise when Magnus’s digits curled against a set of deeper nodes that made his lines and faceplate burn with arousal. With what little give the cuffs allowed, Swerve gripped the headboard firmly and buried his faceplate into the pillows again, trying everything he could to muffle himself as his volume became uncontrollable the more Magnus moved. The burn of the stretch was something he’d never really felt before and while it did sting to an extent, it’s wasn’t nearly painful enough to dissuade him or break his processor from the clouds of lust. In fact, the pain seemed to addto the pleasure, something he would probably need to do some introspection about later.
When Magnus reached the bartender’s gestational seal, he veered off just behind it to instead stimulate his neglected ceiling node, sending Swerve into a moaning, babbling mess.
“Oh yes, yes yes yes! Just- ah! Right there! K-keep going! I’m re- guh! I’m ready Mags!”
Even with the stasis cuffs and Swerve’s weakening hold on his sanity, he knew his next and final overload was too close. If Magnus didn’t get his spike in him now, Swerve wouldn’t be able to give much else— not with how exhausted he’ll be after the post-coital haze lifts. He needed Magnus to feel as good as he did even if it killed him!
Okay, maybe not ‘kill him’ per say, but Swerve was damn near going to lose his mind if they had done all this work and prep and fussing only for Magnus to not have his moment too. He wouldn’t allow it! Magnus deserved a load off too!
“You’re sure you are ready?”
Swerve cried out as the digits in him continued twisting and scissoring, making it difficult to answer at all.
“Yes! Primus sake, yes!” he practically shouted as his strut arched despite his sturdy built frame, electricity arcing across his plating and grounding itself anywhere it could, “Spike me! I-I’m so close, please do it before I-“
The warning didn’t come fast enough, cut off by a strangled moan that crackled at the end as his vocalizer shorted out. He felt the shock/stunned/utter awe from Magnus’s field, but the mech’s digits continued guiding him through the aftershocks regardless. Swerve writhed and whined as pleasure blurred into overstimulation very quickly and before he knew it, his visual feed went dark and his entire frame gave out completely.
{<•••>}
The sudden shutdown left Swerve struggling to reboot properly, so his senses came back one at a time rather slowly. First it was his sense of space, which reassured him that he was safely on his front in a berth and that a large, familiar servo was wiping a cloth across his plating. Second, his audials fine tuned themselves automatically and began picking up on the hum of idle systems cycling down— although he couldn’t tell if the sounds were from him or Magnus. And lastly, his sight returned, starting off fuzzy with static until a few shutters cleared them and Swerve could see his partner clearly again.
He manually reset his vocalizer a few times before he could speak.
“‘M sorry.”
Magnus looked up, his normally stern face now confused, “What for?”
“I… wanted to do this,” Swerve groaned, ashamed at his inability to give the other a single overload when he had suggested this whole idea, “Wanted to do this for you, but I…”
He turned his helm into the pillows, finding sanctuary within their soft darkness once again.
“And you did all that for nothing— we couldn’t even do the thing all the prep was for. I tried— I really did!— but… I’m sorry Mags.”
A klik of silent stillness passed, making Swerve feel all the worse for his inadequacy, until Magnus’s servo glided up to rest with startling gentleness on his partner’s cheek and turn him so they could lock optics. Instead of disappointment or dissatisfaction, Swerve found an exasperated fondness that only grew as Magnus leaned forward to tap their forehelms together lovingly. It was so sappy and sweet that Swerve wished he could bottle the feeling like the finest engex and keep it to himself for rainy days. He bet the concentrated liquid feeling of this kind of affection would be just as addicting as the actual moment itself.
With a hesitant kiss to his nasal ridge, Magnus finally responded.
“There is nothing for you to apologize for,” he corrected in a tone that left no room for discussion, yet remained soft all the same, “You wanted to try something new, we agreed on the details, and while it didn’t go… quite as planned, you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself thoroughly.”
Swerve felt his fans start up from the embarrassment that warmed his systems, but Magnus didn’t let that get very far.
“This wasn’t about me, Swerve, and I’m plenty happy with a job well done. As long as I didn’t hurt you and you found pleasure, that’s all that matters to me.”
Swerve weakly grabbed Magnus’s wrist to keep him there and leaned further into his palm, damn near big enough to completely cover his helm. If he weren’t so drained, that thought likely would have revved his engines pretty hard.
“I wanted this to be about you though,” Swerve admitted quietly, “You always do so much for me and I… I just wanted you to have your moment too, y’know? Maybe do something new and knock you off your pedes at the same time.”
He chuckled, but it was a halfhearted sound. Primus, it seemed so ridiculous when he said it out loud, but it really did matter to him that much. Oddly enough, Magnus also huffed, sounding echoey and likely coming more from Minumus himself rather than Magnus’s amplified voice box. The memory of Magnus slumped over a table in his bar, completely drunk off his aft and rambling about things that made little to no sense even with context, replayed in Swerve’s memory banks solely to savor the laugh he had been privy to hear that day. He had a really nice laugh.
Magnus, with all the comfort of his broad shoulders and strong hands, wrapped an arm around Swerve and brought him close to kiss the side of his helm. He did so again and again, moving across Swerve’s cheek, nasal ridge, and down to his intake as the larger mech moved him however he pleased. The sheer power and strength Magnus wielded like a weapon in battle suddenly became extremely arousing when used in softer or more erotic contexts— and it never failed to rile Swerve up even when he had nothing left to give.
It took Swerve an incredibly long few minutes to realize that, since Magnus knew the other could spiral fast, he had opted to instead kiss and caress away his troubles. Well, if he thought the minibot wouldn’t notice, think again!
“Ngh- you clever glitch,” Swerve groaned as Magnus kissed down his now exposed throat cabling, “Don’t think I’m giving up just ‘cause it didn’t work this time— I’ll get it next time!”
Magnus chuckled gruffly against the vital main energon line in his neck, sending a shiver down his struts.
“There will always be next time,” Magnus affirmed back.
They continued exchanging heated kisses as Magnus flipped Swerve over and went back to peppering the bartender’s faceplate with affection, making him giggle stupidly. But when he felt the near burning warmth of Magnus’s codpiece brush his thigh, Swerve realized the other still needed to get off.
“My valve may be too tired, buuuuut…”
He trailed his short digits down Magnus’s sides, one stopping to rest at the jut of his hip and the other continued until it firmly cupped the other’s closed panel, ripping a breathy keen from Magnus.
“I think we both know my mouth is more than big enough.~”
