• Chin on your back as his optics almost shutter, he rumbles lazily feeling you squirm slightly to get comfortable. “Lazy human,” he growls and you huff out a breath, your cheek on your arm. ‘I need eight hours of sleep,’ you mumble without any real heat and he clears his vents, engine noise shifting to a rough purr as you stretch. “Always sleeping.” Can feel you breathing, the rise and fall of your chest strange but oddly familiar after being around you for so long.

• Resisting the urge to snort at him, you can feel the noise of his internal systems humming into you as he pins you on your front, mindful of his weight. And as much as he gripes about you sleeping too much, he always wants to cuddle. Rumbling against you, his servos toy with your fingers, hand covering yours. “We’ll be moving again soon,” he growls and you groan a protest.

• “Already?” You grumble and he almost smiles even as he understands. Hates being forced to move, but his scouts had reported some suspicious humans in the area looking around. Snooping. Getting far too close for comfort. Knows it’s the Autobot’s allies. That as soon as the soldiers are sure this is the right area, they’ll attack. Would rather stand his ground and fight, but things are complicated now.

• “Don’t whine,” he says, venting to blast you with hot air. Squirming as his servos toy with your fingers, you try to look back and see him. Meeting his half-shuttered, red optics. “I’ll find somewhere better. More defensible,” he adds, servos rubbing your fingertips as you sigh. Know why he keeps moving you and his forces, but you just want a place you can call home. To not move every few months for safety. Had thought the Autobots would let his people go if he wasn’t causing problems, but apparently not. Still hunting for him and the other Decepticons.

• Snarling as his clawed servos gouge grooves into the berth on either side of your naked body, he clears his vents aggressively. Again? Thought he’d found and destroyed every one of those stinking bottles of scents one of his soldiers had mistakenly provided you, but apparently you’ve been hiding some of them. “You stink,” he growls, battle mask snapping back into place. Rumbling dangerously in threat as frustration winds through him, because you’re naked, thighs slightly spread in invitation and you stink. His spike depressurizing as he keeps trying to clear that offensive scent from his vents.

• Rolling over onto your belly to ignore him, you stretch lazily. Aware that he could seriously hurt you if he wanted to, that he’s cranking himself up to a full blown tantrum, but that he won’t touch you. And he’s shoving up onto his peds, pacing. “You don’t like lillies and gardenia?” You ask innocently as his snarling gets louder. Making a show of sniffing your wrist, you hide a wince, because you really do stink with how much of it you’d sprayed on. Eu de funeral home curbing his libido at least even if your eyes are burning, too.

• Engine snarling louder as you stare at him over your shoulder, expression daring him to mount you. Denta bared behind his mask, you shriek when he grabs you by a leg and drags you to your little wash rack while you kick at him. Intending to wash that stink off of you and shoving open the door, he recoils, venting raggedly. Did you dump that stuff in here on everything? Temper flaring out of control, he snarls as his spike finishes depressurizing.

• “This is new,” he growls, clawed servos plucking at the thin material. And you can hear the angry jealousy in his voice as he twists your leash around his servos. “A gift from an admirer?” Like he thinks any of his followers is quite that stupid. You’re pretty sure Barricade had thrown the lace coverup at you because your nakedness was distracting, not because he likes you. Because as jealous as Megatron is, he seems to like tempting his followers with you, keeping you naked and on display.

• “If it is?” You counter, voice teasing as your hands smooth over the soft material, running down your body. And he snarls, battle mask retracting as he ducks and his mouth crashes against yours. Backs you up against a wall, internal systems rumbling as his knuckles skim over your body, a servo sliding between your thighs as his other hand fists your leash, tugging. Glossa stealing inside to dance with your tongue as he tastes you, he slides down to his knees. You’re the one chained, but here? You’re not the only helpless on your knees.

• Mouth brushing you lower belly, he shoulders one of your thighs and scrapes his sharp denta against the inside of your thigh. Threatening to bite as he vents to pull your scent deep. Some of his aggression calming when he can’t smell any other Decepticons on you. Because if one of his followers was that stupid? He’d make it last, make them suffer until they begged him to snuff out their spark. Growling when you tip your hips slightly in invitation, his mouth slides against you. Listening to your throaty moans as you cling to his helm. Intoxicating himself with the taste of you as his glossa tunnels inside, and he watches you tremble against his mouth.

• Head back against the wall as those wickedly sharp denta tease soft skin, there’s a hint of unease about him being down there. Aware that if he decides to bite, it’s going to hurt. That his moods are so mercurial he might. Your thighs and shoulder are scarred with his ‘love’ bites already, your hips and waist constantly marked with scratches from his sharp servos. His attention, his love, changing your body. Leaving permanent marks. The danger of him, the threat he poses, winding you up as you rock against his mouth, chasing your climax and when you shatter with a cry and he snarls, the viscous sound shivering through you. He’s dangerous and you know it, addicted to the rush and that uncertainty of never being sure if you’re safe in his cruel hands.

• Mass shifting, Optimus drags you back into his frame, turning you to face Megatron. His oldest enemy and once, a friend. Servos resting against your throat, he nuzzles your cheek. “Show him what’s mine,” he growls, lips brushing your earlobe and you untie the sash on the long covering, letting it fall from your shoulders to bare soft skin. And Megatron’s optics narrow hungrily. Servo hooking under the delicate lace at your throat and draping in crisscrossing layers down your torso, the light catches on the blue and red metal of his claim. Trying to calm his fury that you’re what Megatron had demanded for his cooperation. Wanting to eviscerate the other mech rather than let him touch you. Gently tugging you to the low berth Megatron hasn’t been allowed to use, he sits and pulls you into his lap. Meets Megatron’s optics as he cups you, servos sliding against you, one spearing inside you.

• Venting as Optimus pumps a servo inside you, your thighs hooked over his and spread, Megatron knows this is killing the Prime. That Optimus would rather murder him and lose his intel than let him frag his little bond mate. Smiling lazily to bare his denta imagining Optimus’s pretty Conjunx gift jingling with every thrust as he bends you over and takes you. “What’s wrong, Prime,” he growls. “Afraid your pet will enjoy me better?” Laughing as Optimus glares at him, knowing that if he didn’t have valuable information, he’d just end him. And so far his attempts to torture it out of him have failed, without his medic to snoop in his processor, Optimus is forced to negotiate.

• Breath catching as Optimus keeps stroking you, optics locked on Megatron, you can feel the tension in his frame. Know he hates this. Hates asking this of you. “I want you, too,” you whisper, shivering as the other mech bears sharp denta. What’s wrong with you for wanting to do this? What would your mate think if he knew you’re aroused at the ideal of Megatron chained and helpless, about both of them inside you. And he adds a second servo, pumping them inside you as your hips buck on a gasp. Hearing him growling as you tremble against him and he slips his servos free, nudging you out of his lap as he slides to kneel beside you, sliding his slick servos against you, pressing one inside and stroking, you’ve taken him here before, but you’re still nervous. Know he’s trying to get you ready to take two spikes before going to adjust Megatron’s restraints. Allowing the warlord enough slack to slowly stand.

• “You’re going to have to help me frag your mate if you won’t free me,” Megatron taunts and Optimus grips your hips as the Decepticon frees his spike. “Lift your tight, little conjunx onto my spike.” The warlord laughs and Optimus’s servos tighten on your hips, lifting you. Lining your body up and hearing your shaky whimper when he eases you down and you take Megatron’s spike. “Your mate’s slick for me, Prime.” Releasing his own spike, Optimus rocking himself against your soft skin as Megatron’s hips snap against you. Your head falls back against his shoulder on a moan as Megatron ruts inside you and he keeps you supported while trying to keep you away from the warlord’s sharp denta, because given half a chance, Megatron will tear your throat out to kill him, too. “Such a good little pet,” Megatron taunts, venting loudly and Optimus ignores him, sliding the head off his spike against you and slowly stretching you as you gasp.

• “The information,” Optimus snarls, his own hips lazily rocking and you writhe between them. Shuddering realizing they’re both inside you, Megatron bares his denta. Can feel Optimus’s spike sliding against his own with only a thin layer of you separating Optimus from him and it’s shocking in its intimacy. Realizing he’s unconsciously matching Optimus’s rhythm, that you’re getting louder right before you shatter, fisting his spike. Optimus’s optics locking with his over your head as they both move faster inside you.