WeirdLookingReptile

He'd be ruined if his people knew about this. To see their beloved Prime all hot and lusty, licking and suckling the panel to your array. Your thighs over his shoulders to keep him steady and his servos on said thighs tighten slightly. What would the people think were they to see such a sight. It was beautiful.

Your panel muffled a groan from the mech, glossa sliding along your design. Prime wants it open, wants to play with the seams between your pelvis and legs as he smothers himself. He has the power. Knows it. Could easily command you to do it, but then he's lose what makes this so erotic. After all, it's not easy to be a Prime. To keep both Cybertron and the Quintessons fed. So what's the harm in indulging his fantasy.

He continues to drag his metal tongue across your plate. Sucking the spot where your sizable spike is hiding, then shifting down to lick and kiss the valve's spot on you. Frustrated at the lack of voice from you, you're such a spoiled bot. Spoils you by letting you have such authority over him. Though then again, the praise you give is oh so much better than what his people give. More personal and only for him. Just him.

Primus do you get him all hot. Making him do all the work just to get a taste of your offerings. Sentinel pulls back a bit to puff a vent against the plate, gazing up at you with big pleading eyes, his helm now resting on your abdomen. Is he doing a good job? The best even? Can he have his meal now?

You looked away from one of his datapads with a soft eyes. Primus does he adore you.

"Hmm? Something wrong, my dear?"

That voice of yours drifting sweetly from your lips to his audios. A servo- one that previously held his datapad- drops down to cup the top of his helm, gently rubbing there while a digit lulls him further into the haze in circular fashion.

The Prime wanted to speak, blue optics brightening as he thinks and you vent softly. The tug of the collar makes him whimper, forcing a pant from the mech. For a brief moment, Sentinel's eyes dart to the leash that's loosely looped around your free gauntlet, the lead from there to him pulled him slightly.

"Go on sweetspark, tell me what's on your mind." Gaze remaining soft as you continue to gently rub his head soothingly. He's reminded that, that tug was just to focus him, not hurt him. You're so good to him, so patient when he fails to speak.

After nothing but silence, you decided to make his choice for him. You already knew what your sweet Prime wanted, but for him to not have the words, he must be that wound up.

The servo petting him smooths down the side of his face to gently grip his chin, tilting his helm in preparation. Your position over him was awkward- Your thighs still over his chassis- But as if you'd let that stop you from bend yourself closer to his helm for a hot kiss. Nuzzling your helms together and take some of his bottom lip into your mouth to tease the Prime. Optics never leaving his during the moment and he shudders at that.

This power you held over him— he wanted it. The feeling of a haze settling gently to overcome selfish desire of his need to control and command one's perception. Feeling the gentleness of your touch despite having the collar loosely snug around the Prime's neck and still wanting this self-inflicted vulnerability.

Glossa sliding across his lips before sliding in-between and he whimpers. A sound he'd never make in the presence of others, they'd think him a weak Prime. Feeling the faint tug of the collar again, he let's his intake fall open, his glossa letting the others do as they please. Groaning into you, attempting to follow as you pull away to lean back into his chair. Thighs spreading slightly more in invitation.

"Good pet."

• You’re obviously mortified, which makes him guess someone else talked you into coming here. And it’s really too cute, especially when he usually gets pawed in his line of work. Has to keep the humans from trying to grab his modesty plating. Can see a corner of the twenty poking out of the neck of your shirt as he lazily thrusts against you, servos brushing the outside of your thighs as he grips the chair to mine your field. Trying to make sure he’s not overwhelming you. “We good? Or do you want more? Or less?” He asks, back arching and hips snapping with a growl. Play fragging against you as he dances. Almost misses the klik your scent shifts, becoming addictively needy. Groaning softly as his spike stirs behind his panel, his head lowers. You’re tempting him to break the rules. To put his mouth on you. Give you a real show. “Play with me.”

• You’re not sure what you’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t to get hands on with one of the dancers. Especially not a Cybertronian. And you might just strangle your friend later. Because at some point, you’d gone from wanting the ground to swallow you up to aroused. Almost whimpering when his mouth brushes your neck, following the line of it down, you shiver. Watching his head lift, that twenty between his denta as he rumbles and winks an optic. He’s straightening, hips rolling as he subspaces the bill and someone else has money in the air as he lingers, hands running down his frame to cup his modesty plating. And you’re digging out another bill, embarrassed even as you hold it up and his optics brighten. “Now we’re talking,” he purrs. “I knew you liked me.”

• You suck in breath when he catches your wrist and tugs you out of the chair, before spinning you and he’s sitting. Pulling you into his lap to straddle him. “What’s your name? My friends call me Badassatron,” he purrs as he cups your hips and encourages you to move against him. Teasing himself and you both. Knows he’s going to get in trouble later for not moving around the room to make sure everyone that wants a turn with him gets one, but he’s not used to shy and it’s adorable. Barely hears you say your name over the thump of the music. Spike aching to be released, he’s tempted to toss you over a shoulder and carry you into the back. To keep you. Would you let him? You smell so good as he grinds against you. “What are you doing after this? Want to have a private party? Just you and me?”

Brainstorm is pressed firm up against your back, servos dancing and wandering over the plates that he can easily reach. Running them over your lower back in the dip between your bodies, tracing them down your sides, over your thighs in little motions. Landing them on your stomach to then move them up agonizingly slow to your chassis to play with your biolights.

As distracting as it is, nothing can truly get your attention away from the way Perceptor’s spike grinds against your soaked valve. Every ridge running over your own, setting off sensitive nodes that have you twisting and wiggling in their hands.

With the way his pace quickens as Brainstorm holds your chin, pressing on the hinges and burying two digits as far down your throat as they can possibly get, you’re starting to understand why he hasn’t ditched you both yet.

Watching the way you suck and wrap your tongue around the fingers as his other hand starts to sneak downwards to press sweetly to your anterior node. Perceptor’s grip is tight on your sides as he pulls you back to meet his small thrusts, careful not to ruin the show while also desperate to make it more interesting.

You’re not quite sure at what point your idea finally settled into that thick processor of his, but you sure kept your vocalizer fully off to not distract his thinking once you realized he was taking you seriously.

Seeing him swallow and lick his lips, starting with only the tip of your spike against his lips and sucking to get it to grow firmer before taking more. Letting more and more sink into his warm and wet throat as his glossa settles against the underside, wiggling against the moving metal.

Once he’s about halfway, your hands move to hold onto his chevrons. Scratching lightly at the surface – before pulling on them hard and forcing the last half of your spike as far down his throat as you can possibly get it. Nose to your housing, breaths hot and desperate as you do not let him breathe.

The servos on your thighs shaking against the metal is sure to leave dents, digging in and fighting to keep his grasp. You begin with small slides of your spike against the tight pipe of his intake, not pulling out much more than a fingertip before settling back in.

Prowl attempts to speak, gurgling on the fluids building around the intrusion, attempts to pull off to get some well-deserved air and you don’t let him. Hooking your ankles firmly and pressing down against his back to keep him there as your thrusts start to get faster and longer.

You hit a specifically hard one to the very back of his intake where it bends and he whines at the pain it shakes through his systems. Jolting away only to be pulled back harsher by your servos.

Sideswipe was getting antsy after your guys last battle with the cons.

Okay maybe "antsy" was the wrong way of putting it. His sparkdamn modesty panel was urging to pop whenever he kept stealing glances at your frame.

Sure, you were pretty easy on the optics- especially for a bot your age. They all fragging knew that. But Sideswipe watched you take down Motormaster so- ruthless wouldn't be the right way to say it. It didn't exactly match the smile on your derma. Or the almost lazy action behind your fighting moves that were critical in putting Cons to work. But you took Motormouth down and you took him down hard.

Sideswipe actually had to stop where he was on the field to gawk at the last couple moments- because frag... you really did know what you were doing. All before you practically flattened the big glitch with how hard you downed him. You only laughing and casually pulled yourself up off the con. Before leaning down to say something to him- a playful grin on your faceplate.

And Sideswipe realized he wanted to fight you. That he needed to spar with you again.

He knew he was being a bit of pervert with the thoughts of sparring.

He'd imagined getting up close and personal when you closed the distance to break his form. The frame to frame contact was the biggest thing his processor kept on imagining when he thought about it. You close- real close. Metal sliding against metal…. His own processor flicking between sparing and actually really getting close and personal with you.

Sideswipe wanted to grab and tug you even closer. But he also knew you'd probably break his hold easy before you'd knock him flat on his sorry aft.

But Sideswipe kinda wanted that too right now...

Primus, Sideswipe needs to self service or 'face soon before he physically asks you to kick his aft for his own enjoyment.

...

But maybe he could just ask you to 'face-? Like... casual?

Sideswipe knows you fool around with the other officers- it was like an open secret.

The way you and Jazz would get real close with each other. No kissing but you'd practically be on top of each other at some points.

Prowl's doorwings were tense and the long looks he'd give you when he thought no one was watching.

Optimus's over expressive finials and his own optics brightening so easily with some of your comments definitely didn't hide much at all.

And It would be stupid to assume you and Ironhide weren't screwing like petrorabbits behind closed doors.

Then Wheeljack accidentally tuning into that last "performance" you'd done with Ratchet just flat out confirmed the rumor.

It had him and some of the others sitting there waiting for the "go" from Prowl to raid the Decepticons.

All while slack jawed hearing you getting your spinal strut bent by Ratchet the whole way through. Loudly and so so hotly the entire time. It was so distracting that they almost missed Prowl's call to charge-! And Sideswipe was left powering through the most annoying bout of charge in his array after hearing you like that. Hearing you both like that. Frag- was older bots being freaks a true stereotype!?

Sideswipe was so fragging upset he wasn't built to make quality audio recordings. Because if he was- he'd have that entire frag session between you and Ratchet burning an echo in his audials with how many times he'd of replayed it directly into them. But nope! Had to be built a war frame without good audial recorders! Forced to simply recall the entire thing from his memory banks!

The things Sideswipe would do for a copy of you moaning like that...

So yeah. That’s definitely part of why he's so heated right now. He's been remembering it and thinking of you on your back with Ratchet on top of ya and you both trading paint so hard the fragging medical slab was creaking- Okay! Sideswipes just gonna go ask! Really he can just ask. You were laid back enough even as his superior officer Sideswipe didn't think you'd do anything. Or be too mad at him if you didn't want to fool around.

You'd probably just say no and maybe tease him for it.

And if you said yes-

Frag. Sideswipe wants you to say yes.

When he finds you, you're in the hallway walking along just reading through a data pad. So Sideswipe smooths his plating to be inviting and he just goes for it. Stepping in your path, making you stop to look up at him.

Your derma just curls into a lazy smile. "Pookie, what can I do for ya?"

Sideswipe’s plating twitches to ruffle wrong in annoyance at the ridiculous pet name you still just kept on using.

He shoves the urge to frown aside and tries to get his game back together from the quick curved lobb ball you'd started with. Throwing him off balance already- he can still win this.

So Sideswipe sighs and smiles, casually placing his servos on his hips and putting his plating back in order to try and visually put out what he wants to ask.

His plating not quite showing the deeper dips to hidden seams but close to it. And it definitely catches your optics. You only look back up with an arched optic ridge. But smiling all the same- only still waiting for him to start talking. So Sideswipe does and starts with your designation before he gets into taking his shot.

"- So, I was just wondering... Autobot to Autobot if you'd maybe be interested in some... under the table training." He smiles, trying to look sultry. "Plus I've been good on keeping myself in one piece recently. Did what ya said and I've been making an effort to stay outta of the medbay- for two weeks even!" Which was true. Sideswipe had almost made it to a month without any major injuries. This was the longest he's gone without a trip to Ratchet since they got to earth. "Don't I deserve- something good- for doing good? Being good."

You just barely tilted your helm to the side- but your optics slightly crinkle in amusement. You subspaced your datapad to bring a now free servo to your faceplate to prop under your derma in thought. "Hm-? Under the table training? And what exactly would this under the table training entail?"

Frag, you just want him to say it, say it.

Maybe Sunny was right and you did get off on embarrassing them all.

But Sideswipe had some scenes to recreate with you that'll match some of those sounds that have been crammed into his processor for days.

"Well, just some... one on one time alone together. We can do the training room- your habsuite, or my habsuite. What do ya say?" Sideswipe feels brave so he takes a step forward and into your space. Leaning closer to you slow but causal and lowering his volume before letting his em field spill against your frame. Sideswipe let's just some of that want, that's been thrumming in his chassis for what feels like forever, slip a lil’.

He keeps optic contact with you realizing he really does like the particular shade your optics are this close.

But he really thinks he'd like them even more if they were a lot brighter.

"You said you're always up for teaching the rest of us what you know as an older bot. So... how about you give me some more teaching of the- fun kind. What do you say?"

You stare at him. At the distance you’re at Sideswipe can see your optics are cycling in thought. Your smile actually disappearing before you exaggeratedly seemed to think to yourself. "Hmmmm." The drawn out hum from you only makes his digits twitch when he thinks about reaching out and making that sound turn into a moan.

Finally you turned your gaze back to him. And your smile returns- but now it's more loaded. "You're cute I'll give you that." His plating twitches under the attention. "But- just that." Your servos find your hips, leaning partially back into his space. "Cute. But I ain't about to be rewarding that type of cute." Oh, fraaaaaag. Sideswipe's plating shifts back to normal and he tries not to let his em field show all his disappointment.

Your servo raises and you waggle your pointer digit at him "I think... I'll let you off with a warning for indecent behavior towards your superior officer." Ugh. Okay fine. Nothing lost, nothing gained then. Except maybe some of Sideswipe's pride.

"Though I am a sucker for spoiling you all. So I'll at least… give you that reward for doing such a good job keeping yourself together. Just this once so you don't back slide into bad habits." Oh, really? Like what-? Sideswipe’s still kinda sour about the rejection and he knows it's not gonna be what he needs from you right now so he sorta glances at the wall.

Absentmindedly wondering what you'd give him instead for his good behavior of behaving and not “Throwing himself into danger at every opportunity on the battlefield”. Which blows- He had more than a couple of ideas just last fight with the Decepticreeps he avoided doing.

His thoughts are cut short when your raised servo reaches out towards him to grab onto his pauldron.

He has half a moment to register your smile curling even more- all before you yank him forward.

Sideswipe not ready for the move at all, almost gets pulled right off his pedes by you. He barely finds his balance when his chassis knocks right up against yours and-

"Hm-!?" Sideswipe’s shock gets muffled when your derma are suddenly just locked against his own. And he barely realizes that part before you casually slip your glossia into his slack mouth! Hello, Primus!?

Sideswipe’s servos latch onto your wrists when your own move to cup the sides of his face. Urging him forward all while your derma press against his own harder. Your derma are soft- frag! Your glossia slides against his own right when your em field slides down his front. It makes his thighs tense, and his next instinctive swallow taste like high grade.

And Sideswipe thinks he might get addicted to the taste of you.

He can't really hold back the throaty sound he makes when your demand intensifies. Glossia pressing against his own and making charge slip down his intake. Derma pressing and only breaking away every few moments to just re connect back to his own again.

Then you pull your glossia back and before he can follow after. And you bite him. Your top denta nips his bottom derma firmly. Not enough to break the top layer but enough to have Sideswipe feeling weak in the knees.

He manages to catch the moan that wants to sound out of his chassis- but you must still feel his em field pulse. Because your own field flexes in bubbly amusement when you smother him yet again back into making out. Sideswipe kisses back- glossia trying to match your intensity. While your em field boldly fans out and against the dips of his own frame.

Just when Sideswipe feels like he's finding some semblance of a strive against ya, you break away leaving him venting in whiffs of steam. "There's your extra special one time reward solider.” You smile better than he probably ever could have when he was trying to flirt. Just the little thing had his plating twitching. “One just for you. For your reward for breaking your record on keeping yourself outta Ratchet’s plates. But also here's your warning. If you repeat the same rule breaking then I'll be forced to punish you for it. And trust me I'll be enjoying it a lot more than you will be." There was an edge to the end of your words. An edge usually reserved for Decepticons right before you really started kicking tailpipe. Theres a hot jolt of charge that volleys right down his frame at the words- Hitting his array with no mercy and full force.

But the heat in your field lowers to barely warmer than what it regularly is. And he's stuck waiting for what you're gonna do next.

Are you taking him to your habsuite- or do you wanna go to his? Or did you actually wanna go to the training room? Or are you gonna kiss him again-?

He’s hanging on every word and he thinks he’ll be thinking about rewards for the next couple of fights.

"So keep being a good boy, and behave. Because that wasn't exactly appropriate on shift behavior from you, solider. Flirting with one of your superior officers- really, Darling?" You tutted your glossia like you were scolding him for it. Like you hadn't just had your glossia on the back of his denta. Your em field was still warm. And Sideswipe could tell you were enjoying yourself this close to him.

"So-" Your digits brushed along his cheeks, your faceplate close to his and the most sultry amused look on your faceplate. And it makes his helm run wild on what he wants to do with you first.

You pull away and your em field fully goes with it. "How about you get back to your habsuite, Pookie? Long day- you could use the rest. Stop flirting with your commanding officers and expecting anything good out of it, alright? And keep yourself together more often. It's good for you." And then you turned on a pede and start walking in the opposite direction of Sideswipe’s habsuite.

And the opposite direction from him.

Sideswipe cycles his optics faster the farther you get away from him.

And then it hits him what just happened and what's happening. "Pookie" hitting him like a piece of shrapnel to the back of the helm.

You- he!? You're just gonna do that and then walk away like nothing even happened!?

Sideswipe’s engine wants to turn over and even rev when he realizes you're turning the corner in the Ark hallway.

But you stop when you realize Sideswipe’s staring. Making optical contact with him again.

All before you smile, bring your digits to your derma, and blow him a kiss. "Don't stay up late now, Doll." it’s almost sung.

And just as quickly as that hits him you’re turning around the corner and leaving-!

Sideswipe’s engine does rev this time and he's running now. Running after you and making an effort not to transform on instinct to chase faster. You can't just do that and leave-! Oh, Sideswipe was gonna get you back for that-! He can't get in trouble for it right? You started it!

His processor is running as fast as he is and he's thinking about what he's gonna do when he catches up to you.

All before Sideswipe turns the corner in a rush and nearly slams into a mech.

The Mech isn't you.

It's Prowl.

Standing there and jerking backwards when Sideswipe almost runs into him full speed.

Ah-!

Sideswipe’s em field pulled back quick enough he made himself flinch at the rush backwards it had done.

But it still apparently wasn't a fast enough abort that Prowl didn't feel exactly how he was feeling right then and there.

Prowl's optics cycled and he slowly and mechanically looked over his own pauldron.

When he spotted you Prowl's wings flicked once, then tilted before he turned back to Sideswipe.

Uh oh.

Sideswipe knew just enough wing speak from Bluestreak and Smokescreen to know that was not a good sign.

"Sideswipe... If you have enough time to even entertain such thoughts- let alone seriously consider them; you have enough time to be placed on a double position today." Sideswipes optic’s snapped wide at the words. All while Prowl, the sadist he was, just kept on talking-! "Which will be starting now due to your apparent lack of discipline. You're expected at the front of The Ark with Hound in less than five klicks." Sideswipe bit back the urge to curse, not wanting to give Prowl the satisfaction of his frustration. He sure as slag wasn't about to spill what had just happened to Prowl of all bots-!

So he forced himself turn to go do exactly that. Chanting curses in his processor instead of muttering them. While Prowl just turned and walked back over towards you.

Sideswipe only stopped when he was about to turn the corner fully, to look back in your direction.

Prowl was talking to you now- you only chuckling and saying something that made Prowl’s door wings readjust.

That should be fragging him-! Sideswipe scowled when he watched you actually lean closer to Prowl to tease him about something.

But you must've felt Sideswipe looking because your helm turned his way. Making the two of you make optic contact again.

Your derma curled further and you just offlined one optic to wink at him.

He had to physically restrain himself from giving into the very real urge to chase after you again and show you exactly how much he appreciated it. (He doesn't know if he would be more upset if you kicked his aft for it or if you didn't)

"Sideswipe." Prowl reminded him he was in trouble and also being watched- by Prowl's now very hard stare.

So Sideswipe huffed and turned on his pede to go do his double.

He wasn't exactly able to get the memory of your glossia in his mouth out of his processor for the rest of his double shift.

Divider support credit: @/cursed-carmine

Bumblebee was never the type of bot that liked to kiss

He was always just so adverse to it- or to pulling his mouth guard down at all really. Which you minded a little, but you'd usually just give him a quick peck on said mouth guard. The way Bumblebee’s door wings would flutter a bit every time you'd do it, only encouraged the behavior.

But after his vocalizor was repaired, it was like he was infected by a virus or something!

Which is how you ended up here-!

Both your spikes trapped between where your frames were slotted together as close as they'd go.

You tried to lean back a bit, only for Bumblebee to follow after you- not even allowing the chance of a moment of disconnect. You moan when Bumblebee’s hips jut and your spikes slide against one another. Bumblebee hums and you can feel the sound buzzing against your own glossia. His servos are digging against the dips of your hips. Your own servos on his waist and trying to get some type of control with how unreasonable his mouth was against your own.

You have to swallow when some more oral lubricant hits the back of your throat. The sound of the simple swallow so fragging loud in your audials alongside the other buzz of everything else. Bumblebee’s own noises you're fragging tasting, both your quick vents- another rock of Bumblebee’s hips makes the sound of metal on metal hit the air. Both your frames pressing on one another's. You grunt and you just know you're gonna be covered in streaks of bright yellow and black by the time you get out of your lovers habsuite.

Bumblebee’s glossia finds your own yet again and you press back against him trying rather foolhardily to match his insatiable desire to kiss. The touch of your derma against one another only easing when Bumblebee pulled back to explicitly push forward with more vigor. Derma quickly slipping and re locking just the same to let your glossia’s slide against one another.

You hummed and tried to pull back just a moment to let your helm clear a bit- but Bumblebee only followed you again.

A muffled sound of protest caught in his mouth as one of his servos caught your jaw. Urging you back against him just as badly as his mouth was. You'd huff if you could, but you just had to swallow another batch of both your oral lubricants. One of your servos grabbed onto one of his pauldron tires for purchase. The high strength rubber warm underneath your digits. His voice caught in his throat when you did it but it also didn't slow him down even slightly. But it was fine because you finally just decided to slack. You just needed a klick or two from Bumblebee's insistent oral fetish. Your glossia laxed too, fully content to let Bumblebee do what he'd wanted to your mouth in the mean time.

Bumblebee moaned against you and was undeterred by your sudden submission. Servo tilting your jaw a touch against his own mouth. Bumblebee started dragging his glossia along the indents of your denta. Glossia lingering over one of your fangs whenever he would pass by one. The flat of his glossia would lightly graze over the sharpest point of it.

You offlined your optics while Bumblebee just kept kissing and kissing- your helm was foggy. And your thoughts were indistinguishable from the charge being vaulted around inside it.

Whoops sorry! Can't function at the moment because you're quite literally being kissed stupid right now by your significant other!

Your own hips rocked this time causing another hot drag of friction to roll up and nestle against your spark. You moaned and Bumblebee just kissed you harsher at the sound. Your own muffled noises becoming almost indistinguishable from Bumblebee’s own. You needed some type of control here- something to give you an up. Bumblebee already had the advantage of pressing his full frame weight down on top of you. You needed-

A quick flick of thin metal made your almost offline optics snap back to full function.

Your servos slowly left Bumblebee’s tire and the side of his waist. Instead allowing your digit pads to drag along the plating on his chassis towards his upper back and-

Bumblebee’s almost shout caught in your mouth when you latched onto his doorwings. His hips jumping automatically when you started worrying your digit pads against the very base of them. You vented a laugh through your olfactory when a high pitched keen still managed to escape Bumblebee.

Your derma was slick with oral lubricant- oral lubricant you could feel starting to go down your chin and threatening to roll right down your throat. Bumblebee just adjusted his grip on your hips and rutted forward rather roughly. You ended up lightly nipping him when it had happened. The continued enthusiasm and lack of the sour taste of engeron told you it was minimal.

Certainly not enough to stop Bumblebee from rutting against you again and again. And still not enough to make him pull away from your derma- your own spike throbbed when you bucked against him. Your digits continued to squeeze and lightly pinch at delicate door wings. Enjoying every twitch from them and subsequently every twitch in Bumblebee’s hips. His pace even stuttering when your digits followed along to trace both black stripes on each wing-

Your plating bristled the wrong way when part of your spike pressed against one of the pointer points of one of your frames kibble on his next heavy rut.

You tried to break the kiss in discomfort to readjust but Bumblebee followed you yet again. Your servos left his wings when he unaware just rutted forward just as rough-

A sound caught in your throat and your em field must have jumped the wrong way, because Bumblebee froze and finally pulled back.

You gasped and half choked on the abundance of oral lubricant still left over in your mouth after Bumblebee’s glossia left it. You then huffed in greedy steaming vents. The air puffing from both your over heated vents so thickly you thought your optics might get obscured by condensation. "What- What's wrong?" Bumblebee murmured through his own haze, voice thick from what he was putting you through. Bright blue optics still laced with obvious concern- even when they were so bright right now it was making you want to cycle your optics just looking in them.

You had to swallow again to try and find your vocalizor. You swore you left it around here somewhere- Before eventually managing to croak out that your spike is pressing against the wrong thing.

His optics widened a touch at the comment, chin dipping against his own chassis to where you were both as flat as you could be against one another. And he saw what you meant almost immediately and cursed quietly. "Sorry- just-" your servos flew onto his hips just when he released yours so he could adjust his position. Your spike slid back against Bumblebee’s own, making you hiss a vent half in relief and half at the contact.

"Better?" Bright blue hovered above your own faceplate. You both huffed and panted while you watched your lovers optics cycle In thought while gazing down into your own.

You said “Yeah” and before the word fully left your mouth Bumblebee’s own crashed back against yours. His servo back on your jaw and other now on the front of your chassis. Black servo trailing against your metal in a heated haze before slipping his glossia back into your mouth. You bucked up against him, while you used your grip on his hips to help guide him with each roll of your hips. Bumblebee whined against you and the heat quickly returned to the tempo it was before the blunder.

You mumbled out his designation as well as you could, trying to tell him you were gonna overload before any spiking even happened-! The gasping half muffled admission only caused Bumblebee to rut more feverishly.

Slag-!

Your servos gripped Bumblebee’s hips harder, dragging him closer to help with his own desperate pace.

Bumblebee’s chassis pressed flat against your frame like glue. Spike dragging sweltering on your own-! And you end up overloading with a muffled groan arching up. All while Bumblebee only made an effort to push you back down into his berth through his own overload. You’re stuck swallowing down a whine that was very much not your own at the end of it. Metal burning against your own and threatening to scorch if heated any further. Soft heady sounds passed between derma with each now lazy buck between one another.

The rutting continued only slightly less urgent now. The wet slide of your spikes only accentuated by each others transfluid.

Bumblebee swallowing around your glossia when his hips jump with a bit more vigor manages to pull an embarrassing noise out of you.

Bumblebee half pulled away to murmur something against your derma. "Spike, Please-" before locking you in another demanding kiss. You had no clue if he was begging you to spike him or if he was begging to spike you.

You could probably find out if he stopped assaulting your mouth and glossia for five fragging klicks-!

Divider support credit: @/cursed-carmine

Skyfire meets your grin with a wary one of his own. Doing all he can to seem confident in the situation he’s finding himself in and failing miserably as you grind down on his housing and he fights to suppress a moan.

He knows he doesn’t have to – this isn’t the first time you’ve done this and hopefully not the last one either, by Primus, he doesn’t hope it is – but parts of him still struggles to let it fully settle in his processor that you’re going nowhere.

It doesn’t take much more before his array slides back to allow your valve to slide over the length of him. Pressing it to his plating with a thumb by the head so it’s nothing but you and those delicious segments. Catching on your anterior node and sending a shiver up your frame as Skyfire bites his lip.

Oh, you’re well aware this is far more than you’re able to take, but that was never going to stop you. This gentle giant of a mech, scraping the ceilings of most conference rooms you both have to stand in, was never going to not be fucked. Somewhere along his hesitance and general politeness lays your reasoning, but you’re in no position to think anything logically like that right now.