Fandom: Transformers Bayverse
Author: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ
Pairing: Bluestreak/Bumblebee
Rating: NC-17 for mech/mech sticky
Codes: Slash, Sticky, Spark-sex, First Times,
Summary: True to his word, Jazz introduces Bluestreak to a mech he can trust with his body, spark, nightmares and secrets.
Notes:
~text~ bond, hardline or spark talk
::text:: comm chatter

Note: I went ahead an posted this on my account because I'd already posted the first two stories of the series here. However, from here on out, all of the stories I co-author with Gatekat will be on her account, on the sockets penname account if it is from the Sockets (Dathana de Gray or Points of view verse), the sockets livejournal (user id tf_socket_fics), or on our non-socket LJ fic archive (user id anhrefn_hyfryd) All of my solo writing will continue to be here, as well as on our non socket LJ archive. Gatekat and I have started two new series that can be found on her account and on our archive: Calming Fire (the story of how Red Alert came to be built and came to be with Inferno) and Claiming the Dark Singer (Optimus Prime/Jazz, because they insisted on having a series of their own). There is now a link to our LJ archive on my profile, as well as links to Gatekat's ff . net profile and the sockets ff . net profile.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! Reviews are love and feed high grade to our muses with happy results.

I'll Be There For You 3: Bluestreak/Bumblebee

Bluestreak sat in the main rec room, sipping his morning energon, quietly chatting, just to fill the silence. There was no one at the small table with him, little prospect of it. Despite the calm that Starscream and Jazz had created in him for a few orn, he could recognize the outward signs of that calm being replaced by the normal near panic. Could he really go back to Jazz, to ask for the saboteur's time and energy again? It felt so good, not just the facing, but the calm Jazz left in his wake.

As though he had been summoned by the thought, Jazz bounced in, clearly immensely pleased about something, greeting and joking with everyone he passed as he so naturally became the center of attention in the room. Following him more timidly was a mechling named Bumblebee, only recently upgraded, though in the sad reality of the war, he had used weapons on the enemy before he'd ever been given his spike and valve. Bluestreak had not spoken with the yellow minibot before. As a youngling, the yellow scout-in-training had been on the shy side, and being the very youngest on base, he was protected fiercely by those who had become his caretakers and guardians.

The two made their way straight to Bluestreak, Jazz smirking, Bumblebee sitting across from Bluestreak giving a warm, if somewhat shy, smile. The saboteur plunked down right next to Bluestreak and pulled him in for a kiss that made the gray mech's engine stutter.

"Hey sexy, how's it going?" Jazz grinned when he let Bluestreak go.

Bluestreak attempted to shake off the effects of the kiss that had his systems recalibrating. "Um ... really ... good. After that at least. I wasn't expecting you to kiss me like that, but then again, why shouldn't you because you are Jazz and you just do that sort of thing, but you never really did that to me before and I really like it," he prattled on before turning suddenly to Bumblebee. "Hi there, Bumblebee. Ironhide finally let you out of his direct supervision? I hope that isn't an insulting question. He is a great mech and the best guardian there is, but he can be a bit overprotective. Though you would know that better than I do."

Jazz laughed brightly and rubbed Bumblebee's sensor horn and Bluestreak's sensor wing as he stood. "Have fun you two."

Bumblebee finally cracked a smile, leaning into the caress. "I think we've been set up," he said quietly. "Thanks Jazz ... for everything," he added as the silver saboteur turned to leave, his mission accomplished.

"Anytime, my mechs," Jazz grinned back at them before going on to circulating, leaving them to get acquainted.

"Well, yes that is Jazz," Bluestreak nodded, smiling at his new companion. "I mean, setting mechs up is kinda what he does, friend or foe. Congratulations on the upgrades, by the way. I wish I could have been there when you were presented, but I was out on patrol. I so would have rather been at the party. It sounded like so much fun. Did Jazz do the honors?"

Bumblebee laughed warmly. "He did. I requested him. Ironhide almost blew a gasket. You know how he feels about former 'Cons. But who is going to pass up a chance for Jazz teach you how to 'face?"

"Not me, not if it'd been one of my choices. Though I didn't know him back then. Of course, that was before he bonded with Prowl, I think, so I'm kinda glad I didn't know him. He was a scary mech - everyone says the rumors understate things, you know? I mean, since when have rumors ever been on the low end? But I have to believe it too, after the other orn."

"I've heard the rumors, too, especially from Ironhide," Bumblebee cycled his optics at the mention of his guardian. "I believe there's some truth to them, but I also agree with Prime that he is different now, that he has earned his place and our trust. Even Ironhide admits we'd be in a much worse situation without his leadership and training of SpecOps. So, just what happened the other orn, if you don't mind me asking? We could go somewhere else to talk if you want," he added, fixing Bluestreak with his open, warm mechling smile.

"Yeah, somewhere else might be better," Bluestreak cast an optic around the large room, though few were paying much attention to him. He had no doubts that everyone expected him to leave with Bumblebee. "My quarters ... unless you'd rather yours? I kinda assumed you'd still be with Ironhide, since you just got upgraded. He's scary when he's angry and I'd rather not have him walk in on something he doesn't want to see, no matter what it is, you know?"

"You're telling me," Bumblebee laughed, putting a companionable arm around the taller mech's waist as they left the rec room, ignoring several lewd and suggestive comments thrown their way by Brawn and Huffer. "One time he caught me with vids. Wouldn't have been a big deal, except that they were of himself and Ratchet in medbay and I'd gotten them from Sideswipe. He beat the slag out of Sides for giving them to me. Ironhide is great, but his temper is nothing to kid about. Luckily, it never gets directed at sparklings or the younglings he mentors."

"Lucky you, but I'm not only a full mech, even if it's only been a few vorns, and he didn't raise me. He didn't even know I existed until I was a mech and somebot had to teach me to shoot. Why do I expect that Sideswipe didn't change a bit after that beating? Did Sunstreaker try to get him back?"

"Yeah, and Hide wiped the floor with him, too," the minibot laughed brightly again. "Then Ratchet dented both the twins up for getting Hide angry enough to require repairs. Next orn someone got into Red's office and distributed joors of footage of Hatchet and Hide, and it could never be traced to the terrors, only back to Red Alert."

"Oh, but you know it was them," Bluestreak snickered as they walked the halls back to Bluestreak's small but relatively private quarters. "You know I have roommates, right? Darkspot and Quinton are out on patrol for a couple more orns, and I really doubt Snapshot will be by. He spends pretty much all his time with either Smokescreen or Tread Bolt and they both have much nicer quarters than mine. Well, they aren't mine, I share them and all, but I do stay there..."

"Oh I totally get it, Blue. Private quarters are a coveted thing around here, and not for us young plebes. There isn't even room in any of the shared bunks for me yet, so I'm with Hide until they figure out who to shuffle around. Who knows, maybe Snapshot will move in with one of his lovers and they'll put me here," he laughed again, and for the first time it occurred to Bluestreak that the confident mechling was nervous as he unobtrusively examined the holos on the wall and the various personal items decorating shelves. When he got to Bluestreak's corner of the quarters, there was very little to look at, so the minibot stood debating weather to sit on the berth of the chair next to it.

"Wherever is comfortable," Bluestreak motioned, his sensor wings twitching uneasily. "I'm sure Jazz pointed you my direction so we'd 'face, you know. He said he planned to, with somebody I could trust not to turn me in or anything," he shifted uneasily. "Not sure how much he told you of how screwed up I really am though. He's the only one who saw what I am and didn't think I was a freak," he flopped down on the berth. "Still don't understand how, 'cept maybe he's seen so much, being as old as he is, that I'm not that big a deal to him. It was really nice though, being touched like I mattered, or at least that my pleasure did."

Bumblebee gave a small, nervous grin and flopped on the berth next to the Praxian. Though Praxis wasn't his home city, his upgrade had included a highly specialized sensor suite winglets he was still becoming accustomed to. He tried to imitate the sniper's position to find a comfortable way to place them.

"I think you over estimate your freakishness, Bluestreak," he said shyly. "Jazz told me a bit, and it didn't sound any different than what I feel a lot of the time, or a lot of others. You know the real reason I'm still quartered with Hide is I have recharge terrors, nearly every cycle. I see the stuff that went down when the youth sectors were slagged, see all the other sparklings and younglings...well...I don't have to describe it to you. You talk a lot to deal with it. You and I had that stuff happen when we didn't have the experience or the processors to handle it, right? For a long time, I wouldn't talk at all. The only thing I would do is train so I could kill as many 'Cons as possible when I got the chance. I trained from the beginning to the end of the orn, until I collapsed. Wouldn't talk to anyone, not even Hide. They had Ratchet check my vocal and language processors to see if something was malfunctioning. Everything was fine, of course."

"Y-you have recharge terrors too?" Bluestreak's optics spiraled wide with surprise and a desperately hidden hope. "I can't recharge alone unless it's out in the field. I don't know what makes the differences, I wish I did, but if I have a berth I can't shut down without seeing it. Sometimes I can stay under, if I can hear another mech's systems, but just as often I wake up screaming. I'm sure it's why I have the room to myself so often. The night after Jazz ... that was the first time I recharged the full cycle alone. Just didn't last, but it felt really good. I think maybe he slipped something in my processors, but last recharge it was there again."

"Ironhide started having me recharge in his berth early on, before I started talking, just so he wasn't interrupted by audio splitting screams every cycle, and I still recharge with this old cannon he gave me way back when I first came here, at least when he isn't there."

Bumblebee rolled over on his side and began to run his finger along the edge of Bluestreak's closest sensor wing. "Most of the time, if he isn't around, I just don't recharge at all. It isn't worth it. I just run a quick defrag and try to keep on going."

"Mmm," Bluestreak shivered at the touch and reached out to return it on reflex. "Maybe next time if I'm around you can come recharge with me? Then we can both get the recharge. I know it'd make Ratchet happier, he hates it when mechs don't recharge enough. He's always getting on Prowl for it. Well, not as much as he used to at least, 'cause Jazz is usually around to drag him off to their quarters or something and I don't think even Prowl argues with him that much though if anyone can get away with arguing with Jazz it's Prowl ... ohhhh, do that again, please." Bluestreak's attention shifted to his frame and the delicious sensations running through it. "Feels really good."

"I'd recharge with you, Bluestreak," Bumblebee commented softly before pulling himself onto the sniper's lap to kiss him soundly and stop the babbling. The yellow mechling brushed his field against Bluestreak's sensor wings as he continued to stroke them with the ends of his fingers.

It was all the gray mech could do to return the attention as his systems quivered at the attention. He kissed back, sliding his glossa along Bumblebee's lip components as he reached down with one hand to pull the smaller mech closer, rubbing their interface panels together. His other hand found Bumblebee's small winglets and fondled them.

Bumblebee groaned into the kiss as the exquisite sensations raced through his sensor net. Bluestreak touched his winglets as only a mech who had them would know to. He rubbed his panel against Bluestreak's with the urgency of the very young, squeezing the larger bot's legs with his yellow thighs with nearly denting strength. His nearly new spike and valve were quivering for attention, and he wondered, not for the first time, how he would ever be able to concentrate on anything but 'facing now that he had the mods.

"Want my valve or spike first?" Bluestreak gasped and shuddered, his own desires as difficult to control as Bumblebee's. Though twice the mechling's vorns, he'd denied himself for so long.

"Spike," Bumblebee answered quickly before he'd even processed the question. His panel slid out of the way and his spike sprung up as though released from prison. His own fingers were practically trying to pry Bluestreak's interface cover off. It slid free, Bluestreak's own systems responding just as quickly.

Without much more thought Bluestreak wrapped his arms around Bumblebee's chassis and shifted to lay the bright yellow mech on his back, confident that the berth was suitable to protect the winglets. He pulled his hands free, one moving to a winglet, the other between them to test the mechling's valve.

"Primus, Blue," Bumblebee groaned as two large fingers stretched the minibot's tight, slick valve. Such a different touch from Jazz's but so good. He used Bluestreak's own practiced hands on his winglets as a guide to how to give the pleasure back. His other hand wrapped around both of their spikes for a sensuous stroke.

A deep groan and shudder, begging for more without words, escaped Bluestreak's limited control. "Feels real good, Bee. Both do," he gasped against Bumblebee's neck cables and thrust into the hand and against the other spike. It was nothing like being inside a mech, or even stroking himself, but it felt insanely good. "Don't know I can hold back much."

"Please," Bumblebee begged as his intakes gasped to cool his quickly overheating systems. He spread his pedes wide. "You are bigger than Jazz. I want to feel that."

With a shaky nod he withdrew his fingers and shifted to lay directly over the mechling, looking into Bumblebee's optics. Even though he could slide in without guidance, it felt a bit more controlled to have his hand wrapped around his spike as he teased them both by circling the quivering opening with its tip.

Before Bumblebee could whimper an objection, Bluestreak lost his will to hold back and pressed the sensor rich shaft into the all encompassing heat.

Bumblebee moaned into Bluestreak's neck, wrapping his pedes around the larger mech to keep him from moving away. The input from his sensors overwhelmed all the other data in his systems, and his whole world focused in on incredible sensation of being slowly stretched and filled.

"Oh Primus you feel good," Bluestreak moaned against Bumblebee's neck cabling as his spike took control of his actions, thrusting deep to scrape against sensors that had not ever felt activation. It was all he could do to remember to fondle the sensor winglet in his hand as he pumped in and out of the the scout. "Can't believe it feels this good. Please, please, my wings," he whimpered in desperation, pressing both appendages forward. "Want to feel your spike next. Taste you. So good," he shivered.

Bumblebee's couldn't figure out how to make his vocalizer produce anything other than groans and whimpers in response, so he instead kissed the larger mech in desperate gratitude and ran both of his hands over the quivering wings. He then bit on Bluestreak's lip components and rocked his hips in rhythm with the sniper's own, urging him on.

Bluestreak thrust his glossa into Bumblebee's mouth, exploring wildly as he let go of his effort at self-control. Both hands went to Bumblebee's slender hips and held on tightly as he thrust with his full strength, the tingle in his spike blooming into a charge that threatened to fry his processors if he didn't overload soon.

The yellow scout met each pummeling thrust with a jerk of his own hips, and blue energy began to dance across both of their frames as the mechling suddenly threw back his head and keened his release. His valve pulsed rhythmically against Bluestreak's rod, begging to be filled cooling fluid before his circuits melted

His vents hitching, Bluestreak's keening scream turned to ultra-sonic static as his body responded to the overload under him with his own. Each thrust pumped another burst of transfluid deep into Bumblebee's value. Thrusts continued long after fluid no longer came out, his chassis trembling as a second charge began to build before the first had even dissipated.

"Sorry, please, need more," Bluestreak gasped, trying to get enough control of his hands to at least paw at the chassis under his, to bring more pleasure and have a willing lover again so soon, he wasn't sure he could stop now even if asked to. "Need you, need this."

Bumblebee looked into Bluestreak's optics, need echoing need, one spoken, the other silent, as the minibot pulled his valve from under the Praxian's spike, adjusted the angle and slid his own spike into the slippery hot valve above him. He tried to speak through his frame and optics what his vocalizer would not say. They both needed this so much.

"Oh Primus yes! Feels so good, harder, want to feel you deep," Bluestreak babbled, his rhythm and motion shifting without conscious effort to accommodate the new angle. A few rolls of their hips later Bluestreak had and idea. He shifted up and turned, aligning his interface with Bumblebee's, but facing the opposite direction. The next rock of their hips pushed both spikes in all the way to their bases.

At that, Bee suddenly found his vocal processor again. "Slag yes, Bluestreak!" he rocked his hips, searching for a rhythm for their unique position that he'd never even imagined possible. It took a klik of scraping movements before they both found what worked, taking turns pulling out slowly and then slamming back in. It was only kliks before they were both clinging tightly to the berth covers, clicks, gasps and keens escaping their vocalizers with each movement.

Bluestreak buried his face between clenched fists on the berth, his entire chassis quaking uncontrollably with each jolt of electricity that sent a crashing wave across his entire neural net. His vents stuttered, his engine roared, but the true gift was the absolute silence and peace in his processors.

Bumblebee's vocalizer shorted out and pulses of energy began racing up and down his frame as the charge built in the audio numbing sound of his buzzing systems, ever sensor ablaze. A hardline cable from the minibot's hip joint begged for entrance to Blue's hip port to complete rapturous circuit between their systems.

There was no thinking or hesitation involved in accepting the link, or extending his own cable to link to Bumblebee's hip port.

Bluestreak screamed something into the blankets and metalomesh of his berth at the amplified intensity and surrendered any pretense of controlling his own body. He was along for the ride now, gasping, begging, keening, screaming, and not caring in the least as he was taken over a cliff edge and flew for a moment before his processor crashed and sent him into the silent blackness of shut-down.

"Hey there," a static laden voice whispered contentedly into Bluestreak's audio. "Do you know you are amazing?"

Someone nibbled on his lip components and then gave a purring hum against his cheek plate.

"Mmm," he hummed in response, still not completely cognizant. "Thank you but I went off line before we even got started." Despite the words, his voice was very content as he snuggled against the smaller frame.

"You are also insatiable. I thought mechlings were supposed to be the insatiable ones," Bumblebee spoke against his neck, flaring his field teasingly. "You know, in all the holovids Sideswipe has slipped me over the vorns, I've never seen any mechs try that particular position. It was a stroke of brilliance."

"Really?" Bluestreak turned his helm to look up in real surprise. "I never thought I'd be inventive. I just wanted to feel you deeper," he reached up to stroke Bumblebee's shoulder. "It felt so amazing, you feel so amazing, I could get used to having you here when we recharge."

Bumblebee grinned and tilted his head for a kiss, his glossa sliding along Bluestreak's lips for entrance. With his mouth occupied, he switched to a private comm.

::I think that was the general idea when Jazz delivered me to you in the rec room. Good for morale, you know. Give Ironhide more privacy and more time with Ratchet, help both of us recharge and ease our processors with regular overloads. It's a win all around. You feel amazing, too, Bluestreak. I'd enjoy sharing your berth.::

::Good,:: tension he didn't realize he was still carrying bled away and he turned into an embrace. ::Spark-play?::

::Slag yes, Bluestreak.:: Bumblebee shivered at the memory of the sparkplay Jazz had engaged in with him while teaching him to interface. He briefly wondered if Bluestreak would ask to merge with him. It was one thing he'd yet to experience, and Blue seemed so open to anything, it sent a tremor of longing along his entire neural net. He unlocked and parted his chestplates, revealing a spark as warm and sunny as the minibots disposition, spiraling and pulsing in its casing in anticipation.

The show of trust sent a tremor down Bluestreak's chassis. For a brief moment it just stared in awe at the brilliant golden spark, then reached out to reverently touch the casing, sliding his claws along the intricate exterior.

Bumblebee gasped through his intake at the exquisite sensation, his spark flaring in its desire for contact and connection. It was not just the minibot's frame that had developed a new and insatiable hunger when he was upgraded. His spark wanted to connect with another so achingly that he could hardly think of anything else.

"Oh Primus," he moaned, one hand grasping Bluestreak's wrist to keep him from taking it away, the other stroking the sniper's red chevron as he leaned in to take another kiss that was returned with full fervor.

Hesitantly, Bluestreak unlocked his own chestplates and slid them open, offering his new lover the same opportunities.

Bumblebee took his servo off of the Praxian's wrist and reached out tentatively to run a single finger along the complex crystal casing that surrounded Bluestreak's crimson spark dancing with blue lightning, the source of the mech's name, he realized quickly.

"Beautiful," he murmured into the older mech's audio.

Bluestreak whimpered, shivering at the contact, but even more at the acceptance of a spark color so many associated with the enemy now. It was one of the many reasons only Ratchet had ever seen it before now.

"Really? You really think it's not sick? A Con color? No one but Ratchet's seen it before now, well, and my creators ... and I guess Prime too, since he was there when I was kindled, but I haven't ever shown anyone willingly outside of a checkup until now."

"Your spark is beautiful. Why would I let 'Cons ruin such wonderful colors? They are the same as Prime's armor. Red means luck and longevity." Bumblebee leaned down to place his lips on Bluestreak's spark casing in a gentle kiss before sliding his glossa along one of the crystalline facets.

A half-thought wondering why Prime wore those colors was dismissed by the ripple of pleasure like nothing he'd ever felt before. Bluestreak's chassis arched and his head was thrown back in a soundless cry. His fingers spasmed, scrabbling over the intricate crystal egg of Bumblebee's spark chamber.

The scout smiled at the ardent response of his new lover and showed his gratitude by continuing his oral worship of the container of Bluestreak's physical soul. The red and blue glow reflected on his bright yellow face as he continued to nuzzle and caress. He whimpered at every frantic touch of his own casing, and he reached up a hand gently cradle the back of the casing in front of him.

"Want to feel you ... all of you, Blue," a static-laden voice whispered against in the sniper's chest, unashamedly begging to feel the one aspect of interfacing he had yet to experience, confident in asking the one mech unlikely to turn him away for being too young.

Bluestreak struggled to nod, his voice no longer his to command. Spiraling open of his chamber was more clear than any words could be. The bright, strong pulsing deep red and rich blue light bathed them both while Bluestreak looked at his lover with needy trust.

"Oh Primus." Bumblebee's whisper truly was a prayer as he spiraled open his own casing for the first time. "I've never done this, Blue."

The optics looking into Bluestreak's own abruptly revealed just how young the scout truly was. The bright yellow mechling knew what he wanted, but had no idea what to do.

Bluestreak took several deep vents and forced his processors back on line. "I haven't either," his breathy voice barely sounded like himself. "My creators made sure I knew how, and how to avoid bonding."

"Jazz explained, too, but said it wouldn't be good for his spark to be my first." Bumblebee reached both hands out to hold Bluestreak's sensor wing, pulling them toward each other even as his entire frame shook in anticipation. "Are you sure?" The scout asked one last time before they hit the point of no return.

"Yes," Bluestreak got his hand free and wrapped them around Bumblebee's chassis even as he pushed his own upwards. "We just have to remember to focus on only sharing, not more."

Bumblebee nodded, no longer able to speak as he moved his own chest forward so the first tendrils of his bright yellow spark reached out toward the red ones underneath him. He felt the first flash of emotions not his own as two small tendrils met.

"Oh Primus," Bluestreak moaned and stroked the small sensor winglets under his hands. "Never dreamed it would feel this good."

Their sparks took over, tendrils intertwining and pulling them together, to connect, to become one as they had once been one with Primus. Memories began to flow and were experienced together as though they were one mech, far stronger than the two were alone.

The fall of the youth sectors of Kalis and the fall of Praxis were witnessed first hand, compassion and grief shared as one. Neither expected the emotional pain that would come from a merge, but the sheer physical pleasure along with the compassion and understanding that passed between them quickly washed that away in an ecstasy so different than what either had ever experienced. It was almost too much, but at the same time neither wanted it to end, to leave this absolute understanding and acceptance of another being.

~Maybe ... maybe we can pull each other beyond the memory purges,~ Bluestreak suggested hesitantly, one of the few coherent thoughts he could manage.

Unspoken agreement flowed from Bumblebee as he rested his helm against Bluestreak's chevron, floating in the blissful euphoria of joined sparks.