MERRY CHRISTMAS!

SOME SMUTTY DRABBLES FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT!

Be warned the grammar may be faulty and i didn't spell check them because they're drabbles so i'm not bothered.

Most of these were from prompts i requested on LiveJournal ( i'm Death_Hendry, look me up for serious mechsmut drawings cause thats where i post them )

I tweaked a few prompts and mix+match'd 'em, i'm quite pleased with the result and thought this could be a good christmas pressie for my loyal readers ^.^

BE AWARE THIS HAS LOTS OF GRAPHIC, ORAL AND STICKY.

And it's probably a few other acronyms i haven't gotten the hang of yet as well XD

Most are G1 and tie in with 'The Cure-verse' but thats not to say they actually happen in the main story.

The last one is Movieverse and inspired by me bying the fallen and him getting all intimate with my RotF screamer toy. The idea came to me and now i'm quite fond of the thought of those two lazing around the nemesis in Meg's absence having fun ;D

More chapters will be added to this when i do more drabbles, and i likely will, so you can add it to your alerts if you're interested. I am still progressing with The Cure and Reprogramming, expect new chapters possibly on new year's as another present ^.^

ANYWAY I LEAVE YOU TO ENJOY YOUR PRESENT NOW, HAPPY READING 8D

~DEATH.

HoundxTwins- mistletoe (im mix n matching the prompts from *flamingmarsh )

"I, hnnnnn.... i don't think that earth ritual meant anything to go quite as far as this guys, OH!"
"Shutup n enjoy it while we're drunk enough to give it Hound." Sunstreaker mummbled in his audio before messily and deliciously mouthing the back of the tracker's neck cables again, glossa lapping flat, hot and wet against his lines, drawing a soft, shuddering 'OH!' from the green mech once more.
Sideswipe giggled nonsensically as he slid down Hound's front, having fulfilled his curiosity of playing with the wynch system attached to the Jeep's front.

Hound wouldn't have minded this sudden and intense bout of seasonal jovality from the overcharged devilish duo, but the fact that they were in the entrance to the crowded rec. room with several optics on them was a little... uncomfortable, to say the least.
As Sideswipe dragged his glossa down Hound's middrif plating, he twitched and gasped at Sunstreaker's roving fingers, which were digging into gaps in his hip plating and teasing sensitive wiring.
Suddenly, there was a distinctly hot pressure against Hound's codpiece as Sideswipe sucked and kissed and nibbled it.
Hound squirmed, faceplate heating in embarrassment, deffinately well-aware of the gazes turned their way, but Sunstreaker caught his arms and pinned them with little effort, even in his ennebriated state, preventing Hound from pushing the Red twin away.
"Ah! N-now come on, guys... this is deffinately not part of the human custom!"
"Is. I'm kissing you. Thas the trasdi-...tridis... what you do under mistletoe. Never said WHERE i have to kiss you." Sideswipe slurred hotly against his heating panel, giggling and groping it with his mouth once more.
Hound let out a groan, trying to make it sound like exasperation rather than pleasure, not sure he succeeded.
Sunstreaker was humming as he kissed along the strong, angular green shoulders, dipping his glossa into seems with all together too much expertise, skillfully tracing an energon line, making Hound shudder and his knee bearings nearly give way.

Hound wasn't sure how fortuitous it was that before sideswipe's groping fingers could drunkenly open up his panel, a small bright yellow someone came bouncing through the doorway and thoroughly distracted the Twins.
Hound felt just a little dissapointed as he was completely abandonned by the Twin toughliners, staggering at the suddeness of their departure. He was caught and supported... seemingly by thin air.
A thrill shivered down his spinal strut as he heard soft laughter in his audio while the other mech helped him regain his balance.
The invisible hands didn't leave his plating however, but began to caress it softly instead.
"How about we forgoe the human custom and stick to Cybertronian ones now, hmm?" the cool bodiless barritone purred in his audio.
Hound felt a hot glossa trail the other side of his neck to where Sunstreaker had been licking and he gave the Rec. room one last glance, nodding and turning to follow his invisible lover down the corridor.
He knew no one would notice him leave, all eyes had been focussed on the Twins chasing after Bumblebee, who had hidden behind Prowl and Jazz. Hound made a memo to ask Jazz for video of what was happening later, as the last thing he'd seen was the Twins grabbing Prowl by either arm, hauling him towards the doorway while he fought with an uncharacteristically horrified expression on his face.

ProwlxBumblebee- Need/Ravished (prompt from *regretfuldragon )

Bumblebee cried out passionately, recieving an eager, deep throated growl in response. The minibot bucked wildly at the sensations ripping across his sensor net. He never thought so much pleasure could be so pit damned torturous...
He jerked his hands against the restraints once again, but they didn't yield, and for his trouble the enforcer pressed his weight on the small yellow pelvis, pinning him completely, thrusting his fingers faster in the small port, drawing yet another impassioned cry from his captive.
Bumblebee was nearly incoherrent with pleasure, squirming, wanting so badly to reciprocate, to touch, to grab and squeeze and paw and show just how wildly HOT the tactician was making him feel... but with a heady wave of some strange kind of satisfaction he remembered his arms were bound to the head of the berth.
He wailed again in pleasuure as hot vents surged over his interfacing circuitry before smooth lips encased his entire spike, sucking and growling and moving, always moving and OOOOOOOOOH he was going to come AGAIN....

When Bumblebee cycled online again, he ran a systems check. Apart from being a little low on energy, his sensor net was buzzing with the most delicious ache...
He turned less-than-light blue optics on the mech reclined beside him on the berth. The smell of lubricant and hot circuitry and ionic discharge was heavy on the black and white's vents but he smiled contentedly as his small 'captive'.
Bumblebee found his hands were no longer restrained and stretched them out to the other, rolling onto his side and pulling himself in close while the tactician shifted to bring him into his arms.
"What was THAT all about?" Bumblebee mumbled lightly with a sated sigh against the datsun's hood, listening to the strong thrum of the spark beneath.
Prowl was not the type to do anything without warning... the only time Bumblebee remembered him doing so was the kiss when revealing to Jazz what had happened to bring Bumblebee to his affectionate attentions. Since then Prowl, while still passionate, had been the least impulsive in the three's relationship.
Which was why the spy had been so utterly blown away when he was snatched from the hallway outside Prowl's office, cuffed and tied to the enforcer's berth where the black and white had proceeded to ravish him into 5 intense overloads without pause.
"I NEEDED you." was the black and white's soft, simple reply.
"You need energon too, but i don't suppose you randomly molest the disspenser when you want to refuel." Bumblebee giggled, fingers wandering around the tacticians side to slip into a door hinge, eliciting a deep purr and a gentle rev from the datsun's engine.
"Mmmm, no. I'm not sure you understand. I. needed. you. And i could do nothing else until i had you." Prowl purred, and the words gave Bumblebee another heady feeling, better even than the thrill of the restraints.
"Well, you got me. You got me five times. And now I NEED to do what i do best and REPAY you."
Prowl gasped as two clicks sounded through the room and he found that while one small black servo had been distracting him in his door wing hinges, the other had taken his cuffs and sneakily worked his hands into them behind the spy's back.
Bumblebee gave him a wicked grin that promised so very much.
"You NEED me Prowl, then you're going to GET me."
The promise in the purred words made the tactician shiver in anticipation.

TwinsxBeexSkyfire - public 'relations' (Pandablubb suggestion inspired)

Bumblebee knew he was badly overcharged. Knew and found that he really didn't care.

For some reason he also didn't care that he was in Skyfire's lap.

For some other unfathomable reason he also didn't care that he was doing his best to arouse the giant Jet.

And he also didn't care that they were in the middle of the rec. room during a rousing night of drinking games and drowning of worries after their most recent and very vicious battle with the Decepticons.

Bee vaguely remembered that he was there because he was trying to express his deep gratitude for the massive red and white flier who had come to Prowl and Jazz's rescue when they were cornered and severely injured in the fight. Bumblebee's two lovers were currently in the Med-bay under Ratchet's keen watch.

The spy had just come over to try and put into words just how much he felt he owed Skyfire… but the high-grade the twins had pushed on him was making it very hard to get a decent grasp on his vocabulary, so he'd felt the need to physically thank the giant.

He'd hugged him, but it didn't feel like enough, the mech was so huge Bumblebee thought he probably barely felt it.

Skyfire had given him a thankful but… almost sad look.

Bumblebee had realised the Jet was alone on his bench against the wall… all the other bots in the room were cavorting in a subdued manner or having drinking contests at their tables, or getting slightly more intimate than usual where they thought they wouldn't be noticed… but here was Skyfire, sitting alone, huge and yet somehow unnoticed and un-accompanied.

Bumblebee remembered asking him why that was.

The reply had been something dodging, like he didn't mind being alone, but his closest friends had all been so busy they hadn't the time to spend with him for a while… then he'd commented on how lucky Bumblebee was to have Prowl and Jazz, how well they all fitted together.

The minibot was a spy, and therefore very observant, even when inebriated. He didn't miss the almost longing tone… the way the large blue optics flickered distractedly to the corner where Bluestreak was being quietly molested by the Twins.

It clicked in Bumblebee's processor then… he understood all too well what it was like to be without a bot to turn to for physical desires…

And so somehow here he was, in the flier's lap, small servos deep in the red and white hip plates.

A long groan from the jet had drawn the attention of a few of the less groggy mechs in the room, and suddenly it was starting to sink into over-charged processors just what they were witnessing.

Before he knew it, Bumblebee was caressing Skyfire's interface panel, and the Jet looked down with a mewl, biting his lip and seeming terribly unsure whether he should be stopping the spy or not.

"B-Bumblebee… what are you… you're overcharged, I don't… want to let you do something you'll regret later… oooh!"

Bumblebee merely giggled as he ran his glossa over the seams of the panel.

"You're overcharged too-" he glanced at the three empty cubes beside them on the bench, "…Won't regret it. I wan-ed to thankyou… so I'm going to thankyou properly… for ev'rything. You always help. You deserve a proper thanking." the small yellow mech said, slurring slightly, but his tone was sincere and decided.

Any protest Skyfire might have made was waylaid by Bumblebee opening the jet's panel and running his glossa down the impressively large interface array laid out before him.

The deep moan Skyfire couldn't quite bite back definitely drew attention, but no-one moved other than to whip their heads around and stare.

Bluestreak was watching wide eyed, gasping over the Twin's helms, eyes fixed disbelievingly on the spectacle across the room not too far from them.

The two toughliners ravishing his chassis with their glossa and teasing his hip joints and wings paid no heed to the sounds Skyfire was making. It was just another mech in the room getting into the spirit of some good, old-fashioned, wholesome public interfacing.

It was actually a much quieter but all too familiar mewl that drew their attention.

The two black helms whipped around, their mouths open and servos stalling, instantly recognising the sound of bliss from their minibot.

The sight that greeted them nearly glitched their processors. The faint clank of Trailbreaker falling off his chair told that the poor bot's logic circuits hadn't been so good at coping with the sight they all beheld.

Skyfire was stroking the minibot's small yellow panel with one large, thick digit while Bumblebee… Bumblebee was releasing the biggest spike any of them had ever seen, and expertly caressing it with both servos, soon having it extend to it's fullest and very impressive length.

No one could quite believe they were witnessing the Ark's most (apparently) innocent mech publicly exposing and pleasuring the huge, shy scientist jet.

What was more, the yellow minibot seemed to know very well what he was doing. Skyfire was still trying in vain to swallow his own moans and exclamations of pleasure as Bumblebee stroked and licked his length, little glossa dipping into the connector hub at the tip of his cord, playing around the current exchange pins and making him buck weakly and shudder with bliss.

"Oh Primus…" Sideswipe exhaled shakily, feeling an increase in wetness beneath his own closed panel.

From the way Sunstreaker's optics flared and his panting quickened, the red twin could tell the show was having the same effect on his golden counterpart.

Bumblebee soon dipped one of his own servos down to his panel, guiding the large white digit to the catch release and opening the cover, baring his interface circuitry.

The large white fingertip played over the small wet entrance as the minibot kissed all the way along the flier's cord, mewling and gasping as the smooth round tipped digit was pressed into him curiously.

The room was getting an excellent view of the jet pumping his finger carefully in and out of the spy's small valve as Bumblebee worked Skyfire's spike with one hand and his mouth, his other hand toying with the leaking valve below that into which all four of his fingers could squeeze.

There were groans and nervous laughs and murmurs all around the room as various bots tried to decide how they should respond to the awkward spectacle. Some where so overcharged they watched with unveiled interest (Cliffjumper was one of these mechs… in fact most of the minibots were watching with surprise and curious interest on their faceplates), others where trying very hard to ignore it and draw the attention of others away (Wheeljack was one such mech and his helm panels were glowing a bright pinky-orange in flustered embarrassment ). Most seemed torn between the shock of Bumblebee's public display and the shame that they were most of them keen to continue witnessing it.

To his ignored audience's astonishment (and apparently Skyfire's as well) Bumblebee pulled himself up the flier's cockpit, knees resting on the large white thighs.

The minibot's engine purred strongly, flush against the sensitive glass on Skyfire's chassis, making him moan weakly.

"No… no way, he's not…" Sunstreaker mumbled, wide eyed, watching slack-jawed as Bumblebee wiggled his hips and arched his back slightly, a pose he knew the meaning of all too well…

Skyfire removed his finger from the small mech's port and held Bumblebee's hip plates a moment, stilling him.

No one could hear what he was mumbling, though his face-plate was flushed a dull red.

Bumblebee petted his chassis in what seemed to be a reassuring manner, smiling sweetly at him with a soft drunken giggle before…

Bluestreak was one of many who gasped at the sight of the yellow minibot lowering himself right onto the quivering tip of the massive, fully pressurised spike.

The Twins let out low groans in tandem, optics fixed on Bumblebee's port as it slowly pressed down on the huge hub of the cord, lubricant beading and dripping down it's length as it slowly stretched his entrance.

"50 credits says it won't fit" Sideswipe muttered to his brother, lopsided grin curling onto his faceplate.

Sunstreaker gave a soft, short, haughty laugh. "You underestimate him. You're on. I'm going to by him some pain relief balm when you lose." Sunstreaker challenged wryly.

"Guys… shouldn't someone be stopping this, or at least giving them some privacy or- oh my!"

Bluestreak's little worried rant was stopped short by a loud moan from both Bumblebee and Skyfire as the minibot took the head of the jet's spike into his port, lubricant fairly pooling beneath the two both from Bumblebee's and the flier's valves.

The look on Bumblebee's faceplate was… arousing, to say the least. No-one in the room ( the twins and cliff jumper) had ever imagined that beautiful expression would grace the small silver faceplate… pinched orbital ridges above half shuttered and bright azure optics, over the slightly drawn up cheek arches, coloured a cherry red while his mouth formed an 'o' of both discomfort and intense bliss.

Skyfire's face in the throes of pleasure was also quite the thing to behold. But the sounds they made where what really seemed to set an even higher tone of unrest within the room.

There were mechs who had been intimate in their corners now returning to their activities with renewed vigor, glancing back to the spectacle often, seemingly for inspiration.

Wheeljack sighed and downed his full cube of high grade before going to get another. He wanted an excuse for not intervening in his small friend's public display before it went so far. There was only so much a best friend could do in a situation like this, and really it had only been a matter of time recently as to when the rest of the Ark would realise their innocent little spy was as intimate as the rest of them.

Wheeljack had just never imagined it would come out… like this. He only felt guiltier the longer he stayed because part of him was, despite himself, getting rather excited by the glimpses he threw in his two companion's direction. He had imagined Skyfire in that way before… and even more to his shame he'd once or twice briefly had curious thoughts of Bumblebee in that capacity too.

Both of them somehow displaying more creative expressions and sounds than he'd ever made up in his processor right in front of him was not something he could fight the effects of well.

Skyfire gasped and moaned as the incredible hot, wet pressure of the small valve engulfed the head of his spike. He'd never felt anything like that… most valves were small for him… but he'd never spiked a minibot. Scientifically speaking, he didn't think it was possible… not that he'd ever given it much thought but by Primus it was the tightest, hottest, mostly sweetly painful feeling he'd ever experienced in an interface and he loved it.

Bumblebee panted and keened in apparent delight around his midriff. The small black servos dipping into seams and stroking wires as he pressed slowly even lower, taking more of the red and white cord into him.

Skyfire had never even imagined Bumblebee in this way… the minibot seemed the least intimately inclined mech on the Ark, something Skyfire could well appreciate and admire. Despite his profession, the spy was a genuine kind of bot, trustworthy and loyal and brave beyond his frame size.

But right now, Skyfire found himself admiring the way his face screwed up in a mix of pain and pleasure as the yellow mech slowly filled himself with the usually quiet scientist's over-large for him spike.

Bumblebee went slow, even through his overcharged haze very aware of his physical limitations. But he was fairly confident after the experience of his last few earth months with Jazz and Prowl, and his occasional kidnapping frags from the Twins, that he could handle one go with the giant flier. Skyfire deserved some attention, after all. Bumblebee knew all too well the frustration that came with being neglected in the intimacy and interfacing department. He was so wrapped up in making sure Skyfire enjoyed himself that he had rather forgotten about the rest of the mechs in the common room.

He was focused intently on the simply massive spike he was pressing into himself.

It was the most delicious mix of pleasure and pain he had ever experienced. He did have a short moment of doubt, when he reached the widest girth-band of the hub, that it wouldn't fit. And that simply wouldn't do, because he didn't want to go to all this trouble only to disappoint Skyfire, so he adjusted the angle of his hips and pressed down a little harder.

With a satisfying, slick squelch, the head of the spike popped into him, and from there it was fairly easy.

Bumblebee mewled in sympathetic frequency with the jet as he took more of the length, still going slow to let the walls of his port adjust and relax slightly.

The Spike was so thick it set off every sensor in every inch of valve wall it touched, making Bumblebee quiver and whimper and gasp in delight.

When he felt the connector hub reach his socket, he had only taken in a third of the flier's length, but Skyfire seemed quite content as it was… if Bumblebee could call gasping and groaning and clutching at his hips content anyway.

Skyfire felt hot waves of pleasure wash over his circuits from the sensors along his cord. The tightness only increased his sensitivity, to the point where he could feel every bead of lubricant that trailed down the exposed part of his cable.

He felt his plug hit the minibot's socket, but they were completely incompatible for a connective interface. It would be purely tactile, but Skyfire wasn't complaining.

For some reason, that sane voice in his CPU that would normally be telling him that this was totally wrong and inappropriate had been drowned in high-grade and pleasure. He was an explorer by nature, and this was uncharted territory for him interfacing wise… as overcharged as he was it only seemed natural to allow it to continue.

All of this of course was taking up his processing capacity, and like Bumblebee, he quite forgot about their audience.

It was clear to a lot of the bots in the commissary, even inebriated as they were, that the pair had become completely oblivious to their surroundings.

The Protectobots had the decency to leave, taking the passed out Trailbreaker with them.

Red Alert and Inferno also slipped out, but that was more so they wouldn't also embarrass themselves in front of an audience.

The Twins, as incorrigable as ever, were taking full advantage of their minibot's impromptu performance, and had rearranged themselves so that Bluestreak was stradled over one of each of their knees, his back to them, forced to watch too, while the brothers began to work him over expertly again.

Bluestreak's face was brighter that anyone's as he squirmed and quietly mewled in feint protest against the toughliners ministrations. Hot mouths and glossas teased his door wings, hands stroked his headlights and hip-plates, one (he thought it was Sunstreaker but he couldn't quite be sure) snaked it's way around to his panel, stroking and teasing him.

When Bumblebee began to move up and down in agonising slowness on Skyfire, making him moan loudly, Bluestreak tried to look away. He felt shameful, they were his comrades, his friends, he shouldn't be taking advantage of their overcharged state and let himself watch them get much friendlier than he'd ever seen them…

But Sideswipe took one of his chevron points in hand and held it firm so that he had no where else to look.

He let out a long, low moan and squirmed as his eyes were drawn irrevocably to the point of contact between the jet and the minibot.

How did Bumblebee manage to produce that much lubricant? Nevermind that, how was that spike even fitting in there without splitting something? Oh and the sound of it moving was something else, and the way Bumblebee arched, moving faster as he accustomed to the size and rolled his hips to stimulate as many of both their sensors as possible…

Bluestreak hadn't gotten more than a bit tipsy, but he found that he too was caring less and less about the presence of other mechs around him, even as he noticed that the Twins had opened his panel and coaxed out his spike.

It didn't take long for both Bumblebee and Skyfire to reach a high sensory charge. Bumblebee's servos had buried themselves in earnest into the jet's chassis, finding and stroking transformation cogs.

Skyfire petted the glass of Bumblebee's sides with his thumbs, his fingers dancing lightly over the yellow and black armour, too big to slip into the small gaps and caress the wires of his companion. He realised he could utilise his basic knowledge of anatomy and sensory layouts and remembered that horns on a mech were generally rather sensitive.

He gingerly cupped the yellow helm resting against his chassis and ran a thumb over one of the small yellow horns.

Bumblebee moaned loudly and his valve walls rippled in pleasure around the spike as it stretched and filled him. Skyfire fairly purred as the smaller mech's hips rolled faster and the heat of friction increased.

To the pair it seemed the ecstasy rolled over them for breems, but in actuality the whole thing was barely taking one.

The sounds they made became shorter and more intense until Skyfire's hips were twitching up to meet Bumblebee's downward thrusts, and as the large white servo pinched a yellow horn, the minibot clenched wildly around the hot, twitching spike, crying out as he overloaded.

Skyfire's rumbling groan of release drowned the spy's out as he climaxed a moment later, clutching the smaller mech to him as Bumblebee's engine revved high with his sensory charge release.

Even Wheeljack hadn't been able to avert his optics at the sound of the two mechs overloading.

Many of the others who had never stopped watching let out appreciative moans as lubricant pooled between the quivering pair.

The minibots, all highly overcharged, actually clapped, and the aerial-bots joined in, but Bumblebee and Skyfire didn't seem to notice as they slumped together against the wall, panting and riding out the tail of their climaxes with soft mewls and twitches.

Bluestreak had nearly overloaded just seeing the pair finish up, but despite the Twins ministrations, he wasn't quite there yet, and with a squeak of embarassment and copious amounts of squirming he snapped back to reality to find a few sets of optics had moved from the end of one show and onto him and the Lamborghinis.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were kind enough to switch back to how they were before Bumblebee and Skyfire had started going at it, pressing Bluestreak into the wall on their bench, shielding him with their bodies as they worked his interfacing units.

Sideswipe even put a hand over Bluestreak's mouth, knowing the gunner couldn't mute himself when stimulated, and pumped the familiar valve fast with expert fingers, grinning deviously.

Sunstreaker worked the spike, also smirking. "You can pay me that 50 credits when we get back to our quarters, by the way." He muttered smugly to his red counterpart, who didn't at all seem disappointed over loosing his bet.

Bluestreak panted, wide optic'd as he watched the room over the Twin's shoulders.

Everyone was ignoring them again, most laughing awkwardly and trying to break the charged air of the commissary while Bumblebee and Skyfire remained intimately locked on the bench, ventilations deepening as the minibot giggled slightly and the jet replied with a soft sated rumble.

Now Optimus Prime didn't often find time to visit the rec. room, but with his paperwork done and (surprisingly minor) injuries seen to, he felt it might help boost morale to pay his crew a visit, knowing they were trying to raise their spirits again after a hard won victory against the 'Cons.

He had expected a little lewdness given the high-grade had been broken out… but he had never, in a million solar cycles, expected the sight that greeted him upon entry.

It was so… unbelievable, that he had to shutter his optics several times… walk out… and walk back in again.

But the scene did not change.

To his absolute astonishment, there was Skyfire, on the large far wall bench where bigger framed mechs usually sat, and in his lap was a rather tired but happy looking Bumblebee… and the most unbelievable thing, which he still couldn't quite process as reality… was that Skyfire's spike was most definitely partly buried in the minibot's port.

Any mech that noticed their leader's entry looked very much like a deer caught in headlights.

Curiously enough, neither of the mechs who where apparently the centre of attention seemed to notice him at all. Judging by their position and the amount of empty cubes beside them, they weren't really aware of anyone else.

In any case, wrapped up in their own little world, Bumblebee squirmed slightly and pulled himself sluggishly up Skyfire's chassis, drawing himself carefully off the flier's length, until with a very loud and very wet 'pop', the large and now depressurised spike came free of him. He and Skyfire sighed in contentment, the jet resting a servo lazily over the yellow back-plating as the small helm rested against him, the spy's engine purring loudly.

Optimus' gaze was suddenly drawn from this incredible sight to a slight movement in the corner.

He 'blinked' again and shook his head before deciding this was all way beyond him at the moment, and he left to inquire at the med-bay with Jazz and Prowl… he would have to ask them how long they had neglected their berth-mate in order to drive him to… whatever it was he'd just done in front of half the crew.

And he'd have to warn Ratchet that he was likely to receive a dented and paint marked Bluestreak tomorrow… and possibly one rather sore and hung-over minibot.

Bluestreak had been as shocked by Optimus Prime's arrival in the rec. room as everyone else… everyone except Skyfire and Bumblebee, that was…

But while the sudden thrill of being 'caught' by their commander witnessing an exceptionally intimate (and primus forbidden hot ) moment between two of their comrades had only served to heighten Bluestreak's arousal for some reason.

The sight of Bumblebee drawing off Skyfire and the resounding wet pop and copious trickle of lubricant had tipped him over.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had identical Cheshire cat grins as they continued to pump the gunner's spike and valve, the grey datsun twitching in overload as his moan was nearly completely muffled by Sideswipe's hand.

Bluestreak's pleasure flared even more as he caught Optimus' gaze flickering to him as he writhed in his climax.

When his pleasure finally ebbed and he slumped against the wall, Sideswipe dutifully extracted a cloth from his subspace and cleaned the gunner's valve and the spatters of lubricant around it and on the bench, licking the Datsun's lubricant off his own digits with relish.

Sunstreaker got up and walked calmly over to the bench where Bumblebee was half slipping into recharge and still giggling faintly against the red and white jet's chassis.

Skyfire seemed slightly confused to see Sunstreaker, but grinned sheepishly at him as he approached and stood in front of them, servos on hips with an appraising look on his faceplate.

"He wanted to say Thankyou." The Jet mumbled with a silly giggle to match Bumblebee's.

"Mmm. He's like that, but I think I'll be taking him from here. I'm sure you'll get some volunteers to help you back to your room, but here, you might want this."

Sunstreaker said silkily as he plucked Bumblebee from the jet's lap and threw him a large cloth, which landed neatly over his soaked interfacing panel.

With that the Twins took the purring, overcharged beetle away, and not even Wheeljack could muster a questioning protest.

Bluestreak remained panting on the bench for another klik or so before he decided he should probably call it a night and save what little dignity he might have left… and while he was at it, he should probably help Skyfire do the same.

When Bluestreak failed to get the huge, groggy, giggling giant scientist to his pedes (he'd only half cleaned himself up before retracting his spike and closing his panel, too overcharged to really do a proper job ), the aerial-bots came to his aid, despite the fact most of them were rather tipsy too.

Somehow though, they managed to get their fellow flier out the door and slowly made progress to his quarters.

After that, the rec. room began emptying of mechs, most of whom were murmuring to each other or throwing their partners suggestive looks.

Up in the monitor room, the Porsche had seen the whole thing. Jazz, still injured but infinitely bored by the med-bay, had been allowed to relieve Red Alert for a shift by Ratchet… who had only yielded on the request because Jazz wouldn't stop playing his obnoxious music in the med-bay.

He was beaming from audio to audio as he hit the 'stop record' button on the console for the rec. room cameras.

Ooooh, Prowl was going to get so hot when he showed him the recording of the event later…

Fallen x Starscream - Movieverse (unprompted)

"My Lord, you are much kinder than Megatron…"

"That is because I know how to keep my seekers loyal. Remember… I was a Prime, once, and if any being knows how to properly control and command, it is the greatest of the Primes… my servant Megatron believes fear is the best means of subdugation… but I know better, Starscream, I always will."

The seeker moaned and arched his helm back, legs flailing weakly as the multi-faceted digits probed deep into his armour, strumming a multitude of wires as if he were an instrument to be played.

Starscream let out a long moan, more gutteral than his usual screechy tone.

The Fallen hummed in pleasure, indeed feeling as though he were playing an instrument, the sounds pleasing to his audials.

He could do this to any mech, but he had always enjoyed seekers the most. So fiery, such sensual creatures, always ready for pleasure yet quite capable of tolerating pain (though perhaps a little too screechy for his liking when it was inflicted).

He was well aware that this seeker was more a thorn in his primary proxy's side than an instrument of pleasure. But it mattered little to the Fallen. He had desires, stronger even than those of the Transformers that had come after them, for they were the first of a race and as so had been made with the strong urge to spark and create new life.

The Fallen had long since sparked all the hatchlings in stasis within the Nemesis, the femmes and mechs whom had been their other creators had long since perished, for that had been their only purpose and it had spent them all.

These orns, the only thing the Fallen was interested in when his time was unoccupied and his mood so enticed, was satisfying himself. And playing with the little Seeker Megatron had left him was quite the pleasant pass-time.

Starscream moaned louder as the ancient digits probed lower, petting his cockpit, strumming the energon feeds to his thrusters, caressing the transformation cogs in is hips.

He cried out wantonly as the Fallen removed his panel and played his many skilled claws over the jet's interfacing components.

The Fallen let out a rumbling purr of satisfaction as the brown mech in his lap arched and squirmed and copious amounts of lubricant began to drip from the seeker's clenching port.

Such sensual beings always fascinated him. He could bring them to their knees, begging him for only his touch, holding true power over them as they gave their will over without a fight, submitted to him completely. He didn't need any touches in return, this offering of complete control was enough for him. He was not a sensual creature. Lustful, certainly, charged with desires and willing to take them, no doubt, but he couldn't quite understand the touching thing. Transformers were so easily swayed by a few gentle carreses beneath the plating in the right places. If they attempted to touch him that way, he would feel nothing, and they would feel pain because the power and energy that ran through his frame was volatile to them, and the only thing that kept them alive in his presence was his ability to control it utterly.

With this in mind, The Fallen continued to touch and tease, probing Starscream's valve and purring in satisfaction at the little gasps and mewls of his submissive little pleasure creature. The ancient metallic being leant back at ease in his throne, sliding the brown flying mech down his thighs as he extended his spike from between the protective pelvic horns that protruded between the legs of his impressive frame.

Starscream whined in need, grinding his hips forward, and with a deep, lustily amused laugh, the Fallen simply picked the seeker up and turned him around in his strong grasp.

Starscream spread his legs wide as The Fallen lowered him down again, keening out in bliss as the thick, glorious spike pressed into him, sliding up and filling his hot, wet valve. Starscream clenched automatically around the all at once hot and cold spike, savouring the pleasurable feel of every ridge and plate of it's scaly metallic length before he began riding it slowly, moaning and mewling for his master, willing to please the lord that kept him in his place by promising this bliss as opposed to pain.

The Fallen let out a deep, satisfied growl as he felt Starscream tighten around his spike. It was always such a nice feeling, inside Starscream… so at odds with the Seeker's usual attitude and behaviour. It sometimes grated on him, and he'd send the mech away, but moments and feelings like this always made up for the tattoo'd seeker's short-comings.

He allowed the flyer to rise and fall at his own pace, purring as the mech tightened his port as he pulled off, relaxing as he slid back down, his lubricants trailing hot and delicious down his length and dripping onto the seat of the throne, seeping into the crevices to imbue it with that enticing, heady scent of carnal pleasures. Sweet and tangy, the fallen sampled some of the fluid still coating one of his digits before bringing that same servo to Starscream's mouth, enjoying the way the seeker's valve spasmed as he licked his own essence from his master's digits with his hot, talented glossa.

The powerful being decided it was time to take control again, and grasping the tapered waist still rising and falling over his lap, he firmed his grip and started to direct the speed and force of the thrusts.

Starscream relinquished control readily. He loved this part. Grasping the arms of the throne, he spread his legs and relaxed his back cables, letting the Fallen move his hips as he wished, concentrating on the sensation of the thick, hot spike moving within him, lighting every sensor in his port as he was pressed harder, deeper, faster by the powerful creature.

Starscream cried out and moaned loud, while the fallen thrust up as he pulled the small hips down, driving as far into the valve as he could, savouring the splash of lubricant being ejected from the tight, throbbing entrance as he filled it entirely.

He moved a multi-digited servo around the seeker's front, continuing to pull him up and push him down with his strong thrusts. His other servo started playing around the flyer's spike housing, teasing the connection hub tip just peeking out of the panelling in which it rested.

Starscream gasped and whined, his cord quickly pressurising with the attention, sliding from it's housing and coaxed by further strokes and caresses from the ancient yet gentle digits.

Starscream was fun, for lack of a better word. The ancient mech liked having him at his beck and call, always ready for pleasure and keen to cater to his desires.

But He couldn't help remembering how much more entertaining it had been to entice that Soundwave into this activity.

He would have to try again when the mech returned form long-term surveillance duty… perhaps he could stop by the mech's station when he had to go down to the disgusting mud-ball planet…

Mmmm, the thought of the stoic communication officer's tight port and the incredible sounds he had made caused the Fallen to quicken his pace in the Seeker, slamming the brown hips down on his own. The apex of Starscream's crotch fitted so well with his own, sometimes the Fallen wondered if Seekers weren't made specifically for sparking with him.

He had already sparked just two hatchlings with the air commander, merely to engage the mech's protective, sparkling carer programming to make him a suitable warden.

He did so prefer to simply pleasure himself with Starscream, those breathy, clipped moans were telling him the seeker wouldn't last much longer.

Pleasure was rippling through his own core, energy building in a tight, exquisite feeling point somewhere in his middle.

He curled his digits over the seeker's spike and stroked hard along the cable sheathing, pulling down it's length as he drove his own spike up into that wildly clenching valve.

Starscream arched as his release came, the Fallen's long, thick, hot spike driving well into his port as he changed his angle. The blunt tip slammed mercilessly into the seeker's main sensory cluster and he screeched in bliss, spike spasming as his electrolytic transmetal fluid ejaculated out across the ancient metal digits and the edge of the throne.

The Fallen's built up charge bloomed through his frame as Starscream's port clenched tightly around him and he hilted himself deep in the brown mech, still thrusting hard as his own fluids spilled into the tight space.

The essence that the Fallen spilled into Starscream was nearly too hot to bear, but it only served to drive him even wilder into the throes of climax.

Eventually, the throbbing pleasure ebbed and dulled, and the ancient mech languidly pulled himself out of the seeker, humming his satisfaction at the mixed fluids that spilled from the flier's valve and onto his thighs.

Starscream, without prompting, slid off his masters lap and turned, kneeling down to lap away and clean up the fluids from the dark thigh metal and still extended spike.

As it seemed was usual the cleaning slowly turned into a second round for the Fallen, Starscream doing some glorious things with his mouth and glossa that the ancient mech doubted his precious Megatron was capable of.

Sometimes, the ancient being mused, it is good to remember the purpose of having these weaker underlings.

Starscream, oblivious to and uncaring of his masters thoughts, smiled around the large, quivering spike as it spilled that hot, sweet essence again and he swallowed it all greedily. He prided himself on being able to pleasure this Master… mostly because he knew it was the one thing he would always do better than Megatron, and the mean, scraggy, bossy bastard knew it. So it was always with great vigour and eagerness that Starscream did whatever the Fallen bade him to.

But apart from that… alterior motives be damned, they were so fragging hot together it was surely criminal in several galaxies.