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"Remember the safe word, baby?" Blaster asked softly, tilting Prowl’s helm up, gently tugging on the leash in his servo. The Praxian nodded and Blaster simply grinned. "Remember, if it ever gets ta be too much, just lemme know~"

And with that, Blaster sat back in his comm chair, lightly tugging Prowl on his servos and knees to kneel by him, watching those normally calculating optics dim slightly. He gently stroked that chevron, watching his pet lean into the touch. There, Prowl was relaxed, getting into it, so he patted his lap and waited for him to crawl on up.

"Now, I need ya ta hold as still as possible~ No talkin’ for me, baby~" He murmured, kissing the Praxian’s neck gently, rubbing over his thighs till those already hot panels sprang open, lubricant spilling over his digits and he tisked softly, rubbing over the slick folds before pressing a small, vibrating toy inside, letting it magnetize to his anterior node and the lip of his valve. "There we go~ Ya’re doin’ so good~"

Prowl drank up the praise, biting his lower lip to keep from crying out as Blaster manipulated the vibrations, settling on one setting that could drive him mad but not push him over the edge into oblivion. He shook and shuddered, watching those overly bright optics drink him up before a digit slid inside and he gasped, choking on a whimper.

"Overload as many times as ya want, Prowler~ I got plenty of time on my shift~"

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There were times where Trailcutter was more than glad that Megatron had been gifted Captain’s Quarters, as they were sound proofed, thankfully. Mostly because the whole hallway would be filled with his wails and moans if not for them, because he wouldn’t overload if he wasn’t loud enough. So he gasped and cried, watching the crimson optics above him flash with barely controlled lust as he practically rode Megatron’s thick digits. 

Of course, the charge dampener around his spike wasn’t helping things. He groaned and twisted, stroking his own spike through as per his lover’s instructions, gasping around his own digits as his anterior node was flicked before three more sank in deep. 

"M-Megatron, p-please!" he cried, spreading his legs wider, helm tossing over the berth. 

But his captain merely smiled, kissed his forehelm and continued on, spreading his digits and slipping in a forth one, filling his new head of security up to the brim, making him babble in pleasure and pain all at once. The dampener clicked, fending off his overload for a fifth time that evening and he almost screamed in desperation, lubricant staining the berth. 

And Megatron loved every second of his pleasure, leaning to lick the tip of his spike and Trailcutter almost cried at the unfairness of it all. But then the dampener clicked open and overload slammed into his frame like a triple-changer on a charge, ripping scream after scream from his throat. 

Proving that the sound-proofing wasn’t quite as sturdy as he was led to believe. 

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It wasn’t every day that Blaster found himself chained down to the berth but, truly, he wasn’t going to argue. Especially with Soundwave crawling up his frame like that, protoform bare and smirking like the cybercat that ate the crystal canary. He purred softly, watching each sinuous inch drag over his frame, making him hiss softly and enjoy every little moment. 

**Maestro~ How gorgeous you look, tied up and wanting~** Ah that voice in his mind, sliding like wax and sin and the next time he unshutters his optics, his bonded is kneeling over him, legs curved around his raised shoulders, biolights pulsing in a sweet rhythm of want that gets an answering pulse from the music mech. 

He watched that panel slide back, sealed valve on display for his hungry optics, the scent of that arousal making Blaster’s spike twitch in sympathy in its housing before he felt spindly digits press his mouth and nasal ridge to the slick mesh. Well then~

He groaned softly, glossa tracing over Soundwave’s folds, up to his anterior node, optics open wide to catch each expression of bliss on his face, the rippling of his protoform as his bonded gripped the headboard of the berth, hips rocking down into his mouth with each lick and roll of his glossa over that needy little node. He heard the chanting of his name, the dirty secrets pressed into his mind signalling the quick rise of his bonded’s first overload of the day, high pitched trills bouncing off the walls while dark hips bounced over his glossa. 

Fluids dripping down his chin, Blaster grinned wide, pressing his new piercing to that node and grinning at the wailing cooling fans. This, truly, was the perfect way to wake up. 

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There was always a certain desperation in their hardlines. They clashed together in waves of need and want for it to actually work this time, to achieve a closeness they once had. Perched in his Conjunx’s lap, Soundwave pushed deep into their connection, seeking out the mech Shockwave once was, buried under layers and layers of code. 

He sighed as the charge rose up between them, in long, luxurious bursts of data and electricity, making him roll and grind against his thigh, gasping softly into Shockwave’s neck, feeling those claws dig deep into his mesh and metal in reality but totally lost to the fantasy of his Senator, the kisses and touches there blending almost seamlessly with his reality. 

It wasn’t long until Soundwave was gasping in the beginning of an overload, desperate hitches of lust and craving pouring over their connection, their bond as it flared, taking the larger mech with him in a tidal wave of lust. 

Because deep beyond that Shadowplay, Shockwave still had a drive to please his Conjunx, even when it was inconvenient to him. Soundwave still had a need for him and Shockwave shared that need, even if it was changed by time and treachery. 

»Please disengage.« 

But there was still work to do, even if that disappointed trill didn’t escape his notice. 

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Somehow, Blaster had known from their smirks that he was in deep trouble, the idea of the both of them making his proverbial engine rev while his tank filled with a deep sense of dread. 

Which was how he ended up here, a collar chained around his neck, gripped in Tracks’ servo, keeping him at bay while the other two mechs sat on his thighs, tracing their servos over enevry inch of him, turning to trade kisses with each other, making sure Blaster got a good eyeful of their glossae playing, red and blue optics flashing with mischief. 

They took turns flicking their digits along his panel, coaxing his spike out and his valve to spiral open and from their they continued their caresses, trading almost seamlessly between them, digits delving deep or a palm pressing up along the underside of his servo. And he’d moan if he could around the gag in his mouth, frame shaking from need and lust. 

**How needy he is~**

"I agree, Soundwave~ And he is being such a good boy~"

And from there it was a flurry of motion, Tracks sliding on top of his spike while the tendrils of one feeler slid into his valve, Soundwave taking his servo and moving it between his own legs to make it play with his favorite nodes. 

And they both gave him a look, insisting that he not be the first to overload or there would be consequences.

And, truly, Blaster could think of worse ways to die. 

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They never said those words. 

It was simply not allowed. They could kiss and frag and tease but they never said those words. Even on nights like tonight when the ship was quiet, when their kisses weren’t laced with the desperation born of battle and a lack of time, when their touches lingered on arms and chests and face plates. 

When Breakdown could appreciate the beauty of his lover’s thighs, when he could trail his lips over that spike rather than suck on it to a quick and unsatisfying overload. When Knock-Out could stretch himself wide with his own digits, watch that gold optic light up in bliss and want for his frame. When they both could see those words like spilled energon teasing on their lips. 

They would gasp, and moan and cry out. They would rock against each other, a frenzied need underlying each soft and sweet motion. They’d take their time, build overload like a wave, Knock-Out’s clever digits splayed over Breakdown’s chest as he moved with fluid motions. 

And if their optics said it, if their bodies said it, if their servos said it that was fine but never their vocalizers, it would never be said out loud because then it would be taken away. 

But it never stopped Breakdown from almost saying it as he overloaded.

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Half the fun of these games was escaping the knots. Jazz would smirk wide even as Prowl moved about his frame, exuding control from every seam while his own clever digits move about in their bindings. He always waits for his prey to get comfortable, for Prowl to drop his guard enough to pounce. 

And then it’s the tactician who is bound, so quick he barely has time to make a sound. Tied up in quick, efficient knots that Prowl can’t get out of because he doesn’t have the training, the flexibility. 

But Jazz always escapes, and Prowl always ends up on his knees, shaking as the saboteur nips his door wings, servos sliding between his thighs to dip his digits into seams and around his spike, pumping Prowl quickly, making him gasp as the other slides in.

Because Jazz knows Prowl wants it like this, control wrested away too fast to recover from, too quick for his tac net to compensate for. He needs to be taken hard and fast before he can get wrapped up in his own power again, have the sense fragged back into him for a change. 

And Jazz doesn’t argue, he knows his part in this plan, because even if he’s the one making Prowl cry out around a mouthful of his own digits, it’s all Prowl’s perfectly planned strategy. 

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Rung had a size kink. 

This wasn’t new knowledge, per say, but the extremity to which this size kink would be taken was news to everyone. Perceptor had run the math on it multiple times, citing that there is literally no logic to Rung’s desire and thus he must choose to scale down.

But Metroplex was gentle, cradling the tiny psychiatrist in one servo while his digit trailed over his little body, amazed by the trust this delicate little creature was putting in his servos. He loved it, feeling that teeny field flare with joy and abandon at his overly large digits, just loving the tactile sensation of Rung’s lips on his plating, almost too light to be truly felt. 

So to the Pit with Perceptor’s equations or Rodimus trying to start a “Size Queen” club complete with jackets. Rung loved his gentle giant as much as said giant loved his tiny lover. 

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It was the blindfold that made Blaster a little more nervous, really. Mainly because he’d never done exactly this before. He felt the hooks around his neck cables pull a bit, tugging his face plates closer to his bonded’s valve, hearing a chuffing of air that signaled a similar pull on Shockwave’s neck, making him bend closer to run his claws over Blaster’s helm. 

And Soundwave was between them, working them like puppets, pulling on those leads tied to the hooks to make them touch and caress and kiss (in Blaster’s case) where he wanted. A twitch of a digit made Shockwave’s servo come down on Blaster’s aft, the spy master trilling his pleasure as his maestro licked and hummed against his anterior node, one of his servos having been moved to stroke his Conjunx’s spike. 

And Soundwave loved it, panting harshly as he watched their blinded forms crackle with the charge he sent down through both his feelers, making them both wriggle in need, Blaster’s glossa moving frantically while Shockwave’s servo gouged at his paint. 

**Absolutely beautiful~** Soundwave moaned into their minds, hitting his second overload of the evening as Shockwave filled their connection with static and Blaster sucked on his node. He tugged again, sitting them both up and setting their blinded helms to “look” at each other. 


**Now, I want to watch you make each other overload~**

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"Mmmm, Cyclonus~" Tailgate sighed happily, rocking in the larger mech’s lap, helm tilted back while he was nibbled on. He knew how hesitant Ctyclonus was to hurt him, how he preferred to avoid the use of he dentae and claws but Tailgate wanted the marks and scrapes he couldn’t give in return. His servos clutched at his helm, gasping softly and practically purring at the liquid hot feeling pouring through his body. 

He reached to Cyclonus’ own neck cables, giving a few pinches with the tips of his digits, hearing the large mech give a groan and a sigh. With no mouth, Tailgate had to get creative sometimes, guiding his lover over him, wanting that mouth nipping more places. 

He guided Cyclonus on the right path, down his chest and to his waist, giggling at a ticklish seam being tweaked by an errant glossa. And with each motion his warrior licked those soft dents into being soothed, sending the chilly rush of coolant through his lines as his body heated up. 

The nips and nibbles on his hips and thighs made him moan softly, pleased to see his lover grinning. Of course, he looked a little chewed up but that was what he wanted. Even if he couldn’t mark Cyclonus as his own this was enough to show the whole crew that they belonged together. 

Because each bite and soft lick was a fierce “I love you”, vows written in dented metal and it made Tailgate arch his back and cry out from the sheer enormity of it all. 

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"He looks so good like this, Sunny~"

"Don’t call me that, but you’re right, he does, now hold still!"

Sunstreaker groused from behind his canvas, watching the way his brother shook over Tracks’ bound form, dripping valve just barely sliding down the noble’s spike. Each knot on the blue mech was done to accentuate his natural beauty, his curves and angles. After all, how was Sunstreaker going to finish his series of paintings without this?

His brush moved over the canvas slowly, watching the way his brother squirmed a little, mouth open from the tension of not just plunging down and riding their lover of the evening for all he was worth, bound by Sunny’s work. He smiled to himself, taking in their forms, Tracks’ blown wide optics and Sides’ cocky smirk, keeping the noble on edge with a private comm line, all those filthy words getting Tracks worked up to the point of sparking. And Sunny wanted to catch it all in living color. 

An hour or so later, Sunny was satisfied and he nodded to Sideswipe, hearing his brother moan out loudly before throwing himself onto Tracks, moaning into his mouth and panting, squirming down his spike long enough to give them both the desperately needed overload they’d been craving. 

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Blaster knew he was in love with Tracks, he just knew it from his lover’s smile to the reckless abandon he showed in the berth to the way he tilted his nasal ridge up at the drinks in the dive bars in Kaon. Blaster loved it all, but he knew better than to say it without a casual tone. 

"Oooh~ Handsome~" Tracks moaned loudly, urging Blaster on with his legs even as they both fought to stay quiet, trying not to alert Tracks’ creator as they fragged in his room. They laughed breathlessly into each others mouths, still slightly tipsy from the party, rutting against each other as overload stayed imminent but far away, the beauty of just being able to go at it for hours. 

Blaster lifted Tracks’ legs over his shoulders, pressing in even deeper and grinding in slow circles, hearing little moans and gasps catch on his lover’s lips, making him grin ever wider with the utter joy of it. They worked because they could laugh in the berth, could go at it hard, but right now they were fragging for the sake of fragging, rather than chasing an overload. 

"Oooh love you~" and those are the moments where he can say how much he loves the noble, where they can just get lost in each other and Blaster can pretend that this will last forever.

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The slap stung, Blurr crying out, tears dripping down his face as he looked into that large optic staring at him. He shook harshly, gasping as his new Master regarded him with disappointment. He had tried to be good but something in him had made him bite that claw and he tried to apologize but the slap had knocked the sense back into him.

"My dear," Shockwave murmured, "you must learn to behave." He grabbed the smaller mech, pulling him into his lap as those dangerous claws trailed his skinny frame, making Blurr shiver and shake with trepidation. "I have been good to you, have I not?"

Blurr nodded and Shockwave moved him to the floor, sliding his plating open and letting his spike pressurize. “But, sadly, we must begin again. Blurr, you know what to do.” He pressed down on Blurr’s helm, watching that dainty mouth start to slide over his length, murmuring apologies into the ridges. 

Shockwave sighed softly, petting his crest. “Good pet,” he murmured. He only wanted the best for his little speedster, after all, and he could give him that. After all, he brought him back to life, gave him a second chance to be useful. His beautiful Blurr. 

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Swerve wriggled in place, mouth open as Skids gently placed treat after treat into his mouth. Their guessing game was fun, something they did when Swerve had forgotten to refuel and Skids was, ironically, there to remind him. He hummed in pleasure as a sweet pressed past his lips, softly guessing the flavor before being pulled into a kiss to share the flavor. 

He laughed softly, knowing that the treats were done when Skids pulled him into his lap, gently kissing his neck and collar, trailing down his chest, holding him aloft tickling his hips and making him laugh even more before his dorsa. 

He heard Skids laugh as well, coaxing open his panel to gently suck on his spike, voice bubbling with joy. This was what he liked about sex with Skids, how much fun it always was, how they could enjoy each other. He reached down to pet his lover’s helm, arching and gasping around his laughter. 

"Mmmmm, Skids~" he moaned, overload rising like a quiet wave, hips pressing into his mouth as Skids hummed and purred, engine revving powerfully. 

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Rodimus would never admit to how much he loved this side of Magnus, the side that turned all those rigid rules into this kind of fun. The kind that had him splayed out on the desk while his much larger lover ran a thin pointer over his legs, swatting them every time Rodimus moved in the wrong way. 

"You’re still not behaving." 

But Rodimus could only grin wide and spread his legs wider. He wanted Magnus to crack, to shove his legs open wide and have him take him over the desk hard. He wanted it so badly, making a spectacle of himself, moaning loudly and arching up for his lover to take him. 

But Magnus did not move, simply turning him over on the desk and tapping his aft with the pointer, humming in consternation. “You will now recite the parts of the code I asked you to memorize.” 

"I didn’t…"

And then the whack of the pointer on his aft made him jolt, lighting up his sensor net and making him moan with want. But it was clear he wasn’t getting his way tonight…

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It was strange. But, really, neither one was in the mood to complain. 

Rumble pressed his tiny digits against that behemoth of a valve, feeling the soft lining give slightly, Metroplex probably barely feeling it even though the lubricants flowing from him were enough to threaten the minicon with being flushed away. But wasn’t that the fun part?

He pulled himself up onto the lip of the valve, leaning up to run his digits over the anterior, grinning wide at the moan he got from the larger mech as he fit his frame inside that clenching heat. Transforming his arms, he went through the valve, gently pounding away, hearing those moans even inside. 

::Ya like that, big guy? C’mon, lemme hear it!:: He snickered over a comm line, pressing in deeper, pounding against a node as he felt the mesh squeeze and press down around him, his whole frame feeling overly hot from the slick lubricants running along his body. 

He felt the writhing frame around him, his own spike out and rubbing against a wall as he pushed deeper, finally settling in to pound on that ceiling node, getting a mouth full of lubricant and a quaking city former calling his name. 

Sometimes, size had its advantages. 

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Soundwave earned his rewards often. That was a simple fact of life on the Nemesis, he earned these moments in his lord’s quarters. 

He earned his lord on his knees, submitting to his every want, swallowing his spike and spreading his strong thighs for him. And Soundwave enjoyed every moment because he never had to say a word. Megatron let him slip into his mind, let him manipulate his motions beyond his control. 

And Megatron took it with grace, taking enjoyment in his subordinate using his frame for pleasure, the feel of Soundwave’s spike in his valve and mouth, the normally stoic mech letting loose all that inner passion he saved for battle, letting his master feel every inch of his want and need in real time. 

It was as much a reward for Megatron as it was for Soundwave, just getting to let go and have his Third take the reigns for a while. 

So he moaned for his momentary lover, letting Soundwave believe he was pulling those sounds from him with his mind. He rocked against that smaller frame, wriggling closer, valve clenching as he overloaded hard. 

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Now this was something Blaster could watch for days~

Both of the Soundwaves were blindfolded, using their feelers and servos to feel each other out, the music mech murmuring instructions to them as they explored, soft trills and sighs working from their frames in the almost silence of the room. He could watch all day, the slide of his bonded’s leg against the other mech’s, his open interface panel grinding against that thigh, smearing lubricant over his leg. 

The other Soundwave, meanwhile, had plugged into his bonded, helm tossed back and gasping, sharp dentae glinting as they ground their chassis together. And finally it was too much for Blaster to take. 

He slid onto the berth behind his lover, kissing his neck and listening to him trill and shudder, holding his hips to help him grind down that extra bit. “Ya both look amazin’~” he purred, body thrumming with vibration, optics glinting, “wanna see y’all overload together~”

He couldn’t tell which mech got pushed over first, watching their bodies arch in a mirror of each other, cooling fans on high, sparks drifting over their frames. And Blaster gently licked the other Soundwave’s shoulder, tasting the ozone around his body and grinning as they collapsed against him, panting and reaching to take off the blindfolds. 

"Who’s up for round two?"

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"Blaster, knock it off I’m trying to work," Red Alert groused, ignoring his own blush as the music mech held him in his lap, playing along his hips. He tried to hold still as Blaster dug into his joints, carefully pulling at the wires there. 

"Shhh, ya can work~" Blaster whispered, "just keep your optics forward." He ran his servos up and down the Lamborghini’s chest, vibrating his digits along the seams in gentle passes as Red Alert tried to stare resolutely at the screen. He whimpered softly as Blaster played with his thighs, wriggling back against his cod piece and the music mech shushed him. 

"Just keep watchin’~" He felt lips press to the back of his neck, nibble at a cable as that teasing servo slid along the front of his pelvic unit, thumbing the wires gently, watching Red Alert arch and whine out as he pinched a hydraulic line. 

And that was it, the security director spinning in his lap and slamming his servos into Blaster’s shoulders with a scowl. “We’re either going to frag now or I kick your aft up and down the security room, is that clear?”

"Sir, yes sir~"

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Sunstreaker, as ever, was gorgeous and poised, even with his legs spread wide over the arms of Megatron’s throne, panel open and digits buried in himself, looking at the warlord with dark optics and a smirk. The larger mech had been gone too long, leaving Sunny all alone. So he locked their gazes, moaning loudly, knowing the way his frame glittered in the dim lighting of the room as he arched. 

And from there it was too easy really, Megatron almost dashing across the room to lift him with a growl, spike pressurized  and pulling Sunstreaker’s digits free. And it was without preamble that he had the smaller mech pressed over the seat of the throne, aft raised in the air, valve leaking down his thighs and he palmed that gorgeous frame for a moment before thrusting in with one motion, making them both cry out. 

And he knew he played into Sunny’s game, watching the frontliner grin around his wailing, the way he rocked into every thrust. He moaned himself at the tight vice around his spike, milking him for all he was worth as he pounded away at that golden form. 

"Mmm~ah~ W-what took you so long~" Sunny groaned, gripping the throne for dear life as he rocked back, not waiting for an answer to his question before throwing his helm back and wailing his overload, spike spurting lubricant onto the seat below him as Megtron followed, bellowing out loudly and sinking to the floor. 

After panting, cooling down for a moment, the warlord answered. “What ever was I thinking…”

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This was the first time they were trying this and, honestly, Blaster had to admit, he was into it. 

Tracks had tied him up slowly, diamonds stretching over his chest, curling around his buttons and holding him in such a tight grip that he could barely squirm, even as the noble traced that crop up along the curve of his spike, along his thighs. He groaned softly, trying to spread his legs wider for his lover to touch at. 

But he couldn’t and Tracks only smirked, catching him in kisses and reaching between his own legs to stroke their spikes together, soft, syncopated gasps coming from them both as the noble moved. He tried to thrust back, aid in the pleasure but Tracks bit his neck cables hard and pulled away, laying himself on the berth in front of Blaster and grinning. 

"I know you would love to spike me right now, handsome~" he purred, running the crop along his own thighs, "but, mmmh, you’re too perfect all tied up~" He stroked his spike, moaning in a wanton cadence, arching into his own servo as he danced on the edge of overload. Blaster licked his lips, spike throbbing, valve clenching just as Tracks cracked the crop against his own plating and wailed, transfluid coating his chest. 

"Mmmmh, now we can focus on you~"

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There were times when Megatron understood that he was well and truly fragged. Times like this when Sideswipe was running his servos up his thighs, grinning far too wide and licking his lips at the spike standing proud before him. He tried to keep his optics focused on the younger mech, watching the play of his glossa up the ridges and seams. 

This was a time he was fragged. 

Because Sideswipe purred, sucking softly on the head, looking up into his optics as he slowly sucked the rest into his mouth, moaning loudly before pulling back, licking away the transfluid at the tip and sticking his glossa into the slit before repeating, kneading at his thighs. 

Megatron groaned at the sight, leaning his helm in his servo watching the glide of his lover’s lips, hips arching into each slow suck, thighs beginning to shake from the ache of not just thrusting away into Sideswipe’s glorious, teasing mouth, each little moan coming from the younger mech inflaming his senses. 

Overload began approaching, and the moment he went to grab the younger mech’s helm he felt a grip around the base of his spike, yelping (though he’d never admit to it) and glaring at his lover. 

Sides just grinned, licking his swollen lips. “I’m not done with you yet~”

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Skywarp squealed happily, feeling the play of ropes along his wings and the cuffs on his arms, his leader’s spike deep in his valve and pounding into all those sensors. He fluttered his wings, feeling Megatron bite at the edge of one, making him croon softly as his overload hit, Skywarp grinning through his wailing. 


And then he was on the roof, blinking and leaking lubricants all over the place. Uh oh…maybe he should have mentioned….


And with another crack he was back around his leader’s spike, unbound and grinning sheepishly. “Sorry boss, it happens sometimes…”

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All it took was a kiss to get Red Alert in the proper mood. 

His firetruck would lift him into those strong arms and kiss him senseless, tangling their glossae together until Red was gasping for air and shaking in his grip, wrapping his legs around Inferno’s waist and moaning. He’d suck on his larger lover’s glossa, groaning and wriggling, arms tossed around his neck carelessly, feeling small and safe all at once. 

And Inferno would pull back with a smile, shy and becoming all at once and Red Alert would grab him for another kiss, overwhelmed by the taste of soot and clean energon, heat inundating his frame and making him whine for more, thighs clenching on Inferno’s waist while he grabbed at this helm and shoulders, those large hands holding him up by his aft. 

And it would always become too much, too soon, static breaking over his frame, happy gasps and whimpers sliding from his throat as his own glossa was sucked on, lower lip nibbled and bit gently and soon he’d be crying out from the tactile overload, systems primed and ready for more, panting in Inferno’s arms while the fire truck carried him to their quarters for more of those strut melting kisses. 

After all, all Red needed was a kiss. 

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"This okay, Domey?" Rewind hopped down from behind his Conjunx, smiling behind his mask at the sight of that blindfold over Chromedome’s visor. He smiled, already playing with seams, placing those larger servos on his shoulders so he could play about that slender form.

"I’m perfect, Rewind." 

And, permission granted, Rewind pushed Chromedome back onto the berth, taking off his mask so he could trail his lips over his neck and chest, silently thanking Primus that Dominus has sought to get him upgraded to have one. 

Mainly, because, if he was being honest, he liked sucking on Domey’s spike. He happily found his way between those legs, using his lips along the side, practically vibrating with excitement as he sucked on the tip, reveling in his moans and shaking. The blindfold enhancing the sensation of his little mouth on that far larger spike, making his Conjunx squirm like this? This was perfect. 

Especially when he felt it pulse in his servos, Chromedome’s voice crying out in warning, sucking until all that transfluid flooded his mouth in long pulses. And, as he licked his lips, kissing his way back up, he purred. “Love you, Domey~”

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It had taken hours of teasing for Blaster to finally bend him over the console, moving the fake spike out of his weeping valve slowly, watching the way his pet moaned and whined, lubricant dripping down his thighs and the music mech took a quick taste before leaning over his dorsa, rubbing his fully pressurized spike against his folds. 

"Ya’ve been so good," Blaster whispered, stroking his sides like a skittish petropony, kissing his door wings gently, "so very good~ I know what ya need~"

He gripped the leash, holding Prowl’s helm back as he slid in, listening to the moan that ripped from him, the Praxian’s hips jerking back desperately, slicking Blaster’s thighs with his own lubricant, trying to clench down on him even as Blaster held still. “PleasepleasePLEASE~” he moaned loudly, all control forgotten as desperate lust  fogged his tac net and made him needy for that spike, his own rubbing at the underside of the console with each slow thrust. 

And he was so wound up that he hit overload almost immediately, crying out into the keyboard, looking over his shoulder to catch Blaster’s smile, his condensation soaked face sending him into another overload almost immediately. 

And Blaster hadn’t even overloaded once yet…Primus…it was going to be a long night. 

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After three months of failed flirting, two weeks of complaining to Bulkhead and five days of thinking he was going to die a virgin, Smokescreen ended up being propositioned by Bumblebee. And, saying he was eager would be an understatement. 

He threw himself at the scout, locking their lips and almost grinding on him right away. But he wasn’t prepared for the awkward moment of Bee pressing his digits into his valve and pausing. 

"You’re sealed?!"

"I can explain!"

But Bee just smiled indulgently, kissing him deeply as he worked him open. He whispered how he’d be gentle, work him up slowly, make it feel good. And he did, he so did, and Smokescreen moaned throughout, legs open wide as Bee’s spike pressed into him, rupturing his seal with a minimum of pain as the scout moaned quietly. They moved together almost awkwardly, but pushing the pleasure up higher and higher, making Smokescreen cry out into his kisses. 

And it was perfect, just the way he wanted to loose that pesky seal, screaming out his overload for the whole base to hear, happily limping the next day, more than ready to try again. 

Chapter Text

"Well, ain’t this a party?" 

Lockdown was smirking, even as he was held in tight bonds, the ninjabot humming quietly before shoving him onto the ground and pacing around his prone form like a vulture. Lockdown continued to wiggle a bit in his bonds, engine revving at the idea that he was well and truly stuck. “Not so innocent for an Autobot, are ya?”

But Prowl didn’t respond, he just knelt over his chest, pressing his servo to Lockdown’s mouth and shaking his helm. “You will do as I say, are we clear.” When his mouth was freed, Lockdown simply smirked. 


And then the ninjabot opened his paneling, spike rising and poking at the bounty hunter’s chin, making the larger ‘Con smirk. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, said spike was rudely introduced to his glossa, pressing in deep and making him gag slightly. Well then, if that’s what he wanted. 

"Put your m-mouth to better use." 

Chapter Text

Perceptor always looked perfect. That was just a fact of Drift’s life. He loved the way he looked pinned to the exam table in his lab, chained there and spread wide, the vibrator against his anterior node making him whine into his gag, dorsa arched as Drift played with the control. 

"You’re too perfect," Drift murmured before remembering he was supposed to be doing the dom thing. He shook his helm, swallowing the oral lubricants making his throat too slick before climbing up onto the exam table. "What I mean is, you’re too perfect when you’re trembling for me, pet~" 

Percy’s optics flashed and he knew he was on the right track, leaning down to nibble his neck cables and purring softly, loving every taste of his lover’s frame, the clenching tightness. But the scene had to be kept and Percy wanted to be dominated like this. 

So he thrust in deep, biting back the desire to tell Perceptor how gorgeous he was, making it by demanding more of those moans, avoiding talking about how he loved him so much, instead growling how tight and wet he was. he could tell Perceptor all those things later, but right now his scientist needed this. 

And if the moans were anything to go by, he was doing a good job. 

Chapter Text

While Soundwave didn’t quite get it, he couldn’t deny the results of it all. He watched Bluestreak’s aft bounce in Blaster’s lap, gasping loudly but stopping just as the sparks began to dance on their frames. Of course, Blaster kept sending pulse after pulse of pleasure down their hardline, Blue’s glossa never stopping on his anterior node despite their frames pausing in their motions till they came back from the edge. 

And Soundwave moaned, locking optics with his bonded as Blaster winked, his overload denied for a third time that night as Soundwave hit his forth. 

And then he watched his lovers start up again in earnest, hips clashing together, pleasure dancing up their spinal struts and slamming down the hardline, both of them seemingly ready to overload and hitting that crest together, Blue screaming into the slick mesh of Soundwave’s valve, door wings fluttering wildly as Blaster filled him to the brim with his transfluid. 

**Mmmh~ I cannot say I understand, but it was a marvelous show~**

Blue smiled and Blaster winked. “I think we could show ya more~”

Chapter Text

Everyone knew when to keep away from Ratchet’s office. It usually coincided with Ironhide stalking down the hallway, sucking on a rust stick and locking the door behind him even as the medic tried to argue. 

But soon enough Ratchet would be propped up on his desk, moaning loudly as his lover’s helm bobbed on his spike, digits buried deep in his valve. Usually, this only happened after really frustrating days, Ratchet with his helm tossed back, legs wide as Ironhide’s oral fixation made itself known, his off hand working furiously between his own legs. 

And it was easy enough to give in with that kind of persuasion, Ratchet biting one of his own digits as he approached the edge, whining into his hand as the door was suddenly thrown open, Optimus Prime walking in and pausing just as both his medic and his bodyguard overloaded with a loud moan, Ratchet blushing in embarrassment. 

"Um…I can come back….later?"

And Ironhide just laughed. “Nah, Prime, jus’ let us get cleaned up first.” 

Chapter Text

Rung often felt odd about this, the way Fort Max would simply let him do what he wanted. Because he didn’t want the behemoth to feel obligated to him in any way, but his lover just smiled softly and assured him it was alright, that he wanted to be good for the little psychiatrist. 

That he didn’t want to hurt him. But, this time was different. 

This time, Rung tugged Fortress Maximus over his frame, locked his legs as far around his hips as he could and looked him dead in the optics. “You will take me, because you would never hurt me in your right mind. Please, Fort Max.” And maybe it was his tone, maybe it was the trust in his optics or the love in his field but Fortress Maximus nodded and smiled shyly, blushing as he went about touching Rung’s frame.

And he was right, Fort Max was gentle, touching and kissing like Rung was the most precious thing he’d ever held. The ex-warden murmured softly, pressing digits into that almost too small valve, knowing his whole spike wouldn’t fit but they both needed this. 

And that first touch of that overly large spike pressing into his valve had Rung smiling, crying out loudly, frame shaking with joy at the feeling. They’d needed this. 

Chapter Text

Patience came in the form of Soundwave’s feelers holding his legs open, making Tracks whine with tension, those spindly digits spreading his valve wide for Blaster to see. He whined and squirmed, stilling when Soundwave bit the side of his neck, thighs shaking with tension as a small trickle of lubricant trailed down his aft and onto the berth between Soundwave’s legs. 

Without that grip, Tracks would be trying to squirm close to that teasing glossa, Blaster staying too far away to give his trembling frame any relief, any release. 

**Look at him~** Soundwave purred in his mind, **you and I both know what that glossa can do, how perfect it is. But he won’t touch, not till you say what we want to hear. We both want you, Tracks, now, who do you belong to?**


And Tracks moaned, dorsa arching. “You! YouyouYOU! Please!” And no sooner had he started moaning than Blaster was grabbing his hips, glossa burying itself in his valve while Soundwave bit at his neck, all of them grinding against each other roughly until Tracks’ overload crashed, making the noble scream out, falling into a forced stasis for the moment. 


**Impressive, Maestro. Now, why not show me what you just showed him~**

Chapter Text

Tracks had been allowed into Soundwave’s berth on one condition, he remain blindfolded for the experience. Which was alright with the noble, his kinky streak being appeased. He wanted to see what had Blaster so atwitter after all. 

But he soon found himself pinned to a berth, servos held over his helm in strong feelers and legs over the taller mech’s shoulders. He moaned softly, feeling a spike rubbing against his valve but something felt different about it? Maybe, either way, he couldn’t concentrate on the texture as it pressed into his valve, making him gasp. 

For his part, Soundwave was praising his bonded’s cleverness, the fake spike filling the Autobot under him and the attachment vibrating at his anterior node with the perfect rhythm, making him gasp and trill as well, pressing in deeper and harder, nipping his current lover’s neck harshly. 

And if he made sure the security cameras focused completely on Tracks’ face as he drove the little snob into overload than no one needed to tell Blaster, especially when he arched his back in a blatant presentation of himself, optics white and mouth wide. 

"Mmmmmh~ Round two?" Tracks asked after a moment, straining up towards Soundwave with a groan, mistaking the still hard spike for being real. So Soundwave shrugged and went with it. 

All the better to put on a show for his maestro~

Chapter Text

After a few rounds of snorting, laughing and genuinely acting like sparklings, Rodimus got himself onto the berth, panels open and dripping even though he and Drift had been giggling for the last few minutes and he bit his lower lip, trying to look contrite. 

"So do I call you master or…?" and Drift just laughed at that before waving Rodimus into his lap and nodding, pressing a servo onto his aft, digits circling his captain’s spike and tugging until those giggles became dreamy sighs of want. 

"Sure, call me master!" And Drift was giggling again, rolling them onto the berth, kissing his lover deeply, grinding their spikes together as Rodimus moaned into his mouth, petting his helm finials gently even as their grinding gained speed and force, pleasure jumping up and down their frames.

And all the while Roddy moaned out “master! Master!” both of their overloads coming with a laugh, both apologizing profusely through their moans, transfluid slicking the space between them thoroughly, panting into each other’s mouths. 

"Mmmm I think you suck at this dom thing, Drift."

"Not as much as you suck at this sub thing~"

"Wanna do it again?"


Chapter Text

Whirl needed the anger. 

Which is why he didn’t scoop up the little psychiatrist and whisk him off. Why he didn’t buy him drinks and try to listen when he talked, why he didn’t trace that one seam on Rung’s thigh that was wider than the others with the tip of his claw. Why he didn’t reach up to take those glasses away from his face, tracing a claw over the seam of his lips. 

But he dreamed sometimes, dreamed of that cute face flushed with want, helping his claws stay gentle, kissing the extended kibble of his chest, rocking into his valve with gentle thrusts that made Rung whisper out soft “ah”s over Whirl’s more bombastic shouting at having his ceiling node exploited as such. 

But he needed the rage and that didn’t include pretty little head shrinks with nice smiles and funny jokes. 

All that included was wanting from afar and feeling the rage grow ever more as he couldn’t have it all for himself. 

Chapter Text

Sunstreaker truly knew not with which he fragged when he’d said Bluestreak didn’t have it in him to top. 

Because here he was now, arms tied over his helm, legs opened up and bound in a kneeling position, holding Sunny on top of a thick, false spike, unable to move at all, unable to see through the blind fold Blue had put on him, trying to arch into that Praxian’s teasing servo. 

And all the while Blue spoke. He talked about how pretty Sunny looked, how much he wanted to frag him, be fragged by him, how good he looked moaning and oh if only Sunny could see himself, see the way he strained and wanted. 

But it wasn’t enough, even if he could hear Blue self servicing, even if he wanted one of them to do something, the thrumming pleasure just wasn’t enough to finally tip him over and he almost begged for completion before Blue overloaded himself, the feeling of transfluid splashing over his abdomen. 

And then he heard Blue chuckle and sigh, a kiss being placed on his lips. “Want more?”

Chapter Text

There was something to be said for the supply closet on the fifth floor that didn’t have a camera in it. What could be said was that is was a perfect place for Sideswipe to drag Bluestreak, groping his door wings and aft the entire way up, both of them tumbling into the darkness with a laugh and soft moans. 

Sides lifted the smaller Praxian up off the ground, gripping his aft and kissing him silly, listening to Blue try to talk around the glossa in his mouth, laughing softly as they tried to stifle their moans. There wasn’t a lot of time before they were discovered after all. 

They were supposed to be on monitor duty after all. 

But soon Sides was deep in Blue’s valve, making that motor mouth run for a different reason, moans and whines falling from his lips, overload building in their frames to an explosive finish, Blue crying out happily, Sides biting at his neck cables to stifle his own cries of completion. 

And then Prowl opened the door. 

"You’re late for your duties. Get to work." 

Chapter Text

This was how they worked. They fought and scratched and gouged at each other but none of that was welcome in the berth. Their berth. 

No, here it was a truce, no matter how angry they got. This was the place where Starscream would happily give into the larger mech’s will, where Megatron would listen to Starscream’s wants and concerns. Where they could kiss and touch, where Megatron could hold his second in command down on the berth and thrust in deep. 

Outside this room it was different, always fighting for dominance, biting and scratching. But this was where they could be equals, Starscream’s screeching voice catching on each thrust, Megatron kissing away those cries before they could break the moment. 

Here they could just pretend they didn’t hate each other as much as they’d grown to, they could pretend the last few million years never happened and they were at the beginning when they could frag and talk and be in more rooms together. 

But this worked, even when the sound of Megatron’s name on Starscream’s dark lips was tinged with an odd sorrow. 

Chapter Text

Half the fun of fragging together was the playlist they put together before, Jazz grinning down at his lover from his position over his spike, rocking his hips to the rhythm of the slow salsa coming from Blaster’s speakers, groaning at the translated vibration falling up and down the music mech’s spike. Blaster grinned back, gasping. 

This was the game, lasting to the end of the playlist, the changing tempos making them moan loudly in harmony when Blaster took over the rhythm of a quick, snapping pop song, holding his lover’s hips in his servos, rocking up into each down beat, making Jazz cry out loudly. 

But the slow, rolling tango always undid them, Jazz pressing down till Blaster’s spike hit his ceiling node, grinding his hips in sinuous motions that made them both clench at whatever they could, Blaster’s lips at his lover’s headlights, nibbling at the seams while the saboteur used his servos for leverage, slamming himself down as the song ended, signalling the time for them to overload.

And they wouldn’t stop rocking until silence fell over them, panting into each other’s mouths and shaking as the music bled from their bodies, slumping back onto the berth and panting.

"Mmm we should add to that playlist~"


Chapter Text

Sometimes Rung had flashes of a smile. 

He remembered things like haze shadows, a bright smile and curved yellow optics, he would remember flashes of servos on his helm, lips on his own and being compelled to touch. But he was sure it didn’t mean anything really. 

Even if he could swear he knew those optics, knew the phantom touch that seemed to repel him and make him moan against his will. He wondered if they were twisted recharge fantasies of being forced onto his knees to suck an unfamiliar spike, being bent over a desk he couldn’t make out the details for. At least, he hoped they were fantasies. 

"Rung, we’d like to introduce you to Trepan, he recently came to work with us." 

And at the sight of those optics, that smile, Rung felt dread and pain well up in him, nausea swirling as Trepan touched his shoulder and promised how much they’d enjoy working together. 

Something told him Trepan already knew. 

Chapter Text

Prowl crossed his legs in a slow arc, watching Shockwave move his piece across the board, the wired laid across the table the only signal to their hardline as they played. And play they did. 

Shockwave sent an image of the Praxian on his dorsa spread over the game board, taking his massive spike in deep, moaning loudly, drool falling from his lips. But Prowl refused to be flustered. He hummed in thought, sending along his own imaginings of having his digits buried in the larger mech’s valve, making that deep voice crack on its cries of passion. 

But Shockwave barely budged, despite the mutual rise of their charge. The scientist was backed into a corner in their game, however, but he would soon work his way out. He imagined the Praxian’s cold voice choking on moans, sucking on a too large spike while Prowl thought abut grinding his own leaking valve against that giant optic, overloading all over the other’s proverbial face. 

Cooling fans whined, chassis rumbled, engines revved, but neither mech budged as they assaulted each other with image after image, the game in a perpetual stalemate until Prowl finally triumphed and overloaded on the overly large packet of static Shockwave sent while the scientist choked back his own noise of pleasure at the feed back. 

"A good game."


Chapter Text

Rung swallowed sharply at the sight of those claws on his thighs, excitement and trepidation sliding up and down his spinal struts. He was well and truly bound, the handcuffs rattling as he arched into that oddly precise touch. And the psychiatrist wondered what Whirl’s original hands were like. 

But for now those pincers looked to sharp against his thin plating, tracing seams as that optic focused on his face, taking in all his reactions. The tips moved over his hips, the hinge coming to pinch at his aft lightly, the broad sides sliding over his chest and panels till Rung opened up with a blush, spike and valve exposed much to Whirl’s glee. 

He didn’t use his claws there though, instead rubbing his wrists along wither side of his spire in the oddest hand job Rung had ever experienced, the bright, shining metal in the air as Whirl absorbed his reactions, his soft, breathy sounds, rapt attention focused on the little, trembling non-combatant. 

And when he overloaded it was all over those claws, splattering them with his transfluid before they were held out to him, and he licked them clean, smiling shyly at Whirl’s shudder of joy. 

Chapter Text

"I know you can’t do this with your flimsy little Autobots~" Starscream purred from his place across Optimus’ knees, aft wriggling, blue thrusters kicking as he leaned up to get that large servo to come down on that cherry red plating. "They can’t take it like I can, can they, Optimus Prime~" 

The Prime didn’t answer, bringing his servo down hard on that aft, making that screeching voice crack on a cry. And he continued from there, Starscream squirming and gasping, white hot pain spreading through his aft and thighs, lubricant gathering at the seams of his panel, cooling fans coming on in full blast to mirror the sound that Optimus’ made. 

He squealed as a particularly hard smack jimmied his valve panel open, the next hit landing on his valve square in the center, making the seeker cry out in bliss and want, mouth open wide, begging for the Prime to bury himself in his heat, to frag him so hard, to make him think twice about blatantly presenting his aft to him again. Instead he got digits, his talons digging into Optimus’ thigh hard, rocking back onto them with frenzied need. 

He moaned loudly, red optics flashing, a grin on his face as he overloaded, reveling in Optimus’ rumbling engine, the pure want in those blue optics, the need in that field. He made sure to scream the Prime’s name as loud as he could, lubricant dripping to the floor in a cascade of pleasure before Optimus tugged him up and dropped him onto that spike. 

Mmmm, talk about your peace negotiations~

Chapter Text

Youngwave/Burst. Love me, Tease me


Neither one of them had really done this before. 

Which made it all the more exciting. Soundwave’s violet optics roaming curiously over the seeker whose lap he perched on, gently tracing seams and the edges of his wings. He kept his touch light, soft, trying hard not to press too much because he’s so unsure of his servos and his digits and he shakes a little in anticipation and nervousness. 

But Burst leans up for these sweet kisses that make him think of candied treats and warm energon and that takes the nervousness away, servos clasping his shoulders, gasping softly into his mouth when servos that don’t belong to him come up to trace his dorsa and legs, making him quake. 

Then Burst kissed his feeler and it was all over but the crying. He gasped softly, arching up, murmuring soft words of praise as the other mech stared for a moment in confusion before smiling brightly and continuing to dote kisses and licks along the length, making the most embarrassing noises jump from Soundwave’s throat. 

Primus, how could he ask for more? And there was more! So much more to be done but this was good for now, even as he unconsciously ground down against Burst, both servos flying to his mouth to stifle those noises, optics shuttering at the pleasure of it all. 


Blaster/Youngwave. Kink Me


It had, ultimately, been Soundwave’s idea. 

He came to Blaster with a tray of small energon cubes, grinning shyly and offering them up. And he soon found himself on the berth, blushing brightly as Blaster arranged those little cubes, along his torso and frame, gently lifting them with his dentae to drink them down, licking up the remnants carefully so they’d never get in the seams. 

And Soundwave was perfectly responsive the whole time, squirming and gasping and blushing the lower his older lover got, laughing when seams were tickled by an expert glossa. He moaned and crooned for each little touch, arching into Blaster’s lips, squealing when he licked over his closed panels.

"We don’t have ta go farther if ya don’t want," Blaster offered and Soundwave pulled him up for a needy kiss, practically trembling. 

"Show me everything…" he moaned, taking one of those little cubes and pouring it over his now open panel, watching Blaster’s optics dim with barely restrained want. And that made him shiver even more. Made him shake with want. 

So when that helm descended back down between his legs he squealed, clearly having found something he truly enjoyed. 


{Grope Me/Lick Me/Bite Me - Pred!Blaster/Pred!Soundwave} 


To anyone else, it would look like two beasts fighting, clawing and scratching, slamming each other to the ground as they bit at neck cables and lapped at plating. But, truly, it was competition. 

Soundwave would grab at Blaster’s wings and Blaster would twist and pin his legs to the ground. They bit and clawed at each other, roars of pleasure being caught in each others mouths as they rolled over each other, licking and caressing as they clawed and bit. 

Spikes met valves in alternating passes, never staying long enough to make either overload, but long enough to stoke their passion. They growled out each other’s names, Blaster pinning Soundwave’s chest to the ground, biting the back of his neck and pressing in hard. 

And from there it was roaring and yowling, the movement of heated bodies trying to merge together in an overload that would keep Blaster’s knot in Soundwave for days, sending them into their heats repeatedly until the magic wore off and they were normal again. 

But that wouldn’t keep them from licking each other clean. 


Bryce/Seb. Tease me, Dominate Me, Love Me (Humanformer Blaster/Soundwave)


The leather boots were hot. And, no, Seb had not told Bryce where he’d gotten them but it wasn’t as though Bryce really cared. Not when he had his lover naked but for those boots, kneeling on his chest, holding him down and a hand wrapped around his cock. Hell, Seb could have every thing if he never stopped. 

"Tell me, darling," Seb purred, "who this belongs to exactly~" He ran his free hand over his own chest, tugging at one of the nipple piercings and moaning softly, arching up and letting go of his lover in one motion. 

"Yours~" Bryce breathed, groaning, wanting the touch back even as Seb leaned down, moving his legs out from under him, down along his sides to bracket Bryce’s hips. He was soon caught in a long kiss, Seb’s ass grinding back against his cock, making him moan into the bite of his piercings. 

And suddenly he was inside, eyes open wide and gasping, whole body shaking even as Seb groaned as well. “Tease~” Bryce accused, moaning, “ya stretched out b-before we started!” 

And Seb only smirked, kissing him hard before pushing himself up with one hand, making sure Bryce was focused only on him. “Happy anniversary, love~” And then, he started moving. 


Merformer Soundwave/Blaster. Kink me TW: BLOOD KINK


Blaster gasped loudly, spines flaring out as one of those sharp fangs cut across his protoform, a long tongue sliding out to clean the small wound, his mate moaning at the taste coating his mouth, swallowing the small amount of blood down with a toothy grin. 

Their tails curled about each other, pheromones and blood tainting the scent of the water around them, riling up their inner predators as they ground against each other, claws raking down scales and metal, coming up to be licked by Blaster who moaned, leaning up for blood filled kisses as his spike met his lover’s female sex, pressing in deep.

They rutted against each other wildly, groaning and moaning, scouring cuts and bruises and letting their scent drift about, snarling growls and mewling cries filling their lair until the final explosion of their orgasms taking them over the edge. 

"Mmmh, I gotta let ya talk me inta this kinda thing more often."


Tracks/Chargeburst Use Me


Burst had said he wanted to learn and there was no better teacher in the universe than Tracks. The noble grinned at the eager young mech, stretched over his berth for him to play with and enjoy. He practically purred, nibbling along the length of his torso, tsking at Burst when he moved too much or tried to get away. 

He was careful, working the seeker up, enjoying each reaction, smiling brightly as his young lover moaned and sighed into each touch. Of course, it stroked his ego as well, knowing he could still make mechs swoon while barely doing anything. 

"And you see, Burst," he murmured, "that is how a good waxing can be especially intimate~" He followed the polishing cloth with his mouth, grinning at the glinting brightness of the younger mech’s plating. 

After all, if he and Burst were going to frag, then he expected the younger mech to look his best.