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Exhibitionism My Aft!

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Drift would be lying if he said he hadn't been looking forward to this. Swerves little parties were slowly becoming his favorite activity, and socializing while a bit overcharged was his most favorite. Being surrounded by so many friends and collogues was so freeing, and getting the chance to unwind was so rare that Drift took every opportunity he could get to relax.

Rodimus always was a big help in that department. Where ever there was a good party Rodimus would never be too far behind. He was a mech that liked to have fun, live in the moment, and Drift always admired that.

Rodimus’ ability to hold his charge was also admirable.

“Rodimus I think you should slow down,” Drift said with a laugh as he watched Rodimus down another shot.

“Slow down? Are you kidding? The party just started!” The hot rod cheered and banged the bar for Swerve to pour him another drink. The mini seemed just as amused by the young bots antics as Drift was.

“Exactly. Shouldn’t you pace yourself then? At this rate you’ll end up on the floor and I’ll have to carry your drunk aft back to your room,” Drift mused as he sipped his own drink. The highgrade sent a charge down his intake and settled warmly in his tanks.

“Pssh Drift you should know me by now. My tolerance is through the roof,” Rodimus declared with no small amount of grander, gesturing to himself with a flourish.

“Hmm I’m beginning to wonder if you really can hold as much as you say,” Drift mused, smirking at the hot rods irked expression. “Afterall, considering your age—“

“My age has nothing to do with it! Experience baby. Experience outweighs any age gap and I can prove it! Just look at Cyclonus over there.”

Rodimus gestured to the purple mech. A grand warrior, but notoriously bad at holding his ‘grade, he already looked like a tired cybercat ready for a nap in the sun despite Tailgates attempts to get the big mech up and moving.

Drift laughed, “It’s because he’s a flier. That proves nothing.”

Rodimus huffed and swung back another shot. That was his fourth.

“Well fine, but I’m still no lightweight! Four shots in and I’m barely buzzed.”

Drift chuckled over the rim of his glass at their lighthearted banter. Rodimus thrived on this type of interaction and Drift had no idea why, although Drift didn’t really have anything to complain about. It was funny to see what would come out of that ridiculous mech’s mouth.

“I never said you were a lightweight, Rodimus. I’m merely saying that if you don’t slow down I won’t be able to keep up with you.”

Rodimus perked at that and slung his arm around his friends shoulder.

“Aw man. You’re, like, totally right. I’ll leave you in the dust at this rate,” Rodimus said with mock sincerity. “Maybe you should drink a few more? You know, so we’re even. If you can handle it. I mean, I know you probably can’t do too much, but hey! It’s a party right?”

Drift rolled his optics and decided to play along. He downed his second drink, and gave another optic roll as Rodimus clapped in approval. Honestly Drift had no idea where the idea he was a prude came from. He used to be a ‘Con for Primus sake. Why everyone thought he was obstinate from any vice was beyond him. In fact he rather liked being overcharged.

This always seemed to go unnoticed by Rodimus.

“There ya go! That’s how you live a little.”

“Rodimus I can have fun you know.”

Now it was Rodimus’ turn to snort as he said, “You? Fun? Are you kidding me?”

Drift paused with his third drink pressed to his lips. He set it down with a frown and said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seeming to sense the mood change, Rodimus’ finials drooped slightly as he tried to save himself.

“Well, uh. Not that you aren’t fun, it’s just that, well, you seem kinda like you don’t like to be spontaneous or anything.”

Drift rose an optic ridge at that.

“Surely you're joking. I can be plenty spontaneous if I chose.”

“See that’s the thing. If you chose to be. Pit I’ve been your buddy forever now and I haven’t seen anything super surprising coming from you…Not that that’s a bad thing!” Rodimus quickly added. “You’re a cool mech. You don’t have to be as wild and crazy as Whirl for me to notice that.”

Drift frowned as he sipped his grade. The liquid tasted sour now. Had he really devolved to the point where he was, dare he say it, boring? He had never really considered himself to be the life of any party, but for some reason knowing that Rodimus found him boring was a real blow to his pride. Sure he didn’t want to try and dance ontop of a table but surely he was more fun than Rodimus was making him out to be.

“You…you think I’m boring?”

“Well…uh…kinda? But not in a bad way! You’re calm and cool, and I like that about you. Not everyone can be up to my level of fun,” Rodimus added with a playful nudge, but Drift was still salty.

Never once in his life had Drift felt that he was boring. Calm and cool—like Rodimus had said—sure, but never boring. The overwhelming sense to prove the hot rod wrong was nagging at him, and he ignored his friend’s attempt to start another conversation in order to look around the bar.

What would Rodimus never expect from him? And, better yet, what would prove to this lovable idiot that Drift could be spontaneous and interesting?

His optics landed on the full dance floor, and spotting his opportunity, Drift downed his entire drink in a few gulps before turning to Rodimus deadpanned.

“Wanna dance?”

“And then I was—wait what?”

Drift looked Rodimus in the optic and repeated, “I said, do you wanna dance?”

Rodimus blinked in a cutely blank look for a moment, and then responded with, “Aw Drift…is this cause I called you boring?”

“Yes. Wanna dance?”

Rodimus gaped like a confused sharkicon as Drift grabbed the red mechs wrist and drug him from his stool to the crowded dance floor. Many mechs were already enjoying the harsh sound of the music Swerve was playing and were enjoying themselves. The mass of moving bodies made the heat rise to uncomfortable temperatures, but that didn’t deter Drift as he pulled Rodimus close next to him.

Drift flashed the confused mech a smirk before he started his own movements with the beat. Granted Drift wasn’t the best dancer, but he could certainly hold a rhythm, and he playfully nudged the side of his hip against Rodimus to goad him into dancing.

The red mech laughed, shaking his helm, but admitted defeat and started dancing as well. Drift grinned, feeling successful that he had at least surprised him, and did his best to dance with him.

While most mechs could handle a beat, Rodimus owned the beat. Once he got a groove going he was a flurry of energy and movement that had Drift mesmerized. The harsh lighting glittered so beautifully against the mechs bright red flames, and Drift caught his optics wandering more than once as they started to genuinely dance together.

Drift has had a few dance partners in the past, but none compared to Rodimus. It was as if Rodimus was dancing with him. It was an odd thought, but the more Drift watched Rodimus move he realized that any old dance partner he had in the past didn’t compare. They may as well of been simply dancing next to him instead. Rodimus’ movements left room for Drift to include himself, and he happily did so. It was a more intimate and close way of dancing that Drift found himself quickly being entranced by.

As they danced, Drift noticed another heat that was creeping up on him. It was a heat that had nothing to do with the actual temperature of the room. Drift couldn’t take his optics off of Rodimus as said mech dipped really low and rolled his hips in a way that was so perfectly sinful, that it had Drifts mouth watering.

How had he never noticed how attractive Rodimus was? Sure he could admit that Rodimus was good looking, but seeing him like this, with coolant glistening on his plating and lights flickering across the soft lines of his face, was making Drift all hot and bothered. Maybe it was the highgrade talking, but Rodimus looked absolutely fragable.

They locked optics and Drift felt his spark shudder. Rodimus’ bright blue optics sparkled with a mischief that Drift had never seen before. Rodimus smiled, biting his lower lip and Drift suddenly wondered what those lips tasted like.

A scrape against his side snapped him away from those inviting optics. Glancing down, Drift noticed how close their hips were. Rodimus’ body would occasionally inch closer to his own, and their plating would scrape just light enough for it to register. Now that he was aware of it, though, each scrape sent a jolt of electricity tingling up Drifts spinal strut. The motions were so tiny that they seemed unintentional, but one look back at Rodimus’ playful optics told Drift that they were very much on purpose.

Curiously, Drift did a move of his own. Taking a step forward, he brushed the sides of their thighs together in a way that could not be misinterpreted. It was intentional, and he watched Rodimus’ face for any sort of negative reaction. The reaction he found was far from negative. Rodimus’ smile seemed to broaden with pure delight, and Rodimus, in turn, leaned forward to brush their chassis together.

The dance changed from dancing with each other to dancing for each other. Each movement Rodimus made intentionally brushed their bodies together and Drift found himself falling into the rhythm that Rodimus set. A brush here, a sudden touch there. It was strange that Drift had never really experienced this before. It was such an intimate thing to be touching another mech like this, and yet Rodimus was doing it so casually.

Drift thought he had more self control than this, but he was completely and utterly charmed.

Suddenly the music shifted to something with a harder beat, and Rodimus turned with his back facing Drift. At first Drift thought he was being suddenly ignored, but one quick look from Rodimus from over his shoulder quelled that thought. This was another part of the game they were playing, and Drift seized the opportunity that was presented to him.

Drift slid his hands down Rodimus’ sides and rested them on his thin hips. The metal there was so smooth and soft that Drift couldn’t resist giving it a squeeze and he relished in how the metal gave under his fingers.

He swore he heard Rodimus laugh over the harsh thrum of the music. Drift felt emboldened, and he pulled the hot rod’s body back firmly against his. His chassis pressed into Rodimus’ little winglets, and Drift couldn’t resist pressing his bulging modesty plate right into the swell of Rodimus’ aft.

Rodimus reacted exactly as Drift assumed he would. Rodimus did another sinful little hip roll and pressed further back into Drift, and the resulting pressure against his straining panel made Drift see stars. This was dirty, this was absolutely naughty, and despite the burning energon that rose to Drifts cheeks he couldn’t bother himself to care. Especially not when Rodimus started bumping and grinding back against him all while somehow managing to keep in sync with the music.

Rodimus pressed firmly back against Drifts paneling, and Drift couldn’t hold in a low moan. Whether or not Rodimus could hear, Drift couldn’t tell, but he smirked at Rodimus’ cheeky nature and returned the favor by openly mouthing at Rodimus’ delicate neck cables. The hot rod leaned his helm back, giving Drift full access, and even reached up to lightly finger Drifts sensitive finials.

The sensory shock of having the tips of his finials tweaked made Drift falter. Just having warm air being blown on his finials usually made Drift an over responsive mess, but this? This made his panel throb and his knees weak, and Rodimus knew it. The cheeky devil deserved the sudden bite to his neck, and Drift felt satisfied when he felt Rodimus gasp.

“Still think I’m boring?” Drift growled into Rodimus audial, and he felt more than heard Rodimus laugh.

Rodimus turned so that he could purr directly into Drifts audial, “Boring? You’re getting better with that. But that’s not the real question you should be asking, eh? What you should be asking is ‘wanna get outta here and frag like beastmodes?’.”

Drift nearly choked on his own intake. That was bold even for Rodimus, but the look in the fiery mechs optic was hungry and uncaring of their circumstance or surroundings. It made Drift’s spike throb.

“Who said he have to go anywhere?” Drift found himself asking. He didn’t even know what he meant by that exactly, but he was willing to improvise. Having Rodimus’ hot aft against his modesty plating was doing all sorts of things to his processing power. The only thing that made sense was the heady beat of the music and the constant grinding of their metal.

Rodimus turned to his then, his optics alight with mischief, and he threw his arms around Drifts shoulders as he said, “Oh? Drift—baby—what in Primus’ name are you suggesting?”

His spark leapt into his intakes and drifts optics darted every which way, trying to search for what he ‘was suggesting’. Truth be told he had no idea, but the desire to both impress and surprise Rodimus was stronger than his modesty, and as his optics landed on an unoccupied table he was struck with an idea. It was an idea that would likely land them both in Magnus’ office.

“How about that table?” Drift gestured to it with his optics, and as Rodimus followed his line of sight the hot rod let out a manic chuckle.

“Oh…Drift you naughty boy!” He laughed as if that was the raunchiest thing he’d ever heard from the usually calm bot—and it probably was. Drift was appalled at his own behavior, but the thrumming in his spark drowned out any inhibitions his conscious was trying to tell him.

Rodimus took a hold of Drifts hands and led him across the dance floor. Drift’s peds felt heavy as he followed, and he swallowed a thick lump in his intake. This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea, but Drift didn’t have any more time to dwell on it as Rodimus reversed their positions and shoved Drift roughly back onto the table once they reached it.

The surface felt like ice under Drifts heated plating, and he felt the energon rush to his cheeks as Rodimus loomed above him.

“R-Rodimus?” It was significantly quieter over here, and Drift was thankful for not having to yell.

“What? You think you’re the only one who can be a tease? You’ve done enough. It’s time to let the master show you how to really let loose,” Rodimus said as he smoothly parted Drifts thighs and stood between them.

“You’ve come far my student,” Rodimus continued and let his fingertips graze over Drifts warped panel, “but now it is time for me to take the reins.”

“You plan on spiking me?” Drift asked with both brows raised.

“Yup.”

“You don’t think I have the ball bearings to spike you?”

“Nope.”

“Rodimus!”

The hot rod grinned and leaned down to give Drift a lusty kiss.

“Don’t take it personally,” he mumbled against Drifts lips. “I want you to really let loose and have fun, and we can’t do that if you decide your morals don’t agree with fragging in public.”

Drift knew he was pouting. Rodimus always brought out his childish side.

“I won’t back out Rodimus,” he assured. Fraggit this was supposed to be about him proving Rodimus wrong.

“Yeah well we’ll just save it for next time,” Rodimus said matter-of-factly and descended down Drift’s body.

Drifts intakes hitched as he felt Rodimus glossa swipe up his panel, and the sudden burst of electricity made his hips jump.

“I’m gonna take care of you, make you overload so hard you offline, and then we can talk about you getting a turn.”

Despite the still too loud music, Drift had the urge to stifle himself as Rodimus subjected him to more long swipes with his glossa. He could feel the trails of cooling lubricant on his hot panel, and the sensation made him wish he could close his thighs.

“P-Primus! Rodimus how overcharged are you?”

Rodimus laughed against his paneling and scraped his teeth across the thin metal.

“Just enough Baby,” he countered as he grabbed a tight hold on Drift’s thighs.

His interfacing protocols had come online long ago, but now the pings in his HUD were becoming insistent. Each swipe of Rodimus’ glossa made the requests harder to ignore, and the excitement of their situation didn’t help. Were mechs watching? They weren’t being very discrete, so even a well distracted mech might notice eventually. Oh Primus what would the mechs think as they watch Rodimus go to town between Drifts legs? And a better question was how would Drift be able to look anyone in the optic after this?

Drift’s panel snapped back and revealed his inflamed valve to the cool air of the room and to Rodimus’ hot exhale.

“Oh Primus….You have a pretty valve,” Rodimus said with a laugh.

Before Drift could chide, Rodimus wrapped his lips around his sensitive node and gave it a gentle suck. The contact was just enough to light up Drifts entire frame, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

He whined and arched his back as Rodimus swirled his glossa. Who knew Rodimus would be so talented at this? Drift knew of Rodimus’ more….promiscuous nature, but he had no idea Rodimus could be so lewd. His glossa moved in a practiced way and it was obvious Rodimus was neither disgusted by eating out a valve or perturbed by it in any way. He went at it with gusto, his chin even pressing into the folds of Drifts valve as he got more into it.

As Drifts frame tensed with a fast approaching overload Drift was overcome with a feeling of selfconsciousness. He'd wanted to hide his face from whoever might be watching and maybe even crawl into a hole for good measure. Was Rodimus really about to make him overload in front of all of these other mechs?

Suddenly the sensation was gone leaving Drift charged up and over sensitive to the cold air of the bar. Drift opened his optics and hazily looked down at Rodimus.

The hotrod stood and practically loomed over him. Drift’s engine revved as he saw what was undoubtedly his own lubricant on Rodimus’ lips, and as Rodimus leaned in close Drift felt dizzy from the smell of how own musk.

“See? I can be a tease too,” Rodimus said with a laugh knowing full well that his teasing was far worse that Drift’s had been.

Drift groaned as Rodimus kissed him and smeared his lubricant between their glossa. It reminded drift of his days on the Decepticon side, where being dirty and lewd was a day to day thing. ‘Cons had less cares about such things, but being around Autobots for so long made Drift sensitive to such a disgusting display of primal hunger, and his body reacted by making his valve gush a new batch of lubricant that he felt begin to leak down his aft.

His fingers scrambled for purchase on Rodimus back as Rodimus ground his still closed panel up against Drifts entire array. His legs found their way around Rodimus hips on their own, and he suddenly didn’t care that he was in public. Was he still selfconscious? Yes very much so, but the threat of being reprimanded or being watched excited him beyond the point of caring. Rodimus’s skilled mouth fragged the uncertainty right out of him, and as Rodimus’ panel opened and his spike nudged at Drifts valve he arched his back and welcomed the intrusion.

Drift parted their kiss to groan against Rodimus’ lips. The other mechs spike was more endowed than Drift had previously imagined, and he suddenly regretted not having been able to get a good look at it first. Knowing Rodimus it was probably painted just as brightly as his body paint.

“Oh Primus,” He gasped as Rodimus started shallowly thrusting. Whether or not it was to hide the fact that they were actually fragging or not, Drift wasn’t sure, but he also didn’t care. The stimulation was exactly what his needy valve was craving and the tamer pace meant that his sensitive node didn’t get abused too quickly.

“Yeah, Baby you like that?” Rodimus practically purred into Drifts audial, making Drift give a breathless laugh.

“I can’t believe we’re doing thi-this in Swerves bar. M-Magnus is going to kill us both,” he replied with a low whine as Rodimus’ spike hit a good spot just right.

“Heh yeah,” Rodimus said as he openly mouthed at Drifts neck cables again. “But it’s worth it. Come on you can’t lie to me and say you're not getting off on all the mechs watching us.”

Drifts spark suddenly leapt into his intakes.

“No one’s actually watching right?””

That made Rodimus laugh.

“Of course they are,” he said and gestured with his helm.

Drift hated himself for looking. He was better off not knowing just how many pairs of optics he saw looking in their direction. Both his spark and his valve clenched in both fear and arousal as mechs he knew, mechs he worked with closely, were openly watching him getting fragged on a bar table. Some of which were merely 20ft away.

“O-Oh Primus.”

“Oh Primus is right baby, they can’t keep their optics off you,” Rodimus chuckled, uncaring as always about people’s opinions. “And who could blame them? You look so good spread under me. Frag have I ever told you that your slagging gorgeous?”

That comment would have to be saved for a later conversation, because Rodimus suddenly picked up the pace and Drift found it hard to make any sort of comeback. His processor muddied and while he had to admit that this was very arousing, he was still clear enough to know that it was arousing because it was dangerous. Not in the sense of that he might be attacked like this, no it was dangerous because there were just so many optics on him.

He couldn’t tear his own optics away even as a slew of thrusts from Rodimus made him a groaning mess. He couldn’t stop the gasps and yells that came from his mouth and his cheeks burned with shame because he knew that the mechs closest to them could probably hear him. His optics fluttered, and he swore he heard someone hoot at them.

“S-Slag Rodimus! Slow down,” he said inbetween gasps as he gripped Rodimus’ back so hard he was sure he was leaving dents. His overload was coming up on him fast.

“Frag I can’t,” Rodimus said with a low groan in his audial. “You’re valve is too damn good.”

Drift wasn’t sure who overloaded first, slag they maybe even ‘loaded at the same time, but when it hit him he clutched onto Rodimus and bucked into the sensation of Rodimus filling him with his transfluid. Rodimus must have reservoirs or something because the amount that came out felt like too much, but it felt like that in the best possible way.

All in all the whole frag probably didn’t take that long, but it felt like they’d been fragging for hours. Drift was unbelievably sated but the throbbing in his valve said he could go again if Rodimus was so inclined.

They exchanged sloppy kisses through their overloaded haze, but Drifts acute audials picked up approaching footsteps. They were loud and large, and for a moment Drift was certain that someone was just walking by, that is until he heard a very audible clearing of an intake.

Rodimus was the first to look up. Drift still felt too out of it to really care who was speaking to them until he heard the other mechs voice.

“Drift, Rodimus, in my office. Now,” It was Magnus. Literally the worst possible mech to approach them while they were still buried spike deep in each other.

“Hey Mags!” Rodimus greeted with cheer up at the disgruntled mech. “Enjoying the party?”

Magnus’ optic twitched and Drift sore he though it looked like Magnus was trying to not look at where they were joined.

“Rodimus I am not amused. Make….Make yourselves decent and you will be coming with me right this instant.”

Rodimus pouted and Drift wondered if Rodimus knew what the word awkward meant as he said, “Aw come on Magnus. Do you have to kill my buzz so early? We’re barely even done.”

Drift wondered if his new hole in the ground would be spacious. He hoped so. He hated cramped spaces.

“Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus said with no small amount of threat. “You will come with me now and face the consequences of being indecent in public or I will forcibly remove both you and Drift and throw you both into the brig until further notice.”

“Okay okay, geez. At least it was fun while it lasted,” Rodimus said and gave drift a wide grin.

“I hate you so much,” Drift said, his mind now clear and full of horror at his own actions. But the throbbing in his valve certainly did a good job of dampening his guilt though. He’d never say it aloud, especially with Magnus standing right there, but damn it actually had been fun. Sure no one would ever let him live this down but it paved a way for Drift to want to explore this feeling further. Maybe next time they would be a bit sneakier with it.

Drift’s grin suddenly matched Rodimus’ as he pictured them fragging in Magnus’ office. He’d tell Rodimus about it later, because he had a feeling Ultra Magnus was going to be chewing their afts out for the better part of next century.