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The Disk

Chapter Text

It was the label that grabbed his attention.  He picked it up to examine it more closely.  It looked no different to the others.  Small and black with nicely printed glyphs on the side.  Nothing unusual.  He didn’t often find many interesting reads on these small disks.  It was usually statistical data.  Very boring.  However, on the odd occasion he had uncovered some useful information.  Tonight, he thought, was one of those nights.

Curiosity threatened to boil over as Brainstorm quickly subspaced his treasure and made his way out of his rivals lab - remembering to carefully lock the door behind him.  As he entered his own he was bouncing on his pedes, a sinful smile under his faceplate.  So why would Perceptor label the disk “DRIFT?" 

Could it be some kind of anagram, a code name perhaps to a huge breakthrough in science?  The label may have been an attempt to confuse, to keep safe from sabotage attempts.  OK, that sounds kind of stupid…  Who would want to steal his research anyway?  Oh yeah.   

Wingtips quivering with barely contained anticipation Brainstorm shoved the disk into his drive.  He strummed his digits idly on his bench top.  There were a lot of files on this disk, all with quite peculiar names.  Shrugging he clicked open the first one.

It was a video.   The scene was of a very dimly lit room.  The camera was focused in on an extra large recharge slab in the center, where to Brainstorms astonishment, lounged Drift.  He was lying in a very seductive manner.  He looked quite different to what he did now.  No swords, a lot less armor and no fraction symbol.  Younger looking.  Although, he still appeared every inch as curvy and enticing.  If you were into that sort of thing of course.  Brainstorm had no particular interest for sports car models, however, what he was seeing in front of him now certainly begged for his consideration.

As he watched another mech entered the room.  The mech looked larger than Drift and a bit boxer in frame.  He immediately crouched between Drifts legs and stated caressing his inner thighs.  Drift let out a theatrical wine and spread his legs further apart letting his helm fall backwards.  The larger mech started to slowly lick his way up his thigh panel towards his pelvic region.  The camera then focused in on Drifts panel opening and…

Brainstorm sat up quickly.  What the frag?  He clicked out of the file and scanned the rest.  They all had – now that he had a good look at them – very scandalizing titles.  “Wet in the Washracks”... “Bound in the Berth”, “Imminent Interface”…  Oh for the love of Primus…  What was Perceptor doing with a large stack of porn?  And of none other than the TIC himself!

After much internal debate, Brainstorm came to the conclusion he needed to view all the contents on this disk.  Just to make sure there was no hidden research of course. 

Well he had nothing else planned for tonight…


Chapter Text

The water rained down, splattering onto overheated plating.  Drift stood sprawled against the wall.  His thighs parted in invitation.  He quivered as large digits caressed the impossibly strong appendages and slowly made their way up to his pelvic region.  A tongue whipped out and lavished the panel until an unmistakable click slid the plating aside to reveal a glistening valve.  Kneeling the nameless mech began to devour his meal.  Drifts soft mews turned into a loud moan as he tried to find grip on the slippery surface of the washrack wall.

Brainstorm panted.  He shifted position again.  One hand worked over his spike, alternating between slow tenuous strokes to vigorous rubbing.  Every now and then he squeezed the tip and braced his free servo on his desk beside the monitor.  Oh Primus Drift.

The mech’s tongue circled round Drift’s anterior node before making its way down again into that beautiful white valve.  It pushed its way in and out and flicked over the soft metal folds.  Drift panted in the most alluring way, looking directly at the camera, lips parted and rolling his eyes as if to challenge the viewer.    

Brainstorm imagined it was him, down on his knees between Drifts thighs, licking him out just like the nameless mech was doing.

Of course, Perceptor would be the one watching.  His targeting lens focused intently on the scene in front of him.  He would watch as Brainstorm slowly unravelled the powerful mech he had pinned to the wall.  He would squirm in his seat and occasionally brush his interface panel.  When he couldn’t stand it any longer he would slide his panel aside and grab himself.  Forcefully rubbing his length up and down.  All but losing himself to the sensation. Percy, oh sweet Percy. 

Back in the video, Drift thighs were sprawled wide now, the shapely limbs hitched up high to encase the other mech’s body.  The nameless mech realised his spike.  Pressurising between them it stood tall and ready for the final act.  He pushed his way into Drifts valve.  The camera zoomed in on the sight.  Small calipers could just be seen grabbing onto and pulling in the large spike.  Once seated the mech pulled back out and slowly drove back in.  Drift let out an impatient moan.  From there things speed up.  The clang and the rattle of fans could be heard echoing through the room.

Brainstorm panted.  Mouth agape, his hips cantered off his chair as he drove his spike to meet his hand over and over again.  His processor ran rampant.  He imagined Perceptor under him.  Black hands on his plating, touching him everywhere.  Tweaking his wing tips.  Lavishing him with praise.  He was thrusting into Percy hard.  He could feel his valve tightening around him, bearing down on his too rigid spike.  He needed to come.

On the video Drift spasmed, his legs locked and arms gripped onto plating for dear life.  The nameless mech stilled and grunted.

At the same time Brainstorms reached his peak.  He mouthed Percy’s name as his optics fluttered and his body went rigid.  A steady stream of transfluid gushed out the tip of his spike.  It splattered over his midsection and oozed down through his digits.

Breathing heavy Brainstorm slowly closed his optics.  As his processor went into involuntary shut down, he took one last glimpse at the small disk. 

Hmm.  Perhaps he should have returned it.

Chapter Text

Perceptor paced.  He had already turned his lab upside down in the process of trying to find his missing disk.  How could he have been so careless?  He tried to re-think his movements the day before and kept coming to the same conclusion.  The disk had been on his desk.  There was no other option!  But no matter how many times he checked and double checked the stack, he still came up empty handed.  Panic was starting to set in as he tried to think.  Could someone have seen it and taken it?  Surely not.  His lab was locked.  Who had the authority to enter?  Maybe Rodimus?  What would he need in his lab in the middle of the night?  No Unlikely.  Magnus?  No he would ask permission and stealing property…  Never.  Drift?  NO no no, he wouldn’t would he?

Perceptor kept pacing backwards and forwards.  No-one else could know about his little obsession.  He would be mortified.  It was perverted and downright pathetic.  He imagined Drift finding out.  Would he even talk to him again?  What sort of sick mech goes and painstakingly collects centuries old porn videos that have been made of one of his close friends?  Especially from a past life they would rather forget.  This was his worst nightmare.

A harsh knocking and a string of profanities interrupted his inner turmoil.  Perceptor peered his head round the door to find Whirl at the end of the hall outside Brainstorms lab.


When Brainstorm finally roused it was mid morning, well past the start of his scheduled shift.  His systems booted up sluggishly and when his optics onlined he found himself still slumped over his desk.  Oh that’s right.  Stale transfluid was dried and caked to his plating. He had a mild processor ache from the lack of recharge.  In fact, he would still be in recharge if it wasn’t for that infuriating noise.  It seemed someone was banging on his door.

Suddenly the continuous knocking subsided and he could hear some muffled voices arguing.  Panic overtook him as he could hear the sound of a key code being entered.  Oh Frag.  The only thing Brainstorm could think to do was shuffle his chair closer to his desk to hide his stained plating.

In bounded Whirl with a flustered looking Perceptor close on his heels. 

Whirl stood imposingly in the middle of lab clicking his pincers.

“So what’s the hold up?  You promised my gun would be fixed first thing this morning. I got plans for that baby.” 

“I apologise Brainstorm.  Whirl insisted I open the door.”  Perceptor babbled. 

“I believe he was going to ‘blow it half way back to Cybertron’ if I didn’t comply.  Why didn’t you answer in the first place?” an accusing glare directed his way.

For a brief moment it was quiet as he waited for an answer.  Soft urgent moans now filled the silence in the lab.

“What on earth is…”

Perceptor stopped mid sentence as Whirl spun and stalked over to the desk Brainstorm was half hiding under.  Whirl cocked his helm to the side.

“So what you got there?”

Horrified Brainstorm started to bluster some excuse about working late, as he fumbled to close the contents of the disk which had never actually stopped playing.

Whirl was quicker however, lunging and knocking Brainstorms chair out from under him.  He fell in an undignified pile on the floor.

Peering at the screen Whirl hummed.

“Hmm… What has Whirly found?  Well I never.  On second thoughts forget that gun.  Plans have changed.”

Whirls calculating single optic flared and narrowed into a single point.  In one swift motion the small disk was plucked out of his PC and safely tucked away.  He turned and flew out of the lab as fast as his spiny legs could carry him.

Brainstorm mouthed a silent “No” as he watched Whirl exit the lab from his place on the floor.

All the time Perceptor had been standing silently, frozen in place, wearing an expression of shocking realization as he stared at Brainstorm.


Brainstorm gazed at the approaching storm.  To anyone else Perceptor would look calm.  A perfectly poised, self-aware mech, who kept his emotions in check and demanded the respect of his colleagues.  Unfortunately for Brainstorm he knew different.  He had worked with Perceptor for far too long.  He took notice of the subtle changes and warning signs, the minute flickers of emotion that shifted across his otherwise expressionless face.  In fact Brainstorm took a great deal of satisfaction knowing he had (on more than one occasion) rivaled his colleague up so much he lost that precious control.

Brainstorm shivered.  It was in no way sexy. 

This time it was an entirely different situation however.  Hmmm. 

Brainstorm stood up slowly.  He glanced down at himself and picked at a streak of silver caked to his chest - leftover from his late night activities.  He glanced at Perceptor again before speaking.

“So do you have a favourite?  You gotta admit that shower scene was…”

Before he could finish, Brainstorm felt his legs being removed from underneath him for the second time that morning.  His head crashed hard against the cold metal floor.  His arms twisted painfully behind his back and he felt a pistol firmly against his temple.

Oh Crap.


Cackling madly to himself, Whirl’s processor was clocking overtime.  So many possibilities… What should he do?  Firstly copies.  Yeah gotta make copies…  Then another idea dawned on him.  He bounded his way down into the hull of the ship, waving a salute to the spark eater ( who’s mangled body could still be seen hanging out of the quantum engine).  From there he moved aside a jagged lump of steel to reveal the entrance to a small unused storage room.  Here he could wait it out until tonight.  Yes, tonight his fellow crew mates were in for a special treat.


Back in the lab, Perceptor hadn’t loosened his grip.  Pistol pulled and ready to sink a round into the helm of the self-entitled genius.      

After an unsaid amount of time, Brainstorm was the first to break the silence.

“I see you still carry those pistols on you.  Good to know...” 

“So do you think perhaps you could loosen up your grip on my arms.  I’m really starting to cramp up here”.

Brainstorm let out a squeak as Perceptor bore his full weight down on Brainstorm’s back.  He spoke slow with barely contained rage.

“You broke into My Lab and stole My Property”.

“Well technically Yes, I did you know ‘let myself in’ but I think Drift might have a different view on that disk being essentially ‘Your Property’ ”.

Brainstorm yelped as his arm twisted even further.

Bearing over the prone form of his victim Perceptor spoke in even tones. 

“Listen to me Brainstorm.  I am going to make this very clear.  Two things are going to happen.  Firstly you are going to get my disk back and we are never to talk about this again.  Do you understand me?”

Brainstorm responded

“Yeah sure, get Percy’s porn back.  Tick.  Don’t tell a sole.  Tick.  I’m following ya.  And the second thing?”

“Oh for the love of Primus go visit a washrack!”

With that Perceptor released his death grip on Brainstorm and stormed back to the safety of his own workspace.  Once the door was shut (and securely locked) he found an unused corner, sunk down the wall and hugged his arms around his legs.  This was not a good day.  



Chapter Text

A small selection of the crew had gathered at Swerves bar to watch the latest flick Tailgate had chosen for their movie night.  It was according to the blurb ‘An action packed story of adventure, romance and heroism as an archaeologist hunts for lost treasure’.  Which seemed appropriate given the crews own circumstances.

When everybody was settled Swerve clicked down the projector screen and Rewind took the selected disk, shrugging at the title, he plugged it in and pressed play.

A few minutes passed by and Tailgate spoke.

“This doesn’t look like Raiders of the lost Ark?”

“Hey leave it on that looks like Drift.” Swerve responded

The scene played out and for awhile.  Tailgate broke the silence again.

“Whats he doing?”

No response.

Whirl who had been quietly sitting in the corner, cackled lightly and clicked his pincers.

Cyclonus shifted uncomfortably in his seat next to Tailgate.

“We should leave. This is wrong.”

Rodimus let out a low whistle “Looks pretty right from where I’m sitting”.  His fans already struggling to keep up with the heat coming off his frame.

“Umm well… Drift does look like he’s enjoying himself” Tailgate replied blushing madly.

 Rodimus bounced in his seat. 

“Oh man this is great.  I’m so going to get him to teach me that move next time we’re sparring”

“Its got to be a fake, no mech can bend that way”.  Rewind scrutinised.

Ratchet who had gone from almost falling asleep to suddenly taking a great interest in the movie piped up.

“I think it’s real.  He is, after all, extremely flexible when fighting.  I always wondered if he’d be the same in the berth.”

Rewind’s jaw dropped.

He watched as Ratchet edged even closer to the front of his seat, intently watching the screen with far too much enthusiasm for an old ambulance.

Nobody seemed to be in a hurry to leave. 


Meanwhile, mumbling to himself Brainstorm stomped down the corridor.  Enough was enough.  He had been searching the ship all afternoon with still no clue as to the whereabouts of the walking disaster.  Whirl had obviously been keeping a low profile (for reasons he probably didn’t want to know about).  A break was definitely overdue.  He paused outside the door to Swerves.  It seemed pretty quiet.  Pushing it open he strolled in and stopped dead as he looked at what was on the projector screen in front of him.  You gotta be kidding me.  No mech turned to see who had entered.  They all seemed pretty engaged with the action taking place on screen.  Oh by Primus…Why?

Swerve finally turned to see him standing at the door.  “Oh Hey Brainstrom”  looking sheepish and rubbing the back of his neck  “Seems someone has swapped out our movie tonight.” 

Brainstorm turned to see Whirl in the corner looking particularly smug.

“OK party’s over” Brainstorm announced.

Whirl pouted “Oh but we were just getting to the good bit.”

Brainstorm turned back to the screen and cringed.  Drift appeared to be doing a handstand now, pinned firmly in place by a mech who was going to town thrusting into the upside down valve.  Brainstorm winced as another mech entered the room.  The first mech slowed down to allow the second to squat and position himself in front of Drifts mouth… 

At that point the door to Swerves opened again and Drift entered the room.

“Sorry I’m late.  Hope I didn’t miss anything…”


Chapter Text

A low feral growl could be heard echoing throughout the room as Drift walked slowly towards the projector screen.  Unsheathing his swords his optics flickered a dangerous crimson as he seemed to vibrate with an uncontrollable rage.  The sharpened edge of his blades flickered in the glow of light emitted by the movie as it continued to play. 

Then, in a ‘divine display of swordsmanship’ as some would later call it, the cord to the projector was severed and the screen itself was sliced into dozen’s of pieces which lightly fell to the floor around Drift’s pedes. 

Brainstorm took that as his cue to bolt for the door, however he was stopped dead in his tracks as a flying sword impaled his arm, pinning him firmly against the wall.

Brainstorm squawked.  Drift growled.  And Whirl doubled over with laughter.  He clutched at his sides barely able to contain himself.

The laughter drew Drift’s attention.  Like a beast locking on to its prey, his eyes met Whirls.  Opening his mouth to bear his pointed fangs he growled again.

Whirl blinked. “Oh oh.”

Drift moved at lightning speed as he flew across the room.  He smashed one table into rubble and proceeded to somersault over a second.  He lunged quickly catching Whirl off guard.  He drove both his feet into the middle of the helicopter’s frame effectively winding the bigger mech.  In the blink of an optic Drift was on Whirls back.  One hand reached around his head while the other held a blade firmly against the main energon cable in his neck.

Whirl waved his claws up in surrender. 

“Whoa easy boy.” 

“Look I swear I’m innocent in all this.”

Pointing at Brainstorm. “That’s the guy you want”.

Drift cocked his head to the side, turning his attention towards the dangling Brainstorm who was desperately trying to free himself.

Brainstorm stopped his struggling.

“Hey now wait just one minute.  I only found the disk, you’re the one who stole it and decided to show it to the whole fragging crew.”

“Yeah and tell me what you were doing while you watched it?” Whirl retorted.

Brainstorm spluttered.  Drift snarled.  And Whirl took his opportunity.  He twisted his arms above his shoulders, grabbed the offending mech and roughly flung him back across the bar in the direction he came from.  Drift crashed through yet another table sending glasses and shrapnel flying in all directions.

“That’s gotta hurt.” Rodimus winced.

Slightly dazed but with a determined look on his face Drift picked himself up.  Taking his time he shifted his weight to better centre himself.  With his gaze firmly locked on Whirls, Drift reached behind his back.  In an act rarely seen, Drift pulled his Great Sword free from its housing and raised it up in front of him.  The room gasped. 

Whirl regarded Drift.

“Nah, I’m out”

With that the mech with no ‘known weakness’ lead the mad rush out the door.  In a matter of seconds the bar had emptied leaving only Brainstorm to contemplate his fate.

Gulping, he looked at Drift.


Drift glared.  Pointing the tip of his great sword at him.

“Start talking.”

Brainstorm inhaled.  He puffed out his chest and straightened his shoulders, doing his best to look and sound convincing.

“Well it’s like this.  I was sorting through some old gear the other day and came across this little disk with your name on it.  Primus knows where it came from.  I don’t really collect that kind of stuff.  Not my thing.  Prefer guns.  Anywho, Whirl must have seen it and grabbed it off my desk this morning.  Umm…so yeah sorry about that.”

Drift walked over to the wall.  He leaned in close, razor sharp teeth far too near to vital components for Brainstorms liking.  He toyed with the sword holding Brainstorm in place.

“But you said you stole it.”  Drift breathed down his neck.

“Oh yeah that’s right… Scrap.”

Drift twisted the sword and hissed in Brainstorms audio.

“Truth Now!”

“Ouch…Ok Ok… It’s Percy’s.  Broke into his lab.  Saw it.  Took it.  Thought it might be research.  Turned out it wasn’t.  Haha”

Drift stopped twisting and took a step back confusion evident on his face.


“Yeah I know right?  I had the same reaction.  Kinky fragger. They always say you gotta watch out for the quiet ones…”

“Enough!” Drift’s expression turned to one of disgust.  He sheathed his great sword and turned to leave.

“Hey wait you can’t leave me hanging here”. Brainstorm pleaded.

Without looking back Drift walked out the door.    

Brainstorm sighed.  Well I guess it could have been worse.

Chapter Text

Ratchet stared thoughtfully at the black disk he held in his servos.  He had paid quite a hefty price on Whirls ‘Little Black Market’ to acquire a copy of this.  Hmmm.  He should really report Whirls actions to Ultra Magnus.  It would be, after all, the right thing to do.  Then again, how could he let this opportunity go to waste?  Curiosity and Ratchet’s own desires won out and despite his conscience he inserted the disk into his terminal.  Yeah well, he was going to hell (along with this writer).

Flicking through the titles Ratchet found one that instantly appealed to him. ‘Medical Misadventures’.  Reddening a bit in the checks he clicked the file open.

The scene which popped up was more detailed than the one he’d seen at Swerve’s.  The camera panned around the room revealing a number of medical berths along with standard medical equipment Ratchet recognised.  Ratchet’s face lit up.  Interesting.  It seemed this little fantasy had been filmed in an actual Medical Facility as opposed to a shady back room in some brothel.  Ratchet watched as a mech with a red cross on his arm strolled into the room.  He pulled back a white curtain from around one of the berths revealing Drift who lay seductively in the centre.

“Hi there Doc.  I believe it’s time for my spongebath.”

Ratchet shivered.  “Oh yeah let’s get you real clean Drift.”

The medical officer used a sponge soaked in solvent to slowly rub circles over Drifts chest.  He caressed the smooth shiny metal and gently ran the sponge along the contoured lines of his torso.  From there he gradually made his way down one of Drifts thick thighs and back up again, deliberately lingering just a fraction to long over Drifts interface panel before finding his way back down the other shapely leg.  Drift let out a soft mew, lifting his shoulders off the berth in an attempt to get a better view of the action, however, he was quickly thrown back down by the heavy arm of the medical officer.

“You need to stay still. Doctor’s orders”

From there the Doctor took the sponge and continued to rub the solvent leisurely over Drifts midsection.  At times running his digits in between plating finding the small sensitive spots which made Drift squirm on the berth.

“Well I think that about does it.”

Drift whined and pouted at the camera.

“But you missed a spot Doc.”

With a click Drift realised his panel.  Ratchet watched as Drift’s spike pressurised.  And what a sight it was.  Beautiful bio lights ran under the length of the glossy white appendage shimmering in various shades of red.  Ratchet sucked in a large gulp of air as his fans roared to life.  His optics darted around his room, checking (for the about the fifth time that evening) that his habsuite door was securely locked.  When he was satisfied he shifted on his chair parting his thighs.  With trembling hands he too opened his panel.  Instead of using his spike, however, he took great pleasure in roaming his digits through the wet soft metal of his valve opening.  With a contented grunt, he dialled up the sensitivity in his hands.    

The movie continued. 

Sponge forgotten, the Medical officer let his hands roam Drift’s spike.  He leisurely explored the rigid length, sliding his digits up and down, drawing a small amount of fluid out of the tip.  Drift braced his arms against the berth. 

“Seems your making me dirty again Doc.  You should clean that up.”

Grinning Drift parted his legs as the Doctor mounted the berth and nestled between them.  His glossa lashed out and licked the tip of Drift’s spike clean while his hand went to work pumping the shaft. 

Ratchet whimpered at the sight, slightly teasing himself as he let his own digits circle the opening of his valve.  He finally inserted one very carefully.  As expected his whole sensor net crackled with energy.  Intense was the only way to describe the combination of sensations which coursed through his valve along with his hands.  He steadied himself. 


When the initial shock subsided he started to move the digit in his valve.  He stroked gently over the internal nodes, coaxing them to life.  Mmm.  He hadn’t done this in a long time.  Feeling a little more ambitious he inserted a second.           

Drift moaned as his spike throbbed with pleasure.  It was now buried deep inside the intake of the Doctor.  The Doctor grabbed at Drifts thighs, bobbing his head up and down for a time as he greedily lapped up the sizeable spike. He then slowed his ministrations to let his tongue circle the tip.  Drifts hips arched of the berth, only to be slammed back down.

Popping the spike out of his mouth the Doctor declared.

“Now Now, we’ll have none of that. I won’t have any of my patient straining themselves.”

Drift growled at the loss of sensation.  The Doctor only chuckled.  He then slid open his own panel to revel his well lubricated valve.  Lining himself up over Drifts engorged member he slid his way down the spike.  The Doctor let out a moan as he was stuffed full of his patient.  

He started to move, hands grasping Drifts hips, grinding them together.  A mixture of fluids dripped onto the bedding as the pace quickened.  Drifts frame shock. 

Ratchet sank down onto his fingers.  Imaging it was Drifts spike he was riding.  Desire and longing coursed through his frame.  This wasn’t going to take long.  He sobbed as he drank in the sight of Drifts delicious body as it responded to the pleasure. 

Drifts face scrunched up as he fought for control. 

Ratchet panted.  His fingers rocketed in and out of his valve. 

When it became to much for him, Drift turned to the camera.  It zoomed in on his face.  Perspiration beaded on his forehead, his lips parted and he closed his eyes.  His head fell backwards.  His body stiffened.  Drift looked surreal as ecstasy claimed him. 

It sent Ratchet’s body heat to unprecedented levels.  His valve clamped down hard onto his hands, causing Ratchet to overload immediately. He all but screamed Drifts name as he rode out wave after wave of intense pleasure. 

When it was all over he slumped in his seat, completely exhausted.  Ratchet groggily looked back at the screen.  Was it his imagination or was Drift smiling at him?  Primus he really was too old for this.


Chapter Text

Drift strolled with purpose down the corridors of the lost light.

His anger had almost subsided by the time he reached the labs.  It was late now but he suspected Perceptor would still be up working.

Sighing, he looked down at the disk he was flicking in his servos - having grabbed it before exiting the bar.  It held some painful memories for him.  He wasn’t embarrassed by them, no, it was more the fact it reminded him of his past, long forgotten.  He had lived through hardships growing up on the streets that they would never understand.  These movies had been an easy way to make a quick buck (sometimes he’d even enjoyed it).  But that was the past and it was behind him now, so finding a ‘hard copy’ of that life was more than a little maddening.

He stopped as he came face to face with the lab door.  Not nearly ready or prepared for the conversation he was about to have - he stood and admired the blackness. 

His thoughts went back to the Wreckers where he first met Percy.  He felt an instant connection and respect for the scientist turned sniper.  They had each other’s backs from day one.  Fighting side by side for many years.  He considered him a friend.  But that was all.  Drift never ventured any further into their relationship.  Eventually he had left.  And that was that. 

When he found out Perceptor was aboard the lost light he sought him out and they connected once again.  He enjoyed visiting the labs and was fascinated by Perceptor as he tinkered away on experiments far beyond his understanding.   

Now he had to wonder.  Was there anything more between them?

Drift couldn’t really say.  All he knew was he could never be angry with him.  After all everyone was entitled to their secrets.  It was a shame his had been made so public.

But maybe he could use this to his advantage.  Drift smirked.  If Perceptor really wanted him in this way, would it hurt to give him what he wanted?  Maybe just the once?  His faceplates heated up at the thought and a small flicker of excitement coursed through him.  A plan formed in his mind.  Yes this was going to be fun.

Gathering up every ounce of courage he possessed he subspaced the disk and tentatively pushed the door open.


On hearing his lab door open Perceptor looked up from his work and to his horror he saw Drift breeze through.  He strode with confidence, finials held high and an easy smile lighting up his handsome face.  Perceptor smiled back as best he could; all the while his spark somersaulted in its chamber.

Drift paced around the lab, occasionally stopping to poke at items that took his interest. “I haven’t seen you around lately.” He stated.

“I’ve been busy.” Perceptor replied eyeing the expensive bottle Drift had just picked up.

“Really? Drift huffed.  Too busy to talk to me?”

“No of course not” Perceptor replied.

“I went to an interesting movie night at Swerve’s tonight”

“Oh.” Perceptor lifted one brow. “How was it?”

“Let’s just say Swerve has a bit of cleaning up to do.”

Perceptor looked puzzled.

Drift stopped his pacing and turned to face him.  He casually took something out of his subspace.

“I thought I’d return the movie they were watching.  I believe it’s yours.”

Drift tossed the disk on top of Perceptor’s datapad he had been working on.  Perceptor looked down and flinched.  His reticle focused intently on the tiny disk, in the hope it might combust if he stared hard enough.  When it didn’t he placed a hand to his forehead and rubbed, silently cursing Brainstorms name.  He could hear the soft click of pedes as Drift made his way over to stand in front of him.

“Percy look at me.”

Without looking up he pleaded. 

“Please Drift you have to know that I’m sorry...”

Drift sighed.  He perched himself on the corner of the desk in front of Perceptor. 

“It’s a pretty strange thing for you to own.  What’s this all about Perce?”

Perceptor fiddled with his servo’s in his lap before finally making optic contact with him.  He chose his words carefully. 

“You do know I missed you after you left?” 

He continued.  “One day I stumbled upon one of your movies and I guess I became a little obsessed.  I started collecting them.  You must know you are… well to put it bluntly… a very attractive mech.”

Drift smiled cocking his head to the side “Do you still think that?”

Perceptor blinked “I…well…yes”

Drift leaned in closer.  With a strange smirk on his face, Perceptor couldn’t decipher, he breathed down his neck…  “Do you want me?”

Perceptor spluttered. 

“What No! … I mean well yes! … Of course I would never presume…”

Perceptor was cut off as Drift lips wrapped around his, and a very warm enticing kiss was placed on his plates, making his spark race.

Drift pulled away.  Perceptor blinked, a red tinge marring his checks.

“You know you look adorable when you get flustered Percy.” 

Drift grinned “Do you want to continue?” 

Speechless but body now pumping with adrenalin Perceptor nodded. 

Drift purred.  Shifting closer he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.  Their glossa’s met this time and traced caressing lines around the other.  Drift shifted to further straddle Perceptor on his chair, placing one arm around his back and the other behind his head, roughly pulling him as flush as possible with his own body.  They continued exploring each other’s mouths.  Perceptor grew hotter underneath him. 

When Drift finally pulled away, his expression was smug as he gazed down at the still confused but now thoroughly turned on sniper.   

Perceptor panted “You should hate me.”

“I could never hate you Percy.” 

Drift grinned. 

“But you can make it up to me.”

“How?” Perceptor looked perplexed.

“I want to make another movie.  Start my own collection.”  Drift pointed “With you.” 

He licked his lips.  “I was thinking along the lines of ‘Late Night in the Lab’.”

Perceptor opened his mouth to speak but only managed a small pathetic squeak.

“Shall I take that as a ‘Yes’ then?”

Dumbfounded Perceptor nodded his head.


After an unsaid amount of time, Brainstorm finally managed to pull himself free from Drift’s sword.  Grunting from the effort he discarded the metal and used his free servo to stem the flow of energon - which was now jetting out from his arm.  Staggering out into the hallway he made off in the direction of the labs.  Medbay could wait for the time being.  He prayed it wasn’t too late to save his beloved scientist from being sliced in half by the clearly insane swordsmech.


Chapter Text

‘Not a bad view’ Drift chuckled to himself.  He regarded Perceptor who was, at this point in time, standing on a bench top, stretching to position a camera, completely oblivious to the set of optics ogling his rear. 

The recent turn of events happened all too quickly.  Camera’s had materialised out of no-where, as Perceptor gibbered on about angles and blindspots.  It was like neither one of them wanted to take the time, to really think about what they were about to do – Primus forbid they change their minds.  Drift found it all quite invigorating as he watched Perceptor’s handiwork.

Finally Perceptor scambled back down and came to stand in front of Drift. 

“All set then?” Drift asked.

“All set”     

Drift took Perceptor’s hand and laced his servos with his own.  "You can still back out of this you know."

"Yes I know.  But in all honesty this seems a more than fair deal considering what I've put you through."  With a sly grin Perceptor added "I may also be a little enthusiastic."

"Oh really?" Drift sauntered closer.  "Shall we begin then?"

"The cameras are rolling." Perceptor stated.

Drift lightly placed a servo on Perceptor’s armour, tracing a line around the seam of his reinforced chestplate.  He turned toward the camera and looked directly at it, a slight upturn in the corner of his mouth.  With his free hand he moved to cup Perceptors face.

“You’re beautiful you know.”

Perceptor’s breath hitched, a rose coloured tint spread over his checkplates.  He looked down at his chest as Drift continued to explore.  He wondered if this was actually real.

“You are allowed to touch you know.” Drift pouted.

“Oh yes right.” Perceptor snapped out of his daze and shifted to seal the gap between them.  He wrapped his arms around Drifts waist, pulling him in close.  Drifts servo was forced to relocate, which it did, snaking its way around to his rear. 

Perceptor let out a small yelp as he felt a squeeze.  Finally he let his reflex’s take over and his lips found Drifts.  The kiss was clumsy at first but soon found its own rhythm.  Glossa’s licked and explored the other while servos freely roamed plating. 

If was Drifts turn to let out a squeak as Perceptor’s servos weaved their way down his thighs wriggling themselves into one particularly sensitive seem. 

"Mmm... Damn Perce."  Drift vented.

After regaining his composure he decided two could play that game.  He sought out neck cables, laying kisses down one shoulder until they found his scope.  From there he began to explore in earnest. He felt Perceptor shiver when he found a hot spot.

"Drift."  Perceptor breathed as his servos pawed at his hips.   

"Want you so bad." he whispered

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Perceptor’s gazed darkened.

In a sudden display of strength, he wrapped his arms around the smaller mech, lifting him up and placing him on the table top.  Drift let out a startled yelp as he was roughly pushed backwards.  The cool metal of the work surface was a direct contrast to the molten hot body that fell on his.  Perceptor claimed his lips once again before grinding his obvious arousal down against Drifts.

"Open for me Drift." Perceptor purred.

Drift obliged, and with a soft click, his array was on display.  His valve glistened as his spike slowly pressurised.  Perceptor took a few moments to drink up the sight. Then to Drifts amusement, Perceptor tossed his head in the direction of camera, licked his lips and cheekily grinned.

Amazed and even more turned on – Drift watched as Perceptor made his way down, eagerly covering him in kisses as he went. 

His breath hitched when he felt the kisses work their way up one side of his spike.  The kiss ceased as a talented glossa started to lick and dance its way around the tip.  At last he felt himself slip inside.  Perceptors mouth was all but dripping with blistering heat as he took Drift down his intake.  Drift shuddered as he felt a familiar pressure start to build. 

“Your killing me Perce"

Popping the spike out of his mouth Perceptor smirked.  

"Oh but Drift I'm just getting started."

Perceptor’s gaze was intense.  In other circumstances it would be more than a little frightening – especially for an enemy looking down the barrel of a rifle.  But in a flash it was gone.  Perceptor moved his head back down. 

Drift felt a servo brush over the entrance to his valve, before it worked its way inside. Lips once again wrapped around his spike, mimicking a rhythm that was applied elsewhere.    

It didn’t take long for Drift to become putty in Perceptor’s hands.  He groaned and whimpered with each ministration, arching his back as Perceptor continued his unending onslaught. 

"Ohh Primus… Perce, please.  Your gonna have to slow down." Drift grunted.

Perceptor grinned as the spike slipped from his mouth.  

"Don't you like my multi-tasking skills?”

"They are a bit too good I'm afraid." Drift panted. 

"Come on, enough teasing.”  Drift clumsily reached for Perceptor. 

“I want you now.” 

Perceptor let his panel slide open, relief echoing through his body as his own red and black spike jutted out lewdly from its restricting armour. 

Drifts eyes locked with Perceptor’s as he parted his legs wide.  Perceptor grabbed hold of his spike, positioning himself in line with Drifts valve…          


“Your saviour is here!”

With that Brainstorm burst through the lab doors, coming to an abrupt halt once inside.  He lowered his arms in shock.  Energon dripped freely from his wound, creating a pool at his pedes.  He took in the scene.

“Not what I was expecting.”  He tilted his head to the side. 

Perceptor alarmed by the sudden interruption, quickly pulled back.  He turned to face the intruder, still holding his rigid spike thick with arousal.

Brainstorm’s wings quivered.  His optics popping out of their casting.

“Oh Holly Mother of Primus.”

“That’s your spike!”

Overwhelmed and suddenly feeling strange, he lowered himself to the ground.  The puddle of his energon had grown substantially larger.  He opened his mouth to speak but found his head lolling backwards instead.  His body shuddered.  Finally he collapsed in a heap.


In the blink of an optic, Perceptor had scrambled off the table.  In his haste he knocked one of Drifts legs, sending him cascading to the ground. He ran over to Brainstorm, working quickly to patch the flow of energon.

“Drift help me get him to medbay!”

For a moment Drift couldn’t move, his processor still trying to comprehend what just occurred.  One minute he was about to have a mind blowing overload – or so he thought, next he was on the cold hard floor.  And he was still so painfully turned on, it was beyond humiliating. 

“Now Drift please!” Perceptor urged.

“Primus Perceptor, give me a minute here.”

Drift breathed trying to think unsexy thoughts.  Nothing seemed to be helping. He was going to kill Brainstorm if he survived this.

“Frag Percy I can’t go tearing my way into medbay looking like this.  I just can’t.  What would Ratchet think of me?”

Perceptor glared. 

He turned away from Drift.  Grabbing the jet himself, he slung him as best as he could over his free shoulder.  After a quick comm to Ratchet, he left Drift, making his way toward medbay. 


Partway through their journey Brainstorm regained consciousness.  Finding himself upside down he immediately assumed he had passed out in his lab, but as his processor cleared he remembered.  Oh. 

Opening his optics he found himself being carried and - to his gleeful pleasure - staring at very familiar black plating.  Oh how nice it looked this close up... starting to feel woozy again he decided to act quickly.  He reached out...

Perceptor froze.  His spike, which had nearly depressurised decided to surge back to life with vengeance.  Fuming he asked. 

"Brainstorm are you awake?"


Perceptor scowled. Brainstorm? 

The pressure on his backside subsided as he felt Brainstorm's body once again go limp.  A few drops of energon leaked onto the floor. 

Perceptor swore a string of profanities.

He hastened his pace, deciding to recite the elements of the periodic table, in an attempt to subdue his highly inappropriate and quite frankly out of control charge. 

Rounding the next corner he all but collided with Rodimus. 

"Oh hey Perceptor. Have you seen Drift?  I wanted to check up on him after his minor breakdown at Swerves.  Got his sword too."  he said swinging it round in an ark. 

Perceptor stared at his captain, mouth agape, a limp Brainstorm slung over one shoulder and his spike unseemly jutting out from his midsection.

"Um... He's in my lab."

"Great Thanks Perceptor." Rodimus nodded and continued on his way, swinging his new found toy.

Perceptor watched him go shaking his head with complete bewilderment.

Finally the medbay was in his sights. Perceptor looked down and wondered how long it was going to take his charge to dissipate.  This was beyond ridiculous.  Maybe if he could just rearrange the jet. 

After a few smacks to the face from two outlandish wings, Perceptor managed to jiggle the jet in front of him, getting one leg to hang down covering his midsection.  Quite pleased with the result he finally pushed open the door to medbay.

As he walked through the doors, he realised his mistake.  Too late.  He was overbalanced and fell forwards.


He landed on top of Brainstorm.  Now, face to face, with his legs in-between Brainstorms, Perceptor’s spike rested snuggly against Brainstorms interface panel. 

Groaning Brainstorm’s eyes flicked open once again.

“Primus Percy.”


Back in the lab, Drift watched Perceptor go.  His frustration was at boiling levels as he paced about.  Unbelievable.  What the hell was Brainstorm thinking?  He looked down between his legs and groaned as a trickle of fluid weaved its way into a seam.  Primus he needed to release his charge.  Lowering himself down by a table, he pushed himself on to his knees. Inserting two fingers into his valve he started to rock back and forth.

And the camera rolled on…

Chapter Text

It had been a particularly awesome night for Rodimus.  Not only had he seen his smocking hot TIC in some extremely compromising positions, he was now in possession of his hero sword. 

Upon reaching his destination, he twirled the prized item in his servo and wondered briefly what Drift was doing in Perceptor’s lab.  Deciding it didn’t particularly interest him, he instead let his mind concentrate on more important matters at hand – namely deciding how to make the coolest entry possible.

Mind made up, he raised Drift’s sword and in his usual flamboyant style he burst through the lab doors reciting some crazy immature banter he knew Drift found amusing when they spared together.

“Treacherous Decepticon, it is I, The Great Rodimus Prime, here to battle you for the glory of all…”

Rodimus’s words drifted off mid-sentence as Drift looked up at him from his place beside the lab table.  His checks were flushed, his mouth gapped open and the two fingers, that were impaled in his valve, suddenly froze.

Woah.  Rodimus rephrased his earlier thought.  Clearly his night was getting better.  This was beyond hot.  In fact, it was possibly the most erotic thing Rodimus had ever seen in his life.  

His grip loosened on Drift’s sword and they both watched as it tumbled noisily to the ground.  Rodimus looked at Drift.  He licked his lips.  Cocking his hip to one side to fully display his more than appealing curves he threw Drift his most seductive look.

“Do you need a hand with that?” 

Drift breathed heavily.  Cocky son of Primus… But damn did he look good.  The charming flame coloured speedster, with his sleek curves and sexy grin was hot and he knew it.  And in Drifts current state he found it was, unfortunately, irresistible.

Drift could feel himself growling unintentionally as his optics raked over his captain.

“Get down here.”  Drift ordered.

At light speed Rodimus was on the floor, kneeling in front of his friend.  Without too much thought, rather, running purely on some kind of overwhelming lusty instinct, he found Drifts mouth and kissed him aggressively, pushing him onto his back.     

Drift moaned into his mouth, setting Rodimus fans whirling to life.  Before long the infamous Hotrod lived up to his name as he became a ball of sizzling heat on top of the already ‘hot mess’ that was Drift.

Over eager and needing some kind of release, Drift rolled his hips and grinded his soaking valve into Rodimus’s interface panel. 

“Please Roddy, I want it now.” Drift begged.

Rodimus responded instantly as his panels slid aside to reveal a ghastly flame coloured spike.

Drift rolled his optics at the sight but grabbed Rodimus regardless.  He hooked his knee under the other’s leg and used his weight to effectively roll them both over.  Now in a straddling position he quickly sunk down onto the spike offered to him.  His calipers easily stretched around the sudden intrusion and he moaned as he was, finally, fully impaled.

Drift offlined his optics and started to move.  He felt Rodimus grab his thighs and whimper as Drift rode him with force, chasing a long overdue overload. 

Between pants and moans Rodimus jabbered away underneath him. 

“Oh Drift… you’re so hot… so sexy… Primus I’m going make you scream… you won’t be able to walk tomorrow… goin fill you to the brim with my transfluid...”

“Roddy please” Drift panted

“Shut up.”

Built up charge crackled over Drifts body as he continued to ride Rodimus’s spike with abandon.  He groaned.  He imagined it was Perceptor underneath him instead, that deep cultured voice, whispering naughty things to him...and

Snap.  Ecstasy claimed him.  Letting out a deep cry he bore down on Rodimus.  His calipers tightened and spasmed around the spike as his body shock uncontrollably.  This in turn pushed Rodimus over into his own climax. 

His face scrunched up as his servos dug groves into pristine white hips.  He opened his mouth and near screamed Drifts name as his spike pumped transfluid into the waiting valve. 

Panting and breathing heavily, Drift slowly slid himself off and collapsed in a satisfied heap atop Rodimus’s chest.  Rodimus wrapped his arms around Drift and sighed contently. 

It took a few moments to get his breath back.  When he did Rodimus asked.  "So... are you going to tell me what that was all about?  Not that I'm complaining or anything." 

"Do I have too?" Drift replied groggily. 

"I'm just having a bit of trouble figuring out what’s going on at the moment." Rodimus continued.

"I'm starting to recall seeing Perceptor with an unconscious Brainstorm slung over his shoulder and a huge umm...No, I think I'm imaging things.  Perhaps I've hit my head. Rodimus looked up and sighed. 

"Yeah I have definitely hit my head.  I am now seeing cameras in the corners of Perceptor’s lab.  Imagine that.  Me, having a copy of what we just did on film.  Yeah I'm definitely dreaming…  Man I'm good at dreaming."

Drift stiffened. A cold realisation suddenly flooded his processor. Primus how could he have forgotten about those? No no no. 

"You Idiot" Drift barked out loud. 

Rodimus cringed. "Man that’s a bit harsh, I don't normally insult myself in my sleep."

"Not you, Me. I'm the idiot. And you’re not dreaming."  Drift said exasperated. 

"Come on get up, we need to remove the footage." Drift dragged a sluggish Rodimus up on his pedes. 

"You grab that one. I'll get the one at the back." Drift ordered. 

Rodimus started to climb up the shelves.  "You do know Drift, if this is, in fact *real*, it’s all a bit weird."

"I know, just go with it.”  Drift looked back at Rodimus and with a pleading expression he said "And please, could you not tell Perce about this?  I think I may have just screwed up big time.” 

"Right. Sure." Rodimus raised an eyebrow as he reached for the camera.  

As he grabbed it, his arm accidently knocked a cylinder full of a brightly coloured liquid.  It wobbled precautiously on the shelf.  Rodimus held his breath as he watched it.  It finally settled back down into place. 

"Phew that was close.  I nearly let some magic out of its housing." Rodimus chuckled.

Drift sighed. 

Unfortunately, his next step wasnt so lucky.   Not thinking Rodimus placed his entire weight on the edge of the shelf below, it in turn cracked under the weight, sending the contents and Rodimus tumbling to the ground.  Containers shattered and liquid substances oozed out over the floor where he lay. 

The air in the room took on a rancid smell and a mixture of unknown gases swirled around forming a small cloud in mid-air. 

“Get out now before we’re locked in!” Drift yelled as he made a dash for the door through the thick gas cloud.

Rodimus followed closely behind, rolling away and bolting for the door.  Sirens started to ring out around them as they both managed to exit before the locking mechanism engaged, isolating the room from the rest of the ship.

“Oh man that was a close one.”  Rodimus squirmed as he looked over his plating. Sticky black liquid was splatted over his legs and torso.  When he moved he could feel it running into the seams of his armour.  “I think I better go wash this stuff off.”  He sniffed “It smells kinda bad.”

He looked over to Drift who was on his knees having some kind of coughing fit in-between spasms of laughter.

“This isn’t funny Drift.  This stuff really stinks.  Like majorly stinks.  Like I don’t know, rotting dead organic corpses type stink." Rodimus squirmed as he looked at Drift now clutching at his stomach he was laughing so hard.

“Drift!”  Grabbing some of the black slime off himself, Rodimus threw it at the swordsmech.  It splattered on his helm and dribbled down the side of his face.

“Ha, who’s laughing now!”

Drift waved his hands in the air in surrender.  

*cough*…ha ha... I’m sorry I can’t help it.  I can’t seem to stop laughing.”

“Oh frag me, this stuff is itchy too.”  Rodimus servos dug into his groves desperately trying to relieve the ache.  “You gotta help me wash this off right now!” 

He grabbed Drift still bent over in uncontrolled hysterics and the pair staggered off making their way down the corridor.  


Brainstorm lapsed into unconsciousness as Perceptor looked at him from above.  Yet again, the position he had fallen into was in no way helping his charge.  In fact certain parts of his anatomy were rubbing against other important parts of Brainstorms anatomy in more than a nice way.  Perceptor groaned laying his head down on Brainstorms shoulder.  Oh this was so embarrassing.  How on earth did he get himself into this mess? 

“Well that’s one way to make an entry.” 

Startled Perceptor looked up too see Ratchet looming over the pair, his arms were folded and his face was set in stone as he regarded them.   

Perceptor squirmed under his scrutiny.

“I was wondering when I would be seeing Brainstorm.” Ratchet snorted.  "Drift really did a number on him.  Why did he run off to your lab anyway?  Oh are you two know…"

*Ratchet makes finger gesture in air*

“What?  No!  Ratchet…” Percy blustered with outrage.

“He collapsed in my lab…something about rescuing me…I don’t know…Drift and I were…well never mind what we were doing.”

Ratchet raised an eyebrow.

“He’s been in an out of consciousness, looks like a main line has been severed.  I’ve made a quick patch job but it’s not holding too well.”

Ratchet sighed. “Well Percy, if you want my help, you’re going to have to get off of him.”

“Yes I know I need to get off on him... I mean off of him…”  Perceptor floundered, checks brightening to rival the colour of Rodimus’s paint job.  He cleared his throat and started over.

“Brainstorm happened to interrupt something private and as a result I have an extreme about of charge running through my circuits and thus the inability to close my panelling.  So if you would be so kind too just turn around for a moment…”

Ratchets booming laughter echoed through the medbay as he complied giving Perceptor some much needed privacy.

Glaring daggers at Ratchets back, Perceptor hurried off into the back office and shut the door.

“Tell me if you need a hand with that Percy.”  Ratchet sniggered some more, as he moved to attend to his newest patient.


Drift and Rodimus's trip to the washracks proved unsuccessful. No amount of scrubbing seemed to be able to dislodge the black sludge from their plating.  And after watching Drift purge his tanks from the smell while still laughing - which had Rodimus coining a new term 'vomitlaugh' - Rodimus dragged them away to seek more professional help. 

The smell seemed to fill up entire corridors as they meandered their way towards medbay.  

"This really is truly disgusting." Rodimus remarked. Whatever the frag Perceptor had in those containers should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction."

Drift moaned, clutching his plating as it contracted violently. 

Rounding the last bend the pair finally made it to the medbay.  Flying through the doors Drift fell to the floor in more painful fits of laughter as Rodimus called out for Ratchet. 

Ratchet strolled out of his office wearing what could pass for a smile?  He was followed closely by Perceptor who seemed a little sheepish.  Ratchets good mood was quickly replaced by a sour face as he sniffed the air. 

"Oh for the love of Primus, What the frag have you two been rolling in?" Ratchet accused.

"And Drift, would you mind telling me what’s so damn funny?"

Perceptor came and stood next to Ratchet as he looked the pair over.  Drifts faceplates were covered in black sludge, red paint transfers along with gorges were clearly visible on his hips and his front was covered in half digested energon.  Perceptor frowned. 

Drift looked up at Ratchet with pleading optics while he continued laughing. "Please Ratch it hurts."


Chapter Text

After clearing the last of the paperwork from his in-tray, Ultra Magnus sat quietly in his office. He breathed out a contented sigh.  He enjoyed this hour of the night.  The continuous hustle and bustle of mechs going about their business during the day had all but ceased and it was replaced by an almost peaceful feeling on the command deck.

He glanced down at his agenda for the evening.  There were a couple of planned recreational activities for the crew on the lower decks.  One of which was a movie night at Swerves.  Hmm, normally uneventful, but nevertheless he scheduled it into his rounds to check up on later that evening. He then turned his attention to the only remaining item on his desk.  It was somewhat of an oddity, having no idea what it was or where it had come from.  He picked up the small disk to examine it.  It seemed innocent enough.  He unfolded the accompanying note that had been tacked to it.  In a barely legible print it read: 


Dear Mags,

Been thinking of you lately.

Relax and take a load off.

Love from your friendly neighbourhood Decepticon. :)


Magnus frowned as he placed the disk into his drive.   

After a few minutes of running numerous checks as to the disks integrity, he was satisfied it was harmless – it contained only one video file.  Peculiar indeed.  He clicked open the file entitled – “Job interview”.

The video feed popped up on screen revealing a very run down and grubby little room.  Ultra Magnus shuddered.  There was a large desk set in the middle, with a set of shelves to one side giving the viewer the overall impression of someone’s office.  Ultra Magnus wondered who on earth was able to work in such unsightly conditions.  His concerns were soon answered when a large boxy mech entered the scene.  He sat down behind the desk and pretended to be working - a sight Magnus knew all too well, as he thought about his captain’s own ‘acting skills’ when it came to work.

After a minute there was a knock at the door.  It opened to admit a mech Magnus recognised.  Magnus mouth went instantly dry as he watched Drift stroll into the room, swaying his hips from side in side in an obvious seductive display.  Pulling up the spare chair he sat down on the opposite side of the desk and casually draped himself over the arms.

“Hi there Sir, I’m here for the job interview” Drift said in a casual yet suggestive manner.

The boxy mech made a point of shuffling some papers while his optics racked over the enticing bot he had in front of him.

“I’ve looked over your job application and I’m afraid you don’t have the qualifications.  What makes you think I’d want to employ you?”

“Sir, I think you will find I have quality’s that are far better than any academic qualifications.”  Drift slowly drew his glossa over his lips, letting one servo come to rest over his pelvic armour.

“What say I show you?”

The interviewer gave him a thoughtful look as he inadvertently parted his thighs.  “Alright let’s see what you got”.  Drift grinned, dropping down to the ground and crawling underneath the desk.  He settled on his knees and starting caressing the bots inner thighs.

Magnus face contorted into a look of complete bewilderment and confusion as he was unable to tear his optics away from the scene.  His fans suddenly sprung to life as his body temperature rapidly rose.  He felt his neglected interface equipment tighten and become uncomfortable as his processor somersaulted in his helm.  He regarded his office.  It was still quiet.  The door was locked.  Nobody was around…

Magnus turned back toward the screen to watch as Drift’s glossa extended out to lick the shaft of the interviewer's now extended spike.

Magnus gasped in shock. His interface panel clicked open on its own accord.  Red and blue bio lights glistened in the dim of his office as his spike pressurised almost instantaneously.  He looked down between his legs.  Slowly he let his servo wander.  When he reached his spike, he ran his digit lightly over the hardened metal and before he could even think about what he was doing he gripped it tightly and started to rub.

This was by far the worst thing he had ever done.  And he felt guilty for a full nano second before pleasure warped his brain.  He breathed heavily as he continued to watch the scene unfold in front of him. 

Drift used his tongue to work his way around the base of the interviewer’s spike.  Gently licking and teasing it as he slowly made his way up.  He then expertly swept his glossa over the tip, drawing a moan out of his would be employer.  Pleased with the results, he parted the bots thighs a little wider and slowly inserted the spike head into his mouth.  The mech tried to buck and push himself in further but Drift’s strong hands held the mech firmly in place. 

Drift looked up seductively, slipping the length of the spike fully into his mouth and partway down his intake.  He then raised his head off the spike and repeated the motion.  The interviewer whimpered as Drift set a moderate pace.  The spike now fully hardened, throbbed with every movement.  Drift moaned on purpose as he bobbed, sending small vibrations through the shaft, adding to the building pressure.

Drift slowly let the spike drop from his mouth. The mech moaned wantonly.

Drift grinned.  “I think the first part of this interview is over.  Shall we move on to stage two?”  

The mech nodded eagerly as Drift stood up and perched on the edge of the desk.  His interface panel now in direct line of sight with the mech’s face, who was still sitting in the desk chair. Grinning mischievously he released his interface panel to display his pristine white valve. It was glistening and just begging for attention.

Ultra Magus’s optics almost popped out of his head.  He shoved a servo in his mouth to keep from yelling out, while his other servo worked frantically over his spike.  He took a look down at his own desk.  The powerful imagery of Drift spread out and waiting to be taken by him was almost more than he could handle. His spike jerked as he let out another muffled groan.  Taking his hand out of his mouth he gripped the edge of his desk as his mounting overload approached.

The interviewer roughly pushed Drift backwards. Fake papers and datapad’s went flying in all directions.  And with his spike held in one hand, he directed it into Drifts awaiting valve.  Drifts calipers stretched and wrapped around the intrusion, while his legs did the same around the mechs torso.  The interviewer set a grinding pace.  The desk shock as he pounded his spike into Drift.  His hands sought out the back of Drift’s neck as he drew him up closer, only to ram his glossa into his mouth.

Drift moaned and arched his back enjoying the roughness.  His own servos seeking grip on the desk as he was forced unceremoniously backwards with each thrust.  Just when he was nearing the edge of the desk, the mech on top of him stilled.  He ripped his lips away from Drift’s, breaking the kiss, so he could cry out in his own agonising bliss.  Drift’s own valve fluttered and cycled down on the interviewers spike and he too was forced into his own release.  Mouth forming a beautiful O, he silently came for the camera.

Magnus cried Drift’s name out, as his own transfluid spluttered rapidly from his spike.  It came in large bursts, splashing over the top and dribbling down the side of his desk.  Once the flow finally subsided, Magnus slumped down over the mess, breathing heavily.   He hadn’t had a climax that intense in centuries.  

Magnus groaned.  He turned his attention back toward the video.

The interviewer had raised his head and turned to look at Drift. 

“You’re Hired!”

Disgusted Magnus flicked the disk out of his PC.  That was not how job interviews were supposed to be conducted! 

He needed to have a word to Drift.


Chapter Text

Brainstorm onlined the next day to find himself in the mist of medbay.  He glanced over at his arm and flexed the wiring.  It was functioning normally once more and the cloud of dizziness he had experienced the previous night had finally cleared, leaving him free to ponder through his memory file.

He found himself lingering over the very last.  Offlining his optics once more, he found if he concentrated hard enough he could still feel the weight of the other scientist on top of him.   They had been so close.  He could almost taste his plating.  Smell the sweet scent of solvent.  Hmm speaking of scent...

Brainstorm sniffed the air and made a face.  The stench was horribly familiar.  In fact, just the other day he had cleaned up his entire lab from top to bottom trying to locate the source of that exact same smell.  How on earth had it now infested the medbay?

Rolling over he saw Rodimus sitting up with a datapad on another berth. 

"Sup my mad genius friend?"  Rodimus greeted him with his usual dazzling smile.

"And before you ask it’s called 'Liquid Ass'.

"Excuse me?" Brainstorm frowned. 

"Liquid Ass." Rodimus sighed, rolling his optics like he couldn’t believe it wasn’t obvious.

"Drift and I were accidentally dosed in the stuff last night.” 

Rodimus continued.  “It's, and I'm quoting here "A fart prank that smells like ass. Literally smells like ass. Bad ass. Need to see a doctor ass."  Rodimus made a face.  “Perceptor had quite the large bottle of it in his lab.  Apparently picked it up off some Earth based internet site.”

Brainstorm eyebrows shot up in awareness and he mumbled to himself… “The sneaky red glitch.”

Don't worry the smell will dissipate on its own in about 12 more hours I’m told.  In the meantime Me and Drift have been confined here for observation.  The smell is ‘apparently’ too bad for us to go walking around the ship."  Rodimus sighed.

Brainstorm sat up and flinched as he noticed Drift across from him.  He was hooked up to a machine and out cold.

"Why is he in stasis?" Brainstorm inquired.

"Oh I think he inhaled some kind of laughing gas.  Ratchet had to knock him out until it wears off.  He's lucky, he gets to sleep it off.  Man it’s been so boring in here."

Brainstorm stared at Rodimus in utter confusion. 

"I’ll fill you in." Rodimus grinned. 


The next day found Perceptor sitting at his desk.  It had been a long night.  The chemical spill in the lab had been minor.  The ventilation systems taking care of the obnoxious gases while a few cleaning drones had taken care of the mess on the floor, leaving it sparkling once more.  The smell however, was an entirely different matter.  Perceptor had been able to counter-act it with a concoction he brewed up, however, he had kept that information to himself as he thought the two mechs in the medbay could use a lesson in lab safety.  

He now found himself reviewing the camera footage.  It, if he was honest with himself, was beyond amazing.  After he finished the final editing he was more than pleased with the masterpiece he had created.  Drift really did look incredible.  And yes… so did Rodimus.  It was surreal watching the pair.  Perceptor vented heavily.  He should have been angry or at least a bit sad, but instead he found he didn’t feel much of anything.

There was one piece of footage however he did feel something about.  He lingered over it wondering what to do with it.  It had no place in his little movie but at the same time he certainly couldn’t bring himself to delete it.  Instead he saved it to a separate disk and watched it over again - for what must have been about the 10th time. 

As Brainstorm entered the lab, he zoomed in and slowed the feed down so he could see every little detail of the emotions that played across his face.  He could see the fierce determination in his eyes when he charged into the room, changing to one of complete bewilderment and sadness, before it changed again to complete awe.  It was entirely fascinating and made Perceptor feel slightly warm and tingly inside. 

A loud rapt on his door made Perceptor turn to see the very mech he had been watching.

“Hey Perce.”  Brainstorm stood in his doorway, wings twitching nervously behind him.

Flicking the feed off Perceptor turned to face his co-worker.  They stared at each other awkwardly for a few moments.  Rubbing the back of his neck Brainstorm final broke the silence.

“I just wanted to come by and say sorry.” He fumbled 

“Basically the whole fiasco last night was my fault.  If I hadn’t broken into your lab in the first place none of this would have happened.  And… I’m really sorry for interrupting you while you were with Drift… that was a stupid thing to assume he would hurt you.  Yeah, that was really dumb.  Oh and I’m sorry for kinda groping you while you were trying to save my life.  Again dumb.  And basically I’m just really sorry.  You really shouldn’t have bothered trying to help me.” 

Brainstorm cast his eyes down and suddenly became very interested in a spot on the floor.   

Perceptor looked him over. 

Brainstorm was certainly not the fantasy.  He was no hero.  Not a white knight who came to his rescue while he lay dying.  He was just an ordinary mech.  Well, No that was untrue.  Perceptor never considered him ordinary.  In fact he was brilliant (which Perceptor hated to admit).  Brilliant and perhaps the most challenging mech he'd ever met in his life.  The only one who ever successfully got under his plating, destroying his precious composure, and doing it with such an air of innocence.  It was unnerving.  It made Perceptor feel an overwhelming urge to grab hold of him, to shake him and scold him like a sparkling.  And maybe, after he was done being angry, he might want to kiss off that superior attitude he knew Brainstorm always wore underneath his faceplate...

Perceptor got up and padded over to where Brainstorm was standing.  Reaching up he placed a servo to his check.

“You’re not a bother to me Brainstorm.  You may exasperate me at times, but you could never do anything that would truly make me not want to bother with you.”

Brainstorm’s eyes lit up and he leaned slightly into Perceptor’s touch. 

“It was very kind of you to come to my rescue, even though it wasn’t required.  Perceptor smiled. 

Lowering his servo he turned and walked back to his desk.  Picking up the original disk he turned to face Brainstorm.

“Brainstorm, you know I’m actually glad you found this on my desk.  In a round a bout way its opened up my optics.  Real life is much better than fantasy.” 

With that, Perceptor turned and threw the disk into a waste bin.

“OK.”  Brainstorm nodded his head, not quite sure what Perceptor was implying in the slightest.  “Perhaps I’ll see you around then?” 

“Yes, perhaps you will.”  Perceptor nodded as Brainstorm turned and departed.

After he left, Perceptor turned back to his desk.  He plucked out the new disk and with a rare smile on his face he added a label: