The soft vibrations of the crystal that made up his- their- cave was lovely. It was soothing, almost musical except where it danced tantalizingly over Bluestreak’s doorwings. There, charge crawled across overstimulated sensors, exasperated by the heavy EM field that surrounded them.
And it was warm, both from the midday light and from the partner astride him. Heated even, never mind that no mech in heat should have been out the night before. You could never tell how a mech already running on instinct would react to another in heat. It was always intense and it rarely ended well.
Though Bluestreak doubted his partner would have been particularly troubled. His heavier armor paired with the sharp claws he ran down Bluestreak chassis insured an edge in any confrontation.
Which, really, made the other mech that much more irresponsible, and it was very difficult to focus on that. Focus on the anger, frustration, even annoyance Blustreak should feel at the situation. He had responsibilities, a coronation he had to attend in the evening, and who even Was this enforcer? Bluestreak had never seen him on any of the beats traveled on the streets below.
He couldn’t concentrate on anything. At least anything not the hot, slick glide of a valve coated in lubricant and transfluid. Or the tight grip of the other mech’s thighs, caging and pinning his own as he was ridden. The sharp prick of claws on his throat cabling? The dance of blue optic light over the prism walls of their hide-away? All a distant second on Bluestreak’s priority tree.
Hazy, over bright optics finally met Bluestreak’s own. His partner’s orbital ridges knitted in confusion before furrowing in bliss. Derma went slack, a hint of sharpened dentae bared as he ground down onto Bluestreak's spike, his pleasure cresting.
Muffling a shout in the other mechs throat, Bluestreak clung through his partner’s overload, his own growing charge crackled across his plating in response. His lover’s calipers cycled restlessly over his spike, the other mech crooning wordless against his audio before slumping over him, limp and satiated.
Spike straining and every cable in his groin taunt, Bluestreak tried to rock up into the stranger’s valve but was quickly chastised, his partner hissing in discomfort before digging talons into the seam between his bumper and pauldron. Satisfied when Bluestreak’s only protest was his rumbling engine while the rest of him fell still, the other mech cuddled against him, nuzzling against his mandible.
The lazy affection eventually gave way to sharp, hungry nips that traveled to Bluestreak’s intake as his lover’s heat began rising again. Biting pseudo kisses inflamed his derma as clawed servos slid to cup his helm in place, his partner's engine rumbling against him, trying to spur him on.
Meeting the other mech’s biting kisses with his own, Bluestreak let his own digits dig into the mech’s sides. Drawing him down tightly he snapped his hips forcefully, chasing his own pleasure.
The sharp, resonate cry the first thrust invoked was nearly enough to send Bluestreak over, his partner’s pleasure continues to hum over his wings, the echo joining the crystal's vibration. Fans straining, the other mech ground against him with abandon, his black and white sensor panels flashing an unfamiliar shield as they fluttered impatiently behind him.
Intense blue optics caught Bluestreak’s once more, aware in a way they hadn’t been earlier. With a force that was almost physical, the mindless heat in his partner’s EM field drew inward before returning, a burning lance driven through his spark.
Feedback knocked his audio and video offline as his overload was forced from him, leaving only his peripheral awareness behind. Bucking frantically beneath his lover, transfluid and charge rushed to fill the hungry valve cinching around his spike.
Sensation was slow to return, the heat and weight pressing him flat an afterthought to the euphoria. The pinch of his flattened doorwings and the whine of his struggling fans took even longer to register.
Hot air from his partner’s vents teased over his bitten derma, and onlining his optics revealed the top of a red chevron, the helm it crowned pillowed on his bumper, the other mech’s substantial chest tucked under Bluestreak’s own.
“I’m very curious what part of wandering through the Helix Gardens, during our district’s lawless night, in Heat, seemed like a good idea”, Bluestreak croaked at last. The lax frame draped over his own stiffened.
“You aren’t even from here”, Bluestreak continued, running his digits blindly over the shield on the other mech’s wings.
“This. . . Wasn’t planned”, the mech murmured at last, raising his helm. Nodding, Bluestreak forced his wandering servos to stop stroking over the half raised sensor panels, which proceeded to droop to his partner’s back.
“Accidents happen. To civilians” Bluestreak chastised gently, before hissing in discomfort as the other mech shifted to unseat himself. An action met with soft cursing on his partner’s part, pain on Bluestreak’s, and physical resistance from both their frames.
“Nooo. Primus”, Bluestreak let his realm drop heavily back against the crystal wall.”You didn’t”.
“I am so sorry” the other mech whispered.
“You mate locked me!” Bluestreak yelped, “You don’t even know me! I don’t even know you!”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen, any of it, my system must have burnt through the new suppressants-”
“That still doesn’t explain the mate lock”, Bluestreak bit out softly, ire and instinct at war in the face of his partner’s shame.
“I’m so slagged. You don’t understand, this is going to cost me everything”, letting his helm drop back once again, Bluestreak watched his own optic light reflect over the deepening purple of their cave.
“There’s a new Captain of Praxus being appointed tonight. A mech raised in Iacon. And when I don’t show tonight because you’re stuck on my spike, and I’ve already started imprinting on you... It's not just the paint from my wings that will be stripped for insubordination and abandoning my duties.”
“...I think, given the extenuating circumstances, I can forgive your lapse in attendance.”
“What?” Bluestreak craned his helm forward and his partner straightened out his sensor panels behind him, bringing the unfamiliar shield clearly into view. A shield with a gold border and crest, marking the bearer as a City-State Captain. A shield, with Praxus’ emblem on, what Bluestreak realized with dawning horror, was Iacon’s field and colors.
“Captain-?” His voice broke with static.
“Prowl”, his superior stated, taking the panicked hiccup as a request of identity, before hesitating.
“This was not how I anticipated our first encounter-” tilting his helm to look at the shield on Bluestreak’s own panels, he continued “Corporal. . . ?”
“Bluestreak, sir.” He answered, letting his optics offline in defeat.