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Rubix Cube Horror

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The request seemed innocent enough. It was just a cube with adjustable, colored pieces. Rodimus had purchased it some time ago, apparently back when he was still Hot Rod. The cube rested precariously on the edge of Ultra Magnus’ desk, where the speedster set it.

Ultra Magnus focussed intently on the paperwork in front of him, but that damned cube was too bright to block out of his view. It didn’t help that it was sneaking suspiciously closer every time he looked away.

“Rodimus, what are you doing?” Ultra Magnus grumbled, reluctant. He knew better than to encourage his captain, and he had work that needed done. But if he didn’t address this nuisance… Magnus suppressed a shiver of horror.

Rodimus leaned against Magnus’ desk, a grin spreading his lips. Ultra Magnus took it as a warning sign and sat up straighter.

“I want you to solve this,” Rodimus said, pushing the cube closer to the Magnus. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

Ultra Magnus eyed the cube and its mosaic of colors. A puzzle. It was unlikely that Rodimus’ prodding would end there. “Have you asked Megatron?”

Rodimus rolled his optics and picked up the cube. He tossed it from one servo to the other. “Tried that.” That damned grin was back. “He couldn’t figure it out.”

Playing on his pride. Magnus scoffed. “If I solve it, will you leave me to my work?” He absentmindedly tapped his digits on the desk.

Rodimus nodded all too enthusiastically. He made to hand Magnus the cube, but snatched it back at the last second, waving a digit in the air between them. “But,” he purred. “If I solve it after you, you have to tell Megatron that his poems are the worst you’ve ever read.”

Magnus frowned. How absurd could this get? “I do not read poetry.”

“So?” Rodimus toyed with the cube, twisting sides and aligning colors. “I swear I’ll leave you alone if you solve it.”

Ultra Magnus wasn’t going to miss this opportunity, but he had to be sure there weren’t any tricks to the game, as their often were with Rodimus. He took the cube and inspected it closely. After a moment or two, he gave up, since he had no idea what it was he would find.

Rodimus leaned over the desk, too close for comfort, his breath jagged.

“Are you well, Rodimus?” Magnus asked, briefly concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you going to start solving, or what? You have to make all the sides a solid color. Oh, and you get thirty nano-clicks.”

Repeating the twisting motions he saw Rodimus make earlier, Ultra Magnus started working. He quickly figured out that the cube was harder to solve than he’d expected. Of course it would be difficult, it was a challenge from Rodimus, after all.

Magnus berated himself for overestimating himself, and he bit back a curse when Rodimus jumped up and shouted, “Time’s up!”

Rodimus plucked the unsolved cube from Magnus’s massive, fumbling servos, and hopped onto the desk. Ultra Magnus jumped, pushing back. Rodimus’ nimble digits held the cube between his spread legs, and the Duelly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming scent of fresh transfluid and the specks of pink that flecked Rodimus’ thighs.

“What are you doing, Rodimus?” he rumbled.

The speedster grinned and opened his panels. Magnus snapped up, but he wasn’t fast enough to save his favorite pen and the documents he’d been working on. They were drenched in sticky pink transfluid in a matter of nano-clicks.

“Damnit, Rodimus!” he snapped.

Rodimus’s grin faded just a touch, but when his optics followed Ultra Magnus’ to his dripping valve, it returned twice as strong. “I’m going to show you how easy it is to solve this little puzzle.”

Magnus plopped back down in his chair, running a massive servo down his face. He tried to play as if his optics weren’t glued to the sight of Rodimus opening himself and taking the cube into his valve. He fought his fans when they tried to cycle on.

“Did you show this method to Megatron as well?” Ultra Magnus asked, voice hitching when Rodimus moaned.

Rodimus’ legs dangled over the edge of the desk, scrambling for a hold. He found Magnus’ thighs and planted his pedes, using the leverage to arch his hips and show off as the cube slid home and disappeared. He gasped and moaned, sinking back onto the desk.

“Why? You jealous?”

Ultra Magnus cursed the mech and his gorgeously supple curves, the flames licking at his chassis, that damned grin and those delicious moans. It was just a puzzle, what would a spike do to that pretentious littl—.

Magnus’ fans kicked on when Rodimus’ pede grazed his closed panels. When he met Rodimus’ gaze, he felt his spike press insistently at its housing. The speedster’s optics were fritzing with lust, and his mouth was twisted so perfectly that Magnus couldn’t resist standing and pulling him close enough to snag a kiss. Hot and passionate, it left no question to what would come next. Ultra Magnus didn’t mind, at that point. He sent the manual code to the door so that it locked, and he’d waited so long for this. The last time they’d interfaced seemed so far away, and with all his responsibilities, Magnus was stressed and pent up beyond belief. His paperwork was soiled anyway, and he would have to find the digital copies, which might take a while, to finish them. A break was in order.

Rodimus wrapped his legs around Magnus’ hips, pressing his plush, dripping valve against searing hot plating. “You break so easy, Mags,” he teased.

Ultra Magnus rained harsh, nipping kisses on Rodimus’ neck, shutting him up. When he stopped the assault, Rodimus whined.

“Oh, come on, Mags. Don’t stop now!” He tried to rub against Magnus, but his massive partner was backing away, prying himself free from Rodimus’ legs.

Ultra Magnus crossed his arms as his spike housing slid away and he pressurized. He grinned when a tremor passed through Rodimus and his valve clenched on nothing. Magnus knew he was a sight to behold, all rules and regulation, and a spike that challenged even Megatron’s confidence.

“Have you solved the cube?” he demanded, fans struggling to keep him from overheating. The sight of Rodimus, sprawled on his desk, leaking fluids and writhing was too good to ever forget.

Rodimus bit his lip and nodded. He sat up and reached between his legs, sending two digits digging into his valve. Ultra Magnus internalized a moan, his spike twitching impatiently. A bead of pre-fluid escaped him and slicked a trail down the curve of his spike, warm and promising.

Digits soaked in his own fluids, Rodimus removed a cube from his valve, a triumphant smile smearing his faceplates. Ultra Magnus stared at the cube. Every side was a different color. Solved.

“How did you…?”

Rodimus brought the cube to his mouth and, before his glossa could slip from between his lips, Magnus was between his legs. One thick, prodding digit slipped inside Rodimus and he arched into the touch, smearing himself over Magnus’ palm.

“I -ah- have my secrets,” he purred.

Ultra Magnus slipped a second digit inside, keeping the thrusts of his servo shallow and practiced. There was no resistance, Rodimus was already ready to take him. “You are loose,” he rumbled.

Rodimus shrugged, setting the solved cube aside and canting his hips to rub his valve against Ultra Magnus’ behemoth of a spike. They both jolted from the sudden friction. “I told you,” Rodimus quipped. “I already tried Megatron.”

Ultra Magnus paused. He wasn’t one for second helpings, and a low burn settled in the pit of his tanks at the thought of Rodimus underneath his co-captain. He wasn’t entirely certain if he should be grateful that Megatron had stretched Rodimus, or if he should be disgusted. Rodimus’ sultry grin didn’t help Magnus’ decision. So, rather than think, he aligned himself with that wet hot, begging valve, and snapped his hips. Rodimus let loose a cry of ecstasy and Magnus moaned, even as he continued his punishing pace. He loved the sensation of Rodimus closing in on him, clenching and squeezing with need, and being able to deliver just what he needed.

Ultra Magnus’ engines revved loud enough to cover the sound of his fans, and with the next thrust he sank in as far as he could go. Rodimus cried out again, and the charge crackling between them meant he was already close to his first overload. But there was something odd about the way Magnus settled in his valve. It felt like his spike was pressed against something stiff, and that was what kept him from sinking his entire spike into Rodimus.

“There is something in your valve, Rodimus,” he rumbled, carefully pulling out of that intoxicating heat.

Rodimus, between pants, said, “You’re just bigger.”

“As much as that would inflate my ego, I must disagree.” Ultra Magnus struggled to ignore the need to plow back into that valve as he knelt before it. With one digit, he searched Rodimus’ valve. It spasmed around him, sucking him deeper, deeper, until he knocked against whatever it was his spike had hit.

It was difficult to get a proper hold on the object, and it didn’t help that whenever Magnus moved it, Rodimus shivered and gushed fresh transfluid. Eventually, he got it out. The colors were barely distinguishable under all the pink, so Magnus swiped some away with his servo. When he realized what it was, he loomed over Rodimus.

“You had a second one in your valve?” he deadpanned.
Rodimus just smirked. “Yeah, but now there’s nothing keeping you from filling me up.”

As Magnus lined himself up again, having set the cube next to the other one, he braced himself for his hardest thrust yet. He slammed into Rodimus so hard that the desk’s contents rattled and the speedster screamed. Ultra Magnus didn’t give him a chance to snark or whine, knowing that he could handle it, and plowed into him. On the third thrust, Rodimus overloaded, screaming Magnus’ name, but he kept thrusting at that breakneck pace. Magnus could feel Rodimus go slack, basking in the glow of his overload, and that valve of his twitched with every simple movement. He rammed into the speedster, hilting every time and striking his ceiling node over and over again until he was crying out another overload.

Magnus paused just long enough to lift one of Rodimus’ legs and stretch it so that it ran horizontal with his chassis, offering a new angle. Rodimus, although stretched from his romping with Megatron, was still drawn fantastically taught around Magnus, and as he thrust, he could feel his own charge becoming undeniably hotter.

Rodimus panted, “Ah— Magnus! Frag, you’re so big! Feel —mmm— so good!” He had just enough energy to cant his hips against Magnus’, striving for even deeper nodes to be struck.

Ultra Magnus’ thrusts were becoming sporadic, jagged and unpredictable. His pace was struggling, and he could feel Rodimus’ charge building one last time. Magnus lowered Rodimus’ leg and pulled him to his chassis, lifting him completely off the desk. Rodimus arched his perfect spine and wrapped his arms tight around Magnus’ neck. He captured him in a searing hot kiss.

Magnus, with both servos on either side of Rodimus’ aft, lifted him and then dropped him onto his spike, spearing him open. He couldn’t keep it up much longer, and finally it was too much.

Sinking completely into Rodimus, Magnus broke their kiss to cry, “Rodimus! Gah—”

The warm flood of transfluid that gushed from his spike filled what little remaining space in Rodimus’ valve there was. The smaller mech was crying out his own overload as Magnus continued to thrust, though calmer, through his.

Ultra Magnus revelled in the way Rodimus’ valve clasped around him, milking him dry and relieving everything that had pent up in him over the last few cycles. While Rodimus writhed on top of him, surely aggravated by the fullness of his valve, Magnus leaned in to whisper in his audial.