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Obviously it's a terrible idea. Astrotrain is beyond massive, like the dimension he came out of builds 'em all to Omega Supreme specs. She barely comes up to his knee.
But oh, Primus, does Skywarp want to get with that. Usually it's Starscream who has the obsession with any mech big enough to snap him in half like a rust stick, but she suddenly thinks she understands the appeal.
"Come to this dimension often?" she asks, sidling up next to where Astrotrain's awkwardly folded himself up in the corner of the hastily-assembled rec room- literally folded, the ceiling isn't tall enough for him to stand, and apparently he's given up on dignity to sit on the sticky floor, knees up around his chin, the stiff projections he has the nerve to call wings scraping against the wall.
Astrotrain turns his head towards her, optics skeptical and mouth downturned, but not telling her to get lost.
She grins and proffers one of her cubes of Energex, guessing that the charge it carries will barely have an impact considering his size but wanting to get on his good side with the gesture anyway.
"I saw you get Dead End pretty good the other day," Skywarp says when he still doesn't take the high-grade. The thing is, she's not used to this. Being the one to pursue in this context. She's a seeker, for Primus' sake; even the coneheads barely have to flash their ugly leg-wings and they have invitations coming out their afterburners.
Her comment finally gets a reaction, a self-satisfied smirk. "No more than he deserves," Astrotrain says, his voice all deep and rumbly in a way that sends shivers of excitement through her system.
She wiggles the cube of Energex again, wings waggling their own eager pattern, and this time he plucks it from her delicately. One single digit of his is bigger than her entire helm and she can already feel her interface protocols trying to override her processor and demand she jump him immediately, scale be damned.
The whole cube is barely more than a sip for him and when he tosses the empty away carelessly, Skywarp can't help but snort a laugh when it breaks apart on an unsuspecting Frenzy's helm.
Astrotrain's smirk deepens, and he unfolds just a little from his cramped position, ignoring the bratty cassette threatening revenge that will probably amount to nothing more threatening than a bucket of paint. It makes him look less like a boring grump and more like he might actually be worth her time.
"Wanna hear about the time I pulled the best prank on Shockwave?" she asks, leaning in eagerly. He's from another dimension, one that apparently diverged pretty far back- she doesn't really want to dwell on what it means for the Skywarp there- which means he won't have heard this story yet.
He nods, and Skywarp might not be used to leading the charge on flirting, but she knows how to keep a mech's interest. She makes sure to keep her wings loose and mobile as she tells the story, the kind of movements that nearly every mecha can't help but get distracted by even if they can't read the language cues there, angling her cockpit to catch the dingy light. She even reaches up and twirls a turbine as if it's an unconscious gesture, a move so shameless Screamer of all mecha actually tried to ban her from using it
Astrotrain might as well be a drone for all the good it does her. He pays attention more to the actual story- and okay, it's a good one, but really?- than to the display she's making as she tells it.
He laughs at the punchline, a solid booming sort of sound that practically vibrates through her, and she grins because at least he's someone who appreciates her talents. Usually the only ones who will listen to her with half as much attention are her trine, and they're not even on the planet with her.
"Hey," Skywarp says, close enough now to lay a hand on his arm, totally not accidentally-on-purpose tracing her digits along a transformation seam, just shy of actually dipping in to touch wires. She has some shame, no matter what Thundercracker says. "Wanna clang?"
Astrotrain actually takes an astrocycle to think it over, which is almost offensive, but his optics are keen with interest, the biolights studded around his chassis glowing with just a hint of building charge. "Here?" he asks, dubious.
She grimaces at the very idea. "I know a place," she says. Without any further warning she tightens her hold on his arm, and activates her warp drive.
There's a weird amount of what she can only think of as drag, when jumps are normally totally smooth and instantaneous. He's big, sure, but she's teleported combiners before- he ain't that big. Maybe it's his own portal thingy causing interference?
Whatever the cause, it's enough that she stumbles a little as her thrusters come down on the uneven ground, but thankfully not so much that she actually loses balance or anything truly embarrassing.
Astrotrain has a surprised, pleased look on his faceplate, and at first she thinks its because he recognizes the place she's brought them- it used to be a fancy crystal garden a couple of eons ago, now it's just a dark and private ruin with the starry sky stretching wide above- but his optics are fixed on her.
"You teleport," he says, and unfolds himself from his forced crouch. And yeah okay, she totally owes Starscream for all the times she made fun of him for his tastes because damn if the fact that Astrotrain nearly rivals Devastator for height isn't a massive turn-on right now, charge sizzling through her system.
"Duh," Skywarp replies. That's like, the first thing anybot ever learns about her.
"We're still in the same dimension?" he says, a little more cautiously.
"Du-uh ," she repeats, but now that he mentions it, part of her processor is busy trying to figure out if she could steal his portal-generator-thing, or if she maybe could just think really hard and program her warp drive to make it happen on her own? Some kind of upgrade she can install? Screamer would probably know more about if it's possible, but, well...
"We clanging or what?" she says with a decisive flick of her wings. She'll dwell on her absent trinemates sometime when she's not about to frag the only other mecha on this planet who appreciates the art of a good prank as much as she does.
He grunts and sits back down on the ground, long legs sprawled out across like, three entire ruined crystal displays. Skywarp has a few ideas, but she isn't really sure how things are going to work- even sitting, she comes halfway up his chest. Just the panels over his array are practically up to her knees.
"Hey," she says, taking the several steps it takes to stand between his spread legs, marveling at just how gargantuan all of him is. "You need to take off some size, or you won't fit."
It's practically a crime to suggest it, but she's been thinking about this ever since she saw him slam his alt-mode's cargo hatch straight onto Dead End's helm and then scoot away just far enough to make him run to catch back up- she's gonna frag him, and specifically she wants whatever gigantic hunk of metal he calls a spike to ram so far into her valve that she tastes it in back of her intake.
She just. Has a couple of Rules in her processor about things like sizes, courtesy of patching Screamer back together after a few too many of his more ill-advised clangs. Thundercracker had insisted, and she hates making him pull his 'I'm not mad I'm disappointed' face.
Astrotrain looks kind of, flustered. "I thought you'd spike me," he says, "They usually- it's easier."
"Maybe next time," she says, because pit yes does she want to see if she can make a big mech like him beg for her spike- but she bites her glossa before pointing out that he'd still need to mass-shift for that as well, at least if her ego is ever going to survive. Unless maybe she drags TC and Star into things, hmm...
While she's idly contemplating how to convince her trine to have a foursome with her Astrotrain nods, frowning a bit in concentration, and starts shrinking. It catches her attention back because it's always weird to watch when it's not part of a transformation sequence, and Skywarp can't help but snicker when the affects are uneven, his head suddenly noticeably smaller than the rest of him, one pede still giant on a scrawny leg.
Then he evens out, size stabilizing. And he's still like, really slagging big, but now she's pretty sure clanging won't be a death sentence.
"Good enough?" he asks, voice still deep and resonating even without the extra mass. "I don't like going small."
"Perfect," Skywarp reassures him, wings flicking in anticipation, interface array suddenly pinging alerts on her HUD to let her know that her valve's empty and she'd better do something to fix that.
She can grab his shoulders without stretching, now, but only because he's still sitting flat on the ground. And grab she does, using her hold to press up along his chassis, the glass of their cockpits scraping with a pleasant-unpleasant tingle, the kind you only get from other fliers.
His hands finally reach out for her frame in return, digits still too thick to work themselves really between the seams of her armor but plenty good at tracing them from the outside. Astrotrain's touches are rough, clumsy- she isn't sure if he's just inexperienced with seekers, likes it rough in general, or if he's having trouble from the mass-shifting.
Doesn't really matter, though. It feels plenty good to her, charge building in her circuits as she lets him molest her wings. Her ventilation system already clicks on, more from anticipation than an actual temperature rise- yet.
Skywarp explores his frame happily in return; triple-changers are something of a rarity, and it's fun to try guessing which part belongs to which alt. Not to mention, seams which have to allow for two totally different transformation sequences tend to be pretty sensitive, a fact she uses to her advantage, dragging out low, surprised-but-pleased noises from him. His wings are stiff and barely respond, built totally different from an atmosphere flier's, and she gives up on those to focus on- ugh, grounders- the well of a wheel instead.
There's starting to be little discharges of static energy between them, bio-lights pulsing as their charge builds up. A notice on her HUD tells her her core temperature's rising.
Just when she's getting impatient with all this feeling up and no real action, Astrotrain leaves his exploration of her cockpit's canopy seam aside and rubs over her modesty panel- or rather, he aims for her panel, but she snaps it aside before he even makes contact and instead his digit slides right against her uncovered valve.
"Eager?" he asks, teasing.
Skywarp flicks her ailerons in a sarcastic gesture he's probably not even going to recognize. "Duh," she says, because she's been eager since she first laid optics on him.
She can feel it when his vents kick in, a slow rumble deep inside his frame. His digits explore her array, no teasing at all, just a couple of firm rubs against her anterior node and then- ah!
His digit's inside her, sliding easily with all the lubrication she's pumping out, and Skywarp whines high in her vocal range. It's just one digit but it already feels good, her calipers limbering up for the stretch to come.
And oh Primus, is there going to be a stretch. Because Astrotrain is sliding back his own panel and there's his spike extending out between them, exactly as big as the rest of his frame promised it'd be.
She doesn't remember moving but suddenly her hands are on it, totally failing to encircle the girth. She'd have to serious rearrange her faceplate to even try to get it in her intake but Skywarp ducks down and gives the head a lick anyway, at which point Astrotrain lets out a noise like a steam engine.
A little bead of lubrication (well, comparatively little) wells up at the tip and she licks it away- hm, tastes the same despite the alternate dimension- before grinning up at him. "Someone else is eager, too."
Astrotrain ex-vents in a huff, and his other hand sort of palms the back of her helm, like he wants to push her down intake-first onto his spike, but he doesn't put any force into the gesture.
After one last lick (or a few, whatever) she reluctantly lets go of his spike to grab his chest armor instead, clambering up onto his lap so she's closer to her goal of the clanging of a lifetime.
She looks down between them, his spike with its pretty little dots of bio-lights framed by her own lined thighs, and gets the feeling that probably she should have asked him to keep shrinking another few mechanometers. Oh well, Skywarp thinks, and lines herself up.
"Wait, wait," Astrotrain says, and grabs ahold of her pelvic armor to stop her from even trying to sink down onto the head of his spike. "You're gonna hurt yourself."
"No I'm not," she replies with a scoff.
Without answering he shifts his grip so he can reach the base of her wings with his digits, his other hand reaching for her valve again. And alright, if he wants to fool around some more, she supposes she can handle that. The alert on her HUD about how empty her poor, neglected valve is vanishes as one of his digits slides inside again, a welcome relief.
She ex-vents a sigh, arching her spinal strut so her wings are pressing into one of his hands and her valve is rolling against the other, her balance precarious on his spread thighs.
Astrotrain rocks his digit back and forth, manually stimulating the nodes beautifully but not giving her calipers much to stretch around. It's almost immediately frustrating beyond belief.
"Come on, another," Skywarp whines, reaching out to anchor herself on the vents in his chest plating, warm air rushing out, a contrast to the night air which is only getting cooler and cooler.
He grunts, and slides a second digit inside her valve. This is more like it, she thinks, but he's moving so sloooowly that at this pace, Thundercracker will have time to fly over from that mudball planet and back before Astrotrain actually frags her.
"Come ooonn," she says, fragging herself on his digits as much as she's able to- which isn't a lot, and wouldn't be any amount at all if his hold on her wasn't awkward from the angle. He's not just enormously big he's strong, effortlessly so, and it's only making Skywarp more desperate to have him.
"You'll split in half, little seeker," he says, just slowly moving his digits back and forth, spreading them out and drawing them back in.
She knows, somewhere in the back of her lust-addled processor, that he's not talking out his afterburner. His spike is the kind of big that could put her out of commission until Hook has room on his medslab for her (so, a millennia or two), but she doesn't really give a slag right now when charge is flowing through her circuits and all she wants is to get fragged so hard she reboots.
"At least give me another," she says, vocalizer starting to glitch with how much whine she's putting through it.
Astrotrain gives her a third digit, but he also starts rubbing his thumb right up against her anterior node so she isn't even all that aware of the extra girth inside of her, distracted instead by pure pleasure.
She bites her lip and feels her fans crank up, her frame suddenly hurtling towards almost enough charge to overload. She hadn't really planned to overload before getting his spike inside of her, but since he's apparently taking the long route...
Skywarp drags one hand away from where she's gripping the expanse of his chest and gropes herself instead, digits splaying across the smooth glass of her cockpit, dipping into the cavity behind the turbine itself, tracing that one seam along her abdomen that always feels so good, unable to settle on any one spot long enough to tip herself over.
It's Astrotrain who solves that problem, adjusting his hold on her so that he grips one wing firmly, the sort of pressure that has her gasping air in through her intake to force-cool her processor, optics blinking wide but not taking in any information. He rubs her node and oh Primus is that a fourth digit?
She overloads in a rush, static discharging off her plating, bio-lights flaring brighter and brighter before dimming suddenly as the peak passes. She shudders and shakes through it, HUD cluttering up with nonsensical alerts she can't even clear away because that requires too much concentration.
Her optics need to be reset before Skywarp can focus on Astrotrain again, his face back to looking smug and self-satisfied.
She glances down; yep, four huge digits buried in her valve, stretching her calipers so good and yet still not the same as actually getting his spike inside of her.
"How's that?" he asks, and she shivers when he twitches his digits still inside of her.
"Are we gonna clang, or what?" Skywarp says, ignoring the fact that her struts feel like they've been swapped for plastic, her wings chattering as they shiver with little after-buzzes of her overload.
Astrotrain chuckles, but his spike hasn't wavered at all so she knows he's still just as eager for it as she is.
The slide of his digits out of her causes her to whimper, valve trying to cling and keep him inside even though she's about to get something even better.
He's leaking plenty of lubrication from his tip now, not just little drops but enough to slide down his length, glinting in the red glow of their bio-lights. Skywarp wriggles against the hand still trying to keep her in place and reaches for the spike, nearly scalding hot to the touch now, little crackles of energy discharging as she makes contact.
This time he doesn't stop her when she settles herself over his spike, notching the thick head up against the opening of her valve. He's wet, she's wet, she's been opened and even had an overload to take the edge off- but still, it's a struggle.
She's mentioned before that Astrotrain's spike is just, massive. Gargantuan. Maybe not titan-sized (do they even have spikes?) but definitely larger than her poor little seeker's valve.
But Skywarp has always been stubborn about getting what she wants. She grinds on the blunt head of his spike, forcing it just barely inside her valve before rocking back, letting her calipers freak out now so they'll relax and just let it happen.
And happen it does. Slowly, agonizingly- she'd be lying if she said this was a painless operation, but it's the good kind of pain, pressure and friction and the glow of knowing Starscream will offline from jealousy, the kind of ache she gets from flying maneuvers with her trine that leaves her engine howling and her wings feeling like they're made of cheap tin yet satisfied to her very laser core because no other seekers would even dare try to keep up in the first place. Slowly but surely, his huge spike sinks into her eager valve.
She's shaking as she works Astrotrain's spike in deeper and deeper, forcing the tight connections at her pelvic girdle to loosen, feeling the lining of her valve strain to contain his absurd, wonderful girth, vents going full-bore sucking in air just trying to keep her processor from boiling away in her cranial casing.
She's pretty sure one of them, or maybe both, are making the sort of noises that are super embarrassing anywhere else except when clanging, moans and whimpers and "Yeah that's it" and "So big" and nonsense like that.
And then- he doesn't fit all the way. Of course he doesn't, Skywarp thinks groggily as she tries to dismiss the "critical ceiling pressure" warning on her HUD and also look at the length of his spike left outside of her valve. It's like, an entire quarter of it. Damn.
"How," Astrotrain says, and his hand reaches for her abdomen, and- wow. Screamer was right, all the flexible connections there do make it possible to see the bulge of a spike through your own plating, provided the spike is large enough. It's either creepy or the hottest thing she's ever seen, she's going to need to think about it later.
She does take an image capture though, just in case.
Astrotrain's hand on her plating, though- oh, oh Primus, she's got the hot, hard girth of his spike pressing and rubbing against her valve from the inside and now there's his hand rubbing her from the outside, it's like she might as well not have plating at all, stripped down to her bare essentials, sensornet dialed up waaaaaay past eleven.
Skywarp moans, a noise that maybe has words or maybe doesn't. Then, because she can't help herself and has never learned when to leave well enough alone, she starts moving again.
Little bounces up and down. Just rocking, really. She can barely move at all, even with the astroliters of lube she must be pouring out. The nodes studded along her valve freak out with all the unrelenting contact, circuits threatening to fry themselves trying to figure out how to sort through the data.
She doesn't mean to overload, but she's also kind of surprised it took this long. Charge crashes through her systems, sizzling over her plating, gitching out useless things like her nullrays and actuator relays and subroutines she really could care less about right now, because nothing matters as much as the feeling of this overload pummeling her circuits.
Astrotrain groans like he's being offlined, spinal strut curving down until his helm scrapes against hers, hands gripping tight enough to set off pressure warnings.
"Is it gonna deactivate you if I move," he says when the strongest waves have passed, a question without the inflection.
She has to actually think about that, processor fuzzy with pleasure and continued desire. If she lets him really frag her, he's going to do some damage. Sure, one of the medics will be able to patch her up... eventually. Is she willing to suffer through potentially eons of not being able to get spiked?
"So you do portals too, right?" she asks.
He lifts his helm enough to look at her like he thinks she suffered processor damage.
"Are you-" Astrotrain starts to say, and maybe even starts to gently tug her off his spike which, no.
"Shh," she says, "Just don't freak out."
Because, see. Her warp drive is half innate outlier ability, half constructed device. And it lets her move through the same kind of subspace, transwarp, unspace, bleed, infraspace- whatever the eggheads at the academies are calling it now- that forms a bot's own storage pocket with perfect, instinctual ease, just as easy as flying through the air.
And of course she'd figured out how to abuse it. Duh.
The gist of it is, she just sort of opens up a path to her personal subspace pocket- right in the middle of her valve so his spike slips on inside, immediately silencing the pressure warning from her ceiling node at least.
Astrotrain stares at her, wide-opticed and slack-jawed, and she can't tell if it's a good reaction or a bad one. She's done this before, a couple of times, but only with her trine who don't care how weird it is, how weird she is for getting pleasure from something like subspace.
It doesn't really hit her until just then that Astrotrain is- well sure, he's a Decepticon, but he's a stranger. A stranger from another dimension, and she's just let him stick his spike into her own personal transwarp pocket.
She licks her lips, wings arching high and defensive, very aware that she's pinned in place unless she can somehow muster the coordination for a clean teleportation. "Well?" she says after several unbearable astrocycles of silence, save for the roaring of fans and engines.
"You have unspace in your valve," he says finally.
"Well, yeah," Skywarp replies. Technically she has it everywhere, they all do, it's kind of how it works- but she thinks he probably knows that, considering his own trans-dimensional-portaling thing.
"This is slagged up," he says, and she has a moment to feel real fear race through her processor, spark churning at the thought of how this could go wrong- before he twitches his hips and slams the rest of his spike up inside of her.
It's one thing to open a pocket and then barely fuss at the edges, and entirely another to get fragged through one's subspace. Skywarp wails, loud and shameless, all her struts going limp as her sensornet tries to make sense of something that no mecha was ever meant to feel.
Normally when she does this, it's Thundercracker or Starscream carefully using their digits at the edges of the pocket, deeply aware of how taboo it is to access another mecha's subspace, even invited.
But Astrotrain is just pounding in, huge spike stretching her valve and then stretching the pocket, and for bots not as connected to unspace as she is they'd barely feel it, but for her it's like-
Like he's everywhere inside of her, and outside of her, his spike somehow spread out over every single point of contact she has with unspace and yet unrelentingly huge and hard in her valve at the same time, like he's fragging her very spark as much as her frame.
She can't think, her processor is totally swamped with muddled sensory data, alerts popping up and disappearing almost instantaneously, frame so charged up she's kind of surprised nothing is on fire (Or maybe it is, and she is just too busy keeping up with a torrent of pleasure to notice).
Astrotrain is fragging her like there's no tomorrow now, leaning back with pedes planted in the ruined crystal garden below for leverage as he thrusts up with all the power of his gigantic frame, holding her in place like she's some cheap shareware drone so he can get the best angle. For her part Skywarp just digs her digits into whatever bit of his armor she can reach and hangs on, feeling like she's flying, falling in perfect terminal velocity, like she's teleporting over and over but with none of the weird lag that builds up after too many jumps.
She doesn't really overload, not in the usual way. Pleasure just keeps rolling through her circuits, waves cresting and falling but never tipping over that edge- or maybe it's all one big long overload. She genuinely can't tell, all of her senses filled up with the fragging of a lifetime.
It only ends because Astrotrain reaches his limit, slamming impossibly deep, so deep he'd literally be displacing major pieces of hardware if he wasn't tucked all hot and hard into her subspace pocket, and with an audial-shattering yell unloads what in hindsight is going to be one awful mess to clean out later.
Skywarp whimpers, dazed and a bit confused as to why he's pulling himself out- Primus, his spike just keeps going doesn't it- but too fragged out to resist.
She feels wrecked, ruined, but one last jolt runs through her as the head of his spike slips fully out of her subspace pocket back into her valve and she shudders, finally feeling that Cybertron-shattering overload she was craving. The charge is so great it literally sends her into an emergency shut-down, errors cascading until everything disappears in the blink of an optic.
It doesn't take very long for her to rejoin the land of the functioning. Astrotrain is tapping at the side of her helm with one stupidly big digit like that'll help.
She groans and swats at him, limbs heavy and uncoordinated. She feels like she's gone ten rounds against Metroplex, or maybe just told Screamer that his new paint job was hideous.
"Thought you offlined," Astrotrain says, and she might still be fuzzy from rebooting but she snorts in amusement.
"Deactivation by fragging," she says, resetting her vocalizer so she doesn't sound quite so much like a certain screechy someone. "What a way to go."
The ground shifts underneath her, and Skywarp realizes that she's not on the ground at all, she splayed out over Astrotrain's thighs. It's either weirdly sweet, or just kind of weird.
"I didn't know that kind of thing was possible," he says, and trails a digit down her front, from cockpit to pelvic plating, stopping just before her abused interface array, thankfully hidden by her panels now. She's sensitive all over, sore, but it does send a thrill through her to remember how it'd felt being touched like that with him stuffed inside of her.
"Hey," she says, and tries to sit up but gives it up as a bad job when her system keeps pinging mechanical errors- apparently you can dislocate your 'inguinal arch', who even knew that was a thing?- "You're good to fly us home, right?"
"I think I can handle it," Astrotrain says. He's back to his original ginormous size so he just scoops her up in the palm of his hand and transforms around her, depositing her in his cab.
As his engines fire up she makes another effort to get herself into a slightly more comfortable position than 'fragged-out heap' and succeeds in awkwardly wedging herself into one of the seats, wondering how much visual data he gets from his interior.
Ah, apparently all of it, because there's a holo-matter display of his helm glowing away on the dash, looking far too amused at her struggles. She pulls a face, but he isn't outright laughing and anyway, this totally counts as battle damage so there's really nothing to be embarrassed about.
Astrotrain is nowhere near as fast as a seeker, obviously- he's not even really supposed to fly within atmosphere, relying purely on a heavy-burning engine rather than lift from his stupid so-called wings. It'll take them a while to get back to what's shaping up into the new Decepticon capital, Megatron busily rebuilding from the ashes like he always promised them he would.
"Wake me up when we land," Skywarp says, wiggling against the high-backed chair until her wings aren't feeling quite so trapped. After all that works, she thinks she deserves some recharge.
Astrotrain wakes her up, alright- by dumping her frame out of his cab onto the cold hard floor of the main hanger, right at the pedes of a very unamused Megatron and a very judgemental Soundwave. And then he rockets off, snickering meanly to himself.
Skywarp would be more pissed if it wasn't exactly what she would have done.