Upper body pressed against Soundwave's broad chest, legs spread over blue hips and that spike impaling him over and over, Jazz keened and shivered. Soundwave pistoned his hips from where he lay on his back, driving them both toward overload. He dug his fingers into dark blue plating, enjoying the pleasure buzzing in his array. Interfacing with Soundwave was so intense, it always left Jazz’s processor swimming and his spark pulsing so hard he was sure it might escape his chest.
He suddenly shuddered, unable to control his body as he overloaded with a sharp cry. Why did this feel so cathartic? Why was it so intense every time? Clinging tightly to Soundwave, he rode out the amazing pleasure that flooded his entire being all at once.
Soundwave’s grasp on him tightened and he grunted, then moaned lowly, also overloading. The electrical charge of fluid sent an aftershock of pleasure zinging through Jazz and he whimpered. They then both sagged as it passed, while their cooling fans worked hard.
Basking in the lovely euphoria overload brought, Jazz lazily mouthed and kissed along Soundwave’s jawline.
Blue fingers gently brushed over the side of Jazz’s face. What he found most fascinating about Soundwave was how incredibly gentle he was. For such a large mech who was so brutal in battle, he was unexpectedly affectionate and sweet in the berth.
“You are to spend time with Bluestreak today,” Soundwave commented. “Will you continue–” Soundwave paused, obviously looking for an appropriate word.
“‘Facing him? Nah. I don’t think so,” Jazz replied with a sad smile. He then curled a little in on himself, guilt pushing his moment of pleasure aside.
“Complication was not my intention,” Soundwave said.
Jazz shifted, lifting off the decompressed spike, and then pushed up onto an arm to look down into Soundwave’s half-exposed face. “I’m the one that made this all complicated. I’ll be straight with Blue later and tell ‘im.”
Soundwave frowned. “He will be upset. I–”
Jazz leaned down and kissed Soundwave sweetly. “Stop worryin’. You didn’t do anything wrong. This is different for me, being with you I mean. Never felt so addicted to being ‘round someone before.”
“Addicted?” Soundwave asked, fingers gently tracing down his cheek.
Jazz nodded. “Definitely addicted to how you make me feel. Could lay in this berth all day long, interfacin’ until my valve is sore and I’d still want more.”
Soundwave smiled a little. “Duties and obligations intervene.”
“They sure do.” Chuckling, Jazz kissed Soundwave’s cheek.
“Should clean up. You’re appointed time with Bluestreak is soon,” Soundwave said. Despite his monotone, there was a note of disappointment in his voice.
What was Jazz doing? This couldn’t be love, right? He honestly didn’t know. The only thing he was sure of was the fact that being with Soundwave helped him feel better. Maybe that was just what needed right now?
Bluestreak grinned when Jazz appeared in the doorway and hopped to his feet from the couch. “Hey, handsome.”
“Hey, Blue.” Jazz stopped short, just out of arms-length, and Bluestreak could see something was wrong.
He canted his head. “Okay. What is it?”
Jazz frowned, which was rare for him. “I, uh, I gotta tell you somethin’.”
Doorwings lowering, Bluestreak grew very still. It was bad news. Someone they knew was dead, maybe?
Jazz’s frown deepened. “You know how I was weird last time I was here? All upset?”
“Yeah. You said you loved me,” Bluestreak quietly replied, his worry quickly shifting now that it was clear this was about them. About their relationship. Had Bluestreak unwittingly done something wrong? Was Soundwave going to stop letting Jazz visit? His mind ran a million light years a minute with terrible scenarios...
“I did. Thing is, you mean a lot to me.” Jazz’s posture seem to sink as he spoke.
Bluestreak’s spark felt like it was twisting in his chest with each carefully chosen word. He just wanted to know what was going on.
“More than anyone has in a long ti–”
“Just spit it out. Stop trying to sweet-coat things,” Bluestreak interrupted.
“I’ve been interfacin’ with Soundwave,” Jazz admitted, grimacing.
“You what?” Bluestreak was stunned. He stared at Jazz with bright optics. “I thought he, that he, you know, hated it?”
“He trusts me,” Jazz replied with a shrug. “And it just kinda happened a couple days ago.”
“Wow.” Bluestreak’s doorwings lowered and he walked back over to the couch and sat down dazed by such an unexpected revelation.
“I’m so sorry, Blue,” Jazz said.
“Guess you don’t really love me, then?” Bluestreak asked with a sad frown.
Jazz sat down on the opposite couch. “Maybe I can’t love. Maybe I sabotaged you and me because I’ve never been close to someone before. Maybe I’m just a fraggin’ aft. I dunno. Been trying to figure it out. I don’t have any sort of good answer. ‘Cept maybe the aft one.”
Bluestreak sighed. Part of him wondered about that confession. Jazz had acted so oddly that evening. He’d never told Bluestreak what happened, either. Looking at Jazz now, he could see he was still messed up from the mysterious event in question.
“Tell me what happened to you, why you were being so weird last time you were here,” he asked. Jazz looked almost stricken at the request, but Bluestreak needed to know. “Please.”
Folding his hands in his lap, Jazz focused on the floor in front of him. “I, um, was taken to a meetin’ with Megatron. Prowl and Red were there, too, with their owners. After the boring stuff was discussed Megatron had us all pile into another room, and he, ah, he made me, Prowl and Red do stuff.”
“Stuff?” Bluestreak dimmed his optics as dread curled inside his chest. “Megatron violated you all?”
“Not exactly. Though, he did use my mouth for a ‘facing hole at one point,” Jazz replied, sounding so broken. “Then he made me and Prowl both, um, ‘face Red. In front of everyone.”
“There was more than just Megatron there?” Bluestreak asked, his dread morphing into outrage.
“Sounders, Shockwave, Screamer, Megs, and us. We had to perform for them, basically,” Jazz explained.
Mouth gaped in shock, Bluestreak crossed over to Jazz and sat down next to him, tugging him into a hug. He felt Jazz’s frame quivering slightly, and nuzzled his helm. “I’m so sorry…”
Returning the hug, Jazz held fast to Bluestreak. “It’s why Sounders is how he is. Megs used to do this to his own officers. Prolly still does,” he said after a moment.
Bluestreak stilled, suddenly understanding what Jazz apparently hadn’t. “Oh, Jazz.” He leaned back and gazed at him while gently brushing his fingers down the perimeter of his face. “You’re healing each other.”
“What?” Jazz looked confused.
Bluestreak pressed their forehelms together. “You and Soundwave. You’ve experienced the same thing. It’s why things changed between you two.”
If this had never happened to Jazz, Bluestreak knew he would still be his. It sort of stung to know that, but he also had a gut feeling about the confession of love not being fully genuine at the time. What sucked slag most, though, was that Bluestreak really did want a life with him, despite how foolish it was to hope for in the first place.
“Never set out to hurt you, Blue,” Jazz said in a hushed voice.
“I know that.” Blue kissed the tip of his nose. “You’re not like that.”
Jazz hugged himself to Bluestreak again. Unresisting, Bluestreak happily held him while wishing he could somehow magically heal him. Jazz didn’t deserve this, none of them did. Bluestreak was suddenly grateful for the guilded cage he and Mirage lived in here, knowing it kept them safer than most.
It wasn’t as if Bluestreak expected a happy ending for him and Jazz, but he’d still secretly hoped. Now he was loverless. It had just been a luxury, he tried to tell himself. He’d been alone plenty in his life, so why should he care if he was now? Besides, he wasn’t alone alone. He lived here with Mirage and Thundercracker. Though, he didn’t feel like he fit in with them.
Turning his attention to Mirage curled up next to him in the berth, Bluestreak forced a smile as he looked at the dimly lit face of his roommate. It was late, and all the lights were off. Only the glow of their optics illuminated their berthroom. “Yeah?”
“You were quiet all evening, and now you’re still awake. It’s not like you.” Mirage’s face was pinched with worry. “Did something happen between you and Jazz?”
Bluestreak let his faked smile fade. “Yeah. Our whatever-it-was thing is over. We’re just friends now.”
“Did you fight?” Mirage asked.
“No, nothing like that. I just– I lost him to Soundwave,” Bluestreak said with a shrug.
Mirage’s concerned look intensified. “Is Soundwave forcing him? I thought he was on our side?”
“Not forcing him. They need each other right now is all. Some stuff happened, and they sorta bonded over it,” Bluestreak explained.
Frowning, Mirage sighed. “I’m sorry, Blue. I know he made you happy.”
Looking away, tears threatened to escape. Bluestreak didn’t want it to hurt, but it did. “It’s fine,” he said, voice skipping a little.
Sliding his arm around Bluestreak, Mirage pressed close and hugged him. “It’s okay to cry. I certainly won’t judge you for it.”
“I know it was stupid to think nothing would change,” Bluestreak said, tears escaping down his cheeks. “But I thought me and Jazz would stay together, you know?”
Mirage nodded against his shoulder. “It’s a loss, Blue. It’s okay to mourn it.”
Bluestreak let go and finally started to sob in response. His spark ached as pain escaped in a stream of tears he couldn’t control. Mirage remained quiet, holding him close and nuzzling his helm. He found immense comfort in Mirage’s presence. It could be worse. He could be completely alone. When he was coherent tomorrow, he wanted to be sure he told Mirage that. How much he appreciated him. Right now, he needed to let himself hurt and ‘mourn’ the loss of his lover.
Something was amiss. Thundercracker quietly watched from the doorway as Mirage sat with Bluestreak in their drawing room area. He’d never known Mirage to play console type games, but he’d spent most of the morning with Bluestreak playing a racing game. A part of him was jealous, there was no doubt about that. He enjoyed his time with Mirage even if it was mostly on friendly terms. So watching him choose Bluestreak’s company did eat at him a little bit. He suspected there was a good reason, though.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Thundercracker finally said to gain their attention.
Bluestreak paused the game and they both looked over at him.
“Yes?” Mirage asked.
“I have to leave the apartment for several hours. Is there anything either of you need while I’m out?” Thundercracker asked.
“I think we’re fine,” Mirage replied before glancing at Bluestreak.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Bluestreak confirmed.
Thundercracker noticed Bluestreak’s doorwings lower as he spoke. In Vosian wing language, that usually indicated sadness or distress. He frowned, wondering if Praxians were similar with their doorwing gestures. “Alright then. I’ll be back later.”
They both nodded their goodbyes to him.
He then reluctantly turned and left them to play their video game. While he hadn’t connected with Bluestreak the same way he had with Mirage, that didn’t mean he didn’t care about his well-being; mental as well as physical. He’d need to keep a close optic on him.
He stepped out on the balcony and took off, heading for a meeting at the energon refinement plant. Starscream had insisted he and Skywarp come along for a tour of the facility and to assess their reserves in person. Being told the production was doing well only went so far when it came to Megatron. He only trusted his top officers to report the truth to him and therefore Starscream was often deployed to confirm reports.
Arriving first, as usual, Thundercracker decided to check in on the work force. The minibots or undesirable Autobots were the ones forced to work in the facility. He walked inside and stood on the catwalk above the machinery and workers below.
Vortex was on the floor, shouting orders at the laborers. Thundercracker deeply frowned at the sight of that poor excuse for a mech as he herded several minibots toward the raw energon holding tanks.
Scanning over the Autobots below, he noticed one wedged behind a large tank. His bright yellow paint stood out against the dark grey and brown of his surroundings. Thundercracker flew down to investigate. The Autobots that saw him land scattered, and he approached the unmoving yellow form.
“Frag,” he whispered. Kneeling down, he gently turned the dirtied face up so he could confirm who it was. “Bumblebee,” he whispered. Both his helm horns were broken off, his faceplates cracked and covered in grime.
“He tried to lead a rebellion,” said a voice from behind.
Thundercracker glanced over his shoulder at a soot-covered minibot he recognized as Huffer.
“Vortex beat him up and left him there. We’ve all been giving him parts of our rations, but we can’t fix him and he hasn’t onlined in days now,” Huffer said, making sure he kept his distance.
“Keep him covered. I saw his color from above. Starscream will be here for a tour soon,” Thundercracker stood back up. “If he sees him, he will be deactivated.”
“So the rumor’s true?” Huffer asked, backing up and glancing nervously over his shoulder for a moment.
“Rumor?” Thundercracker asked.
“Heard some of you guys want to free us,” Huffer whispered.
Thundercracker frowned. “Heard from whom?”
“Just around,” Huffer vaguely replied.
“Cover him up,” Thundercracker replied, flicking his wings and frowning. He needed to maintain the illusion of being loyal to Megatron. That meant not letting on he was sympathetic. “I want him for myself. I’ll be back later for him. Understood?”
Huffer quickly nodded his head and scurried off. He returned moments later with a dark brown tarp, which he carefully laid over top of Bumblebee.
“Now back to work, vermin,” Thundercracker snapped.
Posture sagging, Huffer ran off.
Dying in such a slow, agonizing way on the refinery floor as an example to the others was unacceptable. At the very least, he’d like to take Bumblebee someplace to die with dignity if he was truly unsalvageable.
The unmistakable voice of his air commander made Thundercracker wince. He glanced up seeing Starscream and Skywarp on the catwalk.
“Vortex! Brawl! Where the frag are you two?” Starscream yelled.
Thundercracker took off, flying up to his trinemates and gracefully landing beside them.
“‘Sup, TC?” Skywarp said already looking bored.
“The workers are in deplorable condition,” Thundercracker said, stating a truth but also covering for why he was on the floor.
“So?” Skywarp asked, looking confused. “Hey, you missed an awesome auction the other night. Screamer snagged that shuttle Skyfire.”
Tensing, Thundercracker nodded.
“For Pit’s sake, where are those two aftwipes?” Starscream snarled.
“Vortex was here when I arrived, but he disappeared toward the raw energon holds when I flew down,” Thundercracker replied.
Starscream glanced at Thundercracker and smirked. “Probably embarrassed to have to see us after his poor performance.”
“So, Screamer, what’s the plan for your new slave? You gonna keep your other one?” Skywarp asked.
“Don’t call me that,” Starscream replied with a hiss. “I’m keeping both. They complement my paint scheme and match one another.”
“I had that one, but they’re too much work to take of,” Skywarp replied. “No big deal, though. Divebomb’s club provides a nice choice of slaves to play with whenever I get the itch.”
While it was a relief to know Skywarp hadn’t bought any more slaves just as Thundercracker told him not to, it was also disturbing to know that some Autobots were being exploited as public pleasure mechs to be used by anyone who had credits to spend.
“You’re so lazy, Skywarp,” Starscream replied with clear impatience.
“You’re early!” Brawl said as he appeared on the catwalk. “Welcome to Cybertron’s one and only energon refinery, Commander Starscream.”
Starscream flicked his wings. “Let’s get this meeting over with. I have more pressing issues to tend to, and stench of his place is making me ill.”
Brawl was clearly unhappy with Starscream’s attitude. “I have all the information ready for you to take back to our Lord Megatron,” he said, clearly biting back the urge to growl as he spoke.
“That’s all well and good, but we want to see the reserve tanks and raw energon stockpiles with our own optics,” Starscream replied with annoyed undertone to his voice.
“As you wish,” Brawl replied as he clenched his hands into fists.
Primus, was there anyone Starscream didn’t rub the wrong way? It was a wonder Thundercracker hadn’t punched his trine leader in the face long ago.
“He’s in bad shape,” Tremorwave said, fingers gently moving over Bumblebee’s plating. “I mean, I’ve seen some pretty fragged up mechs. Sunstreaker was a disaster when he came in here the first time. Mirage, too. But this?” The medic shook his head. “I really don’t know.”
“His spark is still pulsing,” Thundercracker pointed out.
“Yeah but if he's been unresponsive for days, his processor may not even be functioning anymore.” Tremorwave replied with a frown. “I’ll do what I can, but no promises.”
Thundercracker nodded. “Thank you.” He took out a handful of credit sticks, setting them on the computer console.
“No need to pay upfront,” Tremorwave said as he began to pry dirtied pieces of plating off the prone form on the berth. “Not even sure he’ll make it.”
Thundercracker left the credits anyway. “Comm. me when you have anything to report. I have another meeting to attend.”
Tremorwave glanced up and raised an optic ridge. “Meeting at the compound?”
“Yes,” Thundercracker replied.
Turning back to his task, Tremorwave paused to lightly touch the spark chamber cover. “Still pulsing hard.” He then sadly smiled. “The resilience of our species never fails to impress me.”
“There’s only so much suffering any mech can endure before breaking, however,” Thundercracker replied.
“Ah, but those who suffer and don’t break are stronger and more formidable than imaginable,” Tremorwave said, looking up at Thundercracker from under the rim of his helm.
Thundercracker held the medic’s gaze. “Very true.”
Carrying Bumblebee in his arms, Thundercracker walked into Mirage and Bluestreak's area of the apartment. Being a minibot, Bumblebee hadn't needed as much time in the regen tank, and Tremorwave fixed up as much as was possible for the moment. The rest of the healing was up to Bumblebee and his auto repair system. Until he regained consciousness, the medic wouldn't be able assess the full extent of damages.
Mirage and Bluestreak were sitting cuddled close, both reading something on a datapad. They'd been inseparable for a few days now. Thundercracker did his best to hide his envy, but it was hard. He missed his time with Mirage.
"Is that Bee?" Bluestreak stared with bright optics at the bundle in Thundercracker's arms.
"Yes," he replied.
"Primus," Mirage said, worry flickering over his noble features.
Bluestreak got to his feet, and peered at Bumblebee's offlined face. "His horns are broken."
Mirage carefully set the datapad aside and got up, joining them.
"Tremorwave is unsure how much processor damage there is. Until he regains consciousness there's no way to know," Thundercracker replied.
"That's why he didn't bother with cosmetic repairs?" Mirage asked, focusing on his broken horns.
Thundercracker sadly sighed. "Yes. He needs caring for in the meantime, including energon directly put into his tank at regular intervals."
"I'll do it. I'll take care of him," Bluestreak replied.
"We both will," Mirage added, lightly touching Bumblebee's arm.
Moving toward one of the couches, Thundercracker was about to deposit the minibot when Mirage blocked his way.
"The berth is more appropriate," Mirage said, gesturing to the other room.
"Of course," Thundercracker replied, altering his path. It was starting to feel like he'd lost what little progress he'd made with Mirage, which was disheartening.
In the berth room, he deposited his yellow bundle. Bluestreak wasted no time arranging Bumblebee into a comfortable position.
"You have a fuel tube?" Bluestreak asked.
Pulling a fueling tube and a small box from his subspace, Thundercracker held the items out for Bluestreak. "These are additives to enrich his energon and help aid healing," he explained.
Nodding, Bluestreak took the items.
Mirage got on the berth and sat beside Bumblebee, fingers moving over the broken horns. "Where did you find him?"
Thundercracker's wings lowered. "At the refinery. He tried to lead a rebellion and was made an example of."
"That's horrible," Bluestreak replied, his doorwings lowering in a mirrored gesture.
Mirage looked up at Thundercracker, a touch of warmth coloring his sad smile. "You rescued him."
Holding the gaze, Thundercracker nodded. His spark pulsing faster at the direct attention Mirage gave him. Primus, why did he have to develop feelings for this mech? It wasn't his intention to fall for him, but he definitely had. As much as he wanted so much more, Mirage remained aloof.
"If there's anything either of you need, let me know," Thundercracker said before making his way to leave.
"As soon as he wakes up, we'll let you know," Bluestreak replied.
Tremorwave made it sound like Bumblebee may not recover or regain consciousness when he'd picked him up earlier, but Thundercracker didn't want to be cruel and tell them that. Best they have hope.
Mirage smiled at the sight of Bluestreak curled up next to Bumblebee as he silently slipped off the berth. It was the most at peace he’d seen his friend in days now. Losing Jazz had been hard on the young Praxian, more so than Bluestreak probably realized. Mirage had been happy to be a close companion for him to distract him from his pain, but that had been at the cost of spending time with Thundercracker.
With Bumblebee here to care for, it would give Bluestreak some purpose. It also gave Mirage a little more freedom again, which he was going to take advantage of now.
Silently padding through the opulent apartment, Mirage made his way to Thundercracker’s room. He lightly rapped his knuckles on the door, then waited. The rest of the apartment was dark save a light here and there, which meant the seeker was most likely here. After a long moment, the door slid open.
“Mirage,” Thundercracker looked both surprised and pleased. “Did you need something?”
“Just some time with you, if you’re agreeable to that,” Mirage replied.
A warm smile graced Thundercracker’s handsome features and he nodded, stepping aside to let Mirage in.
“My apologies,” Mirage said once inside with the door closed.
“For?” Thundercracker asked as he walked over to the table near the window where an abandoned board game they’d been playing was still set up.
Mirage joined him, sitting opposite of Thundercracker and gazing at the board, trying to remember where they’d left off. “Spending all my time with Bluestreak over the last few days.”
“You don’t need to apologize for that,” Thundercracker replied. He picked up a tile and placed it on the board, clearly remembering better whose turn it was.
Fingering one of his blue tiles, Mirage considered placement on the board. “He’s been distraught over the ending of his relationship with Jazz. Leaving him alone just wasn’t an option.” He set his tile down and looked up at Thundercracker.
“I wasn’t informed their relationship ceased. Soundwave made no changes to the schedule,” Thundercracker said, looking concerned.
“They are still friends. Having a visitor is important to Blue,” Mirage replied, surprised at how little Thundercracker seemed to know. Surely Soundwave would mention he was now interfacing with his Autobot, wouldn’t he?
Frowning, Thundercracker shook his head. “What brought on all this? If you don’t mind sharing.”
He really didn’t know... “Soundwave and Jazz have been engaging in a physical relationship. Pardon my saying, but that seems like a tidbit of information that would have been shared.”
Thundercracker huffed as his frown deepened. “Soundwave is very private. I didn’t know that had transpired.” Then sadness flickered over his face. “Bluestreak, he’s alright?”
“He will be.” Mirage canted his head. “Your timing with Bumblebee was perfect. It gives Blue someone to care for and focus on.”
Leaning back in his seat, Thundercracker rubbed his forehelm. “And now I feel cruel.”
“Why?” Mirage asked, concern flaring.
“Tremorwave isn’t sure Bumblebee will wake again. He was left mostly fuel deprived, and untended in his beaten condition for so long that Tremor believes his processor might be too damaged to ever recover,” Thundercracker said with dimmed optics. “I couldn’t let him die like that in the refinery, though. I wanted his death to be comfortable if he was truly unrepairable.”
Mirage softly sighed in response. “Best to not tell Blue that.”
“Agreed,” Thundercracker replied, picking up one of his tiles and placing it on the board.
Thundercracker had shown immense compassion, which made him all the more attractive. Over time, the nightmares and memory feedback of his time with Skywarp had faded. They never went away fully and seeing just Thundercracker’s silhouette would still sometimes startle him, but it didn’t stop his attraction from budding and growing for this mech.
Getting to his feet, Mirage rounded the table, and slid onto Thundercracker’s lap.
“Mirage...” Thundercracker looked unsure, his hands grasping the sides of the seat.
Reaching up, Mirage cupped his face in his hands and leaned in to ghost their lips together. “It’s okay,” Mirage tried to reassure him.
“I don’t want to accidentally trigger any bad memories,” Thundercracker whispered.
“I wouldn’t be sitting here if that was the case,” Mirage replied before initiating a kiss.
It was gentle and tentative at first, but all the passion they obviously shared for one another soon took over. Their lips parted and glossae tangled, leaving Mirage’s spark pulsing fast and hard. A large dark hand lifted and slowly moved down the slope of Mirage’s neck, over his collar and across his shoulder. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Mirage gazed into crimson optics focused on him.
“That was unexpected,” Thundercracker murmured.
Mirage smiled a little. “I need to move slowly, but that doesn’t mean I lack all desire.”
Nuzzling the vents in Mirage’s helm, Thundercracker hummed. “You’re so beautiful.”
“As are you, my handsome flier,” Mirage replied. He grasped the hand that had stilled on his shoulder, and guided it down his frame. For the first time in what felt like forever, his body was heating to touch.
Thundercracker turned his attention to Mirage’s hands moving his over his chest and down the nose cone that ended at his lower abdomen. “Are you sure this is alright?” he asked, clearly worried he was crossing a line that maybe he shouldn’t.
“I haven’t been touched with any sort of affection in a very long time,” Mirage replied, looking at Thundercracker. “I’m not saying I’m ready to fully interface, but my array is burning to be touched. I’d rather it be you than me, but I can certainly self-service if you prefer.” He leaned in close to one of his audios. “In your lap, of course,” he added in a heated whisper.
He felt Thundercracker’s plating heat wherever it pressed against his own and smiled at the reaction. To embarrass this usually stoic mech tickled him to no end. He then opened his cover, revealing his semi-onlined spike. Thundercracker’s vents actually hitched at the sight. The flier then lightly drew a finger down his spike, following the blue decorative line and watching it jerk slightly from being touched.
“My valve will be a little less messy,” Mirage said, gently pushing the large hand lower.
Thundercracker’s other arm wrapped around his waist, holding him firmly against his chest. His fingers then wandered lower, gently circling the rim of Mirage’s valve.
Mirage spread his legs a little wider and softly whimpered. He’d never indulged in recreational interfacing once he’d joined the Autobots, and after Skywarp’s treatment the gentle touches to his valve were enough to practically melt him in Thundercracker’s lap.
After teasing the rim, Thundercracker gently slid his large finger inside, stroking the lubricated mesh walls and setting off the internal sensory nodes. Mirage moaned and grasped at the seeker’s chest. “Primus,” he whispered.
Thundercracker very quietly chuckled, then continued. His finger was soon joined by a second one, which had Mirage writhing and whimpering in his lap. It felt amazing, heat and pleasure filling his array for the first time in so long. He kissed along Thundercracker’s shoulder and up his neck, pausing to whine his enjoyment now and again. The pace of those talented fingers picked up and Mirage lost himself in the heady pleasure, shivering as he felt the twinges of overload flicker at the edges.
“More,” Mirage whimpered, rocking his body to try and push himself over the edge faster.
Thundercracker added a third finger, curling them inside his valve as pumped them in and out.
Mirage’s own fingers dug into Thundercracker’s chest in response and after a moment he cried out sharply as climax claimed him. Shuddering, he overloaded for the first time in probably eons. It felt more intense and wonderful than he remembered, too. Arching against the larger frame, he rode it out until it sadly ebbed away, and then sagged against Thundercracker, floating on the temporary high overload offered.
He happily hummed his satisfaction and kissed the edge of Thundercracker’s jaw. “That was pure bliss.”
Thundercracker kissed the top of his helm in return. “You’re stunning when you overload.”
Mirage smiled at that. “I wonder how you’ll look?”
“Me?” Thundercracker asked, withdrawing his fingers.
Taking hold of the hand, Mirage delicately licked each digit clean. He could feel Thundercracker’s plating heating even more as he watched. Mirage made sure to cast a seductive look in his would-be lover’s direction. “You don’t think I’d demand to be pleasured then leave you all revved up, do you? That wouldn’t be fair.”
Thundercracker smiled a little. “I never want you to feel obliged to me, though.”
“Mutual desire isn’t obligation,” Mirage replied. He then trailed his fingers down Thundercracker’s body, pausing to draw a circle over the closed panel. “I have wondered what lies beneath for a while now.”
Thundercracker cupped Mirage’s face, pulling him into a loving, soft-mouthed kiss. “I’m all yours for the taking or exploring.” His panel then snapped open, and Mirage’s fingers were met with an onlined spike.
Glancing down at the large, gunmetal grey spike, Mirage traced the dark blue line that went from the tip down the shaft. “Beautiful,” he said.
“We match,” Thundercracker replied, amused they both sported blue stripes on their spikes.
“So we do,” Mirage replied with a smile.
He then gracefully slid off Thundercracker’s lap, and settled down between his legs. He’d been trained how to properly pleasure a potential bondmate, and wasted no time putting his noble life lessons to work. Swirling his glossa slowly around the head, he gazed up at Thundercracker. The seeker grabbed his thighs tightly with each hand and shivered in response. Encouraged, Mirage laved around the shaft, curling his glossa around it until he reached the base, then repeated the motion going back up. Thundercracker groaned and his wings lowered into a relaxed position against his back.
Mirage smiled before suckling the head of the spike, earning him a soft grunt. He then slid his mouth down around it, taking in the entire length, despite it’s pushing on his intake. Training he’d had so long ago instantly kicked in and his intake spiraled wider to accommodate it all without his making a single gagging sound.
He then felt fingers gently stroke down the tiny vents along his helm. It felt nice, and he dimmed his optics before setting to work on the spike before him. He moved smoothly, careful of his dentia as bobbed his head over the spike. Thankfully this was not an activity Skywarp demanded of him, and he was able to enjoy the moans he drew from Thundercracker without any unpleasant memories cropping up on him. Instead, he was reminded of the golden age, and his time as a Towers mech, practicing his technique on a specialized instructor. It reminded him of better times.
“Oh, Primus,” Thundercracker said, his spike throbbing hotly in Mirage’s mouth.
Not even a moment later, Thundercracker grunted and moaned all at once, fluid rushed forth from his overload. Mirage was just as graceful as ever, swallowing the thick fluid down and still teasing the shaft with his glossa at the same time to draw out every last drop.
Finished, Thundercracker leaned back in his seat, lightly panting as he pet Mirage’s head. Licking his lips clean, Mirage carefully got to his feet and curled up in Thundercracker’s lap again. Large arms hugged him tightly, and Thundercracker nuzzled his helm.
“You were intended to be sent away to be bonded for family alliances?” Thundercracker quietly asked.
“I was,” Mirage confirmed, optics dim as he enjoyed the closeness of a mech he’d come to admire and care deeply for. “What gave it away?”
“I know that technique,” Thundercracker replied. “I was also to be given away.”
Mirage turned his head to look up into crimson optics and smiled. “We match in many ways, don’t we?”
“That we do,” Thundercracker replied, looking happier than Mirage had ever seen him before. In fact, he felt more at peace than he had in eons. It would take time to fully heal, he had no illusions about that, but having made it this far with Thundercracker gave him hope. Maybe it was selfish in the face of everything else going on with Bluestreak and Bumblebee, but Mirage desperately needed this small corner of happiness right now.