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"Oh, Artoo --" C-3PO whined at the sensation of the astromech shocking him, "Now is hardly the time!"
R2-D2 blipped a response, retracting his little arm.
"Of course I was worried!"
"Bwe-be-bweerrr?"
"Of course I missed you..."
There was a moment of silence as all they could hear was the low rumbling of the Falcon. Inside the confines of the cargo hold, they had the illusion of privacy.
R2-D2 rolled closer to him, and leaned himself against C-3PO's shiny body. Utilizing what the limited range of motion in his arms would allow, Threepio ran his fingers over Artoo's dome.
"I suppose Master Luke and the others wouldn't be terribly concerned if we spent a... Short while longer to ourselves."
Artoo perked up, and answered in a low whistle.
"Here? They'd surely hear us! And what then, if they chose to investigate?"
C-3PO shuffled indecisively, attempting to conceal the probe pushing at the inside of the hatch betwen his legs. It was a modification he decided to implement together with Artoo -- neither Luke nor Anakin before him had known about it.
Artoo reached out with his arm, lightly stroking the outside of C-3PO's codpiece, causing him to simulate a gasp and slap his hand away.
"You -- you little sleaze! I won't do it," Threepio lied, shifting his thighs in a futile attempt to diffuse the electricity in his rod.
"You can't make me."
R2-D2 retracted his arm, and instead only leaned into him once again. He rotated his dome back and forth in order to do the closest thing to nuzzling his face against C-3PO's stomach.
And Threepio didn't want to say no to him, not even a little.
"Well, alright..." He muttered, "but you simply must keep quiet, Artoo."
R2-D2 beeped excitedly in a promise. He extended his arm one last time to pry at the hatch concealing C-3PO's package. When he allowed the shutters to slide open, his probe erected; a similarly golden, polished cylinder, with a thin rod in its center for transferring data or electricity. A slippery layer industrial lubricant coated its surface, as any mechanical shaft made to pump inside another.
Artoo opened his data port to allow Threepio's access, a tight fit that required a firm pressure to slide in. Once he started, momentum carried him in a steady rhythm. Artoo droned with approval as he felt the probe inside charge him with tingling throbs of electricity.
Threepio shushed him as he continued to thrust, deeply and tenderly. He was being somewhat hypocritical, tiny whimpers managed to escape his vocalizer against his better judgment.
Threepio's probe buzzed quietly when he increased the power by fourteen percent intensity. The astromech beneath him had other plans, per usual; he sent a much stronger jolt of power back up his rod, enough to reduce Threepio to whining in garbled dialect.
"Please, Artoo, that's too much," the translator protested, overwhelmed by the currents running through his wires. "You'll short my circuits!"
R2-D2 chirped apologetically, pausing his fluctuations.
"I didn't ask you to stop."
Artoo retorted with something much too rude to translate into Basic. C-3PO pumped again, so he rolled closer, taking the probe as deep as he could. Rather than unplugging this time, C-3PO locked his connection into place, rotating his cylinder inside. In this configuration, R2-D2 was the one who imbued C-3PO with electrical pleasure. It felt incredibly erotic for an act that could only be indulged between droids; For that matter, R2 rarely felt the desire to pleasure an organic species. When R2 emitted pleasurable tones in binary, a physical response was all he needed.
Shifting around the probe deep inside of him, Artoo buzzed internally, activating more of his lover's sensors.
"Oh, my stars," C-3PO failed to contain his melodramatics, "Don't stop, Artoo, darling --"
R2-D2 chirped quizzically as he rocked back and forth. His companion was in no position to answer; the yellow light in his eyes flickered at the increasing risk of an overload. His electrical pulse throbbed from the tips of his fingers fo the base of his shaft. C-3PO begged him to continue. The censors inside of R2-D2's dataport detected a buildup of orgasmic proportions. So, to prolong the endeavor, he pulled away from the device, a mere 0.6 seconds before pressure release.
The absence of stimulation caused C-3PO to whine and tremble at his knees.
"You dirty little cheat," he started, "I quite clearly said," a quiver at the thought, "don't stop."
The lack of maneuverability in C-3PO's arms caused difficulty reaching his probe, and as a result, an inability to successfully pleasure himself to completion. In his defeat, he kneeled on the floor with a clatter, staring up at him, begging.
"Please, Artoo, take me?"
It didn't take long for R2-D2 to operate his own stimulation shaft. Similar to his data arm, a panel opened at his front, above his retractable leg. He extended an attachment of which he equipped himself only for this task. It was large, built of the hardest, sturdiest materials, and phallic in shape. This particular model was designed with the intention of pleasuring sentient, organic males, and Threepio was most of the three. The solid metal shaft was tougher than most softer species could handle, especially with all of its features. C-3PO remained on his knees, bending over on the floor. Preparing himself to be penetrated, his shutter opened -- as Artoo slowly shoved the probe inside of him.
"Aaa -- ah!" Threepio arched his back, exposing more of the wires on his stomach. It was a very tight fit, because Artoo had picked the diameter to his exact specifications. Once he felt the pop of the tip securing itself inside, R2 whined, and activated his probe's first feature: a thick spray of mechanical lubricant. It did exactly what it was supposed to; a creamy filling for making two metal pieces slide together. Artoo chirped quizzically, slowly pulling out, and pushing back in.
Many censors inside of C-3PO's socket sent him quick pulses at his every move. For a few seconds, the probe rotated in small circles, exploring his tight insides, to which C-3PO made predictably desperate noises...
The talkative droid made a sound that mimicked gasping for air despite his lack of lungs, followed by a meek, quivering moan. He felt a warm rush of fluid accumulate inside of the spheres at the base of his shaft. Artoo's accessory began to vibrate faster.
"Bweeeerrr..."
The pressure behind the valve at the tip of C-3PO's probe was quickly becoming unbearable. Artoo recognized this, and finally reached around with his retractable arm, gently wrenching Threepio's metallic erection with his claw... And tightening it. He needed to release, but he couldn't.
"You -- you horrible tease! This is so unfair!"
"Fwee?"
"Give me more, please..."
Still deep inside of him, Artoo sent stronger vibrations from his own probe. The longer this continued, the more hot fluid built up behind Threepio's shaft. All that managed to escape was a small drip, like a barely leaking faucet. Artoo started to thrust deeper, slowly, deliberately rocking back and forth. A machine intended to pleasure other droids? It was simply unheard of.
"Oh, Artoo, I --"
Faster. R2-D2 knew he wanted him to go faster, so he complied.
"Artoo, I love you..."
That was something that never got old, after all these years.
"Bwe-be-bee."
"...But if you don't open my valve this instant, I'm liable to blow a gasket!"
C-3PO could be over every moon and he'd still find room to complain. Artoo shocked him inside.
"O-ooh! Why, I never!"
R2-D2 continued with a long, gentle current, pulsating rhythmically. C-3PO felt his brass ring from electrical charge.
"At least someone's enjoying himself!"
Artoo buzzed in objection, his probe vibrating hard, hitting just the right spot in Threepio's censors. He knew how to make him explode, if he wanted to.
"A-Artoo, it's so hard," C-3PO whined, but it wasn't hard enough. Artoo thrust faster, harder, more than any organic lover could keep up for long. The added vibrations certainly didn't hurt his efforts. Threepio trembled from the incredible pressure in the reservoirs at the base of his probe. His shaft cocked, his climax activating, but due to the tightened bolt, it was unable to successfully follow through. Nothing came out, and C-3PO was still a mess.
"Please, let me... Oh... Oh my stars!"
"Breeerrrr."
"I am too being quiet!"
"Tweee-ee."
"Please, Artoo, you -- you can't keep torturing me this way -- ah! -- Please let me release... I love you so, so very much, oh, please..."
R2-D2 whirred, as if pondering for a moment, considering if he should comply or not. As much as he loved reducing C-3PO to a quivering puddle, he also loved making him boil over... Or rather, more than anything else in the galaxy, he loved C-3PO.
Finally, he came to his decision. Artoo reached around once more with his claw, grabbing Threepio's stiff probe. He slowly loosened the bolt around the base of his shaft, barely adjusting it... And that was enough. His golden probe pumped of its own volition, spraying loads of hot, slippery oil. He continued leaking as Artoo pushed deeper inside of him still, his pace becoming faster and more erratic. C-3PO felt his socket fill with another liquid, much hotter, and wetter than lubricant. Oil bubbled its way out of his seams, and this time, it wasn't his own.
"Artoo...?"
"Bwe-be-bwo?" R2-D2 removed his probe, a flow of oil spilling out after breaking the seal between them. He retracted it back into one of his many ports, hidden from sight.
"You do know that I meant every word?" Threepio dizzily hoisted himself off of the floor, still floating from what just happened between them. He quickly retracted his probe back into its shutters. He reached one hand out to stroke the side of Artoo's dome, staring into his lights, leaning forward to...
The door opposite to them slid open. A familiar, organic voice called out in basic.
"There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"
C-3PO screamed.
"M-M-Master Luke! You really should announce yourself before you sneak up on someone!"
"I didn't mean to startle ya! What's the matter... Why are you soaked?"
R2-D2 chirped back at him before Threepio could say anything more incriminating than he already did.
"You had a malfunction? Why don't I help?"
"Absolutely not!" C-3PO squealed, scrambling to his feet, attempting not to slip in the pool of oil coating the hard, metal floors.
R2-D2 whistled something judgemental, too quiet for Luke to hear him.
Threepio glared down at Artoo. "And what do you mean, "At least he isn't my sister"?!"