“Now,” said Ironhide, “where’s my…?”
“Boomstick? Right here.” Carly shifted deliberately on the long, cool metal barrel. Watching Ironhide strip himself down, clean, oil and reassemble? Hotter than the heatwave going into its sixth day outside. A bikini had been called for. With long string ties, dangling over the sides of the gun she straddled.
“Why, thank you for keeping track of that for me. Looks like there’s some packaging needs removing, though.” He leaned closer. “Such pretty bows, I hate to mess ‘em up.”
“Needs must,” Carly breathed, “and Shockwave take the hindmost.”
“Sounds serious. I guess I better get to untyin’, then.” For such big, blunt fingers, their grasp was remarkably delicate. He pulled the bow at her right hip free. Carly liked the teasing slip of fabric, how it didn't really show anything yet, but oh it was about to. The bow at her back was next. She pushed her chest up a little, watching his optics track how the glossy fabric hung against her nipples. Sometimes she dipped one shoulder or another, in a pretend-casual shrug, to hasten things along, but today she let the bikini top dangle where it lay. He brushed her thigh undoing the bow at her left hip and goosebumps rippled across her skin, nipples hardening even more. The scrap of fabric fell between her legs, revealing golden hair a shade darker than that on her head, but her deeper secrets were not fully exposed. He let the long tie fall across her leg and moved on to the last bow, at her neck. This time he pulled the fabric entirely free, setting it on the table beside his gun.
He liked to look at the parts of her that were pink. He liked to watch them become pinker and plumper; and she very much liked him to do the things that made them become so. With a single fingertip he gently, gently lifted one breast and then the other, to make them jiggle, to watch her blush, to make himself blush as her tips darkened and the aureoles ruched. He stroked her breasts in circles, the smooth metal of his fingers quite warm, and she leaned into it as his petting dipped lower and lower down her stomach. She lifted her hips and her bikini bottom fell entirely away, sliding off the gun barrel.
She spread her legs wider, sliding her hips forward. From his index fingertip extended a silvery rod, topped with a small sphere; a probe used inside his forearm to gauge the temperatures of his liquid nitrogen and other tactical fluids. Thrumming with the rumble of his engine, they’d discovered other uses for it. He stroked the probe along each pink fold, moving them gently back and forth, up and down, giving himself glimpses of the passage within. Where she was pinker and wetter yet. He shifted so that beyond the table's edge she could see his spike extend; brushed charcoal enamel and even more highly polished red enamel, gleaming with lubricants and the tiny blue indicator lights.
It had from the beginning seemed pretty obvious to Ironhide what that sort of tubular fold at the front of her vulva was for - what it looked like, in the comparison diagrams Ratchet had given them a few days after they'd woken up from their four million year nap - especially the way it had grown and now stuck out a little; so he paid special attention to rubbing his vibrating probe up and down there, pressing it against the base or the tip, guided by her soft moans and squirming. His spike was hard enough just watching her, so he used his other hand to pet her body and limbs, enjoying her softness as she enjoyed his hard metal; sweeping his fingertips over her hair, leaning in close to lick her with the tip of his glossa and then exvent warm air over her skin. He pushed his probe deep into her, swirled it around a little, then brought it out to make the nice moist surrounding structures even wetter.
"Ironhide..." Carly panted. She liked the way he moved the probe inside her. Not one to disappoint a lady, Ironhide did as he was bid, angling the probe so that it pressed into the top of her vault. The way she liked it, and the way that made her pink parts move in such an interesting way, in and out, widening and narrowing. It was almost like a partial transformation, like at certain oil houses where you could see the special dancers whose transformations gave you glimpses of their interface arrays. Ironhide hummed, engine revving higher, and therefore the probe vibrating faster. Carly spread her legs as wide as she could, clutching at the gun beneath her as he moved the probe faster and faster. He gave her nipples a hot swift lick just as she arched, clenching hard on the shining metal inside her. He licked her other pink parts delicately as he withdrew, sending another little shudder and clench through her body.
"Aw, that's so nice. Ya know I love watchin' ya." His drawl seemed to become thicker, his voice deeper and richer. He wasn't sleepy and sated yet, but she loved the sounds his body made as much as she loved his voice, all purry and kind and mechanical but in that deep thrumming way that thrilled her down to her bones. Precision technology, that's what. Ratchet had done such a brilliant job keeping them all funtioning and alive and so, mmm, adaptable.
She stretched languorously along the length of Ironhide's "Boomstick", then sat up. The next stage of their fun was about to begin.
He offered a hand and she stepped into it for the quick few steps to his berth. He lay down, setting her on his chest. She slid down his windshield with a giggle, leaving wet little marks it would be fun to wash off him later. Before her stood his spike, upright and sleek, alien and obvious all at once. It came nearly to her chest, its surface patterend with the intricate small plates connected with thousands of tiny clasps - a sophisticated kind of mesh - that made it both rigid and flexible.
She walked around it, trailing her hand over the tip, smiling at the way his intakes hitched. Straddling the opening of his valve, she crouched at the spike's base, knees spread, smoothing her entire torso into its length. Oh so hot and thrumming with the pressure of fluid inside. She moved her hands in long ellipses, rubbing hard to trip sensors calibrated for rougher treatment. She wriggled her body, pushing against the tensile strength of his shaft, rubbing her pussy against its base, where a concentration of sensors along the underside made him groan and curl his hips upward, lifting her effortlessly. The fine distinctions in the sound of his engine were enough for her well-trained ear, and she knew thus when he was wound high, near the edge.
She stepped up onto his left hip, running her toes along the edge of his valve even as she left it for higher ground. He shivered under her, moaning, but held up one hand, fingers held flat so she had something to balance with. Holding on to his fingers, she hopped up onto the tip of his spike - it was thick as a small barstool, though the rounded head and lubricants made it a slippery seat. Near the opening at the tip, two raised whorls converged, creating a small groove between human-finger-sized ridges. Carly balanced, positioning herself with the ease of long practice, so that her clit and inner folds settled into the little cleft. His hand around her was steady and strong.
Wrapping her legs around the shaft, she began to move her hips; tiny, rocking motions at first, until both of them were panting; then wilder, faster, grinding herself on him, raking his shaft with her legs - a half-frenzied dance that took considerable strength and coordination. She arched, lifting her bouncing nipples ceilingward, grinding her hips faster as she heard his moans grow louder- watching all her pink parts in motion.
It was all the warning she needed. She clamped her legs tight, continuing to thrust herself against his tip. His hand closed around her, careful even in this extremity.
The amount of fluid released wasn't so much proportional as...adjustable. He didn't want to drown her in the stuff, but he'd quickly learned how much she liked having it spray up inside her, dripping and trickling down her skin. Pink parts. Carly rode the opalescent gush of it, angling her pussy into it like she'd learned to as a kid in her grandparets' hot tub, coming hard as the jet of fluid thrummed over her clit.
He caught her as she wilted, cradling her to his chest. She liked falling asleep naked on his armor, because she liked even more to wake up naked on his armor, her pink parts on display whichever way she sprawled. So easy for the fun to begin again!
"Ahhh, mmmmmm, Carly, you know you're more'n enough to do for this old Bot, and better'n I deserve, but...would it be all right with you if Prime joins us?"
He couldn't have failed to pick up the thrill that fired through her - on infrared alone she'd have lit up like a flare. "I don't mind at all," she said, as the door unlocked and opened on Ironhide's command. Optimus stood just outside, looking nervous.
"Prime ain't never been with an organic before," Ironhide whispered in a broad sotto voce that made Carly wince inwardly. It of course hadn't ocurred to the old warrior that if Prime hadn't, then maybe it was because he didn't want to?
But while Optimus did somehow manage to subtly express mild embarrassment despite the facemask, he continued to approach slowly, as though not wanting to alarm Carly. It was kind of cute. She kept up her rhythm, but stared avidly over her shoulder as Prime sat on the edge of the berth at Ironhide's feet, watching them. Eyes twinkling at her, he reached up and, with a series of tiny clicks, removed his facemask.
Carly had wondered what was beneath his mask of course. She knew from talking with Ratchet that some masks weren't masks at all, didn't cover anything but raw components in the same way that skin covered muscle. Other masks were for protection in the lab or on the battlefield, like Wheeljack's (for whom lab and battleground were alarmingly similar). And maybe Prime's was for protection, too, because Carly certainly had never imagined that so fine a set of features could be behind so sturdy a mech's mask.
"Younger lookin' than ya'd think," Ironhide said, nodding at her surprise. "We keep tellin' him none of us cares he was only built nine million years ago - and four of that bein' in stasis here - but he keeps wearin' that thing anyway."
Optimus sighed, but his optics crinkled at her with amusement. "My creator had to use a mixture of old parts and new when he built me. Some of the old parts were, well, pretty new, too. So to speak."
Carly slid off Ironhide's spike and turned to face Optimus fully - being sure to spread her legs and angle her hips so Ironhide could see her pink parts still - and beckoned Optimus closer. When his face was in range, she reached up and kissed his beautifully-formed lips. "You should definitely wear that less often," she whispered.
"It's um...I'm used to it," he said, trying not to move too much as she kissed him again, kissed his cheek, the tip of his nose, the center of his lush lower lip. He bowed his head further and nuzzled his mouth against her body. Carly shivered, hearing the small sound Ironhide made, watching them, and opened her arms, embracing Optimus' smooth cheek plates. Maybe now he wouldn't be so nervous.
She climbed back atop Ironhide's spike, steadied by his gentle hands. The heat coming off Optimus' frame behind her was like an open oven.
Optimus retracted his interface panel and knelt between Ironhide’s legs. Ironhide moaned softly; fluid seeped from the tip of his spike, bubbling up into her, running down her legs. Optimus' spike was...all right, Carly told herself, it was proportional. It was just that Prime was a big mech. Erect, it was gleaming and polished steel, like Ironhide's, but with the addition of vivid blue and white to the red enamel, and chased with wires of gold. Ironhide stroked her nipples with his thumb, reassuring and a little bit amused. She patted his hand, reassuring him in turn, and gyred her hips mischievously, rubbing them both oh very much the right way.
The vast heat behind her shifted, she caught a glimpse of blue helm swooping close - Optimus bent to lick the underside of Ironhide's spike, his glossa lightly brushing the backs of her legs here and there, up her thighs, the curve of her buttocks. She and Ironhide panted and squirmed as one. Carly felt Optimus rest his sensitive lips across her back just as the spike beneath her began an odd, galloping surge. She could see that Optimus had curled oone hand around Ironhide's right hip, and - twisting slightly on her perch - that the fingers of the Prime's other hand were thrusting firmly into Ironhide's valve. Carly felt a surge of her own, blazing from core to skin. She spun carefully, displaying herself, but she definitely wanted to watch what was going on below.
Blinking, Optimus paused, leaning back slightly, but Ironhide gave a little squeeze and Prime resumed, working his fingers deeper and deeper, circling the opening, pressing it slowly wider. It was very like what Ironhide did to Carly with his probe and she shivered with sympathetic arousal. Ironhide's engine was running high, vibrating his spike - she would climax soon and tried to hold back, shifting the angle of her hips just enough to lessen the sensation.
Ironhide hummed lowly, spread his legs wider, and Optimus withdrew his lubricant-slick fingers, shifting and positioning himself precisely. With both hands on Ironhide's hips, he inched his spike closer and closer, until Carly wanted to writhe and shout for him to hurry. The broad tip at last pressed into Ironhide's entrance. Carly slid off Ironhide's spike, bending forward and embracing it, presenting her backside and wiggling her hips imperatively. Ironhide, propping himself up on one elbow, extended the probe from his fingertip again and pushed it into her at exactly the same pace and depth Optimus was, creating the odd tactile illusion that Optimus was fragging her as well. Spike and probe began to thrust in unison.
Carly held on tight, eyes wide open, watching the marvelously crafted metal sliding in and out of Ironhide's wet valve, her breasts rubbing on Ironhide's shaft, the probe hot and vibrating deep inside her wet pussy. Ironhide stroked her legs and rear with his other fingers, keeping her upright as his own hips rolled and rose with Optimus' movements, their peculiar synergy growing, heat and friction expanding them, metal and flesh. A bright, energon-pink flush spread across Optimus' face, his lips parted, joining the other two to create a three-part harmony of lifting cries as they each cascaded through overload and orgasm, shuddering and shaking, tender and careful with each other; the two robots at last curling around each other, cradling the human between them in a space they created with the angles of their armor.
"Thank you," Optimus whispered as they settled in to recharge and sleep. "Both of you."
"Mmm," murmured Ironhide.
"My pleasure," Carly said, grinning. "And leave that mask off..."