Work Text:
“A pack of rust sticks says I can eat valve better than you.”
The words jostled D-16 out of his thoughts as he received a playful bump to his shoulder.
The miner’s faceplate flushed, gaze quickly darting over their surroundings and saw that, thankfully, no other bot was near them enough to overhear it. He then let out an annoyed snort, though couldn’t quite hide the endeared smirk creeping across his intake.
“Hey, uhm, so I don’t know if you know this, but you can just ask if you want to interface, Pax,” The miner bounced his hip against Orion’s in turn for emphasis, teasing, “No need to make a competition out of it when you already have me.”
It seemed it was Orion’s turn to flush before he let out the most forced scoff D had ever heard, folding his arms behind his helm in a blatantly cocksure farce.
“Pfft—ch—yeah, I know that. But a little competition doesn’t hurt! Especially when it can help…ehh, you know, up your game a bit!” The glinting light of Orion’s optic side eyeing him then was hard to miss. The look was expectant, gauging his reaction.
“What’s wrong with my—? Oh,” D caught himself before he could fall for the obvious bait. Shaking his helm and waving a dismissive servo, he scoffed, “Yeah, okay, I see what you’re doing—“
“What am I doing?” Orion didn’t even wait for the words to leave D’s intake, his helm tilted back towards him, a provoking, coquettish grin plain on his face.
The smug glitch.
“Fine,” Plopping his servo over Orion’s helm and giving it an exasperated, yet affectionate, shove that had the other stumbling out of that stupid strut (with a laugh that had D’s spark doing flips), the mech acquiesced to the proposed idea (as usual), “Just know when you lose?? I’m not sharing the rust sticks. In fact, I’m gonna make you watch me eat the entire pack in front of you.”
“Well, see, now you’re just threatening me with a good time. I mean, either way, I’m gonna be watching you eat s—”
“Woah! Hold on--what’s that??”
The instant Orion turned his helm to look where the other mech was pointing beyond him, was the instant D-16 struck.
Orion Pax barely got to manage a clueless ‘Huh,’ before he received a sudden jab into the particularly sensitive bundle of wires between his chassis and shoulder joint, immediately turning whatever words he might have had into a choked gasp.
He was quick to defensively cup his servo over the now tender spot as he whipped his helm back around, faceplate scrunched in a hideously adorable way while a grumble rattled up his throat, “Aghh, why do I keep falling for that??”
“Because you’re gullible; and you trust me too much,” D-16 patted his shoulder with a sympathetic casualness that had Orion eyeing his servo suspiciously, “Also because, deep down, you know you deserve it every time.”
“I don’t know about every ti—”
A look from D was enough to stop him in his tracks.
“Alright, maybe this time. But that’s beside the point.”
“Point being?”
“Point being,” Orion jogged ahead a couple steps before turning to face D-16 with a fist thrust forth expectantly, that dumb look plastered right back on him again, “we’re doing the munch-off tonight. Usual spot.”
“...‘Munch-off.’”
“Yup.”
D-16’s helm immediately dropped into his servo, massaging his nasal ridge with a groan.
“Ugh, you’re so stupid…” Yet, there he was, lifting his other servo to bump their fists.
Orion broke out into a beaming grin as he spun his way back to D-16’s side, clapping him on the back, “Yeah, well, I don’t think you’d have me any other way, buddy.”
No, D supposed, he really wouldn’t.
~
“Slag!” The sharp gasp was accompanied by an echoing clunk when D-16’s wayward helm involuntarily jerked back into a pipe, servos scrambling for purchase on the mech currently nestled between his thighs.
“Easy, D…I got you,” The low, breathy tone came with reassuring servos that slid up his thighs, “Gotta keep it quiet though, remember?”
A quick burst of anxiety seemed to flash throughout D-16’s entire frame, remembering all at once the inherent risk embedded into this little game. Propping himself up by his elbow joints, D’s optics made a quick scan over the hefty, thrumming filtration unit that barely qualified for adequate cover while on the roof of the mining barracks. Yet there they were.
Digits began rubbing soothing circles over tense seams as Orion coaxed him back into the moment, “Hey, hey… Still with me, buddy?”
A little flustered by the concern etched in those words, D-16 huffed before pressing his servo down on Orion’s helm and smothering that dopey, genuine face back against his valve.
“Sshhut up, Pax. Yeah, I’m fine. Just—just keep going.”
And Orion’s mouth was right back on his anterior node, glossa circling and pressing as if it was magnetically drawn to it. Primus, maybe it was for all he knew.
D-16 shut his optics, nearly biting down on his own glossa to choke back the sounds desperately attempting to rattle up through his intake.
Suddenly, soft dermas gingerly wrapped themselves around that gleaming node and began to suck. It was gentle—tender, almost—just as the digits that proceeded to slip into the opening of his weeping valve. D-16 grit his denta around a low, hiccuping groan, just barely able to keep his own hips from a violent buck, as the movement came instead as a small jerk. He could feel Orion’s denta grazing his node, but the mech had reacted swiftly, letting his helm ride with the small movement with practiced ease.
A glance down and he found those pretty cerulean optics flickering up to meet his own. D-16 expected to be greeted with a smug look with his crumbling composure, but instead, the gaze that met him was heady and almost reverent, like D was more than just a fellow cogless miner. Like he was more important than any of the Primes.
And, maybe, just for a moment, D-16 could pretend that he was.
Something between a groan and a whimper tore itself from his vocalizer before he could stop it, overwhelmed by the feelings that look elicited from him alone while his thighs suddenly collided with Orion’s helm with a definitive thunk, trapping him there.
The mech let out a muffled little grunt at the sudden clamp down, but he didn’t stop or falter. If anything, Orion seemed only further spurred on by the surprise entrapment.
Blue digits slipped from D-16’s valve as they proceeded to move, both of Orion’s servos now supporting the other by his lower back struts.
“Don’t stop—Primus, please, hah-agh! Pax—Orion, don’t stop!”
Orion’s pedes scraped small sparks over the floor while they scrambled for purchase. His glossa pressed firmly against that heated little node with a moan of his own, feeling D’s building charge as it crackled over the taste sensors of his intake with a heady mix of ozone and lubricant.
It felt as if D-16’s own vents were rivaling the airflow of the industrial unit beside them, the mech unable to bite back the desperate, breathy sounds that left him. He thrust his pelvis up against Orion as the mech continued to lick and suckle him for all he was worth, chasing that edge that kept getting tantalizingly closer with every passing second.
“Please…frag, please–!”
One of Orion’s servos left his back to instead intertwine with one of his own and squeeze.
I got you.
He didn’t actually say it, but he didn’t need to.
The sheer intimacy of the act was enough to send the miner finally seizing into an overload so intense, it shot out a mix of lubricant and fluids straight onto Orion’s face, who reflexively flinched back, optics snapping shut before any fluids could breach them.
Sitting up slightly, Orion proceeded to slip the servo he had from beneath the other’s back and let it gently rub up the wet, swollen lips of D-16’s valve, brushing just beneath his node to let him ride the rest of it out. Which D certainly did, for what felt like an embarrassingly long stretch of time. A really fantastic stretch of time, of course, but embarrassing nonetheless.
How was he going to beat that??
Yeah, and there was that look.
“Shame there aren’t rust sticks that are you-flavored,” Orion teased, optics dimmed as he made a little show of swiping a digit up his own chin and licking away the spilled lubricants that now stained it.
“You piss me off…” Was D’s breathless reply, though he couldn’t help but wheeze out a laugh at the ridiculous display. He used their still interlocked servos then to yank Orion down and spin them around so he was now on top of him, both of them incidentally rattling the ventilation unit hiding them as they collapsed into a jumble of limbs.
“Besides, the real shame is how I’m gonna make you forget about those rust sticks by the time I’m done with you…” He murmured heatedly into Orion’s neck cabling. He could hear the mech’s derma part with a quiet pop.
“Wow--did you practice that?”
D-16 growled in frustration, knocking his helm against the other’s shoulder plating before sitting up.
“Oh, like your line was any better, Pax. Now hurry and open up, it’s my turn.”
“Much better, thank you. See, the impatience thing really does it for–”
“HEY!”
The two mechs immediately froze. Almost on instinct, D-16 lifted his helm to peek over their cover and spot the irritated glare from a familiar pink supervisor of theirs standing at the entryway beyond.
“I see you, moron. It’s past curfew. You’re cogless, not processor-less. C’mon. Back to your recharge stations–the both of you.”
Orion shot up like a bolt, nearly knocking D back onto the floor.
“Huh-whuh–where am I? D..?”
“Yeah, no. You’ve already tried the sleep-walking bit before, Orion. I’m not looking for excuses. I’m looking for afts in recharge stations. Now move it, you two!”
The two bots were quick to scramble back up to their pedes, panels already thankfully shut.
“Yes, Elita-1!” They responded in simultaneous obedience before they both made their awkward march after her back down to the barracks.
Of course, it wasn’t long before Orion was smirking back his way.
“Guess this means you owe me some rust sticks.”