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Disclaimer: Transformers (Generation 1) and everything related belongs to the rightful company Hasbro. I am in no way shape or form making money off this.
Author’s Notes: The unfortunately thing about comm links is they never tell you when they are active. The other bad thing about comm links is they never tell you when you are set to broadcast only. Which means if your comm link is online and set for broadcast only, everybot can hear what’s going on.
Title: Accidentally Sent
Pairing: StarscreamxThundercrackerxSkywarpxBumblebee (G1)
Requested: Dresiara44; gypsywitch1987 (AO3)
Prowl frowned as he looked at his terminal’s screen. It had been joors and Bumblebee still had not reported in. For that matter, even his signal tracker had been turned off. He had sent a comm once. Twice. But each time it came back as being unread. So deep in his processor he didn’t hear the door to his quarters open until the mech who entered reached out with his EM field. Tensing slightly, he invented deeply.
“How many times have I told you to knock before entering,” he said cooly.
“Dunno. Lost count after the first cycle,” Jazz said. Coming up to him he stopped just slightly behind him. “Bee’s fine. He woulda commed if he was in trouble, Prowler.”
“I know. But there is no excuse for him to turn off his tracker, or ignore my comms.” The SIC of the Autobots was known for being strict as well as a brilliant strategist, but he couldn’t help but be concerned about the scout who made friends with every soldier here.
The black and white mech said nothing but he stepped up and turned so he was leaning against the console, looking down at the seated mech. “I’m sure Bee is fine. And I know he’s got a reason for turning his tracker off. So, if we still haven’t heard anything from him in say, the next joor, I’ll go out and look for him.”
An icy blue optics glanced up at him, an optical ridge slightly raised. “And what, remind him to leave his tracker on without giving him a lecture or explaining the dangers he could have been with no aid? No.”
“Well, technically he answers ta me, but you can come along and lecture him on the drive back.” Seeing the other mech frown deepen only caused the Special Ops Commander to laugh softly, raising his servos up. “Alright, I get it your worried. But trust me, if Bee really was in trouble he woulda send a distress signal or somethin’.”
At that moment an alert came across the console. Both mechs immediately jumped to their peds, the Datsun began typing away, the screens showing that the signal was an open-ended comm coming from bumblebee but when he opened it all they could hear was static.
“Bumblebee, this is Prowl.” More statis which made the mech frown deepen. “Bumblebee, respond.” More static.
“That ain’t like Bee,” Jazz said with a frown. He watched as his partner (in more than one way) typed up more commands. The static was clearing slightly but now they could hear engines revving, fans running at their max, armor plating being struck. “Slag. Was he ambushed or somethin’?”
“I don’t know. His signal is still offline-” But before they could figure out what to do a particularly loud cry broke through. This cry didn’t sound like he was being tortured, wasn’t fighting for his spark, wasn’t cursing his opponent to the Pitt and back. No, this sort of cry seemed to trigger something in their processors, a cry they were familiar with in the privacy of their shared quarters. More commands were entered and the frequency cleared up the static enough that they could hear a mix of moans, whimpers, and cries of pleasure. And even those were barely loud enough to cover up the sound of naked protoflesh slapping wetly against one another, engines growling louder, fans screaming in protest.
Bumblebee couldn’t stop the whimpering cries from escaping, wincing as he tried to raise himself up but the stasis cuffs reminded him of his limitations. Internal nodes and sensors lighting up with each deep thrust, trying to push back with each deep thrust but the claws digging into his pelvic plating kept him in place. When he felt the thick spike begin to pull out once more, he forced his calipers to flex tightly around the ribbed length, causing the mech above him to growl. The only warning he received were the digits tightening, hips being lifted, and the spike slamming in with a wet sound of plating striking one another. All the scout could do was arch his spinal strut and cry out as he overloaded once more, transfluid once more spurting free from his spike to paint his stained chassis.
“How are you still so tight?” Thundercracker hissed, hips moving in deep, penetrating thrusts that would have shunted the Autobot across the ground had he not dug his claws into the slender hips. Deep crimson optics traced every scratch and dent that marred the compact frame, all of them in the shape of their claws and digits but it made him growl in smug satisfaction that he was (partly) responsible. Leaning over the smaller frame, his engines were practically roaring, his wings almost vibrating as he continued fragging the minibot as though it was the last time he would have the chance.
“Aren’t you done yet?” Skywarp growled/whined; his own servo was stained with his transfluid but that didn’t stop him from pumping his spike, groaning deeply as he once more squeezed the tip despite a few precious drops of transfluid escaping. The normally rebellious seeker studied the way those blue optics brightened in overload, the way his plating shined despite the scruffs from earlier, how he sung so beautifully as he was used like their personal piece of shareware. “Scrap. You’re taking too long, Thundercracker!” he growled, his servo jerking slightly as he continued to stroke his spike, eager to spill his release.
“Shoulda been faster,” came the growled response, engines redlining as he grew tense, once more pumping the minibot full of transfluid but slowly he sat up, hips stopping before slowly withdrawing, adding the last spurts of his transfluid to the mess that stained the brightly colored plating. His claws released the hips to wrap around the small waist, digits firmly stroking the slightly bloated abdominal plating. He traced sensitive seams, enjoying the soft whimpers he didn’t bother to hold back, how he weakly struggled for more friction, stabilizers trying to pull him closer. “But since you’re being a sore loser and you won’t stop complaining, I guess I can share.” Slipping his servos beneath the smaller frame, the blue and gray seeker lifted the scout up so he was once more sitting on his lap. Claws digits firmly stroked down the curved spinal strut before grasping the yellow aft, tilting the hips to reveal the opened exhaust port. “He’s small, but I think you can fit here.”
Purple and black wings trembled, optics honed in on the sight of the small port. It wasn’t leaking as heavily as the valve, but it didn’t stop him as he moved close enough to reach out and begin touching it, stroking it, using his own transfluid as lubricant as he eased a digit inside. He moaned at the tightness he could feel stroking the silicone lining.
“If you feel this tight around my digits, I can’t wait to bury my spike in,” he purred to the minibot trapped between them, working his digit in and out. The Autobot didn’t say anything, panting softly, vents hitching as another digit work itself deeper into his port. With a smirk, Skywarp rubbed his leaking spike underneath the leaking valve, teasing his trinemate’s spike and causing their captive to squirm between them. “Looks like he might want my spike instead,” he teased.
“I doubt he’ll notice the difference,” the blue seeker growled, hissing as the compact frame squirmed, trying to grind down on their spikes. “Hurry the frag up, already.”
Muttering “bossy mech” under his vents, the seeker scissored his digits for a bit longer, causing the hips to rock before slowly pulling them out, feeling it trying to keep him inside. He shifted closer, gripping a scratched hip in one servo as the other held his spike poised. Looking over the horned helm, the seekers said nothing but a silent agreement was heard. The yellow frame was lifted, servos holding them steady, keeping him up before letting him drop and allowed the spikes to spear him open at both entrances.
Poor Bumblebee felt like his processor was short-circuiting, his frame was too hot, but he didn’t care as his frame struggled to move. Either to push back into the digits in his aft, or to grind down on the ribbed spike still plugging his valve, he knew he just needed them to move! He tried to focus, opening his mouth to beg them but his hips were pulled up, making him tremble and blush brightly as the spike slipped out of his valve with a wet pop. He struggled, trying to get it back inside, ignoring the rush of fluids dripping out but he also cried out in lose as the digits remove themselves from his rear port. He wanted to beg them to plug him back up but he was venting too hard, so charged he was certain he would end up frying his entire system! A clawed servo reached around his throat cables from behind, the sharpened tips tracing the vulnerable cables and wires. He let them tilt his helm back and forced his dimly glowing to online, staring up at gray faceplates, dark ruby gaze leering down at him. He tried to say something, anything, but could only whimper pitifully, desperate to be filled to the brim.
“What’s wrong? You’re not satisfied with just one spike?” Skywarp leered; keeping his grip light he continued to stroke the main energon cable, feeling it pulse frantically beneath his digit. He pressed in closer, trapping the squirming frame between the two of them. “Tell me, Thunder, is he really as tight as you said?” he asked, not looking away from the flushed mech.
“Yeah… it feels like, it wants to squeeze my spike right off,” the blue seeker admitted, one servo stroking the still swollen side and the other reached down to rub at the equally swollen folds, teasing a brightly lit node. Cupping the soaked valve, he grinned when the hips tried to grind down into him. “He’s making such a mess, wouldn’t mind keeping him plugged up.” Without warning, he shoved four of his digits inside, firmly rubbing the internal sensors. Both seekers tightened their hold as Bumblebee overloaded once more, crying out louder and venting harder and still he struggled, wanting to experience more.
Jazz knew what interfacing sounded like, and he knew that Prowl knew what was really going on, but still he risked a look at his partner and found the poor mech was absolutely frozen; optics blown wide and unfocused, the tips of his doorwings trembling sporadically, metal creaking as his digits continued to tighten with each passing astrosecond they listened, cooling fans were running on high, a very slight sheen of condensation forming where he refused to open his vents. Even his EM field was tightly restrained but there was no denying the charge the saboteur could almost taste. Prowl, the stoic SIC and Autobot Master Tactician, was unbelievably charged up. But before Jazz could say anything Prowl spoke up.
“This would explain all his previous trips on his off cycles.” His tone was tense, reserved but there was a slight hitch as he forced his servos to move. Whether to disconnect the comm or increase the frequency, Jazz didn’t know but both froze when Bumblebee chose that moment to call out the designations of the mechs was interfacing with. Loudly. Passionately. In unfiltered ecstasy.
Skywarp. Thundercracker. Seekers. Decepticon soldiers. Their enemy.
“… defiantly didn’t see that comin’,” Jazz said quietly. Even he wasn’t sure if he meant it as a joke or admiration.
The Datsun froze but slowly he stood from his seat and turned away from the console. “… we must tell Prime.” He didn’t bother to wait for a response, his peds slowly taking him to the door but before he could take more than a few steps his upper stabilizer was caught and pulled. “Jazz-” He was surprised when the other mech wordlessly turned him and forced him to back up until he landed in his seat that he had just vacated. He wanted to ask what he was doing but froze as he heard another low guttural moan come from the console, followed by the increase sounds of heavy interfacing. Grinding his denta together he refused to acknowledge the fact that he was getting off just from listening in.
Jazz didn’t say anything because his knew his partner wouldn’t listen—he was stubborn like that. And besides, he was more a mech of action. Silently he dropped down to his hydraulic knees, stroking the SIC’s trembling plating until he firmly yet gently, pushed them open. There was slight restriction, servos gripping his tightly but there was no hiding the lubricant that seeped out of the miniscule seams of the dark colored panel, how it stained the inside of his plating. He didn’t even fight it as the servos began moving along the inside of his stained plating, choking back the sounds that wanted to escape as pleasure curled tightly in his tanks.
“I think Bee has the right idea, blowin’ off some stream,” Jazz murmured, drawing in closer as he boldly licked some of the transfluid from the pristine plating, hearing the vents hitch. “And I don’t think ya want anyone to see ya drippin’ like this.” Purring under his vents, the Special Ops mech continued licking his way up, opening the stabilizers wider, even pulling the hips closer until he could boldly lick the dripping panel with the flat of his glossia. Being so close, he could hear the aborted clicks as the other mech no doubt denying the command to open, could taste the linger charge begging to be sated. Smirking slightly, he sealed his lip plates where he knew his anterior node was located, and hummed. He heard a grunt and looked up, watching as Prowl had reached up to grip one of the armrests hard enough for the metal to creak, the other clenching at the servo he continued to cling to. His denta were bared, optics narrowed but he refused to look away, refused to submit even as the blushed continued to glow brilliantly on his faceplates.
He knew what his partner was doing. Trying to distract him from doing his duty, thinking he would forget to punish Bumblebee later. But despite his logistics telling him what he needed to do, what needed to be done, he couldn’t stop listening in on the running commentary behind him. How the seekers were commenting on how tight the Autobot scout was, how he looked as he overloaded for them, how sweet he tasted. He actually whimpered as he heard them point out how good he looked as he choked on their spikes. It was the muffled, throaty squeal followed by no doubt an intense overload that had him finally giving into the command to open both his panels. “Hah… but, Bum-Bumblebee… he’s… ngh!!” He tried to gain some sort of control but the moment he felt that flexible glossia lick a thick, slow path over the wet folds of his valve, skirting over his sensitive node only to end with a flick to the tip, he knew he had been defeated. “Pr-Primus… Jazz…”
“Like I said, Bee is just blowin’ off some steam. So, why don’t I hope ya out?” Giving his stressed partner a wink, the black and white Porsche opened his lips and slowly swallowed the dripping spike, using his glossia to coax more transfluid out so he could continue tasting him. And while his mouth stayed busy, one of his servos reached down, dexterous digits stroking and rubbing the folds before pushing their way inside. Hearing the former Enforcer call out his designation lewdly, hips buck into his talented touch made him groan lowly, causing the spike to twitch on his glossia. His other servo slowly reached down between his own stabilizers, panels immediately snapping open before he could process the command.
Skywarp grunted as he grounded into the upturned hips, leaning over the Autobot as he fragged him like a feral turbofox. One servo had dug his claws into a slender hip, slipping between seams to pierce the soft protoform, but the pain only added to the pleasure. His other servo was pinning one of the scout’s servos to the ground, digits interlocked together only for his grip to tighten as his overload tore through him. Grunting and huffing, the purple and black seeker curled tighter over the smaller frame, muttering lewd comments into the horned audio sensor as he continued to thrust and grind, tearing pitiful whimpers out of a staticky voice box. Despite the tight seal their spikes had made, the puddle of transfluid and lubricant had grown and there wasn’t a single spot on Bumblebee’s sunny frame that had been marked by the rigorous activity. He couldn’t help but feel incredibly smug and proud that he had been successful in leaving his mark.
The Volkswagen could only pant weakly, his frame completely battered inside and out, but he wasn’t done. Not yet. He let out a whimpering cry as the spike shifted then pulled out completely; his hips trembled as a fresh wave of fluids spurted free, further coating the back of his thighs, adding to the mess he was half laying/half kneeling in. He didn’t need to look back to know that his valve was wrecked, gaping wide open, folds and aft visibly swollen but still the hips trembled, begging for more. Bee’s HUD was reading dangerously low levels, alerting him to the dangers of falling into stasis if not treated immediately but the seekers seemed to know and reacted. A servo cupped his chin strut, lifting his helm before derma plating pressed against his, sealing them together. A confused sound was muffled but the scout wordlessly swallowed the energon as it was fed to him, little by little, kiss after kiss until the indicator faded for now. Panting softly, he leaned into the servo gratefully, a digit wiping away a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. He vaguely heard Thundercracker whisper something to him before slowly pulling away but not before helping him slowly sit up. Bumblebee finally looked down his chassis only to see how his stomach bulged out, thoroughly bloated. His servo shook as he pressed down only to let out a whimpering moan as the pressure release some of the excess fluids from inside, still hot and oily. He flushed when he heard somebot chuckling but forced himself to turn around to face the tricolored seeker that everybot knew from sight alone.
“You look like you enjoyed yourself immensely, little scout.” Sprawled out on the rock like a spoilt prince upon his throne, frame relaxed even though both his spike and valve were on full display. Autobot blue optics couldn’t tear itself away from the glistening spike, the way it curled upwards, stained with transfluid that continued to leak. A particularly thick drop slid down the underside of the ribbed length, adding to the lubricant-soaked folds of a plush valve, one that the scout wanted to taste. Starscream could see the open desire, his field emanating a smug field as he beckoned the minibot to come closer with a single digit.
Humiliating or not, there was a pleasurable charge as Bumblebee slowly crawled to the dangerous elegance before him. Stabilizers shook as they struggled to keep him up, valve still leaking considerably before stopping right before the seeker, sitting back on his hydraulic knee joints. His digits scratched at his plating, resisting the urge but just barely. His fans were still cycling hard, vents coming in heavy little pants, vents flared wide open but this Pitt-forsaken heat refused to leave him. He forced his slightly glitching optics to focus as a perfectly filed claw tilted his chin strut up, staring in deep vermillion colored optics. This time he didn’t bother to fight back the flush of energon as it blossomed across his faceplates, feeling a minor overload tear through his systems.
“No response? Shame, I do enjoy hearing you beg for more, but I believe I can put your lip plates to far better use.” Leaning back, he withdrew his digit only for his smirk to grow as the Autobot tried to follow his touch, barely managing to catch himself from falling over. Knowing full way that he had his undivided attention, the seeker leaned back and shifted one of his stabilizers out of the way. Normally he wouldn’t have revealed himself this early in the game, they would have to prove themselves to him. Put on a show, as it were. But the Autobot had put on a show indeed, one that even now continued to fuel his charge. It took everything he had to keep his wings still least they reveal his true emotions but there were still signs. “It would appear that I made a mess of myself watching as my trinemates had their way with you, and since you caused this, I believe it is only fair for you to clean it up.”
Any other time Bumblebee would have scoffed, would had made some sort of sarcastic comment, but any other time would have not have gotten this far. “Y-Yes… lord Starscream.” Moving closer, he barely noticed the way the wings twitched as the title before his gaze was forced completely at the uncovered valve before him. His servos barely shook as they slid up the sleek stabilizers, tracing elegant seams, feeling the power and heat emanating through the plating. Hips shifted slightly, making him pause but he continued when long stabilizers parted even more, the folds of a damp valve parting slightly. He didn’t realize the low keen of want came from his own vocalizer as he followed his servos. The folds were the same dark gray as Starscream’s protoflesh, puffy with arousal, slick with lubricant. Once they were close enough, he began to pet the soft lips, stroking them lightly before increasing the pressure, silently massaging them with his digits alone. The normally sharp shrieks from the Air Commander were replaced with low purrs of arousal, engine rumbling as the heat intensified. Still the scout played him like a musician with a finely tuned instrument, pulling sweet music from the winged mech.
Starscream always knew he was meant to be worshipped, to be treated as something priceless. It was with sheer dedication and control that he kept himself from overloading too soon, but he was still unable to stop his vents from hitching as the soft folds of his valve were pushed back, and a slick glossia lightly flicked against his node. It felt to be worshipped like this, moaning lowly as the glossia continued to clean up the still warm fluids, even the way the digits continued to knead his energon swollen folds, but each lick eroded his patience more and more than he was craving for something more. His servo landed atop the minibot’s helm and with absolutely no warning, pulled his helm close enough so that his faceplates were nearly smothered by his array. When the smaller mech froze, the seeker wordlessly draped a long stabilizer over his shoulder pauldron, a heeled thruster pressing into his backplates. A silent command to continue. One that did not go unanswered for long.
The compact mech devoured the bared array he was forcedly held against. He licked, sucked, kissed as much as he could, his glossia thrusting and stroking against the slick entrance, swallowing lubricant like a bit starved. He moaned as the servo atop his helm guided him, groaned in wanton desire as his audio horns were stroked and pinched. One of his servos gripped the stabilizer draped over his pauldron tightly, digits having worked their way into the gap of plating where it connected to the hip, tugging sensitive wires and cables. Pulling back with a sharp vent of air, he wrapped his lip plates around the brightly blinking node and lavished it with the same eagerness as he pushed the digits of his other servo in as deeply as he could, scissoring them wide while roughly stroking the internal nodes through the sensitive silicone lining. The sharp cry the seeker let out was loud but that was the point as his other stabilizer came up to drape over his other pauldron, trapping his helm there, riding his faceplates. With both servos otherwise busy, there was nothing he could do to relieve his own painfully neglected array which begged for any sort of friction.
Back at the Autobot base, within the monitoring room, the SIC Prowl was trying to keep his own volume down least there was anybot walking the halls outside the unlocked door, but there was no muffling the wet sounds as his partner and fellow comrade fragged him. His spinal strut gave a twinge at the unnatural position he was in, but that didn’t last long, his digits digging into the soft protoflesh of his faceplates as his servo did its best to muffle his cries of pleasure.
“I hate not hearin’ ya like this, but maybe we can have a repeat performance later,” Jazz grinned devilishly, his own hips snapping forth with enough power to jar the Datsun. Having brought the ex-Enforcer to an overload earlier had not only relaxed it, it had also made sensitive and wanting. And never let it be said that Jazz wasn’t a dutiful lover. His spike had been fully pressurized, slick with pre-transfluid, he wasted no time in sliding it into the welcoming, twitching heat that was Prowl and immediately started moving. He grunted as he looked down at the sprawled form before him, stabilizers held open so he could watch the way his spike disappear into the soaked opening, watch as each overlapping ridge of his spike rubbed against the normally hidden node, watch as the lewd sight of fluids being displaced with each sharp thrust cause the always tense frame to tremble. No one ever got to see the Tactical Officer is such a way, no one but him. Baring his denta is a broader smirk, the Porsche leaned over and grabbed the back of the chair, now grinding their hips as he bucked his hips in such a way it made the mech almost seize, arching off the chair, optics nearly whiting out. “Like that, huh.” He always did.
The police cruiser couldn’t say anything if he wanted to but he reached out, curling his digits around the beck of his partner’s neck cables, holding on as though his spark depended on it. The other reached out and covered the black servo that continued to hold his stabilizer back, squeezing it. His other stabilizer wrapped around the black hip plating, urging him to continue, to never stop. Through it all he continued to hear Bumblebee’s open comms, could hear Starscream of all mechs complimenting on how well the scout was doing. Part of him wished they could see what was going on, if only to confirm what they were hearing but it wasn’t hard to imagine it.
That’s when his processor brought up images of the yellow Volkswagen here between them, of being spiked by him while Jazz took him from behind. As his superior officers he would no doubt obey every order given, and if he performed well enough, they would reward him. But Bumblebee always performed well. It was his nature to succeed, to prove himself. Prowl barely choked back the cry as the spike struck a very sensitive node in the back of his valve, one that triggered his calipers to tighten with considerable force, causing Jazz to moan.
“I-I know tha’ look, Prowler. Thinkin’ about somethin’?” he asked, pressing in so close their headlights were rubbing against one another’s causing superficial scratches that would have to be buffed out later. “Or, are ya thinkin’ ‘bout somebot?” Doorwings twitched and he knew the answer. He lifted his helm when he heard Starscream compliment Bumblebee on cleaning up his mess before ordering his trinemates to come over and assist him with rewarding their little scout. “It’ll be a miracle if Bee comes back, able to walk much less stand,” he chuckled deeply. Just thinking of the minibot taking three Decepticon spikes was enough that his overload hit him unexpectedly, flooding the valve and triggering the other mech’s. He was quick to seal their lips together, muffling the sharp cry that surely would have alerted anybot close enough. Through it all he never stopped moving, releasing the stabilizer to wrap around his waist he pulled the other bot close, pulling him off the chair and onto his lap. They slowly broke apart, a strand of oral lubricant still connected before it broke off naturally but Prowl surprised his partner as he leaned back against the soiled chair, rocking and grinding his hips as he continued to ride the still pressurized spike.
“We can talk about what to do later. Right now, I am ordering you to finish this since you started it,” he vented heavily, ignoring the warnings about low energy reserves despite that his valve was overflowing with a dirty cocktail of their fluids. One that he knew would be a pain to fully wash out much later where no one could walk in on him in the wash racks.
“Heh. Whatever you say, Prowler.” Even as his servos reached out to grip the hips, the smirk never left the saboteur’s faceplates.
If Bumblebee could see himself right now, he would have denied it as being him. His compact frame was practically sticky with so much brightly colored transfluid and lubricant coating over 78% percent of his frame. His abdominal plating was bulging so much he didn’t know if he would be able to transform. His unfocused optics were so bright there were more white than blue, optical fluids mixing with the sticky resident of transfluid. Despite not needing to breathe he was venting heavy and harsh, failing at cooling down his overheated frame. In fact, his plating was so hot condensation turned to steam the moment it attempted to form. But he didn’t care as long as the two spikes continued to impale him over and over.
From beneath/behind him Thundercracker grunted he his ridged spike overtook his exhaust port with deep, penetrating thrusts. Leaning back against the stacked rocks, his hips continued to surge upward; he would have thrown the minibot off multiple times had he not thought ahead and hooked his stabilizers over his upper stabilizers, keeping them spread wide open. It also enabled his trineleader to take his own pleasure without having to worry about the little Autobot. He growled into an audio sensor a the minibot squealed loudly in pleasure, his port tightened rhythmically around his spike. “Frag! He’s trying to crush my spike!” he growled.
“Really? Let’s test that once more.” With a cruel smirk on his handsome faceplates, Starscream pinched the tiny bud, forcing another sharp squeal of pleasure, not only forcing another growl from the blue seeker but a satisfying hiss as the calipers once more tightened around him. he was finding it difficult to continue to move but that didn’t stop him from fragging the scout. Leaning back, he watched as his thick spike disappeared around the puffy and lubricant soaked folds, not minding in the least as each thrust forced the fluids to gush out. Although it was incredibly tight, he knew he could fit so much more in there. Afterall, both he and Skywarp had both fisted him at the same time, working him open so they could help him end his heat. Speaking of which, he looked up at his other trinemate. “Ready?”
“Al-Almost-!! Holy frag!!” the purple seeker vented sharply, hips surging forward as he continued to forcefully make the talented scout swallow his spike, roughly stroking his audio horns as leverage. The wet, gaggles added to the other wet sounds, and he didn’t have to look to know that his own spike was causing his throat tubing to expand, the outline of his spike visible just by looking at him. Although it was rough, almost brutal, the yellow one was immensely enjoying it, begging for more and more and more via the private comm link the four of them established.
🐝 [✈️✈️✈️ 💦💦💦 🙏 🙏 🙏]
“You really are a greedy little bot, but you’re ours!” Skywarp hissed, thrusting in deeply and pulling the yellow helm close, he cursed as he began to overload. The tubing tightened as Bee felt the fluids flood his oral cavity, swallowing what he could but before he could finish his helm was roughly pulled off. He moaned brokenly as some of the transfluid landed on his faceplates, including his hazy optics.
“Scrap, Skywarp-!!” Thundercrack growled as he wrapped his servos around the smaller frame, hugging him tightly as he lost control. Transfluid began to fill the passage, making Bumblebee cry out but he refused to let him go even as the excess fluids spilled out, painting their plating. “… fr-fragging slag-slagger…”
🌟 [Enough!] came the sharp command. Starscream hissed like an electroviper as he forced his own frame to still. Watching his trinesmates and feeling Bumblebee overload was almost enough to lose his own control, but not yet. He took a moment or two to collect himself, wings trembling, systems demanding relief but instead he withdrew his spike partly, pushing two of his digits into the keening scout’s mouth to silence him. he ignored the way he sucked on them eagerly, no doubt wishing it was his spike he was sucking instead. Leaning forward, he shared and open mouth, messy kiss with Thundercracker, one that involved too much glossia and had them both drooling. “Keep him still.” The blue seeker could only nod, tightening his servos around the squirming frame. Casting a look at eh purple seeker, he nodded only once.
Skywarp made his way over, taking multiple image captures of the scene, trailing his digits along familiar plating. His spike swayed with each stop, the wet tip nosing his trineleader’s own wet valve but as Starscream leaned forward even more, it allowed him to move closer. With his servos gripping warm hips, he grunted as he began to push into the already stuffed valve. There was some resistance, frames squirming but true to word Thundercracker merely tighten his hold. For a moment it appeared that the valve wasn’t as pliant as they had hoped, refusing to part, but before he could pull back the tip finally pushed in, triggering an almost violent overload from an already overwhelmed minibot.
A cascade of errors and warning bombarded Bumblebee’s HUD, overload after overload tearing through him even as the spikes slowly pushed the remaining inches inside. His whole frame was trembling as each and every sensor node was activated by touch, calipers struggling to contain it all but it was too much. Even his seal at the back had spiraled open, trying to make room but even that small opening couldn’t accept both spikes at once. He openly sobbed as his systems were overwhelmed by the sensory input. The servos holding him tightly stroking his abdominal plating, tracing the outline of two very obvious spikes buried so deep inside he could swear he could almost taste them. It took him a klik to realize no one was moving, and another to realize they had sent him private comms, asking if he was hurt, if he wanted to stop. All of filled with worry and concern. Despite the tears and the feeling of being overly full, he smiled at them weakly and sent a response of his own.
🐝 [🚦]
The seekers moved as one, proving that the three mechs could work together seamlessly and in perfect synchrony. It was one of the reasons they were feared on the battlefield. Even now they fragged the Autobot with the same single-minded focus and determination, making him experience overload after overload, even when his spike finally had enough and depressurized back into its housing that didn’t stop them. If anything, the sensory input from his valve increase since now it was the primary focus. All bumblebee could do was go along for the right and while unable to speak, he continued communicating with the Elite Trine via their private comm, telling them how good they were to him, how much he enjoyed being passed around them, how they tasted, what he enjoyed most. And the begging, it was none stop. When Thundercracker sat up and Starscream climbed onto his lap, letting Skywarp pressed in closer and deeper, his voicebox finally cut off as the two spikes forced their way past the opening that led directly into his gestation forge. His compact frame once more locked down, and his processor crashed as he experienced a powerful but painfully cry overload. The last thing he remembered was hearing three seekers crying out their victory together, could feel the spikes swell as they surged forward, emptying themselves inside. A message blared across his HUD but he was out before he could process the message.
When Bumblebee slowly online his optics, he was aware of a few things automatically.
- He was in a cave so he could tell the time of day, but his chronometer registered he had been out for several joors.
- He was clean of any and all residue, especially beneath his modesty plating.
- He was no longer bloated, as though his frame had either absorbed the fluids or somebot help him expel it.
- There was a lingering dull ache in his interfacing array, but considering what he had gone through he was expecting so much more.
- Somebot had hooked up an energon drip directly into his system and by the looks of it, his fuel reserves were at roughly 98%.
- He was currently being held between two warm frames, a servo cradling the back of his helm and keeping it pressed against a softly rumbling chassis. Another servo was wrapped possessively from behind, the second frame spooning his backplates.
Blinking very slowly, the scout registered an unread notification and opened it. His heat cycle was finally over. Completely sated for the time being.
‘Oh, thank Primus for small miracles,’ he told himself. part of him was ready to slip back into recharge, too sated and comfortable to move, but he knew he had to return back to the Ark. It had been some time since he checked in even though it was his off cycle.
‘Jazz would just remind me to check in every now and then. Prowl is gonna demand an explanation.’ Oh, that would go over so well. “Why didn’t I check in? Sorry, sir, but my heat cycle just activated so I left the Ark to deal with it. Why didn’t I just lock myself away in my quarters? It wouldn’t be pair to my roommate and there aren’t a lot of empty rooms available to take care of this alone. So how did I deal with it on my own? Oh, I wasn’t alone! I had three seekers who helped me and have been helping me since my first cycle just shortly when the war started! Who are they? Well, if you really wanna know-oh. You do wanna know. Okay… it was the Command Trine, sir.” Yep. He could just picture the stoic Praxian have a glitch so severe, Ratchet would have to repair him. Then he would have to repeat himself to the CMO, who would then call in Prime and be forced to tell him the full story. Again!
Yeah no. That was never going to happen. Not even after he was offlined and his frame was rusting away somewhere. The scout slowly blinked as the servos around his waist tighten and warm lip plates softly kissed the base of his audio sensor.
“You think too loudly,” Skywarp murmured, nuzzling him as he dropped a kiss to the side of his neck cables.
“… I’m sorry?” Wait, he hadn’t been talking aloud, had he? Oh, for the love of Primus!
The violet seeker just smiled and pressed in closer. The minibot was so lucky he was so fragging cute, but as much as he wouldn’t mind another repeat performance, he saw that TC wasn’t letting the Autobot go anytime soon. The mech was somewhat of a heavy sleep, but once he latched onto something he wasn’t letting go until he was alert enough to let go. Still, that dind’t stop him from sliding a servo down and cupping the yellow panel.
“W-Warp, seriously?” Bee hissed softly and tried to pull away but he was trapped between them.
“Can you blame me? You looked so slagging hot taking all three of us. Though I wouldn’t mind spending some one-on-one time with just the two of us.” He vented hotly into his audio sensor as he firmly rubbed the panel, feeling heat beginning to build. “I have some fun games we can play that will have you begging for my spike in no time… wanna play one right now?”
“Didn’t Starscream tell you to keep a lid on your libido?” came a quiet rumble. Thundercracker vented deeply and slowly, letting his optics online. Silently leveling a warning look at his trinemate, he looked down as he eased the grip he held on the small scout, allowing him to tilt his helm back to look up at him. “Status?” he asked after several quiet moments.
“Status… oh! I-I’m good. Fuel reserves are at 98.9% and there’s nothing indicating the need for self-repair,” Bee answered honestly. That’s when he noticed that there was an energon IV plugged into one of his main cables. And judging by the color, it a highly concentrated medical grade used for those who sustained injuries but were forced to remain in stasis until they recovered. “… That explains so much.”
“We didn’t need a repeat of last time when you crashed so hard we thought we offlined you.” Keeping a firm grip on the yellow helm, the blue seeker leaned in to take a closer look. After a few quite and tense moments, his grip loosened only to catch said bot by his chin strut and kissed him deeply. Bee moaned as he kissed him back, parting his lips to allow the glossia inside, letting him taste him as his large servos strokes his frame. Skywarp, never one to be left out of the fun, resumed kissing his neck, mouthing the cables and wires, still rubbing the very warm panel. But before he could see if it would open their trineleader made himself known.
“Good, you’re awake.” Starscream stood at eh entrance of the cave, his optics positively glowing, elegant servos perched on his hips. Thundercracker drew back from the kiss, nodding to himself. Skywarp groaned, causing Bumble to moan softly but reluctantly, he also drew back. Only then did the tri-colored seeker step forward and extend a servo, helping the Autobot up. Giving him a quick look over, he nodded in apparently satisfaction. “Not exactly showroom ready, but somewhat presentable.”
“Wow, that’s high praise coming from you, Star.” What couldn’t a good round of interfacing solve?
“Cheeky bug.” He reached out, his thumb brushing a slightly swollen lip plate before letting his servo drop and looked at his trinemates. “We have orders to return back. It appears Megatron has a mission for us and he is getting rather impatient for our return.”
“Whoopie,” the violet seeker said sarcastically, lazily twirling a digit in the air as he rose. But as he passed the Autobot he swooped in and gave him a deep kiss, dipping him slightly before setting him back on his peds. “See ya, sexy!”
Thundercrack shook his helm but as he passed bumblebee he leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Be safe.” And walked out of the cave to join his trinemate.
Starscream said nothing for a long time, looking down at the bug as leaning down bee found himself leaning up, the two meeting in a simple kiss. It was more than a light peck, but not as deep as earlier. Even as it ended the seeker vented softly and leaned in to kiss him again, a bit firmer. He looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he gave him another quick kiss before turning and walking out. Once he was outside the three transformed and flew off. Bumblebee found himself still standing there, his cheek ridges burning with a bright blush, dights gently touching his tingling lip plates. It only when he happened a glance at his chronometer that he realized he was well overdue for a check in. Running out of the cave, he transformed and high-tailed it back to the ark.
‘Prowl is gonna kill me!’
While not build for speed or rough terrain, the sunflower yellow Volkswagen made it back in almost record time. He had hoped that he would be able to sneak his way inside and immediately head to his quarters, giving him enough time to explain why he was so long despite it being his off cycle. But his hopes were dashed when he spotted two very familiar black and white mechs waiting for him outside.
‘Oh, I am so slagged.’ Slowing down, eh transformed and walked the rest of the distance. Although he had nothing to feel guilty about, bumblebee couldn’t help but feel like a youngling ready to be scolded by an older relative.
Prowl stood there with his servos crossed under his bumper, faceplates expressionless until you considered the slight crease between his optical ridges which were set in a slight frown. Jazz, however, looking perfectly content and relaxed. He grinned as the scout/spy stopped in front them.
“Hey Bee, if you had stayed out any longer, I was gonna come lookin’ for ya myself,” he said with an easy-going grin.
“Yeah. Sorry about that, it’s just been a while since my last off cycle and the weather was really great. It felt great to driving out there. It’s no city, but at least I have the whole area to myself.”
“Yeah, nice to have plenty of space to roam around.” The saboteur glanced at his partner from the corner of his optic but the Praxian stayed as stiff as a statue. Oh well, he had tried.
Bee couldn’t help but fidget ever so slightly, wondering if he should say anything but what? His processor was drawing a blank and the longer the silence stretched out, the worse the situation was going to get. He opened his lip plates to say something, anything! But Prowl surprised him when he finally spoke up.
“Next time be sure to check in. I understand your off-cycle is a chance to relax and engage in some stress-relieving activities, but the point is to make sure you stay in constant contact on the off chance we need to reach you or vice versa.” Despite the almost icy demeanor he was putting on, Prowl still couldn’t get the way the minibot sounded as he overloaded from his processor, wondering how he looked as the command trine fragged him together at the same time. It took everything he had to keep his doorwings still but they did mange to twitch ever so slightly. “Understand?”
“Crystal. Sir!” Bumblebee felt silly when he saluted the SIC but a they parted to let him enter the Ark he couldn’t help but wonder about that comment of “stress-reliving activities.” He decided to forget about it as he headed to his quarters.
Jazz openly watched as his favorite mech headed inside and whistled lowly under his vents. “Not so much as a limp. Gota say, can’t decide who I’m more jealous of,” he grinned.
“I’ll overlook this once. But if it happens again, I will have no choice but to discipline him accordingly,” the Datsun said and began walking inside. The Porsche followed him inside, walking along but even as he linked his servos behind his helm he was still grinning. “What are you still smiling about?”
“If we asked nicely, you think he’d let us watch up close and personal the next time he meets up with them?” Watching the way prowl froze, optics glitching only to reorient himself with a scowl wouldn’t have caused the TIC to bend over laughing. No, it was the bright blue blush staining his faceplates as he stormed away that caused that.
Author’s Notes: OMG I’M DONE!!!! Why did I think foursomes were easy to write? I like reading them (boy di I like reading them) but writing them? A challenge, but I finished!! (crosses of list)
Hi everybody and welcome to another mini rant from yours truly! I know, it’s been a while and lemme tell us, this has been sitting on my computer for a while. I would like to thank Dresiara44 and gypsywitch1987 for the idea. It was simply enough, thought originally, I was gonna use the command trio as the ones going through a heat cycle but it’s been done so much. So, a bit of backstory, back early in the war Bumblebee was captured by the command trio during a solo mission. It was supposed to be a simple scouting one but he was caught. That’s when the trio realized he was experiencing his first heat (if you’re reading this, I already assume you know about that so I won’t go into detail). Instead of them taking advantage or reporting it to Megatron, the trio decide to help Bee through it since they each had terrible experiences when they each entered their own. Afterwards, they released Bee and never spoke of it. Eventually they made a deal that whenever bee had his heat, he could comm them and they would meet up. And so far, it worked even when they landed on Earth. This time, bee’s comm got activated but it was set to broadcast only, hence Prowl and Jazz listening in. and with those two, I just had to add them having sex as well! I like prowl being a bottom. I also think eh would be really into being restrained and of course deny it up and down but secretly enjoys it. I think that’s an example of machoism?
Anyway, Jazz is more dominant, and he’s not opposed to being top or bottom since sex is sex so long as its consensual. For Bee, the trine would play games: they vary but I had Warp being a bit of a brat who likes to complain and likes to make sweet Bee choke on his spike. TC makes sure they’re not hurting him since Bee is much smaller than them (I think his first time was especially hard and difficult) but once he’s in he’s all in. Star is more of a voyeur and spoiled to a ‘T’! Little princeling, so he’ll watched but he will participate but on his own rules.
Oh! I was originally gonna have them has a private comm chat and even had little emoji created for them. So, if you guess wanna use them, go ahead! The one for Bee is so obvious though! :D (Added note, I jsut realized the color didn't catch here. For Bee, each of the plane emojis were colored: red for Star, blue for TC, and purple for Warp.)
🐝 [Bumblebee] Of course!
🌟 [Starscream]
🌩️ [Thundercracker]
✈️ [Skywarp] Bumblebee uses this one for all of them, but they are color coded. I couldn’t find anything I liked.
🚨 [Prowl]
🎹 [Jazz] I was originally gonna use music notes, but that feels more like Blaster’s thing and in one of the comics Jazz played a keyboard (I think).
Anyway! I am glad I was finally able to finish this chapter! You guys, are so patient and understanding, thank you all so much. I will do my best to have the next chapter up as soon as I and done and satisfied with it. Until next time! 💋
Next chapter: Optimus PrimexBumblebee (Bayverse)