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What had happened to Elita had been horrible, Optimus wasn’t about to argue that fact. He knew he deserved to be booted from the Elite Guard, he was lucky that they hadn’t slapped a manslaughter charge on him. Sentinel had denied any responsibility of it, washed his servos of it, moved on. That was something Sentinel was going to have to live with for the rest of his function. Optimus wasn’t bitter, not completely anyway.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do now. He had been kicked out of the academy, left on the streets, everything he owned from the dorms out on these steps just outside the campus. He couldn’t go home. Roller would be pissed. He couldn’t go back there. Optimus wouldn’t be able to look either of them in the optic, let alone ask to move back into his room. He was just lucky that everything he owned fit into a single box.
Primus, what was he going to do?
A break came in the form of a dinky, probably condemned apartment complex within Alkaline city limits. Iacon and Alkaline weren’t that far away from one another, it was only about an hour drive from the complex and the landlord had been kind enough to offer him a small room. He wasn’t sure it was even legal to live here, but the neighbors didn’t seem to mind. Optimus wasn’t sure what to think about that. The moaning coming from his neighbor's side of the wall along with the bounding of a berth against that same wall told him this was going to be an interesting few weeks. At least until he can figure out what he’s going to do.
“Okay, wait, what about this?” asked his neighbor.
“oh yeah! Primus Pro-“
Optimus attempted not to listen to the rest of their encounter. He looked through the cupboards and looked for a cube. One unopened cube and he was sitting on the bed, turned on the radio, listening to the newest song from Rosanna, a hit as soon as it came out. Hopefully, it was enough to drown out his neighbors’ activities.
The radio did its job and soon enough his neighbors were done, Optimus laid against the rickety berth and attempted to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He’d have to find something, his savings weren’t going to last forever. The Elite Guard paid well, but not that well. Optimus stood, making his way out onto the balcony. He wasn’t sure what this building used to be, but a motel seemed to be an accurate guess, a poor one.
The hallway balcony had been picking up traffic, now that the days were ending hard working citizens were coming home for the day and it looked like some were leaving. His neighbors were outside their apartment as well. One a smaller black and gold frame the other tall black, green, purple, and orange. Hook for a hand. Optimus wasn’t sure this was a good city to live in, maybe he should have just dealt with the disappointed stares of his mentors back in Iacon.
He glanced at the two, sharing a drag off a cigarette. And then returned to the cube in his hand. He looked out at the city, the street the complex was on wasn’t too busy, but just busy enough to show people lived down the road. He was a little bit surprised to see the smaller black and gold mech approach him.
“You look troubled. Want a light?” he asked holding out a box of Cygarettes.
“No, thank you though. Those things will kill you,” stated Optimus.
“Lot of things ‘ill kill ya kid,” stated the hooked mecha behind the smaller one. He took a long drag off the cygarette. He let the smoke out slowly through his vents, it was mesmerizing in a way. “You just move in?”
“Yeah, like an hour ago,” answered Optimus.
“Oh,” stated Prowl almost surprised. Almost like he knew that the new neighbor could hear their every action just moments before. “uh, sorry. About-about earlier.”
That god Optimus to blush a little, so they hadn’t known he had moved in when they had started, and somehow acknowledging it seemed so much worse than just confronting it. “It’s uh, it’s fine,” said Optimus taking a sip of the cube he brought out with him into the balcony hallway.
“Frag,” cursed his neighbor. “I gotta go.” He turned back to the tall lanky mecha, giving him a kiss as the taller mech groped his aft. “See ya, Locks.”
“Remember only I get to touch,” mumbled ‘Locks’ real low.
The other responded with a quick, “I know,” before walking down the hallway/balcony and down the stairs, to transform and drive off. Optimus was kind of curious as to where he was going at such a weird time of day.
“Prowls an Exotic dancer for the Greasy Axel,” explained ‘Locks’. “Those perverts really love a Praxian frame type.” He took another drag on his cygarette. “Names Lockdown. “
“Optimus.”
“You’d make a killing at the Greasy Axel,” admitted Lockdown. “I know I did. If you’re lookin’ for employment check them out. Yoketrons the boss, here’s a direct line.” The mech held out a contact chip, one with the clubs name and contact info printed on it.
Optimus took the offered chip glancing over the contact information. It was definitely something to contemplate, it wasn’t the profession he had in mind, but if all else failed be could become a bouncer probably. He had Elite Guard Training.
“Just think about it kid.” He took one last drag before putting out the cygarette and flinging it off the balcony half wall. “Hey, Swindle! You get me Tamaranian squelcher-shield yet?”
“Stop flinging your cygarette butts at me! Also, don’t yell you fragger! “
With that Optimus returned to his apartment, the almost empty cube in hand. He wasn’t interested in seeing a possible felony commence right in front of his optics. He entered the room, laying on the berth with a subtle creaking noise. He sighed, finishing the cube and listening to the news on the radio between songs.
It had been three days since Lockdown had given him the contact card, he hadn’t found a job and things were getting tight. Things had gotten quiet around the complex, he wasn’t sure what had changed but something had. Optimus hummed as the sound of his neighbor's door opening and closing brought out of his thoughts.
The past three days he had learned a lot about his neighbors. Prowl was pole dancer known as ‘Officer Friendly’, Lockdown had been a dancer as well before the modding addiction started and was kicked out of the Greasy Axel, then the habit got to be too expensive, he became a Bounty Hunter. Lockdown and Prowl were serious, but mostly long distance.
Optimus held the card in his hand looking it over, flipping from the front to the back, this was about the time Prowl and Lockdown shared a smoke, just before Prowl leaves for work. Optimus was desperate. He needed creds, energon was expensive. So was living in general.
“Hey.” Stated Prowl the smoke releasing from his intake as he spoke.
“Hey,” greeted Optimus back. “Where is you’re ah-“
“He left. He’s chasing down some Bail hopper in Kaon,” answered Prowl. “He told me he gave you Yoketrons contact info, you thinking about joining the industry?”
“I yes… maybe.” He answered. The other could tell Optimus was hesitant.
“You want to come with me tonight? Maybe see what it’s like? They aren’t supposed to touch you,” stated Prowl. “And if they do Dai Atlas will throw them out on their afts.”
That helped calm his nerves about accepting the job offer, there are boundaries that they could set, and they would be enforced. Optimus thought some more on it, no one had been looking his way in terms of employment, he had been barred from ever entering the elite guard again – but this… Prowl made a lot doing this. He’s seen the inside of Prowls apartment. He even admitted most of his credits go toward Lockdowns ship, rather to himself and still, the mech had fabrics of all kinds, exotic trinkets, items even some towers mecha would be jealous of. It had to be worth a shot right? “Yeah, I think I’d like to give it a shot.”
Prowl smiled, “alright, you’ll be popular that’s good. Pretty soon we might be able to do a ‘first responders’ night.” Prowl laughed and Optimus didn’t see what was so funny.
He had been doing this for weeks, as Prowl had predicted Optimus – or Heatwave as they had suggested his stage name be was popular the second the new roster was made up. The dancers were strangely close – at least in Optimus’ opinion. He had been training to shut places like this down. These kinds of places were supposed to be the scum of Cybertron – but the more time Optimus spent here the more he figured it out: these were just people making a living, and a decent living at that. Now that he was here, a pole dancer and entertainer it amazed him how far his views had changed.
Tonight was Heatwaves debut, as Prowl had predicted they had finally been able to do a ‘first responders’ night. Optimus still didn’t see the humor in it. He was nervous, this was his first time in front of everyone. Since it was a theme night they had brought out the big stage, set up in the theme of firefighters, EMTs, and Police Officers. Prowl recognized some people from wanted posters, Optimus could only imagine why they were here.
They had spent the last week practicing, Optimus, Prowl, and Knock Out for tonight but it didn’t help. Optimus was still nervous. Dr. Knock Out, seemingly the only dancer dumb enough to use his real name, had been first. His wing of the stage was filled with credits. Small pockets of change he would gather at the end of the day. Some mechs still giving him more, begging for his attention or to get close enough to tip the red mech, Optimus couldn’t tell which.
Officer Friendly had been next. He had started off with stasis cuffs swung around on his digits, the audience had loved it. By the end of Prowls number, the stasis cuffs were long gone to some mecha who had slipped him a large chunk of change. There was one mech Optimus recognized in the crowd, that mech being Lockdown. Probably here to see his mate’s special performance, it was weirdly sweet in a way. But now, as Prowls music fades out, Heatwaves intro fades in and a new form of terror takes hold of him.
“And debuting tonight: Heatwave!” says the announcer over the PA, the crowd cheers.
He’s encouraged out from behind the curtain and there he is the center of attention. His music is playing and that’s what he decides to focus on, the music. He’s got his own special mods that shoot foam – usually used to put out fires, it’s a pretty useful modification Optimus doesn’t use it very often – at least he didn’t not until he started working here.
Credits start flying as he dances his way to the end of the stage. His foam tanks are filled to the brim and he’s been encouraged by several that if he gets enough of a tip from someone, they probably want a face full of foam. Optimus wasn’t sure he wanted to agree but if it got him credits he’d do it. He stopped every so often paying special attention to a few patrons who wanted to slip him credits. Some wanting to slip them into his transformation seams, it was a little awkward at first – it made him feel filthy at first but he’d seen the payday he made afterward – that made him feel a little better about it.
There was one mech in particular that caught his optic. An average build, flier, yellow face mask. He had caught the attention of Optimus, he came close, not too close, but close enough for the mech to drop his credits. Optimus smiled and kneeled down, his digits trailing across the others faceplates. He aimed his foam mod up in the air, shooting out some of the white bubbly substance.
“Play with fire and you get burnt, play with a firemech and you get wet!” shouted the announcer and the crowd went wild. With Optimus’ confidence boosted and he gladly continued the dance and sprayed a few more heavy tippers with his foam mods.
Soon enough the main event stopped, Officer Friendly, Dr. Knock Out, and Heatwave were then allowed backstage for a break as patrons broke apart and headed for more private parties. Lockdown was already backstage when they had come back, so was another larger blue mech, Breakdown, Knock Outs intended or Sparkmate – Optimus wasn’t sure he could remember which.
“You did good kid, you got some real talent. Little rocky at first there but you did good,” said Lockdown. Optimus was sure he was attempting to make him feel better, and he was almost disappointed it was working. “You’re gonna be a fan favorite. And those foam mods – unf – the crowd went wild! Haven’t seen them go nuts like that since Officer Friendly here joined the ranks.” Explained Lockdown wrapping his hook arm around the black and gold painted mech.
The small group continued to talk amongst themselves as others carried on with their nights. Optimus asked a few questions on how to improve and got answers if he liked the answers was debatable. Their conversation was stopped as Yoketron – the owner of the Greasy Axel approached their group. Knock Out and Prowl grew quiet as did Optimus. Lockdown looked less pleased to see the white and gold mecha while Breakdown just seemed to hold no opinion on it.
“Heatwave your presence is required in the VIP room,” said Yoketron.
Optimus must have looked terrified because it wasn’t long before Prowl spoke up. “The VIP room is good, they pay a lot to be in there – you’re never completely alone, Dai Atlas will be in there or War Path. Possibly both depending on who it is, they won’t let anyone take advantage of you.”
The information from Prowl had helped, he followed after Yoketron and into the VIP area. It was a long hallway with doors leading to private rooms, the emptiness of it all made Optimus Nervous. But then Yoketron opened one door – not a real door but a curtain to reveal three large mecha – all war builds and two Optimus recognized one close to the door the other on the other side of the room close to the customers, Dai Atlas, and Warpath. Both of them, here to Protect Optimus. Who was this mech?
“Lord Megatron,” stated Yoketron. “Here is Heatwave, the firefighter mech from the show earlier.” Optimus bowed because that’s what you did with lords right? But he didn’t look like any Lord he had known. He had this air of confidence around him, something that screamed he wasn’t up to any good. His buddies a flier and a tank didn’t seem to have anything better written across their faces either.
“Excellent,” stated Megatron. The grin on his face should have told Optimus to run in any other situation. But right now he was being paid to be here, being paid to entertain. “Show me what you have Heatwave.”
Yoketron discretely left the room, leaving Optimus in here with these three and the two bouncers. Heatwave started his dance, the music never stopped flowing from the speakers, there was always something playing, and all Optimus had to do was time up with the bass drop and he could entertain fully.
Optimus had been surprised, the entire time this Lord Megatron had kept his hands to himself. He had even kept his servos where Optimus could see them, spread across the back of the sunken couch. The gray mechs expression was stone, and he couldn’t tell whether he was enjoying the show or not.
A few more songs and another few rounds of drinks and Megatron and his friends were so smashed Optimus wasn’t sure they were really enjoying the private show any longer. Closing time wasn’t too far away and Warpath and Dai Atlas started clearing people out starting with Megatron and his friends. Whatever tips Optimus had gotten for the night remained on the table, floor, and seats, their aim with every serving of engex only worsening. The music died down to a more tolerable level, Optimus’ head hurt and Dai Atlas escorted Optimus out of the building. They always took care of the one who debuted for the first few weeks. Sometimes fans got a little stalkery.
Optimus met up with Lockdown and Prowl and they drove home together. They had been nice enough to wait around for him, and they drove through the city streets with no one on them since it was like 2 in the morning. No one in their right mind was out of the road this time of night.
Months had passed and Optimus-Heatwave had quite the following. There were some patrons that asked for him on a regular basis – it was honestly concerning how often the mecha was here. Optimus grew even more concerned that this had been his 30th day in a row asking for Heatwaves presence. The night had been okay, patrons were bolder than usual especially the bot who had been here every day for the past month.
This had been the second time, he had slapped her hand off his aft, “Don’t touch me again,” stated Optimus. This would be her second warning, first was flirty that’s not yours, the second was more stern, you can tip but don’t touch, third had been a serious one. One more and Optimus would be calling over the closest bouncer, which happened to be… “Hey! Sky Garry!” shouted Optimus “We have a toucher!”
Optimus had stopped dancing to the music, his arms crossed and Yoketron had come over as Sky Garry picked up the over-eager patron and threw him out the entrance of the club. This was standard protocol after needing someone to be thrown out. That dancer was done for the night, escorted to the Transformation lot and YOketron would hope that their fellow co-workers would be kind enough to travel with him. But Prowl was off for the week – Yoketron worried.
“Are you alright?” asked the old mech leading Optimus through to back behind the stage. A few patrons noticed the retreat, most didn’t others too occupied with other entertainers than with him. He was thankful. He was just glad that the femme hadn’t done anything more drastic.
“Yeah,” started Optimus. “Yeah,” he repeated more for himself that for anyone else. “I’ll be alright.” Yoketron didn’t leave him for a long while, just allowing Optimus to pace to bring his anxiety down. It was comforting but also awkward in a way. It didn’t take long for Optimus’ spark to stop racing in his chest and for him to turn to Yoketron. “I’m good now thank you. Can I get someone to walk me out? I’d like to go home.”
“Of course, I will go get someone to escort you,” stated Yoketron as he put his hands behind his back, raised his shoulders and walked out. Before when Optimus had still been new to this world before all of that holier-than-thou Elite guard training had been forgotten he never understood why Yoketron walked with such grace. Prowl had said Yoketron started this club for those down on their luck to be a safe place for people who weren’t allowed another chance, in Optimus’ case it had worked out all too well. Yoketron was doing well here, despite the moral objections from the prudes as Lockdown liked to call them.
Optimus waited for a while, he knew better than to just go. Especially if someone had only just been thrown out less than 2 hours ago. He sighed, sitting on his vanity. Each one had their own little area to get ready for. Some changed their entire paint scheme as Prowl did – though he usually did so at home, some added racing stripes, others just got polished up Like Knock Out. For the larger events, Yoketron found designers – Sunstreaker was a frequent designer hired in on theme nights.
“You ready?” The voice made Optimus jump a little. He hadn’t expected it. He looked up at the newest bodyguard Yoketron had hired, some mech from Iacon. He looked like a war build so it wasn’t likely any sane Autobot would give him much work. That’s what society told people, stay in your lane. Decepticon looking folks weren’t treated kindly. Primus forbid and Autobot fly.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
Optimus walked with the larger mech out of the building and over to the transformation lot specifically for the entertainers. It was gated, and the patrons weren’t allowed in the area, a special ping was needed to get in, but Yoketron knew electronics could be hacked so he liked to have protections for the entertainers as often as they requested. Violence had been going up in Alkaline recently. Optimus was about to walk into the lot when he was pulled back.
“You’re an angel when you’re up there dancing, come on, don’t you want to-“
“No,” demanded Optimus, at first in an attempt to be polite he kept his voice down, but then he realized being polite wasn’t going to stop him. His servos moved up and down his shoulder plates, his optics lingered over his still painted over array. “No!” shouted Optimus as he attempted to struggle to get away. The mechs hold on him had been far too strong the war build was at the very least double his size. This mech could easily overpower him. “No! Stop!”
“Come one Heatwave don’t be like that. I just want to show you a really fun to-“
Before Optimus’ processor caught up to what happened to him a silver mech stood between him and his assaulter. Another mech – double Optimus’ size but apparently knew when to exert that power. “He said no.”
Optimus watched the bouncer holding his faceplate, it was entirely possible that the silver mech had broken the other derma plates. It didn’t look like he was ready for any kind of fight. Though Optimus could see the fear in his assaulters' optics when the mech looked up to Lord Megatron.
“Lord! Lord Megatron!” begged the mech. “Please, I beg of you forgive me!?”
Megatron said nothing in response though Optimus wasn’t sure why. The silver mech only turned to him and asked a simple question: “Are you alright?”
Optimus was quiet for a moment, he was trained by the Elite guard, he should have known how to get out of that. He flinched as the mech Megatron had punched stood up to his full height. The Lord looked back and growled to him, he fell back, and crawled away, running from the scene. Optimus relaxed as he watched him run out of sight.
Megatron turned back to Optimus, “Are you okay?”
He can only stare at the larger mech for a minute still stunned and processing everything that had just been done to him. He was thankful that he hadn’t gotten that far. “I-“ stuttered Optimus. That was as far as he could get before the dam burst and Optimus let everything fall. Tears spilled from his optics and rolled off his faceplate. Anguish filled his spark, everything from disappointment to failure bubbled up from the depths of his spark. All of this had started because Sentinel had wanted to go to that stinking Organic world. Had Optimus just told him no he wouldn’t even be here.
Megatron did the only thing an older crime lord could do. He allowed Optimus the comfort he needed after such a traumatic experience. Eventually, the smaller mech calmed down. Still clinging to Megatron's chest plates and tears falling down his face. “Heatwave-“
“Optimus”
“uh, ok, Optimus. I’m going to bring you back inside, we’re going to tell Yoketron ok, he’ll make sure that fragger never comes back on premises. You can call the cops if you want, they’ll arrest him for assault,” explained Megatron. There was no place for that kind of behavior on his own payroll, he’d never tolerated such brutality among his ranks. That mech would live for too much longer either if he had anything to say about it. Which he had everything to say about it. Being a mafia boss had its perks.
The silver mech had done what he had said, brought him back inside to drop him off to Yoketron to he could take care of his charge. Once Megatron was sure Optimus was in good servos the silver mech went about the rest of his business.
Optimus had been given the next few nights off, he had needed it in all honesty. He’d talk to a trauma counselor as Yoketron recommended but he couldn’t stay off the job forever so here he was back at the Greasy Axel, entertaining another batch of patrons, and soon they lost interest in him for the clubs newest attraction: Drift. Yoketron assured everyone he was legal. He was jailbait, but he was this side of legal. He went by the stage name Deadlock.
Optimus didn’t know where he had come from and he didn’t really care, he was glad the attention really wasn’t on him as much as it had been. He had felt as if – since the assault, everyone knew. Yoketron had assured him that he hadn’t told anyone – he would leave that up to Optimus himself if he even wanted anyone to know. He felt like people stared at him all the time – he saw that look the other had in everyone's optics, Warpath would make sure that nothing happened – but so was the other mech.
He had moved on to the next group of patrons, or really patron in this case. There was a group involved but a buddy of his asked Heatwave for a lap dance for his friend – a soon to be bonded friend. While Optimus didn’t agree with the pre-bonded in such a place – it was too close to cheating in his views – he would give the mechs what they wanted. A lap dance.
Hopefully, the tips would be worth it.
They seemed to enjoy it enough, a glimpse of silver caught his eye, he glanced toward it, and there he was Megatron. The mech had left so abruptly after he had been dropped off with Yoketron that he hadn’t even stayed to hear that Optimus hadn’t wanted to get the police involved. He knew what they would say especially with his chosen profession. That it was his job – he was a stripper he wasn’t asking for it. Not like that.
“Hey-wait sweet spark where you goin’? Come on I get bonded tomorrow, this is my last night of freedom,” whined the patron as Optimus walked toward the gray mecha who had saved him that night.
He slinked up to Megatron and smiled, he was talking to Yoketron – something that once Optimus had gotten close enough the hushed conversation had stopped. Yoketron nodded in his direction, his silent greeting, Optimus nodded back. Megatron smiled to him and put a hesitant hand on his shoulder as Yoketron watched – scrutinizing his every move. The elder would put a stop to anything if Optimus got uncomfortable.
“I have been worried about you,” admitted Megatron. “I came by these past few nights to make sure you were ok but they said you had those nights off.”
Optimus nodded and looked to Yoketron, “I’ll be okay, he’s okay Yoketron.” Once he was sure Yoketron thought he was okay with Megatron he continued. “Yeah, I took some days off for some me time to figure everything out. Get my helm on straight if you will.” He noticed Dai Atlas inch ever closer to the two. He was comforted by that. Really he was.
“Good, good,” smiled Megatron.
Optimus smiled back, actually uh, “do you want to catch up in one of the private rooms?”
“Sure,” stated Megatron as he leads the way to the more private rooms. There were some that were in use, some high profile patrons that would have their reputations tarnished is they were found out to come here. It didn’t take them long to find a room that was unused. Optimus smiled and tugged the larger mech in behind him.
Optimus sat them down, at the sunken couch, it was roomier than Optimus thought it looked, though he had never been this side of it before. “I just – thank you for what you did for me that night. There is no telling how far that mech would have gone had you not stepped up and did what you did.”
“It’s nothing,” started Megatron, “Honestly-“ The silver mech was cut off by a kiss from the younger. Optimus hummed, Megatron was a little surprised. He pushed the other back gently, and he broke the kiss and the look on Optimus’ face broke Megatron's spark.
“Do you not- You don’t want to?” asked Optimus his voice cracking.
“I want to!” That response was almost too quick, Megatron felt guilty for answering so eagerly. This mech had been assault a little less than a week ago! “But do you? I don’t want you to think you have to do this out of thanks or some sense of duty.”
“No!” replied Optimus a little too quickly. “I just – I want I want to feel in control again. Please?”
Megatron was silent for a moment studying the other mech for any signs of distress. He was a good looking mech and Megatron wanted to make an effort into getting to know him and interface with him. He had liked him ever since he had set optics on him that first night. “Yes. But the second you say no, we stop.”
Optimus nodded and Megatron was the first to continue the kiss. Things escalated quickly in the span of a few moments. Their plating heated up, fans whirred to life and Optimus felt normal for the first time in a long while. He wrapped his arms around the taller mech, keeping him close, but not so tight to keep him there should he want to back away. Optimus wanted to feel like he could actually interface again – that power wouldn’t be taken from him, or his partner. Megatrons servos groped at the red plating underneath him. Optimus moaned as Megatron finally groped at his modesty plating – currently painted red, but once the panel came out it would reveal the blue it actually was.
Optimus’ panel detached with an audible click. His fan kicked up another gear either in embarrassment or he was turned on, even more, he couldn’t be sure. Once his panel was off, Megatron discarded it onto the table behind them, close enough for Optimus to reach should there be an emergency or he’s told to stop. The larger mech trails kisses and licks of his glossa down the smaller mechs frame. As he gets down his abdominal plates and down to his hip junction his glossa picks up some paint.
Megatron stops to wipe off the glossa before Optimus hopes he continues. “That is a gorgeous shade of blue,” complimented Megatron. Optimus can only hum in response as Megatron puts his mouth over his port. His thick glossa comes in and out in designs Optimus can’t identify at the moment. It sends him into a tingling sensation all throughout his frame. His peds curl and his own hands wander his frame, as Megatron's servos move to keep Optimus’ thighs from coming together.
He had never been stretched in such a way – He had interfaced before. That was what recruits did during their downtime. This wasn’t his first rodeo, but this was the first time his partner really seemed interested in him. Elita and Sentinel always seemed more interested in each other than they had been in him. And-“oh” he moaned whatever trick Megatron had done just there had brought him straight out of thought and completely melted his processor.
Eventually, Megatron stops and comes up closer to Optimus’ face, one servo on his knee holding it in place, up close to his chest, his other servo gently massaging the port, his digits teasing with a subtle in and out motion. He’s not sure how far they’ll go but Optimus doesn’t care so long as it feels this good.
“Been a while for you?” asked Megatron out of curiosity.
“hm-hmmm,” answered Optimus, a twitch from him as Megatron probes his digits in deeper into his valve. The mech knows all the best places to him, he uses a digit to work the upper part of his outer valve – and oh Primus- a shutter flows throughout his frame. His legs feel weak and his helm feels heavy.
Megatron smirks and continues to prep the mech below him. He’s small and worries that Megatron himself might be a little too big for a valve as small as Optimus’ and one that had been left alone for quite a while. Though its relatively easy to get Optimus to loosen up – lubricant flows freely through the smaller mechs valve.
For several minutes Megatron is sure that Optimus is going to overload any moment. The other mechs spike stands at attention and trembles with each minute movement that Megatron does. Every move the other makes send Megatron's own spike into a throbbing stiff pole. And he loves every second of the younger mechs unintended teasing.
He removes his own modestly plating and uncoils his spike. He rubs his spike up against Optimus’ interfacing array, not yet plunging in for the dive. He brings their spikes together, coating his bare spike in the fluid already dripping from the other. It would help to act as another lubricant. Megatron takes a few seconds his spike nestled up against Optimus’ he wants to know this is what Optimus wants – he won't take, they will share.
“You sure?” he asks. His voice is deep and his optics are somehow both bright and dim with arousal.
“Yes,” answered Optimus The paint around his hip junction has all but disappeared and by the time they clean up the red paint will likely be gone. Some of the temp paint on his legs was already on Megatron back, well as much around his back as his legs went anyway.
Optimus arches back as Megatron slowly and carefully sheaths his spike into the smaller mechs valve. It’s a tight fit and every second of it sends Optimus into a tingling array of pleasure. He spreads his legs attempting to encourage more and more of Megatron's member into his frame. The stretch sends his spark into a cascade of tightening and excitement. He moans and overloads before Megatron's even fully inside. His valve clamps down on Megatron's spike with his frame, pulsing around the warm member.
He hears Megatron moan, he pumps, and Optimus feels bad he overloaded so prematurely. His frame is still rebooting and he still feels pleasure coursing throughout his frame as the mech above him continues to move. He feels that same build up again, and again an- He whines as they lose pace, the other had pulled out too far, he can tell Megatron's disappointed as well. So they have to start again – this time Optimus doesn’t overload quite as fast as once more the mech above him enter his frame.
This time Optimus is able to hold out until the second thrust. His valve clamps down again, sending his entire body shaking and he panting and Primus this was good. He’s exhausted and he hears Megatron howl as fluids escape the others spike into his valve. They’re both frozen in place for a moment just listening to each other pant.
Optimus is almost disappointed when the other pulls out of him. He knows they can’t stay this way – they do have to clean up. Be presentable so Optimus can go home without being harassed. SO Megatron's not accused of doing something that Optimus didn’t want. Optimus sat up feeling some of the fluid gush out – a weird sensation he had never really felt to this level before. He pulled some cloths from his subspace and handed one to Megatron.
“Thank you.”
“If you want to thank me let me take you out. Next Thursday?”
Optimus smiles, “Yeah. I would like that.”