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You toss in the last item, small clanking noises echoing from the bag.
Aight. That should be enough. If you happen to be short even after all this loot, then you can come back anytime. That's how much of a jackpot you have. Surprisingly easy to break in, and despite the darkness, all you need is a little flashlight to get through. Hell yeah.
Pointing the light in the bag, your eyes greedily dart around the treasures, already imagining their value. This will, no doubt, get you a fortune. Almost too good to be true.
Enough gawking. You have to get out of here if you want to keep them long enough.
Flicking the off switch of your light, you search for the exit's natural sunlit corner. A small slit of the outside, just at the end of... there.
A smile helpfully comes across your lips. Whoever owns this storehouse is a real sucker.
Carrying the bag over your shoulder, you start walking, quiet and careful.
...
A booming noise. Largest of doors opening.
You swiftly sit behind a large crate, settling your collection next to you. The rattles of the items hides under the loud creaks of the storehouse. Catching a glimpse of sunlight that wasn't there before, you hold in your breath, making sure you're more quiet than ever.
A few pounding noises.
Eventually, the doors close. Darkness engulfs the warehouse.
Are they gone?
... You opt to stay silent.
...
Footsteps. Utterly inhumane ones that shake the ground as they land.
Your heart pounds at the realization.
Did you just loot from a fucking transformer?
No. No. That must be wrong. Transformers aren't in your city. It must be weirdly heavy items.
A small pause of nothingness.
Footsteps again. This time, the ground doesn't ripple. Hah. You were right. They just had to drop something.
But... in the dark?—
Before you know it, your body is moving, reacting at the sight of a figure looming over you.
You fail to react as fast as you should when you realize their hand isn't made of flesh.
Because, now, you have your defensive position on action, legs straddling over the perpetrator (or should you call yourself that). Your hands have different roles, one holding theirs above their head keeping them in place, and the other simply pressed against where their mouth should be.
The transformer's not as large as you imagined it to be. A minicon, maybe? But then what would those shakes come out to be? Would this position even work on a robot? Damn it all.
You swallow hard, staring at their glowing, purple lights. Right at the head. These must be their eyes—optics.
...
No one does anything. You stare, it stares. No matter how much you try to control your breathing, it's only ragged, your chest erratically rising and falling. The transformer in front of you also had a similar state, but instead of lungs were the low purrs of an engine.
He isn't fighting you. Why isn't he fighting? You know you would have been dead already if he decided to oppose you.
The light from his optics helps you see, even if just a little. You can see the patterns on his helm, the soft glow against your skin, your hand over his—
His head tilts.
You glance at your loot, licking your lips.
He's a transformer. A rather small one but definitely not to be underestimated—you knew who Rumble and Frenzy are.
So you don't know what the fuck you were thinking when you placed your lips on his.
Your palms are on each side of his head, not even bothering to be gentle—flesh is nothing on metal. While his lips don't feel like a human, it's certainly soft like one. Maybe even softer. It feels surprisingly pleasant against yours.
The kiss doesn't last long. It is one of your specific, desperate distraction to catch anyone off guard and, usually, it works.
You swiftly grab the bag while he's stunned and start running for it.
... The exit is so painfully close.
"Stealing, are we?"
Something makes you trip. The bag and the items come falling and rolling on the ground.
You quickly sit up, watching a jeep transform back into the robot mode you saw—purple glowing optics directly facing you. Of course, silly you. Who knew you can't outrun a fucking transformer.
A nervous smile spreads across your lips as you shrink yourself from him, scooting away. You raise your hands in surrender. "Hey, man, I'm sorry. You can have them back and I won't—"
"Oh, no, it's quite alright," he muses, walking over to you. "But we do have a different problem now."
He takes your sitting position as an opportunity. Slamming one leg on your side—your face drops—and another on the other side.
Sweat drips along your skin in your trapped position, and oh God you truly did fear for your life, watching his predatory gaze have an incredibly slow resolution.
"...A problem?" you somehow find the courage to ask, despite your violently beating heart.
Your breath hitches, your body stiffens—the bot decides to sit on your lap. You have to adjust your limbs, squirming under his heavy weight, unaware that you're only brushing him in all the right places.
"You have ta finish what you started, of course! The name's Swindle," he smiles, catching your eyes, and you're reminded of how soft his lips were when you made contact with them. "Your fleshy rates are off the charts, I can tell."
"What do you..." your words trail off. It can't be helped—everything seems foggy.
"Don't ya worry," Swindle chuckles, beginning to run his fingers through your scalp. "I won't hurt you. In fact, let's make a deal! Just continue whatever that was before, and I'll let you leave with those goods ya stole. Sounds good, yeah?"
You feel heated. A twinge of temptation is crawling on your back, knowing that the loot is obviously worth it. You've done it many times before, but on the contrary, never with an alien metallic being. Would you be good? But that would imply that whatever he wanted will go pass kissing. Maybe he just wants to be kissed. You're not thinking straight.
"Um— I. Okay," you exhale, slightly moving away when his face gets near yours. Shit.
He doesn't like your hesitance, apparently, placing his strong hands on your cheeks to pull you back to him.
"Do that thing again."
You blink at his large, half-lidded purple eyes. "Huh?"
"The part where ya smashed your intake on mine. I didn't know how much pleasure it—"
When you realize what he was talking about, you take his lips without a second thought. It was clumsy, at first, but somehow the mech made up for it once he passionately returned your kiss. Still, for a moment, you thought you fucked up with the suddenness—but he doesn't seem to mind, draping his arms on your shoulders. He's so fucking heavy.
You lick his lips, and he immediately gives your tongue access. Not sure how to feel about his tongue... compared to his lips, this one's harder and rougher to feel, more in line with his metallic structure. He groans into your advances, and you feel his weight falling onto you considerably—maybe he's a little too passionate now.
There's warmth building up his upper legs where it was pressed up against your body. Too heavy. Might crush you before you even let him finish. You grab his metal thighs and give a gentle push, a prod, putting more pressure when he doesn't budge.
Swindle still doesn't get the hint, only shuddering from your touch, melting into your lips. You feel your breathing turning rougher. Your thoughts? You're about to get crushed by an incredibly needy transformer.
You pull away, and even then, he tries to chase your lips back.
"Wait," you pant, your lungs greedily taking in air, a sharp contrast of how Swindle is greedily leaning to take more of you. "Swindle. Please move."
A small sound of protest leaves him, but he ultimately obliges. "...Hah, that's me. What position do ya want me in? Now that I think 'bout it, what even are your parts?—"
He rambles more and more—a dismaying confirmation of how much he wants to actually go through it—and now you gotta focus on how you're going to pleasure this guy.
The sooner, the better. Grimacing, you watch as he sits on the ground, his legs not leaving your waist for good measure.
Your eyes are weirdly drawn to his crotch... and you see something dripping from inside the panel. It's dark, but with the help of the subtle outside light, you notice the shining fluids on his plates.
"Are you wet?"
Swindle chuckles, his legs pressing against you closer. "Soaked would be the better word. Here."
A low click, it being the only sound in the whole building for a moment, then you watch the panel erotically slide open with a hiss.
You stare at it with utter confusion.
This looks like a human vagina. Bigger than average, of course. There's the clit, a small purple button, and the folds, but the appearance itself is much more... alien? Rather than flesh, it has glowing colors and fancy patterns decorating along the ridges. Expensive, you would say.
And he was right. He's soaked. His fluids are thickly dripping off his thighs. All of this from just a few kissing?
The glow of his optics are obvious, gradient purple hovering above you. It feels like he's judging you, which he probably is, waiting impatiently for your next move—or maybe he's planning something. Genuinely hard to tell.
His leg nudges you. "I know my valve's stunnin'. Ya gotta pay for a photo though. Stare all you want, but start moving, 'kay?"
Well, then. You glance at his face one last time—it's hard to believe this is really happening. Meeting your first transformer and it suddenly wanting you to fuck it. Whatever. Just let him finish and get the hell out of here. You can healthily process about this later.
Running a finger over his sensitive mound, he squirms, and you stop the urge of making any facial expression. The outer folds are hot, warmer than a human fever. Pleasantly soft, too, but knowing his lips, it's a little expected.
"Don't gotta be gentle," he vents, a crooked smile spreading across his lips. "You're too—hrk!"
Swindle arches his back, thrusting his hips into your fingers to bury them deeper. You begin moving inside slowly, memorizing the wet ridges of his walls. Looking up, his usual big eyes are cut halfway, pleasure drooping them stupid.
He's loud. Moans are consistently leaving his lips and you barely even started.
"Muh," he pants mindlessly, legs tightening around your form, "more."
Heat violently burns your cheeks. A transformer is writhing under you.
Adjusting yourself, you lower yourself down, making sure he watches as you position your face near his folds. The smell isn't the most appealing but it's certainly something. A strong musk of dead grass.
But Swindle really did mean it when he told you to get moving. From how slow your initiatives are, he suddenly grabs your head with one hand and presses you against his fat, puffy folds.
Warm. Wet. It's hot. Burning.
You turn your face to the side, the soft mesh of his valve almost drowning you in. His hand is still on your head, restricting you oddly enough, so you curl your fingers inside him. A whimper escapes his lips and his servo loosens—taking the chance, you quickly latch your lips around his node.
"Hah," he chuckles, drunk, "—g-good human."
It's going to be a looong fucking day.