robothell | FUCK THE TRUCK

Entry tags:

ratchet | asafepairofhands

FUCK THE TRUCK

WHO: Optimus Prime and WHOEVER
WHERE: City and BEYOND
WHEN: SEX POLLEN TIME
WHAT: This is what you wanted guys the chance to fuck Optimus Fucking Prime. Non smut is available too.
WARNINGS: SMUT SMUT SMUT TRUCK FUCKIN

[AROUND THE CITY.]

Something felt off, but it's one of those things where you don't really -know- what's off. You wake up one day and suddenly..you're far more energetic and restless than usual. And it's enough for Optimus to go out and about to wander. Not that it's doing much good--the exercise (if you can call it that) and the change of visual stimuli doesn't do a thing to calm his behavior.

What was this feeling?

It's arousal, Optimus. You know, that thing you absolutely NEVER FEEL because you legit forgot what it's like to do the do.

[WILDCARD]

[I legit forgot all my prompts so if you have something you want to do I'm totally okay with this.]

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"...Ironhide..."

He notices that adoring look like a punch to the face. Noticing how it'd always been there throughout the years. How could he have been so blind to that kind of devotion? He'd given everything for him.

Optimus knew that too. He just didn't know how much 'everything' was. He can't draw his gaze away.

"Please. Will you show me how you feel?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I..."

He can't speak anymore. He just strains upward, as tall as he can, to try and plant a kiss on that chest. Right over the spark. It's not a proper kiss. There's a faceplate in the way, and height differences are a little challenging. So he'll do his best.

Though his hands do a lot of roaming. Everywhere it's not right to kiss right now. Wandering over Optimus' plating, his own frame shifting closer to Prime, his gaze never once leaving the larger bot.

He's been devoted to him for so long, doing anything but lavishing attention on him now feels... wrong. So he won't. He'll give Optimus his full attention.

Sixshot's viciousness is hard to contain, and harder to fight off. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it with full vigor, and anger to power behind it. His arms are weakening as he tries to keep him from tearing into his chest.

Pain sears through his wiring as he feels his neck grabbed, a hiss escaping his lips--but not for long.

Then...he feels Sixshot pressing their faceplates together in an aggressive, if seductive grind. And those eyes widen in...absolute shock.

Edited 2015-09-04 01:28 (UTC)

It's a hard thing for Optimus to accept. That someone's wanted him for so long, and that they were robbed of ever telling each other how they felt. It's enough to make his spark ache, looking into Roller's eyes for the answer--why they couldn't have this back home.

Why he'd disappeared.

It doesn't matter, the pollen seems to tell him, as he presses his lips willingly to Roller's, his a bit softer, with a bit of age to them. But still all the power that a leader should have.

"If that's what you want."

He feels that plating underneath him shake, optics widening as he looks directly into Ratchet's eyes. This is...he knows this is the pollen. But he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't slightly glad for it.

Being able to appreciate Ratchet like this was worth being contaminated.

"Ratchet..," he starts, unsure where it goes from here. Honestly, he doesn't know what's going to happen after this.

Ratchet breaks eye contact and bites his lip, cycling his vents roughly.

"Sorry," he says, his voice a little raw with static. "You seem to be handling it better than I am. I do all right, but it's just--it's distracting."

Charge ripples over Sixshot's plating in a tingling wave that was almost painful to overstimulated nerve relays and the Sixer's movements take on a mindless urgency.

Dark fingers rake down Optimus's chest, abdomen and then over the curve of his pelvic armor, hard enough that they left dark smears of paint against the Prime's bright colors. The Sixer's thighs slide hotly against the Autobot's, knees locking around his hips, bodies pressed together.

Then Sixshot's mask slides apart and Sixshot's teeth dig into Optimus's chin in a hard little bite.

Those are questions he really can't answer. As much as he would want to, he just can't. He doesn't have them. But he has this. Has his partner here with him, even if so much has changed.

His mouth molds to Pax's, Prime's. It doesn't matter. It's nothing like he imagined it would be. Not in the least. It's better. His vents shudder, the sound not unlike a drawn-out sigh, engine stuttering to life.

"Yes."

There is nothing but open, naked desperation in that one word. An urgency.

"Please."

Distracting was an overall kind word for it. There were plenty more...accurate, if rough answers for it.

"I was."

His systems hitch, as if his own words were what were holding the proverbial dog-on-chain back. It's taking everything in his power to not slam Ratchet on the ground right now.

He'll ask first.

"Can...I be that distraction?"

Sixshot's behavior was almost primal, not that Phase Sixers were too far from that to start with.

But he doesn't care, his vents working heavily when he feels his thighs brush against the other's. His legs snap up and slide alongside his, pelvice plating griding against the others with a sickening screech. Sixshot's knees lock perfectly with this, and soon...

He's feeling every ounce of heat that Sixshot is giving off, as well as a decent amount of his own.

It doesn't take long for him to reach up to unclasp that faceplate, other hand desperately trying to hold the Phase Sixer back, at least for the moment. The piece of metal falls to the ground--but no second is spared. Optimus's lips crush against Sixshot's mouth, his own primal instincts (and the pollen) finally kicking in.

Ratchet's optics jerk up to Optimus' face again, wide and startled, his lips parting--before need slams through him and weakens his knee, his elbows trembling briefly in his crutches as his fans labor to keep his internal temperature down.

"Yes," he says, sounding a little dazed, then pulls himself together a bit. He can see that tension wound through Optimus now, the need there, and he swallows hard. "Yes, if--if you want."

That was all the answer Optimus needed. His eyes seem to flick a shade brighter at the confirmation, his hand moving from that shoulder up to his own faceplate, deft fingers working frantically under it to unclasp it from where it was held.

He doesn’t even catch it--it falls to the floor with a soft thud. Not that they’ll have time to even think about that for the moment. Optimus is already pulling Ratchet closer, crushing their lips together hastily.

As if he’d been holding back this whole time. His mouth is open and inviting, with a little bit of urging of his own as he dims his optics, sinking into the feeling of being wanted. It was definitely the pollen at work here, and he would return to being the stoic leader he’d always been. But who says he couldn’t enjoy this while it was there?

Ratchet wanted it, and so did he.

There's almost no room for talking. Optimus needs this, and he's not going to let go anytime soon. He feels the engine press against his own--so much more powerful, and with a certain youth that he forgot had existed. One that was certainly four million years old. It was nice, and it made him feel just as young. For a split second, Orion Pax was back, the same fire in those eyes that had existed when he was just a cop of Rodion.

Lips travel down Roller's jawline, completely at the bot's mercy since he's the one being held. A whisper of...almost pleading.

"Find us somewhere."

And quick.

The kiss earns a groan out of Optimus already, as if he'd been prepared this whole time, and only needed one small start to get the fire going. It's gentle across his chest, and those fingers are deft at finding sensitive seams. It doesn't take long for his own arms to travel to Ironhide's plating in return, securing him in that position. One lifts, though, to remove that faceplate, tossing it to the side the moment it's unclasped.

He'd find it later. Right now, his mouth had other uses, and that includes nudging the bot's head up with his own and planting one right on those scarred lips.

Lips he should have kissed ages ago, if his memory serves.

There's no need for words, just feeling as he grips tightly on that plating and presses that kiss as hard as it'll go. He swears he can feel their teeth knocking against each other, and maybe even pushing them against a wall from eagerness.

There's a lot of pent up emotion.

Ratchet's optics go round as Optimus moves towards him and his crutches clatter to the ground with Optimus' faceplate as he winds his arms around broad shoulders, his whole body arching into the solid heat of Optimus' much larger frame. He kisses back hard, teeth catching, tugging at Optimus insistently--he knows how much of Optimus' time is spent holding back, and that's the last thing Ratchet wants now. Still...

"Not interested in going somewhere more private?" Ratchet gasps into his mouth, barely pulling away enough to speak as his cooling fans kick up into a dull, thrumming roar in his chassis.

It's asking a lot for Optimus to stop now, when he's launched himself into this so suddenly. Trucks are very hard to slow once they get going. But this was Ratchet, after all, and he always held a reserve of clarity for those close to him.

Even if it comes out as a rushed whisper.

"Yes."

Okay, you can say more than that.

"But where..." His eyes flick up, only for a moment, looking for...somewhere a little more private than right in the middle of the fucking street.

Ratchet laughs, a thick, rumbling sound low in his chassis as his hands reach up to pet slowly at Optimus' helm, nuzzling at his cheek.

"Well, we don't have to..." Ratchet kisses him again, making a hungry little sound in his throat before drawing back again. "But the medibay isn't too far. I have a room there."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Barely even once. The urgent whisper, the press of mouth and body against his own... it's all he can do to stay on his feet. Who'd have ever thought he'd be this easy to sway? So easy to win over.

But he'd be lying if he said he didn't want this. That he hadn't laid awake nights thinking about it. That suddenly the awkward years between them don't seem to exist anymore.

He could have cried, if his body weren't so interested in other activities.

No time to waste. He promptly scoops the smaller bot up into his arms, never once breaking contact, letting their bodies pull apart. The place he's been holed up in isn't far. And he makes a beeline for it, all but kicking the door open in his haste -- as if his old partner might change his mind if they wait too long.

He was fighting a lot of those feelings. Even against the pollen. Fighting the feeling of need, the feeling of Right as his hands press into his Prime's plating, stroking every warm seam. Probing at wiring.

Ironhide really, really does not expect the sound of the faceplate hitting the floor. For a moment, all he can do is stare up at Optimus in wonder. His expression borderline enraptured. As if he's looking at something holy, instead of just Prime's true face.

After everything he's gone through, he doesn't think he has it in him to melt into a kiss the way he does. His body all but molding itself to Optimus'. Sinking in against him with a rev of his engine. It's pure surrender. Soft sounds and scarred fingers catching on every piece of armor.

So when his back goes clang against a wall, he doesn't protest. Just hooks a thick, sturdy leg around one of Prime's, and kisses him back for all he's worth.

The kiss...Optimus is practically drowning in it. With Ironhide's passion matching his own, and the way he seems to buckle into it...it's hard not to get swept away. Knowing that you missed out on this, missed all the signs. His legs brace him to keep him from falling, Hands pressed firmly against those shoulders as their noses brush, his tongue running along those lips.

To just once feel like you're wanted in return.

His optics dim as his mouth hungrily grips at those lips, soft revving noises underneath as he puts his body flush against the other. Warm plating meets warm plating, and energy feeds off energy.

He's never wanted something so bad in his life.

Optimus would be lying if he said he didn't think about it in the back of his mind. For all that he didn't know about romance, Roller often took up his thoughts at night, wishing he was okay, thinking what he'd say of his actions. Ask him silently while looking at the stars....what would you do?

But none of that mattered now. All he wanted was to experience what he couldn' t have back home. What he was too stupid to realize…

Being lifted up was strange. He knew his size all too well, and never before had this been the case. Roller was special in that he'd been the only one to literally take Optimus into his arms and carry him. And for now, he'll allow it. Because his decision-making is quite honestly shot, and coated in pollen.

With the door open, he wastes no time in searching for those lips again.

A room would certainly be better. Dirt and dust wouldn't get in places, and he wouldn't have to awkwardly explain if they were doing it right in the middle of the road. It's hard to hold back that engine, the pollen starting to affect his decision making now.

But thankfully, he can make one good one before he loses himself completely. Lips press against Ratchet's in answer, brushing them off hurriedly. "Let's go, before we end up putting on a show anyway."

If he knew that, well. He would have made a move -- not sooner. More like, made a move at all. He knew about the infatuation with Shockwave, and just... stood aside. Shoved his own feelings under a rug. Easier for everyone that way.

... and then everything went downhill, as far as he could tell.

Now there's nothing to hold him back. Nothing to tell him this is a bad idea. Nothing to stop him from holding the smaller frame tighter and closer and mashing his mouth back against his partner's with urgency. Even if there hadn't been pollen involved, if Pax kissed him like that...

He would never have held back.

So he doesn't. They're inside, and there's a cobbled-together couch he's dropping down on, pulling Pax on top of him, his hands dragging up and down his partner's thighs, never once breaking the kiss. All eager movements and needy engine sounds.

Of course he's wanted. Optimus Prime is the greatest good anyone could ever hope to meet, let alone touch. Or... kiss. As the case currently may be. Feeling him this way, knowing he approves of this, wants this, is like some kind of religious experience.

Not that he's going to be reserved about it. Not at all. His engine revs sharply, low and hard enough to shake the ground they stand on. He matches Prime, kiss for kiss, scraping teeth over lips. If Prime wants it, then, damn it, he's going to give his all.

He's not the best at this. His movements are rough, a little jerky, out of practice. But his hands run along Prime's body, eager to learn, and prove himself.

While he would disagree with Ironhide's opinion of him (and everyone else probaby would too, given his reputation), Optimus will let it slide this once. It's completely the pollen working on his mind by now, letting any doubts or personal hang ups fall limp in favour of this feeling.

Ironhide's rough movements are perfect in his mind, matching his own brash, but surprisingly delicate movements. His lips brush down his jawline, moving towards those neck cables as he tilts his head to accomodate.

His hands? They're working their way down his sides, pulling up Ironhide's hips. Maybe even slightly off the ground.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 3 of 4

«

1
2
3
4

»