robothell | FUCK THE TRUCK

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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.]

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Okay, of all the things he expected on this walk, a collapsing building wasn't one of them. And it takes a moment before he can roll out of the way, eyes now wide and alert.

Buildings didn't just collapse. At least not like that. So...

He's searching the vicinity for whatever had been the cause of it. ]

Optimus didn't have to look far. Through the thick, dusty haze, two pairs of red eyes light up the dust.

The whirring of a transformation rings out over the debris and Sixshot darts out of the smog with an inhuman snarl, head ducked low with the intention of shoulder-checking the Autobot leader.

He sees the lights one second too late, because by then Sixshot is ready to take out that shoulder, and all he can do is react to it. Grabbing the Phase Sixer by the torso, hoping to send them both to the ground.

"SIXSHOT, GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF!!"

Look at him. Look who he's talking to.

He's starting to wonder if this place is making him crazy.

"RRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Well, he's not got a hold of himself, but he sure has a hold of Optimus!

To the ground they go- and somewhat through it for a good measure, because Sixshot didn't just ram into people, after all. The Prime's warm plating against his felt like some kind of goddamn heaven but that also served to make Sixshot even more angry.

He twists in Optimus's hold on him, trying to get a hand free so that he could land a punch on the damned Autobot leader's face.

Phase Sixers weren't meant to be easy opponents, and Sixshot is certaily living up to that reputation. He had no idea what hat overtaken him, not that he should be surprised, honestly. His arms try to keep ahold of Sixshot's, knowing that if he let go...

He was going to be in a world of pain.

Their chests bounce off each others, feeling that...almost intoxicating heat.

NO. No focus Optimus...

"Six...shot. What is wrong?! What did I DO?!"

"YOU!"

All the frustration and deep set resentment comes flooding out at once, unrestrained and channeled into something he couldn't and didn't want to think about. He'll tear the Prime apart before he has to think about it.

It was too hot to think about anything.

The Sixer frees a hand and it darts up, fingers digging into the cables that made up Optimus's throat. He wrenches his nemesis's helmet up- and smashes their face plates together with a shower of sparks in a desperate, hungry faux kiss.

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)

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.

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.

Sixshot clamps his hand down on the back of Optimus's helm and drags the Prime's head up into a bruising, hungry, toothy kiss. His fans pick up speed with a pitched whine, vents gusting molten hot air over their plating as their bodies slide together.

There an internal part of him that's quietly screaming at what was happening but it was a distant and mildly annoying noise that was lost under the heavy scrape of armor. He just knows he wants Optimus under him him, around him or in him, whatever way and any way he could have the mech as long as it was right fucking now.

The Sixer's pelvic armor snaps apart then, drawing a shocked gasp from the mech as his hard, hot cord slides against Optimus's cooler abdominal plates.

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