Easter Bunny: Optimus Edition

Summary: Sometimes there's better ways to find out that your ex-friend doesn't actually hate you... Mech/Mech, Spike n Valve, Sticky, smut
Rating: M

Originally posted on FF.net



“He likes you, ya know.”

Optimus glanced at the girl sitting by his side momentarily, before he turned his optics away sullenly. Sari only grinned up at the fire truck cheekily. It was because of the tiny techno-organic that he was stuck here in the first place, trying to hide his discomfort behind a cube of energon as he squirmed uncomfortably.

“Oh, c'mon. You look awesome,” she tried to assure. She yanked lightly at the yellow petal and pink ruffle skirt Optimus wore, giggling when the red 'bot practically flinched away from her grasp. His blue ears and tail bobbed with the movement.

“I do not see why I have to remain in these clothes still. The others aren't dressed,” the fire truck grumbled. He glanced over his form quickly, rolling his optics to the ceiling with embarrassment. He still couldn't believe that Sari had managed to cajole a handful of them to dress up for Easter. Apparently the Earth holiday had something to do with rabbits laying colourful chicken eggs, and humans dressing up in strange outfits, complete with matching bunny ears and tails. As it was though, so far only himself, their unexpected guest Tracks and the jettwins -shortly after Sentinel and his team arrived- had dressed up.

Sari and Bumblebee were being festive as well, but they lacked the entire ensemble that the others wore. Instead, they only had a headband with fluffy rabbit ears situated atop of their helms. Bumblebee had mentioned something about costumes that Sari even had set aside for Prowl.... the ninjabot had been smart and disappeared at the first chance. Optimus was wishing he had such hindsight. He felt ridiculous with his lower limbs covered in soft, cotton boots and a wreath of pink fur about his neck cables. There was nothing more that he wanted than to escape from the common room to his own private quarters, where he might be able to escape all prying optics.

Oh, what Ultra Magnus must of thought of him!

“Stop worrying so much, boss 'bot,” Sari piped up a second time, easily reading the Autobot leader's thoughts. “I told you already, you look amazing. And Sentinel's been eyeing you quite intently for the past little while.”

Optimus stared at the techno-organic warily. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied, trying to put off the teenager's Cheshire grin. Really, what was Sari going on about? Sentinel had been the only one not to make a comment or even glance at the firetruck since first seeing the strange events going on in their makeshift base. The mech didn't know if that was a good thing or not.....

To distract himself from his own conflicted thoughts, Optimus tipped back his cube, drinking from it deeply. He couldn't quite recall who had first pulled out the high-grade, but he was thankful for its processor-numbing effects now. Made everything else easier to ignore....

Sari only pouted at the action, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine, be that way,” the teenager grumbled to the Cybertronian. Her frown faded and was replaced again quickly by a frightening grin. “If you won't listen to a thing I say....,” she mumbled, slipping off the concrete chair, “Then I'll just have to show you.”

Quietly, the techno-organic tip-toed out of the room, unnoticed by her friends

xxXxXxx

Sentinel hated Earth.

It wasn't a secret or anything on how much the truck simply detested this planet. No, detest was too light of a word. He utterly loathed Earth. All their weird and stupid traffic laws, their ever changing and volatile atmosphere. The orns were too short, there were full-scale planetary changes called “seasons”.... and that wasn't even the worst part!

Every inch of the planet was crawling with organics. Big ones, small ones, long ones; there was even miniscule ones almost unnoticeable to the optic until you were looking for them. Whether in dirt, water or air, organics could be found. Earth was just a disgusting breeding ground of them. Touching..... creating..... It made chills run down a mech's back struts, and Sentinel didn't go anywhere without his trusty can of cyber-sol.

Yet this..... this Sentinel hated even more than organics at the moment.

Optimus -goody two-pedes, Academy wash-out, Earth-loving Prime- had let himself and his crew be manipulated into these outrageous “clothes” things. The little techno-organic was apparently passing off the excuse that it was in tradition to some holiday (called See-star, or something) but Sentinel knew that was a load of slag. This was Primus' way of punishing him.

The costumes the other Autobots wore had this way of making a 'bot.... take notice of specific features, as it were. Covering chestplates and afts, suddenly took away the commonness of seeing them everyday, adding an almost provocative nature to even the smallest glimpse of them. Already Jetfire and Jetstorm had been dragged off by a furiously flushed and grumbling medic, because the two flyers were having too much fun rolling and jumping about in their short skirts; waggling bunny tails and ears every time they bent over or moved.

No guesses there what the three of them were up to now.

Optimus, thankfully, was not as scantily dressed as the jettwins. His had a lot more coverage.... but that didn't subtract from the firetruck's own appeal. The pink and yellow of his costume off-set against his own natural red and blue paint job; blue rabbit-like appendages bouncing slightly with every awkward shift the mech made. The other Prime was clearly uncomfortable even in his modest outfit, if his shyly lowered optics and blushing cheekplates were anything to go by. Just simply looking at Optimus made heat coil in Sentinel's pistons, and his circuitry crackle with building energy.

The sub-commander would have liked nothing more than to drag Optimus off to a quiet storage closet and 'face the other 'bot into stasis lock.

Not that Optimus would have let him.

That, had to probably be the cruelest bit right there. Primus was showing him this delicious display and he wasn't even able to act upon it. Sentinel was almost tempted to take up that newest 'bot's offer for an interface, but the multi-coloured mech had already disappeared. Sullen, the truck tossed back the rest of his high-grade, rising to his pedes and practically storming from the common room. He didn't care if his actions drew any unwanted attention..... he was greatly unsatisfied with just stealing glances at his ex-friend from across the room, while everyone else was being all lovey-dovey with each other.

It was unfair, really!

xxXxXxx

The Easter party had dissolved sometime into the afternoon. Bumblebee, bored, challenged Bulkhead to a game of Ninja Gladiators, which the big green 'bot had accepted eagerly. They had immediately took control of the t.v, and the sounds of their virtual fighting filled the common room quickly. Ultra Magnus had risen as the young 'bots began playing, excusing himself and saying that he would be returning to the ship for the rest of the evening. Optimus had offered to go with the commander -Jazz had gone after Prowl shortly after arriving at the base, and everybody else had sort of disappeared in between the cycles since then. The firetruck didn't particularly feel like staying all alone with Bumblebee and Bulkhead, though he cherished his teammates a lot, and hoped that now he might be able to get out of this ridiculous outfit and do something productive.

To his surprise though -or, well, maybe not- Ultra Magnus declined. The old mech merely smiled and replied vaguely, “I'm sure you'll want to stay here, Optimus,” before leaving.

Shuttering his optics in confusion, Optimus took the reprieve to wander back to his berthroom. Though he was puzzled with what Ultra Magnus had said, and henceforth a little hurt that his company was not wanted, he was still quite glad to be heading back to his quarters so he might take the rabbit costume off. He should have known that the relative silence was an interlude to worse things, because no sooner had the Autobot leader turned on his pede, Sari was slipping into his path; grinning quite mischievously. In the teenager's hand was a video camera.

“Yes, Sari?,” the firetruck began warily.

“Just where do you think you're going, Boss 'bot?,” the girl asked. She cocked one hip, hand resting at her waist while the smile on her face morphed into a little pout. “You're not thinking of changing, are you? The day isn't over just yet!”

“Sari, everyone else has already gone off to do their own things,” Optimus sighed, fighting the urge to pinch at his olfactory sensor. “There'd be no point for me to remain in this get-up.”

The techno-organic resumed her plotting smile, waving the camera in her hand about slowly. “I wouldn't be so sure about that, Optimus. After all, I've got a little something here that says otherwise.” The mech peered at the teenager suspiciously, before kneeling to Sari's level. He took care to make sure that the ruffles of his dress did not slide up with the motion.

“And what might that be?,” he asked, honestly curious. Though a part of his processor was screaming out to be afraid, very afraid, of that smug look the girl was wearing.

“This,” she answered, holding the camera out, “Will say all, Boss 'bot. Just remember: I did tell you that he liked you.”

She waited only a nanoklik for the firetruck to take the proffered item, before she was turning and skating down the hall on her energy rollerblades; giggling the entire way. Optimus rose to his pedes slowly, shifting the tiny camera in his servos carefully. For a moment, the mech worried if Sari knowing so much was necessarily a good thing -even though she looked like a teenager, it had not been too long ago that the Autobots had actually known her as a little human child and thus, it seemed somewhat odd that she would contain so much knowledge for one so young.

Well, he supposed that was a matter he could think about further on another orn. Right now he was more interested in what was on the video camera that Sari had given him.

Heading once again for his quarters, Optimus entered the berthroom and crossed the expanse of the area, plugging the little device into his console. The screen flickered as it registered the connected equipment, a video file coming up onto the monitor. He was stunned to see that the background was one of the base's hallways; two dark rectangles on either side of the screen suggested that the viewer was looking out from a closet or another room. Before Optimus could contemplate the specific area further, there came the shadow of movement down the hall.

The camera lens zoomed in, focusing on Sentinel as he stomped around the corner, huffing and puffing the entire way. The truck had his servos clenched by his side, lip components fixed into a nasty snarl, and optics glued to the floor as he continued his tromping. Evidently, the Guardsmech did not notice he was being filmed, or otherwise the words that followed the blue mech's grumbling he might not have let slip.

“Stupid 'bot...... making me jealous on purpose....,” Sentinel was growling. He changed his tone, speaking a little more high-pitched and mockingly. “Oh, but Sentinel. I would never do that. I'm a good, lil' 'bot who loves organics -bah! Taunting me with that aft, acting like he doesn't know it charges my circuits every time he even leans forward some in that stupid organic get-up.....”

Well, apparently Sentinel seemed to like someone. But who?

“Fragging tease.....,” the sub-commander was mumbling again further. His words were lower now; still full of bitterness, but quieter, almost inaudible over his pede-falls. “Would like to get him alone for a few breems, without his loser crew...... I'd sink right into that valve, give Optimus a real reason to shout my designation.....”

Optimus felt every bit of his hydraulics freeze up, optics bright and cheekplates stained violet with a furious blush. On the monitor, Sentinel continued on past the silent watcher, grumbling still about cruel flirts and several, descriptive interface techniques he'd enjoy inflicting on the firetruck. When the video file came to an end was when the mech was finally able to regain control of his motor functions; immediately, he lunged forward, flicking the console off once again. Optimus clutched his servos to his chestplates in the silence that followed, intakes coming in hurried, disjointed patterns. It took him another klik to realize he was practically trembling.

This.... this was..... how was he expected to deal with this new information? The red and blue 'bot thought his CPU just might crash from the unwanted revelation. Did anybody really think he could continue on with everything as if all was fine with Sentinel and he didn't know that his old friend wanted to 'face him into the next century?

Groaning faintly, Optimus back-pedaled slowly until his thighs touched his berth. The firetruck collapsed onto the metal table, shoulders sagging.

He really didn't know how he was going to handle this secret.....

xxXxXxx

“Sentinel, can you hear me? We need to talk.”

The truck startled in his actions, spilling the high-grade he been attempting to pour into a smaller cube for himself. Regaining his composure -as best as he could while getting over energized- he lifted a servo to his comm link. “Optimus,” he sneered over the line, “Accessing illegal frequencies again, are we? You forget your place Maintenance 'bot.”

The sub-commander awaited for the firetruck's annoyed reply. If there was one thing he could look forward to, it was the banters that they partook in. Not many could get the calm Prime so riled up, and Sentinel enjoyed every astrosecond that Optimus lost his cool and was angry with him. A habit that had first developed when they lost their mutual friend Elita-One, the fights they engaged in now were just simple mockeries of their former bitterness, performed out of familiarity than anything else. For the truck though, it was his own way of getting the attention he wanted from the other mech.

Surprisingly though, Optimus did not snap back to his taunt in exasperation. Instead, the red and blue 'bot sighed over the comm link, speaking back softly. “Please meet me in my quarters in several breems.”

“You ordering me now?,” Sentinel scowled. This wasn't how their conversations were supposed to go. Why wasn't Optimus getting annoyed with him like he usually did? Worry picked at the truck's back processor, but he remained silent about it. Before he could speak again though, his ex-friend was saying his own piece.

“Please be there, Sentinel,” was all the firetruck said, before he cut the connection.

Sentinel dropped his cube of high-grade, creating more of a mess across his berthroom floor. The Guardsmech mouth was gaping in shock, and the confusion in his processor extended all the way to his spark. Suddenly angry, the truck kicked at his berth, before pacing about the room. Should he go? Should he concede to the other Autobot's demands?

xxXxXxx

One breem later found Sentinel driving into the warehouse base, transforming to bi-pedal mode once he was inside. It was oddly quiet in the place, with the exception of all the noise coming from the common room. One peek told the truck just exactly what was going on. No longer interested in what the two younger 'bots on Optimus' were up to, Sentinel continued on his way down the nearest hall. He had never actually been through the entire warehouse before, but the Guardsmech was confident that he could find the firetruck's quarters easily enough. It took three tries, and the horrifying discovery of just how good medics could be in the berth, before he stumbled into Optimus' room.

His processor crackled at the sight of the red and blue mech still dressed in his Easter costume.

“You've come,” Optimus started, turning at the truck's entrance. The firetruck's shoulders fell a little when he noticed the state his friend was in. “You're over-energized,” he sighed, pulling off the ribbons about his wrists. “I had hoped you might be clear of processor for when we talked.”

“And just what did you want to discuss?,” Sentinel asked. His tone was sharp, but in no way did it properly reflect his mood. At that moment, he was focused on those lovely servos reaching up and pulling off the fluffy, blue ears. Why Optimus hadn't undressed earlier was no concern of to the Guardsmech; he was enjoying the show his ex-friend was unwittingly putting on for him.

Optimus laid his rabbit ears and ribbons on the nearest table, releasing a second, weary intake. “S-sentinel, I feel that w-we should.... We need to talk about Elita-One.”

Sentinel felt his fuel tanks churn tumultuously, processor being dragged back to the present. “Why do we need to talk about her,” the blue mech growled, anger clear in his vocalizer this time. Matters had been resolved between the two Autobots since the trouble with Blackarachnia back on Dinobot island. Sentinel, surprisingly, had been able to move on from those bitter memories and had stopped denying the attraction he felt toward his ex-friend. But that didn't mean he still wanted to talk about their old friend-turned-Decepticon. “She doesn't have anything to do with this.”

“Not so, Sentinel,” Optimus replied, lip components pressed together seriously. “She is relative to this matter because it begs the question of 'why?'. Why, Sentinel, why did you act for stellar cycles as if you hated me when in fact y-you..... y-you were so charged by m-me?”

An uncomfortable silence fell between the two mechs, and the truck shuttered his optics stupidly for a few nanokliks in simple shock. “W-what are you talking about?,” he gruffed, avoiding looking at the firetruck.

Instead of answering him, the other Autobot merely walked to the console in his quarters, turning the screen on and playing a video file. An astrosecond later, the Guardsmech was showing on the monitor..... spilling all of his secrets to the hidden camera. Sentinel's jaw was dropped again, and blushing furiously, Optimus turned the computer back off.

“I-i don't understand you Sentinel. I thought I did, but....,” the red and blue mech lifted his helm, staring at the other in confusion. “You were so angry with me when we lost Elita-One. That, I understood well and I didn't bother you about it. For vorns I've blamed myself as well for my part in that day. But I-i thought..... Honest to Primus, I had been so certain that you two were in love. So why then? Why do you want to do th-these things to me?”

“Y-you're glitched,” Sentinel growled back, going on the defensive. “I never loved Elita-One. You did! Everybody could see it. That's why I never said a word about it. Forgive me if I couldn't help but think about you and your tight, little valve in the meantime to console myself.”

Anger flared in Optimus' optics, off-set by the increasing blush on his cheekplates. “You are crude, Sentinel,” the mech frowned. “I deliberated for a cycle about what to do now that I had been shown this, and the only conclusion I could come up with was to approach you about all of this. I had hoped to get some sort of proper explanation out of you, but you are too stubborn and childish to answer me properly.”

“I'm crude, huh?,” the truck snarled, marching forward. He quickly crossed the room, closing the distance between the two Autobots. The red and blue 'bot immediately tensed at Sentinel's close proximity, glaring up at the taller mech, refusing to be cowed. “Why am I crude, hmmm, Optimus ol' pal? Because the thought of you riding my spike charges my circuits? Because I enjoy imagining every moan and gasp that you'd make as I thrust inside you, your lubricants running down between those gorgeous thighs of yours....?”

“Stop it, Sentinel!,” Optimus shouted, leaning backwards as his old friend leaned forward. His backstruts bit into the edge of the table painfully, effectively trapping him. “Leave now. I don't wish to speak to you until you can be more respectable.”

“Oh, but I am being respectable,” Sentinel hummed lecherously. He rested his servos on other side of Optimus' helm, inching ever closer. “Primus knows how often I've simulated worshipping that chassis of yours. I'd run my tongue across every transformation seam, pluck and pull and roll the wires in between your plating with my fingers, with just enough force to pinch at your sensory net. Then, while your fans started to kick in and your intakes heaved, I'd track down your windows and along your grill 'til I got to your codpiece. I'd lave at it, for as long as it took, until you finally opened up for me. Primus... it'd be difficult to decide which I wanted to taste first. Your spike or your valve? I bet your lubricant tastes the sweetest though.”

“Sentinel!,” the firetruck yelled in appal. He shoved at the truck forcefully, managing to throw the Guardsmech back. Snarling in surprise, Sentinel grabbed the other's outstretched wrist as he fell; bringing Optimus down with him. They rolled around on the floor for a few kliks, before the blue mech had officially pinned down his companion.

“Let me go now!,” Optimus continued to shout, struggling against the truck's hold. “Sentinel!!”

“Why should I?,” Sentinel scowled, increasing his grip on the other mech's wrists. “So you can hit me again? You know I can write you up for assaulting a superior officer, right? You'd be tried so fast, your equilibrium chips would still be spinning before you had a chance to process your sentence.”

“Typical, Sentinel....,” the red and blue 'bot mumbled lowly. “You resort to threats and extortion when things don't go your way. You're like a spoiled sparkling!”

“And what about you, hmm, Optimus?,” the truck replied, frown increasing. “Trying to be the bigger mech, when all you're really doing is running around, either denying the truth or taking all of the blame on yourself. You'd rather be the self-sacrificing 'bot then have to admit that you're really just scared of everything!”

“And what if I am?!,” Optimus cried back. Gasping, the other Prime shuttered his optics tightly, tucking his chin in an attempt to look away from Sentinel. The Guardsmech was having none of that though, and he ducked down, forcing the firetruck into a kiss. Optimus' optics onlined at the action; vocalizer spitting protests into their connected mouths.

The blue mech only drowned them out further by sliding his glossa into the red and blue mech's mouth, mapping the surrounding denta. Slowly, Optimus began to calm into the kiss, glossa being drawn up to tangle with Sentinel's. Seeing his partner's compliance, the truck took this chance to nudge open the other Autobot's legs. He settled in between Optimus' thighs quickly, pressing their heated codpieces together. The action drew a groan from the both of them, and Sentinel backed off from the kiss; arrogant smirk on his cheekplates.

“You're awfully hot for a 'bot that wanted to kick my aft out the door.”

“Sentinel.....,” Optimus said quietly, tone flat and optics shimmering. Sentinel noticed this, and his smirk fell, a frown coming to his lip components instead. Was Optimus.... going to cry?

“You trusted me once, ya know. Why can't you trust me again, Optimus?,” the sub-commander asked, his tone just as soft as the other Prime's.

“S-sentinel?,” the firetruck choked in surprise.

Sentinel leered in response, grinding their pelvic armour together; drawing further moans from the 'bot underneath him. The blue mech hummed contently as he continued his slow thrusts, releasing his hold on Optimus' wrists and bringing his servos to the red and blue Prime's knee joints. He chuckled lecherously as he slid his servos down the trembling silver thighs, slipping the appendages beneath the yellow and pink skirt.

“Believe me, Optimus..... I want nothing more than to make you feel really good,” Sentinel murmured, leaning towards the other's audio receptor; servos groping that beautiful aft. “You look so fragging delectable in this silly costume, you know that?”

Optimus shivered at the words whispered heatedly against his audio receptor, lifting his servos up and clenching at the other mech's shoulder plating. “S-stop it, Sentinel,” he muttered weakly, moaning as the Guardsmech ground particularly hard against his codpiece. He could feel the cables within his valve clench almost painfully on air, fuelled in their hunger for the truck's spike because of the crudely-spoken desires that had been said to him earlier.

Oh, Primus, why? Why was he so infatuated with this stupid jerk of a 'bot?

The firetruck gasped as his hips were suddenly lifted, legs pulled over Sentinel's thighs. The blue mech was sitting upright now, pulling the costumed 'bot up with him. His servos were still groping about Optimus' frame, but the situation became more serious once there was the click of a retracting codpiece; the Guardsmech's spike pressurizing between their frames. “We're here now, Optimus.... You gonna push me away, or not?,” Sentinel asked, optics locked with the other's.

He was trembling. Optimus could feel it. His joints were freezing up, fuel tank churning dangerously, and processor on a near-core meltdown. But his spark, surprisingly, was rotating calmly. The red and blue Prime listened to it, let it guide him; inching closer as he pressed his lip components against a stunned Sentinel's, lifting himself up a little and retracting his own codpiece. While his ex-friend was still frozen in disbelief, the firetruck lowered himself on the other's spike in one fell swoop.

“F-frag!,” Sentinel hissed, his servos gripping Optimus' waist at the tight cables suddenly surrounding his spike.

Optimus whimpered, pressing his helm against one of Sentinel's shoulder guards as pain tore across his sensory net. It had been stellar cycles since he had last interfaced with someone, and the truck's intrusion -though it had been his action- made everything burn within him. The sensors within his valve crackled angrily, cables clamping tightly about Sentinel's spike unconsciously and further increasing the chafe. Even the feel of his own lubricant, slowly seeping through his valve walls, actually stung a little.

“P-primus, Optimus....,” the blue Prime groaned, unshuttering an optic. Both had shut when the firetruck had impaled himself on his erect cable unexpectedly. “Y-you should give a 'bot a little war-warning, n-next time.”

The other mech merely nodded his helm quickly, biting lip components tightly as he swallowed back another whimper. Oh, Primus, it hurt. Fingers were tipping his helm back and before Optimus could offer a weak protest, Sentinel was kissing him again; glossa forcing open his clenched jaw and devouring his mouth again. The firetruck, glad for the distraction, focused only on their melded mouths. He moved his lip components in sync with the Guardsmech's, flicking his glossa along the other's, before daringly darting it inside of Sentinel's own mouth and sampling himself a taste of the oil there.

The truck hummed appreciatively at the bold move, before he was tangling his glossa about Optimus' once more, increasing the intensity of the kiss. In the meantime, Sentinel's one servo dipped down beneath the red and blue 'bot's skirt, fingers circling his valve's perimeter. The gentle touch slowly soothed any of Optimus' discomfort, and the smaller Prime was grasping Sentinel's shoulder guards as he started moving back against those tender digits.

Sentinel groaned lowly at Optimus' slow rocking, his processor beginning to blank as the other Autobot's valves walls clenched hard around his spike. It felt so good..... better than when he had been forced to stimulate himself. His fist was a poor substitute compared to the feel of a tight, well-lubricated valve. “Optimus.....,” the blue mech smirked, intakes hitching. “I do believe y-you're starting to lubricate all over me.”

Sure enough, pale pink fluids were dripping from around the truck's spike, spotting along the front of his pelvic armour. The sight made Sentinel's spark flare and his grin to grow all the more lecherous. Optimus, his optics still half-shuttered, took an astrosecond to notice the heated stare, but when he did, the smaller Prime shivered in response. “S-sentinel..... I-i....,” the mech moaned as he shifted again; this time, Sentinel forcing him down more. “O-oh Primus!”

“E-enough talk,” Sentinel growled, leaning forward and slamming the red and blue 'bot onto the floor. He thrust his hips forward quickly, closing any distance that had developed between them in those few nanokliks. “I-i'm gonna frag you nice and good, just so you can stop thinking about everything for one slagging astrosecond. And, you're going to enjoy it.”

Optimus moaned as Sentinel pushed all the way back into him, cooling fans whirring to life. He tried to stutter protests to what the Guardsmech had said, but his spark and chassis had other plans it seemed. His legs spread wider, letting the blue Prime slip closer to him, before they circled the other 'bot's hips and clasped tightly about his waist. “S-so presumptuous....,” Optimus panted, servos reaching up for Sentinel's frame.

Oh, Primus.

Sentinel cringed slightly, trying not to gasp at the tempting, fleeting touches lighting across his chassis. Optimus was actually responding. Alright, so he had simulated these sorts of situations before, the firetruck actively participating in their interface sessions in between all his moaning and pleasant whimpering, but he hadn't thought that all of this would really happen. The truck tried not to moan as the red and blue mech's fingers slid into his grill, stroking at the metal and wires just beneath the surface. “O-optimus,” Sentinel growled lustfully.

He thrust forward, revelling in the cry he extracted from the other Prime; those devilish fingers being forced to grip at his grill tightly as pleasure wracked through him. “Need you o-out of those clothes,” the blue mech continued, rocking his hips against Optimus' aft. His servos came up to the yellow fabric, clenching it tightly in his fists.

“N-nooooooo, oh! S-sentinel!,” Optimus mewled. “D-don't da-damage the-ah!”

Sentinel rolled his hips forward again, effectively distracting the other 'bot. “They're not necessary, Optimus,” he growled, ripping his arms backwards. The dress stretched for an astrosecond before the material gave and the Guardsmech held two long, tattered strips of the costume in his servos. Displayed  in front of him now was the red and blue mech's glorious chassis; condensation already collecting on the dark windowpanes.

“Gorgeous,” the blue Prime leered. He leaned down while his ex-friend was still disorientated, glossa flicking across the glass and wiping away the beads of moisture. Optimus gasped at the sudden assault, bucking up into the hot mouth. His action caused both mechs to moan loudly, the firetruck's valve sucking Sentinel's spike in deeper.

“P-please, Se-sentinel,” Optimus begged weakly. His servos reached up, pulling the sub-commander's helm down to his level, allowing him to place quick, desperate kisses about the other's faceplates. “Pl-please..... I-i-i can't wa-wait any longer.”

Sentinel groaned again, nipping at the lip components that pulled back from his cheekplates. Truth be told, he didn't think he could wait any longer either. The other's valve was clenching about him like a vice, cables slowly shifting about his rigid length and overwhelming his sensory net with the pleasurable feedback. If he stayed like this any longer -lubricants sliding down his spike, as heated inner walls tried to swallow his cable entirely- than he knew he would reach overload soon. That wasn't something he wanted to do quite yet..... at least, not until he had brought Optimus, screaming, over the edge first.

“Gonna frag you so much,” was all the Guardsmech hissed lowly, before he was pounding quickly into the other mech. Optimus cried at the sudden and harsh rhythm, legs wrapping tighter about Sentinel's waist and keeping the mech close to him. His arms wound about the blue Prime's neck, anchoring him, as Sentinel shoved him against the floor; hips snapping forward almost violently as he finally set loose with his lust.

Optimus eagerly rode it all. His systems were flung to the limit, heating up, until it felt like he was melting from within; crashing, burning, disintegrating from the inside out. Sentinel, surprisingly, was silent -he wasn't gloating as he usually did for every occasion. Instead, there was only the groans and focused moans of the Guardsmech as he thrust wildly into the smaller Prime; the squelch of lubricants as the blue 'bot pulled almost all the way out, before ramming back into the waiting valve. Optics bright with passion, Optimus attempted to focus on Sentinel, but the truck was diligent in his actions and it was all that the red and blue Autobot could do to even stay aware of the situation.

The firetruck relied heavily on touch to keep the impression of Sentinel close to him; each of his touches, though brazen for him, seemed greatly appreciated from the other mech, because Sentinel replied to each one with a more heavier, quicker thrust that had Optimus screaming to the rafters above. It wasn't long before warnings were flashing before his optics, alarms ringing that his systems had been pushed past their normal limits.

“S-sentinel! A-aahhh!”

Optimus screamed again, louder than any time previously, his vocalizer cutting out into a stream of static as all of his circuits fried. Bliss, utter and perfect euphoric bliss, exploded over his sensory net; all sense of feeling and awareness disappearing behind the veil of white oblivion that rose up and swamped him. In the back of his processor, he heard another, long-winded, hoarse cry of completion, before everything just faded away.

xxXxXxx

Coming back online a couple kliks later, Optimus was surprised to find a heavy weight draped across his chassis. Groaning lightly, the firetruck attempted to move but found that he could not. Instead, he had only managed to stir awake the mech lying on top of him; hot transfluids sifting inside of him, and trickling out of his valve from the spike still buried within him. “S-sentinel.....,” Optimus attempted to speak.

His vocalizer was still spitting strands of static, and he probably would need to get Ratchet to take a look at it later. Blushing, the red and blue Prime realized that would be an appointment he would not be looking forward to. Sentinel shifted above him, groaning lowly as he came out of recharge and pushing himself up a little.

“....How you feel?,” the blue mech asked after a klik, lifting his helm and looking at the firetruck. Optimus felt his cheekplates burn hotter, optics lowering shyly at the rare concern shown by the other Prime.

“F-fine...,” he mumbled softly. “J-just some so-sore joints.”

“Good,” Sentinel rumbled, pressing himself flush against Optimus again. He buried his faceplates against the firetruck's neck cables, nibbling at the slick wires. At the same time, the Guardsmech grabbed his ex-friend's thighs, forcing the other mech to fold in half.

Optimus moaned at the shift in position, feeling Sentinel's spike slide along untouched sensors on his valve walls. The truck's transfluids trickled farther back down inside of him, adding to the strangely queer, erotic sensation. “S-sentinel! W-what, ooooh..... W-what are you, a-ah, do-doing!?,” the red and blue mech mewled, gasping as the Guardsmech rocked down into him.

“W-what?,” Sentinel growled, grinding harder into the other Prime. “You thought I'd be satisfied with just one overload?” His frown turned into the most wicked grin ever, when he saw the look of absolute shock on Optimus' face.

“Guess you did,” the blue mech leered, before he thrust sharply into the firetruck; lunging forward and swallowing the scream of rapture that slipped from Optimus' lip components.

xxXxXxx

Optimus tried to look anywhere else rather than at his crew, but the common room felt oddly cramped that orn, and no matter where he flitted his gaze, he always seemed to catch someone within his view. For the most part he felt glad that the expressions sent his way were bemused; he didn't think he could even begin to try and explain the situation if everyone looked as horrified and stunned as Bumblebee and Bulkhead did. Thankfully, because they were younger, the firetruck wasn't obligated to give them any reason as to why Sentinel suddenly felt oddly comfortable leaning against the other Prime; blue arm wrapped possessively around his waist.

“So...... everybody had a good night then?,” Sari chirped, looking from each of the 'bots present.

Ratchet grumbled something, shuttering his optics as a means to ignore the two flyers that felt the need to suddenly cuddle into the medic's sides. Jazz grinned from his seat across the room; chuckling lightly under his intakes. Prowl cast the cyberninja an exasperated look, shaking his helm before turning his attention back to the teenager.

“And I suppose that your evening was good as well?,” the motorcycle returned to the girl. Sari's grin grew wider, thin legs kicking back and forth over the edge of the table top.

“Oh, definitely! Easter's the best for chocolate. Speaking of which.....,” the techno-organic rose to her feet, jumping down from the table. “I got a special batch for all of you guys! I just need some help bringing them in.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, Optimus?,” Sentinel drawled, pushing the firetruck to his pedes. “I want my share.”

Optimus yelped as the Guardsmech followed up by smacking his aft; quickly crossing the room, ignoring the bewildered stares locked in on his form, along with the lecherous gaze that he knew was stuck firmly on his backside. Through old Academy code, Sentinel was whispering naughty things across their private frequency, making the firetruck blush further.

“I'll help,” Prowl offered, breaking the veil of astonishment in the room. Grateful for the distraction, Optimus quickly slipped from the room; Sari and Prowl following at a slightly slower pace.

“Told you I was right,” Sari sing-songed cheerfully once they were far enough away from the others.

The ninjabot only glanced at the teenager, before turning his attention to their leader. “Sir....?”

“He's serious, Prowl,” Optimus sighed, shuttering his optics tiredly. “He just has an issue with acting in the appropriate fashion.”

“See! I knew it!,” Sari shouted from behind the two bigger mechs. The techno-organic was jumping on the spot with joy. “So.....,” she grinned again, once she had calmed down some. “When's the wedding?”

Optimus sighed softly again, cheekplates burning hotter.