Untitled 10.24.2009

Plenoptic

Happy Boifday, Leggy :D

Nightshade is NOT MINE. She is exclusively the property of leggy-poo. I'm just whoring her out for a while. Er, borrowing her. Borrowing is what I meant :3


The only sounds in the room were the soft pants and moans of the couple entwined on the berth, the quick, thumping impact of hips on hips, the quiet whirring of sorely overworked coolant systems. A short, sweet cry echoed in the silence as the femme overloaded, followed shortly thereafter by the deep, delicious groan of her mate. They collapsed together, heaving, panting, struggling to regain their strength.

"Been too long since we did that," Optimus Prime said weakly, a dazed smile crossing his faceplates.

Elita One laughed shakily, reaching up with trembling fingers to rub his audio receptors, stroking upwards to his antenna apparatus. Prime purred quietly, titling his head to allow her better access.

"You know," she murmured, ducking her head to whisper into his very attentive audios, "Ratchet told me that an Autobot ship is pulling into orbit."

Optimus's smile widened, his spark glowing at the thought of more of his beloved Autobots on base. "That's wonderful."

"He also said," Elita continued, her voice dropping in pitch, "that there is a special flower on that ship."

Optimus's whole body stiffened, and a moment later a low growl rolled from his throat, predatory and excited. "Well. That is interesting." He shifted onto his lower arms, bracing himself above his femme and looking down at her, optics alight with excitement. "Tell me more about this flower…"


Nightshade sank nervously into a seat at an empty table, fiddling with the energon cube in her hands and glancing anxiously around the rec room. There was one table occupied by femmes, all talking amiably and laughing together; the other tables were occupied by some of the loudest and rowdiest mechs Nightshade had ever seen or heard.

Gulping subtly, she sank a little lower in her seat, wrapping her delicate fingers tightly around the energon cube. It was sort of nerve-wracking, this Earth base. The femmes all had very well established friendships, and there were far fewer femmes than mechs, so Nightshade had received more than a few propositions in the short time she'd been on base. She didn't know how to deal with the mechs other than to run away…

"How come you're all by yourself?"

Nightshade looked up in an odd jerking movement and gaped stupidly up at the femmes standing at her table. They were so pretty! The mint green one appeared to be the one who had spoken; her red-and-black companion was watching Nightshade quizzically, chewing on a piece of energon candy.

"You deaf?" the femme inquired, arching one optic ridge. "Why aren't you sitting with us?"

"Don't be mean, Fire," the green femme chided, frowning at her companion before turning a bright smile onto Nightshade. "We'll sit with you, okay?"

"S-Sure," Nightshade stammered out, folding her hands on her lap as the two femmes took seats across from her.

"Want some?" 'Fire' asked, holding out the bag of energon goodies. Nightshade eyed it warily. "Come on, I haven't poisoned it," the femme added, and Nightshade hesitantly took a piece with a barely audible 'Thank you.'

"You're new on base, aren't you?" the green femme inquired, cocking her head to the side. "I'm Moonracer, and this is Firestar. What's your name?"

"Nightshade," the little femme said, sinking down in her seat. "Yes, I'm new…I just came in with the ship."

"Huh. So ya barely been here a week," Firestar noted, selecting a new piece of candy from her bag. "How do ya like it?"

"It's nice," Nightshade said meekly. "Very nice."

"Are the mechs treatin' ya okay?"

"Um…" Nightshade shrugged one shoulder. "They're not being mean or anything."

"Huh." Firestar chewed her candy thoughtfully before turning around and shouting to the other table, "Hey, Mia, Lita! C'mere, we've got a newbie."

The other femmes looked up and stood, joining Nightshade's table and seating themselves swiftly. Nightshade felt her faceplates growing hot as the femmes surveyed her carefully. They were both astonishingly beautiful, their armor shined and pristine, their posture graceful and regal.

"Must be that femme Ratch told you about," the dusky blue femme said, arching an optic ridge at her red-hued companion. The other femme nodded, and they exchanged a grin before turning back to Nightshade.

"No need to look so nervous, dear," the red femme said, reaching out to pat Nightshade's helm comfortingly. "I am Elita One, and this is my SIC, Chromia. Welcome to Earth."

"Thank you," Nightshade said weakly, shocked at being addressed directly by the femme commander. "I'll do my best to please you, ma'am…"

"She already has an incredibly sexy sparkmate to take care of that, dearie," Chromia said flatly, waving a hand and dismissing Elita's protesting squeal. "You just be yourself."

"Chromia!" Elita hissed irritably, scowling at her lieutenant. "None of that around the younglings!"

"I'm not a youngling anymore," Nightshade piped up. "I've officially been an adult for almost three weeks now."

All of the femmes seated around the table snorted in unison; Elita silenced them with a harsh glare. "That's exciting," she said sweetly, directing her attention to Nightshade. "Where are you living right now, dear?"

"Just in some temporary quarters," Nightshade responded, shifting uncomfortably under her commander's slightly smoldering gaze. Now wasn't that an odd question. "Nothing too…interesting…" Was it her imagination, or where her companions all leaning in a little closer?

"Now that's no way for a little femme to live," Firestar purred, turning her rapt gaze to a slightly frowning Elita. "Whaddaya say, Commander? You and Optimus were considering it anyway, right?"

Nightshade released a small squeak—Optimus? The Prime? What did she have to do with the Prime?

"So we have," Elita agreed after a moment. "Nightshade…I'm going to reassign you to some new quarters, okay?"

…And so it came to be that Nightshade went to live with Optimus Prime.

"The purpose of these living arrangements, you see, is to provide a safe and threat-free environment for our femmes to live in. As Prime I do have first rights to these femmes, but this is not enforced. You may live and bed with whomever you choose, Nightshade, but please do seek my permission first. I am here, first and foremost, to keep you safe."

Optimus Prime paused, cocking his head carefully, observing the small femme sitting across from him. She looked a little scared, her cerulean blue optics darting to every corner of the room—anywhere but at him.

"Nightshade," he said gently, reaching out to touch her hand, and she jumped at the contact. "You do not have to stay here if you do not wish. The war is dangerous right now, and my only interest is keeping as many femmes safe as I can. I am here to protect you, little one."

She bobbed her head up and down nervously. Optimus smiled, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on her foreplate before rising, his impressive body hulking over hers. "Now then. Shall we go see if Elita and the others have you settled in?"

Again she bobbed her head, and Optimus felt his spark swell a little. She was so damn cute! Still blushing from the little kiss he'd given her. With a bright smile he enfolded her tiny hand in his own huge one and led her gently from the little room into his main quarters. Moonracer and Firestar were lounging on the couch, idly flipping through channels on the vidscreen; Arcee was sitting on the ground at their feet, busily reading a data pad.

"Where are Elita and Chromia?" Optimus questioned, releasing Nightshade's hand to step forward and place one hand on either of the femme's shoulders.

"Around," Moonracer said absently. "They got Nightshade's room all made up." She turned her head, blinking over at the little femme hovering nervously in the doorway. "It's just to the left of Optimus's, if you want to check it out."

Nightshade nodded timidly, excusing herself and trotting into the hallway to her right. It was dark, and lined with bulletproof, explosion-resistant doors. One door was decorated with a fiery red Autobot symbol; taking this to be Optimus's, she cautiously opened the door to its left, poking her head into her new room.

She smiled as she entered, running her fingers over the plush, colorful cushions lining her recharge berth. Her personal effects had all been set up exactly as they'd been in her old quarters; the walls were a comforting purplish color, and the floor was decorated with what appeared to be a thermal blanket.

"Imported," Optimus's voice came from behind her, and she craned her head back to look up at her new protector. "It's called a rug," he explained, stepping around her to trace a pattern on the 'rug' with his pede. "Organics line their floors with them because their feet are not protected by armor, as ours are." He turned around to face her, smiling slightly. "Do you like it?"

"It's comfortable," she responded, smiling up at him. "Thank you. For letting me stay here, I mean. I probably would have been very lonely all by myself."

Optimus was quiet for a moment, his optics ethereal as fire in the dim lighting. After a moment, he stepped forward and took both of her small hands in his, stroking the backs gently with his thumbs. "Chromia is heated up some evening energon," he informed her quietly. "Will you join us?"

She nodded, feeling strangely speechless. His mouthplates brushed tenderly over the top of her head before he bypassed her, stepping out into the hall. Nightshade padded after him, smiling upon seeing the congregation of femmes in the lounge. Moonracer and Firestar had given up their passive-channel flipping and were now arguing over what movie to watch; Elita and Arcee were on the couch laughing at them, while Chromia swore to herself when she dripped hot energon on her chestplate.

"Want me to get that for you?" Optimus asked slyly, stepping up behind her, and she jerked an elbow back into his abdomen.

"Behave," Chromia growled, wiping up the energon with a finger before sticking the digit into her mouth, sucking it gently. Optimus twitched visibly, his huge form going rigid, and the femme smirked before carrying the tray around his massive frame and joining her sisters. Optimus grumbled to himself before spinning on one heel and joining them.

"Move," he grunted, and Chromia and Elita shuffled out of his way as he dumped his aft onto the couch, picking up a giggling Arcee and pulling her into his lap with a playful growl.

"Come sit with us, Nightshade," Moonracer invited eagerly, patting the spot on the floor beside her. Nightshade sank down beside the little table, and Moonracer beamed, handing her the cube of energon. "Careful, it's hot."

"Do we have to watch a romance again?" Elita whined, pointing at the vidscreen. "I can only watch them snogging for so long before I start to get sick to my tanks."

"You don't have a problem when it's just the two of us," Optimus purred, and she hit his thigh with a resounding clang. "Ouch, Elita!"

"Dirty old mech! You asked for it!"

"I wanna see something blow up," Chromia drawled, and Arcee snorted.

"You always wanna see something blow up, Chromi."

"I told you not to call me that!"

"That's what Oppy calls you…"

"I told you not to call me that!"

Nightshade couldn't help but smile as she watched them bicker, a warm feeling touching her spark. It was like being part of a family unit. Granted, a family unit composed of one exceedingly gorgeous mech and his harem, but a family unit all the same. Optimus's every action spoke of his love for his femmes. Holding Arcee securely in his lap with one arm around her waist, he used the other hand to tickle and pet the laughing Elita and Chromia. As though sensing her gaze, he glanced over at Nightshade, and a smile touched his faceplates. He extended his hand to her, and she leaned forward to take it cautiously, squeaking in surprise when he pulled her forward, dropping her against his side.

"Relax," he said softly, his warm exhaust fans fanning over her audio as he spoke. She felt a strange tingling in her abdomen, a tingling that increased when he pulled her into the spot recently vacated by Arcee. His arms came around her gently, pulling her into an embrace, his chin on her shoulder. For a long time she couldn't relax, trying hard not to think about how shockingly close he was as they watched the random showing selected by Moonracer on the vidscreen.

Nightshade shifted uncomfortably, her optics dimming. The tingling was moving lower and lower. She felt hot and wet between her legs, and her abdomen felt tight. She suspected it had something to do with the mech pressed up against her back.

"You feel a little overheated, Night," Optimus said quietly, nuzzling the side of her helm. "Are you alright?"

"I…yes…I just…I'm feeling…a little…" She broke off, startled by the moan that rose up in her throat when the mech shifted beneath her, his thigh coming between her legs. Optimus was silent for a moment, noting her reaction.

"Have you never been taken, Nightshade?" he asked softly, his voice taking on a new, lower pitch. She shook her head, a little confused. She didn't know what he meant exactly, but she knew it involved a male, and she'd never been with one like this before in her life.

"Nightshade…" She squeaked in surprise when he put his hand gently between her legs, parting her thighs; the squeak turned into a moan when his fingers massaged the protected area gently. "Has a mech ever touched you here?"

She shook her head rapidly, her frame heating up to nearly unbearable heights. This feeling—what was it? The hotness, the wet feeling, the throbbing…the need

"Do you know what interface is, Nightshade?" His voice was so low now she thought his vocalizer would break. She shook her head hard, shuttering her optics, trying to focus on the feel of his fingers against her sodpiece.

"For the love of Primus, Optimus, get her out of here if you're going to frag around, some of us are trying to watch," Chromia grumbled, and without another word Nightshade found herself swept up into the Prime's arms.

He did not speak as he carried her from the room, ignoring the giggles of his femmes, and propelled himself down the hallway, all but kicking his door open before depositing her smoothly onto his berth. He shut and locked the door, then turned to survey her carefully. She hadn't moved from where he'd set her down; on her back, pushed up on her elbows, thighs parted slightly because this slightly relieved the burning in her port.

"Prime?" she said cautiously, blinking up at him.

"I didn't know you were a virgin," he rumbled, striding forward to seat himself beside her. His optics were almost purple they were so dark.

"S-sir…?"

"Have you ever interfaced?"

"No, sir…"

"Have you ever even been kissed?"

"No, sir," she repeated, feeling her faceplates grow hot under his scrutiny. "Never…"

"…Nightshade…" She looked up and almost shrieked in surprise when he leaned forward suddenly, cupping her face in one hand and pushing her gently onto her back, suspending his immense frame over hers. "You're too beautiful for your own good," Prime rumbled, dipping his head lower.

"P-Prime…"

"Optimus, love," he said softly, tracing the contours of her face. "It's Optimus."

"Optimus," she breathed, and with a low moan he leaned down, capturing her mouth with his. She blinked in confusion at the contact, but her optic shutters slid closed when his lips began to move, dancing softly against hers, his glossa darting out to lap gently at hers. His hands pinned her hands by her audios, fingers locking with hers as he kissed her.

Nightshade moaned softly at the feel of his mouth, the feel of his body brushing hers. His crotch was pressed up against her thigh, undulating gently. Optimus opened his lips further, grunting softly as he tried to gain better access to her mouth. She was sweet, the softest hint of spice greeting him when he dipped his glossa into her mouth. His rod felt stiff and hard; the sensitive metal was going to chafe if he didn't get his crotchplate off soon…for the sake of the slightly trembling femme beneath him, he kept himself restrained.

He lowered a hand between her legs, gauging her reactions carefully. She whimpered softly, her hips jumping upwards to his palm. His optics darkened, a low, wanton growl rolling from his throat. It had been a long time since he'd had a virgin in his berth. Arcee had been the last, and that had been…Primus, he'd lost track of the vorns.

"Nightshade," he said quietly, and she mewled softly in response, still moving her hips insistently against his hand. "Nightshade. If I do anything to make you uncomfortable, tell me at once. I shall stop. I want you to enjoy this."

She bobbed her head up and down twice, and he immediately kicked himself when he wondered how it would feel to have that head bobbing around his interface, his spike in her mouth with her glossa tickling him, caressing him…Prime shuddered deeply, shaking himself free of the fantasy. She'd never even been kissed before, she certainly wouldn't know what to do with a mech's erect phallus in her mouth.

Gently so as not to upset her, Prime removed her sodpiece, barely able to restrain his moan when her small, moist port came into view. Nightshade stiffened, cocking her head to the side with a small frown.

"Night?" he prompted, arching an optic ridge.

"I don't take it off much," she admitted shyly, unable to look him in the optics.

"Have…" He paused, frowning. "Have you ever…touched yourself, Nightshade?"

She shook her head back and forth. "No. Should I have?" The look in his optics…it wasn't worrying her, exactly, but it made her slightly uneasy. He was looking at her like…like he wanted to consume her, like he wanted to own her. His lips were parted, like he was almost panting, and his optics were practically on fire.

Optimus said nothing in response to her question, instead shifting himself off the berth to stand up, his back to her. She heard a soft click, saw his right hand move to his front, and a low groan released itself from the back of his throat. After a moment he turned around once more and climbed back onto the berth, settling himself on his knees before her. He had his hand wrapped around a long, cylindrical appendage between his legs.

"This," he grunted softly, beginning to stroke his length gently, "is an interface appliance. More lewdly referred to as a spike. Phallus. Rod. Whatever you like."

Nightshade nodded wordlessly, mesmerized by the movement of his hand—up and down, caressing, squeezing, working himself hard.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a small voice, and he smirked.

"This? Jerking off," he snorted, shaking his head slightly. "Honestly, Nightshade, one would think you've never even been around a male."

"I haven't, really," she responded shyly. "I'd never even seen a male before I boarded the Neutral ship. This is certainly the first time I've ever been alone with one…"

Optimus exhaled softly, reluctantly letting up on his semi-hard spike to stretch out beside her. "Nightshade. Shall I show you what males and females do together?"

"…Um…"

"It is called interface. I shall insert my spike into your port and thrust until your sensory circuits can no longer handle the deluge of information, and you will overload."

"O-Overload?"

"You will enjoy it. I promise you that."

"What does it feel like?"

He frowned, rubbing his chin. "Hm. Hard to describe, really, until you've felt it. It just feels…good. Wonderful, really. All of the stress leaves you, and you can't think of anything else but your own partner, and—"

"Why not just show her, Optimus?"

The bots sprawled on the berth looked up to see Elita One leaning casually against the doorway, a small smirk dancing on her faceplates.

"Show her?" Optimus repeated, arching an optic ridge when his mate stepped into the room, closed the door behind her, and moved to stand beside the berth.

"Why not? She might feel better once she knows you're not going to do something too strange to her." Elita smirked, reaching down to trail her fingertips down Optimus's broad chest and to his lower abdomen, tactfully ignoring his hard spike. "Besides. You've been neglecting me lately."

Optimus sat up at once, grabbing the femme's lower arm and wrapping his other hand around her waist. "I haven't meant to."

"Of course not," she responded with a smile, stroking his helm lovingly. "But you have a lot of femmes to take care of. Now then, Nightshade," she said sweetly, smiling at the little femme, "shall Optimus and I show you an interface? Then you can decide if you would like to try."

Nightshade considered, then nodded timidly. Optimus smiled briefly before turning back to the rosy femme before him, pulling her into him intimately. Elita cupped his face in her hands, stroking the warm metal for a moment before leaning in to press her mouthplates to his. Nightshade cocked her head, confused—what were they doing?

"Ugh…" Optimus wrestled his mouth free. "She can't see, love…"

"Oh. Of course. Adjust as you please, milord," Elita teased softly, grinning down at her noble mech. Optimus smirked and took hold of the femme, delicately kissing the inside of her wrist before grabbing her fully and pulling her onto the berth, rolling to pin her beneath his mass. He returned his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply, brushing his hips against hers as he did so.

"What is that?" Nightshade questioned after a moment, and this time it was Elita who had to struggle to break the contact, leaving Optimus panting and pouting above her while she turned to look at the other femme.

"A kiss, little one," Elita laughed, smiling.

"Is that a part of interface?"

"Sometimes. Not always. Usually only between mechanisms that know and care about one another."

Optimus grunted his assent, ducking his head to mouth gently at his mate's throat while Elita continued to explain the many intricacies of kissing. He allowed his mind to wander while the femmes talked. Elita was a wonderful partner, his longtime lover and best friend, and normally he'd be on his knees begging to bury himself within her, but he was impatient to get inside Nightshade. His femmes knew exactly what he wanted, what he liked, and they were all formatted to his appliance, but nothing compared to the feel of a tight, hot, virginal port wrapped around his length. It was a guilty pleasure that he didn't get to indulge very often.

"Optimus? Are you ready or what?"

He lifted his head, a bright smile decorating his faceplates. "Yes, I am."

"I thought we'd just skip the foreplay, love," Elita purred, petting his quickly hardening spike lovingly, delighting in his moan and instinctive jerk of the hips. "You can do all that with her. Besides, I'm feeling a little anxious…"

"As am I," he groaned, situating himself atop her as she spread her thighs and removed her sodpiece. "How would you like it, love?"

"Mmm…I don't care, just get all of you inside me, understand? I don't want to be able to walk tomorrow…"

A blissful smile spread over his faceplates. He and Elita normally spent whole nights interfacing together, they enjoyed prolonged intimacy, and therefore they often had to take it in moderation. For her to tell him to bury himself until their groins touched and frag her until she couldn't walk was like putting a child in a candy store and ordering him to eat until he wouldn't be able to shovel down any dinner.

"Yes ma'am," he purred, grasping her jaw in one hand and lowering his mouth to hers, kissing her heatedly. "Your wish is my command…"

And he wasted no time in thrusting into her. Elita released a long gasp, arching her back, bringing their chests into contact. Optimus was panting already, his fingers curling into the slightly giving material of his berth, optics almost rolling back into his head at the feel of his femme enclosing his spike.

"Ugh…Primus…Optimus, move," she moaned, reaching around his broad body to grip his aft, trying desperately to pull him into her. Optimus growled softly and began to thrust in slow, methodic movements, plunging his whole length into her before pulling out with an excruciating lack of speed, making sure she could feel his whole phallus moving against the moist walls of her port. His hands went to work, groping and caressing her breastplates and aft.

Nightshade watched curiously, fascinated by the mechanisms writhing together on the berth. Elita was crying out, but she didn't seem to be in pain; on the contrary, Nightshade caught glimpses of a euphoric grin crossing the femme's faceplate every so often.

"Ungh…ugh…fu…frag…" Optimus groaned, dropping his head onto the femme's chest. "Ugh…Elita, could you…?"

"Spice it up a little?" she laughed breathlessly. "Fine, fine, stop for a moment…"

It took all of his willpower to do so, but he managed to still his hips, his throbbing rod still buried deep within her. Elita gave her hips a playful wiggle, making her strong mate yelp in delight, before hooking her legs over his shoulders. Optimus released a long, excited groan, delighting at the changed angle.

"Better," he panted, grinning wildly. "Much better."

"Then move, you stupid lugnut!"

He obliged her immediately, bracing one hand above her head and grasping her thigh with the other to stabilize her as he moved within her. Abandoning all thoughts of taking it slow, he opted to take her hard and fast, taking care to bury his entire length within her before pulling out. Elita's sweet cries were escalating into short, breathy screams, her optics dark with lust as she looked up at the male who was so busily impaling her. Optimus ducked his head as best he could (Nightshade marveled at their flexibility) to close his panting mouth over hers in a heated kiss. Her hands lifted to caress his helm, lovingly tracing the contours she knew so very well.

She came a moment later, her entire body arching and tightening as her overload ripped through her. Her vocalizer shorted out almost instantaneously, leaving her screaming soundlessly as she thrust back against her mate. Optimus released a low, wanton growl, hopelessly aroused by the look of his mate overloading around him. He ducked his head further to bite roughly at her neck and collar armor, marking her as his. Her body settled after the longest few moments of her life, intakes panting heavily, optics blinking dazedly.

Optimus moved to finish his own overload, falling to his knees, bent over her contorted body. He placed both hands on her aft and brought her hips up to his own, moving in her hard and fast. Elita purred when she felt his glossa on the inside of her thigh, his panting breath teasing her sensitive protoform.

The mech came with an almighty roar, throwing his hips hard into hers, one huge hand hitting the berth on either side of her head as his body seized and convulsed. He came down from his high slowly, thrusting out the tingling vestiges of his erection with soft snarls and grunts. Elita lowered her legs, grimacing as she stretched out the sore joints. She was flexible enough, but it was going to be awhile before they did it like that again.

Optimus pulled out of his femme reluctantly, sitting back against the other end of the berth.

"Not bad," Elita laughed weakly after a moment, and he snorted.

"You loved it."

"Of course I did," she purred, sitting up and running her fingers down the seam of his broad chest. "Need a clean up, love?"

"Wouldn't mind it," he replied, eyeing his half-cocked rod, covered in his and Elita's various fluids. "Feeling generous?"

"Oh, no, not me," she smirked, reaching one beckoning hand out to Nightshade. "Come here, sweetie."

"M-Me?" Nightshade squeaked out, her optics going wide. "What should I…?"

"I'll show you, lovey, don't worry," Elita said gently, pulling the little femme close. "Now, listen, there's something you can do to make a mech do whatever you want afterwards. This is a sure-fire way to make this one behave in particular…"

"Uh-huh," Optimus muttered absently, feeling his rod swell again at the sight of two femmes sitting together at the foot of his berth. "Elita, whatever you're going to do…"

"Patience, sweetie, I'm getting there," Elita responded coyly. "Nightshade, if you don't want to, you just speak up. We're not here to make you uncomfortable."

Nightshade nodded slowly, and taking this as her cue, Elita got onto her hands and knees and ran her glossa up the entire length of Optimus's rod. His reaction was instantaneous, his head dropping back and a long moan resounding from his throat.

"More," he growled, thrusting his hips up, and Elita willingly enclosed her mate's thick rod in her mouth, sweeping her glossa over the head and humming softly to stimulate him further. Optimus gave a short cry, one huge hand wrapping around the back of her helm and pulling her closer, a shudder passing through him when her denta touched against the bottom side of his equipment.

Elita wriggled backwards, pulling off of the mech's phallus, much to his obvious disgruntlement. "You wanna try?" the rosy femme offered, arching an optic ridge in the stunned Nightshade's direction. "You don't have to…"

"No, I'm fine," Nightshade decided, scooting forward cautiously. "Um…do I bite, or…?"

"No!" Optimus fairly shrieked, shaking his head back and forth as fast as possible while Elita crowed with laughter. "No, no, please don't…"

"Lick and suck, dearie," Elita said, still giggling wildly. "Be gentle, it's sensitive down there. No biting."

"No biting," Optimus reiterated, which only served to send Elita into hysterics again. Nightshade moved forward nervously, eyeing the enormous rod waving at her between Optimus's thighs. He shuttered his optics, a ripple tearing through his frame when her warm mouth slowly enclosed the head of his rod. She was tentative, her glossa snaking out cautiously to touch him, lips inching down his length.

"There you go," he breathed, rubbing her helm gently to encourage her. "Mmmn…you're doing wonderfully, Night…"

Nightshade yelped when she felt hands on her thighs, abandoning her commander's rod to look over her shoulder. Elita was crouching behind her, stroking her legs gently.

"Relax, Night, I won't hurt you," Elita said soothingly, petting the little femme's round aft. "Spread your legs for me, and let yourself relax."

Nightshade nodded slowly, returning her attentions to Optimus, a strange tingling spreading into her lower abdomen at the feel of the small hands dancing over her aft and thighs. Optimus arched an optic ridge at his mate, and she smirked at him, giving him a wink.

-Just thought I'd warm her up,- she transmitted, and he released a low chuckle, pumping his hips gently against Nightshade's diligent mouth.

-Go easy on her, love.—

Nightshade stiffened marginally when she felt Elita's warm hands remove her sodpiece, shuddering gently at the cool air wafting over her sensitive equipment.

"Nighty, tell me if I make you uncomfortable," Elita murmured, placing her palm against the little femme's exposed port. Nightshade bobbed her head up and down, earning a rich moan from the mech she was servicing. "And I think it's time to get off of Optimus, or he won't last another interface."

"Evil femme," Optimus griped at her, but placed his hands on Nightshade's shoulders and lifted her gently off of his rod, instead situating her in his lap with her legs tossed over his thighs. She squealed in surprise and pleasure when his rod brushed up against her virgin port, trapped between their warm bodies.

"Wha—oooh—Optimus…?"

"Relax," he breathed, drawing lightly on her full lips and grinding his hips up into hers. "Relax…"

Her tiny fingers curled against his chest, optics darkening with awakening lust when he slid a hand between her legs, kissing her intimately as his fingers lightly stroked the rim of her port. She gasped against his mouth, lips attacking his more firmly when he slid the tip of one finger into her. He felt a gush of lubricate hit his fingers and pushed in a little further, rod swelling uncomfortably at the sheer tightness of her port.

"Primus, femme, do you have any idea how good you look?" he breathed, brushing his mouthplates over the soft sinew of her throat.

"Optimus," she moaned, wiggling her hips and trying to thrust against him. "Ahh…it feels…aahhh…"

He moved a second finger into her, relishing in the tightening of her walls around his thick digits. She was humping gently against his hand, fingers clutching his chest tightly, sweet little gasps escaping her pert lips.

"Remember she's never done this before, Optimus," Elita intoned softly, moving forward to softly stroke the little femme's back. "Be gentle."

"Of course," Optimus rumbled. "Nightshade, are you comfortable with me entering you?"

"Yes," she breathed eagerly. "Yes, Optimus, please…"

Nodding, he motioned Elita out of the way with one strong hand before lowering his new lover onto her back, bracing himself over her on his thick arms, a hand on either side of her helm.

"Just say the word, and I'll stop," he rumbled, leaning in to gently mouth against her throat. "I don't want to hurt you, Nightshade."

She nodded breathlessly, eagerly eyeing the swollen rod hovering at the entrance of her port. Elita stretched out next to them comfortably, prepared to step in at the slightest sign of discomfort from the other femme. She loved her mate dearly, and she knew he'd never, ever hurt Nightshade intentionally, but his love of virgin femmes (hence the title Official Femme Deflowerer) sometimes got him a little carried away.

Gently, carefully, ever heedful of her comfort levels, Optimus hoisted a leg around his slim hips, sighing in delight when her crotch came flush with his. Elita reached in between their entwined bodies, stealing a smoldering kiss from her mate as she helped align his hard rod with Nightshade's port.

"Are you ready?" she asked quietly, turning her gaze downward to the simpering femme on the berth. Panting, Nightshade nodded, a little surprised by her own lack of control over her body. Her hips were working upwards, struggling to meet Optimus's, and her fingers were clenching and unclenching on the berth seemingly of their own accord. A soft moan slipped past her vocalizer as he leant down, gently meshing his lips with hers, kissing her tenderly.

And then he penetrated her, and her whole body erupted into sweet fire. Her back arched, head tipping back as a long cry echoed from her throat. Optimus positively snarled, dropping his head to her shoulder as he pushed his hips into hers.

"Are you alright?" he panted out, mouthing against her throat when she whimpered. He knew he was a lot of mech to take, especially for a femme's first time.

"Fine," she breathed, lacing her arms around his waist. "Don't stop-!"

"Understood," he laughed out, placing one warm hand on her aft and shifting her hips upward to get better access to her hot port. She squealed softly, clenching her valve, milking his hard spike in her excited fluids. Prime shuttered his optics, pumping gently against her hips, groaning softly when Elita gave his aft a playful squeeze, encouraging him onward. Just listening to Nightshade's melodic cries was enough to make him want to climax then and there, but for her sake he persevered, running through a duty status list mentally to take his mind off of his impending overload.

Nightshade wasn't making his task any easier. Squealing, thrashing, writhing in ecstasy, small hands dancing all over his coolant sweating frame, she went at their mating with reckless abandon, thrusts hopelessly out of rhythm with his.

"Night," he murmured, stroking one large thumb over her cheekplate, "stop. You're messing me up, sweet, just let me do the work, alright?"

"S-Sorry," she gasped, wild blue optics meeting his steady gaze. "I—I don't know how—"

"I know," he soothed, kissing her foreplate warmly. "Leave everything to me."

She nodded, allowing herself to relax against his spacious berth. Elita reached out to gently stroke the little femme's helm, giving her subordinate an encouraging nod as Optimus repositioned himself. He lowered his head to kiss her again, savoring her supple lips before moving down to nip gently at her slender jaw, biting into the nirvana of her sinewy throat, soothing the sting with his glossa when she inhaled sharply. Nightshade shuttered her optics, tipping her head back and allowing him to do what he wished, thoroughly enjoying the mech's passionate touch.

He allowed himself to explore her, luminous blue optics casting an appreciative gaze down her slender body. She had a lovely little body, a wonderfully tantalizing chest, small waist, round aft, pretty curves from hips to thigh to calves to tiny feet. And she was cute. Not exactly stunning, spark-haltingly gorgeous like Chromia or Elita, but damn adorable nonetheless. Innocent and vulnerable, trusting. It made his pump speed up, knowing that he was the first to teach her what a male could provide her.

Nightshade appraised him as well, breath catching when she looked up at the powerful male. His upper torso was a perfect triangle shape, his shoulders and chest broad and strong, his waist delightfully narrow, hips and perfectly shaped aft supported by endlessly long legs. His hands were thick and strong, hands that had torn Decepticons in two in fits of rage and brought countless femmes to the sweetest levels of ecstasy in fits of passion. A complex, beautiful, deliciously handsome mech.

"Ready to give it another go?" he inquired softly, leaning in to brush his mouthplates over the pretty crest of her helm. She nodded shyly, placing her small hands on his shoulders, bringing her mouth up to place a tentative kiss on the underside of his jaw.

"Don't be shy," he chuckled, caressing her cheekplate, optics warm. "Touch me, Night."

She hesitated for a moment longer before lifting her hands once more, trailing her fingertips down the impressive curve of his jaw, allowing her thumb to trace over his parted lips. Optimus shuttered his optics, enjoying the cautious, exploratory touch, her brief caresses sending tingles through his neural circuitry. He could feel his hydraulics depressurizing as he began to relax, and he forced himself to relive the last few breems to keep himself from drifting off. It unnerved him a little, how he was so comforted by her; no femme but Elita had ever lulled him so nearly into recharge.

But almost as if sensing his thoughts, he felt Elita's hands on him as well, rubbing his back, dipping beneath his heavy armor to stimulate his sensitive protoform.

Elita's optics darkened as her mate groaned, writhing a little at both femme's ministrations. "Dip your fingers underneath his chestplating," she suggested softly to Nightshade. "Just under the chestguard—there you go. Touch the protoform, but only just."

"Wicked femme," Optimus groaned softly, his soft words melting into a moan when Nightshade did as instructed. A shudder tore through him, a wild gasp shaking loose of his vocalizer when Elita's fingers darted down to stroke the exposed base of his rod.

Nightshade squeaked in surprise when Optimus suddenly enfolded her in his arms, winding their bodies intimately together, nipping her jaw and biting her throat as he pressed his hips back into her, entering her in one fluid motion. She dropped her head back, optics fluttering closed as he impaled her, one large hand grasping her thight to open her legs. He adjusted carefully, thrusting upwards into her, stimulating every inch of her he could find, the very base of his rod coming into contact with her external node, wrenching soft, sobbing gasps from the femme with every thrust.

"Oh, Primus," she whispered, her body going slack in his arms, fingers clenching and unclenching on the mussed thermoblankets of his massive berth. "Oh, Primus, Optimus…I…"

"It's okay," Elita purred softly, lowering her mouth to the little femme's audio. "Let it come. Let yourself go."

Nightshade dropped her head onto the berth, shuttering her optics, focusing exclusively on the feel of her Prime's enormous spike rubbing against every conceivable surface of her innermost self, the incredible stimulation of the delicate node just above her port, the wet, hot fluid contact between them…

A shudder passed through her, a ripple that left her entire body rigid and stiff, and suddenly her vision turned white, ecstasy rolling through her like an ocean wave, blinding her and deafening her. There was a dull roaring in her audios, and she was vaguely aware of someone crying out, over and over, she was somewhat conscious of the fact that someone was still touching her, of the pressure hitting her hips over and over, but mostly she just felt good. It was a wild, giddy feeling, overwhelming, and she allowed herself to ride it, ride it out…

Optimus groaned in ecstasy, optics flaring brightly at the sight of the tiny femme clutching him, writhing helplessly and sobbing as she overloaded in his arms. No sooner had her climax ended than he rolled her onto her front, grasping her thighs and renewing his efforts with more vigor than before, pushing into her unbearably tight, hot port from behind, grinding his hips against her cute aft, fingers clenching and caressing her smooth thighs.

Elita's hands were between them, caressing Optimus's rod as he pulled out and her nimble fingers touching Nightshade's external node and the rims of her port between wild thrusts. Smirking, watching as Optimus's optics brightened and his body stiffened with impending overload, Elita took one of his hands and placed it between her own legs, easing his fingers up into her port, letting him feel her, touch her…

Optimus came with an explosive roar, entire body arching forward, pushing his hips into his new lover as his fully erect rod spewed round after round of transfluid into her sopping port. Barely recovered from her last orgasm, Nightshade keened and sobbed quietly as she came again, Elita's fingers still on her node, Optimus's rod in her port and his hand on her thigh.

"Optimus," Elita gasped breathily, optics flaring as his fingers twitched and stroked the inner walls of her port. Having released his load, he pulled out (somewhat reluctantly) from the delirious Nightshade and pulled Elita into him, rubbing his thumb over her external node while the fingers of the same hand worked her port. She came mere moments later, milking his hand and climaxing with soft cries, smothered when he took her jaw in his free hand and kissed her passionately, their glossa intertwining between lip locks, mouths open and kissing with fervor.

The passion was slow to ebb, leaving all three bots exhausted, vents steaming faintly, intakes heaving. Optimus flopped onto his back, Elita following him down to rest on his chest. Bodies spooned intimately together, they kissed for a time, touching one another, whispered sweet nothings passing between them between soft kisses, and they were so immersed in one another that neither even remembered Nightshade until she began to stir, and her very wet port abruptly came into contact with Optimus's foot.

"Oh!" He sat up with a yelp, dislodging Elita and brushing his foot up against Night's port, pulling forth a groan from the little femme. "I'm sorry, Nigthshade, so sorry…are you alright, love?"

"Fine," she mumbled, a dreamy smile flitting across her face as he lifted her into his lap. "Wonderful, really. Optimus, that was incredible, that was fantastic…"

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," he chuckled weakly, smiling when Elita scooted up behind him to wrap her arms around his shoulders, resting her head on the back of his. "You are a delight, Nigthshade."

She grinned blearily, optics dimming, and scarcely a moment later she was drifting off into recharge, sagging against his chest as he carefully climbed off the berth to situate her upon it properly. He and Elita took a seat at the end, watching their new conquest—er, partner—recharge soundly, lost in post-overload bliss.

"Three times," Elita commented, reaching over to lovingly pat Optimus's limp interface. "Not bad at all, Commander."

"I'm getting old," he chuckled. "We went five times once, remember?"

"Oh, I remember," she laughed, nuzzling her noseplates against his cheek. "I've never heard a 'flower' scream so loud. You really worked her over."

"Uh huh, he did, we heard it."

Both commanders snapped their heads around, and Optimus groaned in mortification at the sight of all four of his remaining femmes crowded around the door. "How long have you all been there?"

"Just for the part where you took her from behind. Good one," Chromia said appreciatively, giving him a hearty thumbs-up. Optimus groaned, dropping his head into his hands, only to jump back up with a yelp when four extra femmes abruptly joined him on the berth, small, nimble hands sneaking onto his exhausted body.

"Hope you're still good, Optimus, because it's our turn now," Chromia said, grinning.


"Oh, for the love of Primus," Ratchet moaned, rolling onto his side and pulling a cushion against his audios when the distinct thump, thumps began once more from the room upstairs. "This is ridiculous. There should be protocols against this sort of thing."

"There are cultural protocols supporting this kind of thing," Ironhide noted, slipping one hand between Ratchet's thighs and wrapping his fingers around the large, warm rod that had been exposed several breems ago. He'd been working on his mech lover all night, and Ratchet still hadn't shown even the slightest interest, despite the obvious turn on that was the knowledge of a six femme-one mech orgy going on upstairs. "Come on, Ratch, work with me."

"I'm forced to work with you for joors and joors every day," Ratchet grumped irritably. "My job description does not include—"

"Being my bitch?"

"Shut up." Ratchet inhaled sharply when one large black hand adjusted his leg, and a thick, throbbing rod was pushed into his rear port. "Slowly, you idiot, that hurts!"

"You like it," Ironhide chuckled, pumping is hips lewdly into Ratchet's aft, licking the side of the medic's neck. Ratchet moaned, wiggling his hips, optics flaring at the erotic touch. "Frag that. You love it. Prime doesn't know what he's missing."

"Rather have six femmes on me than one of you," Ratchet growled. Ironhide's only response was to frag him harder, both adding their own carnal cries to the symphony above.