Title: Relax
Chapter(s): 1/2
Authors: Sideswipe = Character_Bleed Blaster= Tsarist_secret
Rating: MA+ explicit sex
Summary: Everyone's weary, and some are on the edge.
Relax
They were all exhausted.
That was utterly undeniable, of course, but late nights still found those available gathered in the rec room, talking, drinking, socializing. The cubes of high-grade held in weary hands seemed to multiply as the days went on. They were all stretched thin, their forces spread over the immense area they'd chosen to guard.
Sideswipe thought, perhaps, that one day someone would crack, that one day he'd wake to find the base crumpled around him, reduced to a pile of rubble, not by his enemies, but by his allies. He feared that, though he'd never admit it. He feared losing his home and he feared losing his brother.
He did not fear Decepticons, no matter how badly they were ripping his faction -home- apart.
"Y'all get to see th' new weapons room?" Jazz asked, his usual tenor rolling through the room, flowing into Sideswipe's very center and relaxing him. Jazz always seemed to have that effect.
"Nah, not yet," Sunstreaker, surprisingly, responded, his chin tilted as he watched the saboteur. The loss of their weapons room had been perhaps the heaviest blow yet.
Idle banter continued around him as the red Lamborghini checked his internal chronometer, thinking it was about time, nearly time for Blaster to be returning. The smaller mech had been on duty for nearly fourteen hours, and Sideswipe had been keeping a sharp optic on him. Cheery and upbeat as the younger mech was, he was still young, and he no-one's good attitude could last. He traipsed over to the doorway, glancing out.
Sometimes he had half a mind to think that eventually Blaster would be the one to break.
"Not here?" his twin said from behind him, voice filled with teasing.
Swinging his head to fix Sunstreaker with a dimmed optic, Sideswipe murmured, "Nope."
What if he'd been injured? Sideswipe was fond of the little red mech, and wouldn't want to see him hurt in any way.
"C'mon, Sides, he can take care of himself." A grumble this time as Sunstreaker tugged on his arm, turning back to the crowd of Autobots. "Relax for a bit." Sideswipe sighed and obeyed, allowing himself to be pulled back into the room, but one icy-azure optic remained fixed on the door.
"I've checked that section of frequencies seven times Red Alert, and all I keep getting is white noise."
Blaster rested his elbows on the console in front of him, head angled downwards in a sign of exhaustion. The red mech pinched his nasal ridge in annoyed consternation, doing his utmost to not yell at Red Alert. Red Alert meant well, and Blaster liked him quite a bit, but at times like these, Blaster wished his specialty hadn't been telecommunications, but something with less… communication. But then he felt bad, Red Alert had been on duty longer than he had, so he tried to keep his tone neutral.
"They're fine Red. The group contacted me about ten astroseconds ago. Could you please stop tying up my lines? It's distracting."
The line closed abruptly. Apparently Red Alert had taken the hint.
Blaster ran some more sweeps with the long distance radar, and jiggled the input jack in his wrist, optics darkened in anger. How did the Autobots expect him to maintain the lines when the connections were horrible? Static burst in his audios as he rotated them, causing him to jump and pull out the rest of the wires plugged in.
"Slaggit all!" he hissed, knocking his chair over in haste to narrowly avoid a live wire that was snapping and sparking dangerously close to his chassis. He groaned at the mess of the connection cables.
"Wheeljack'll have to clean this up," he muttered to himself.
His cassettes were dead weights inside of his chassis, having fallen into recharge cycles ago, and he admittedly missed their enjoyable company, nuisances' they were at times.
There was nothing further he could do here. Suddenly his energon compressor ground together.
"Yeah, yeah, should probably get somma that." He backed away from the spot carefully, and flicked off the safety switch near the door. He didn't feel like telling Red Alert about this right now.
Exiting quietly, he moved down the hallways sluggishly, heading towards the rec room. Blaster wanted a couple cubes of high-grade to appease his aching compressor. He walked in and was momentarily stunned at the lighting difference from that of the hallways.
Finally- finally! Sideswipe sighed in quiet relief as Ratchet sent him an irritated "He's back," over a private comm. channel. His twin shot him a glance and Sideswipe nodded, smiling briefly.
Blaster was okay.
He honestly should not have been so concerned, really, about the little Autobot. Blaster was closer to Jazz anyway, and Sideswipe, though sociable, wasn't cuddly and "fuzzy-feelings" warm, the way the younger mech seemed to be.
There was something so attractive, though, so very… innocent, in the experienced sort of way, about Blaster. It was something Sideswipe never came across anymore, and it was a rare and treasured jewel; he somewhat doubted Blaster would take any interest in him, though, especially with his (very well-known) circle of skeletons.
When the red mech appeared at the door of the commissary, he offered a soft smile and a watchful optic, as if to make sure that Blaster was okay, that he was sane, uninjured, at home.
He really, really shouldn't have cared so much.
Blaster's optics adjusted to the darker lighting and he saw a couple of mechs still gathered around, which was surprising this far into the late shift, but he ignored them. The energon purifier and distributor was towards the back corner, and he headed there, eager for a cube to sweeten his sour mood.
He grabbed a cube from the neat stack to the left of the distributor and placed it under the spout, pressing a small button at the top. The iridescent liquid illuminated his face and chassis as it pooled into the cube. It shut off automatically and he picked it up to take a sip, debating on whether to ask if any in the room knew if Wheeljack was still awake, or just leaving to try and fix the problem himself. He still had plenty to do…
Sideswipe managed to engage himself in idle conversation with Sunstreaker and Jazz, sipping at his cube as he spoke. Blaster was hovering away from the crowd, his face pensive. Excusing himself, Sideswipe slipped over to the music-mech's side. "How are ya, Blast?" he asked quietly, moving to fill his cube again as an excuse to greet his friend. He eyed the red mech, sighing softly. He wasn't the tender type, hell, wasn't even the sympathetic type all that often, but he wouldn't risk being uncaring and therefore detrimental to Blaster's well-being. "Heard you had the long watch tonight."
He hoped Blaster would consider him amiable rather than a pain in the aft; he was a bit wary of the bigger mech's expression. It was sour, unlike Blaster's usual open face. Sipping his cube, he adopted a relaxed posture, watching Blaster carefully.
Blaster regarded the other somewhat quietly, taking a small sip from his cube. He ignored the first question Sideswipe asked, opting to answer the other instead. "I'm still supposed to be on shift," he murmured haughtily, optics flashing as he looked away from the red mech in embarrassment. It wasn't often he lost his temper, but lately things had been going downhill fast. He took another draught, taking care to hide his expression, shuddering at the feeling of the energon hitting his nearly empty fuel tanks. He cast his icy blue optics back to Sideswipe. "I don't suppose you would know if Wheeljack's still awake?" he looked over at Jazz, giving the saboteur a small nod.
Did Blaster think he wouldn't notice? Sideswipe grimaced slightly. What had happened to the sweet, even-tempered little mech? He knew that Blaster had been relatively overworked recently, and he was probably tense as all hell. And then... embarassed? The Lamborghini was thoroughly confused. Blaster really needed some time off or something. "Aw, man, that sucks," he murmured, putting a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "I can take over for ya, if you want me to." At Blaster's next question, he shook his helm. "Nah, he crashed an hour or two ago. Ratchet had to force him to get some recharge."
Across the way, Jazz nodded back to the small red mech. He knew that Blaster had been hard-run for a couple weeks, but seeing such a drastic change in him was hard. His optics flicked to Sideswipe. If Blaster would let him, the red twin would help him. Hopefully.
"No, you wouldn't be able to unless you know how to put three long range frequency boards back together," Blaster sighed deeply resigning himself to asking the task when he heard that Wheeljack was in recharge. He knew how to fix the boards, but they'd been spliced and repaired so many times already by Wheeljack, who knows what weird additions he may have added? Blaster really didn't want to wake up in the medbay with Ratchet smiling down at him. Again. "Nah, I got it, it's cool," Blaster swirled the last of his cube and drank it, trying to get back in character. He refilled it again, looking up at the red mech briefly. Why would Sideswipe care? Sure they were friends, but it was a distant relationship, and nothing he should be concerned with.
A sigh. "Blast, man, you look tense. You need to go lie down or somethin'," the red mech drawled. He didn't want the Primus-forsaken care to show in his voice. "Or at the very least, do somethin' to make yourself relax." He shrugged, sipping from his cube. He eyed the tired-looking young mech. Jazz and Blaster were better friends than he himself and Blaster, but Jazz didn't seem to be as worried about the red mech's shift in personality and energy. He'd noticed it, sure; he'd mentioned it to Sideswipe a time or two, but it wasn't as if he'd done anything about it.
"I know I'm tense," Blaster shot back, frowning at Sideswipe. Tense was an understatement. He was filled with idle energy, and a deep sweltering irritation, borderline anger. He was sick and tired of the fighting and the shifts and the faulty equipment. Each little incident was adding up in his psyche, straining to burst out. Blaster winced and clutched his chest when suddenly one of his cassettes shifted in recharge, moving against a painfully sensitive part of his inner chassis. His face twisted slightly in pain. "I'd love to entertain you further, but I've got something to take care of," he hissed, CPU reeling with white hot stabs of pain.
"Blaster?" Sideswipe recoiled from the anger in his friend's voice, then stepped forward again as Blaster flinched, grabbing for his chest. "You okay?" Jazz glanced over, watching worriedly. Sideswipe tossed his cube onto the counter, kneeling so he could peer into Blaster's optics. "Blast?" He didn't like the look of his friend; angry, frustrated. Standing again, he glanced around, hoping he could do this without ruining his reputation forever. Blaster was obviously in too much pain to walk, obviously not going to go somewhere without collapsing. "Here." Sideswipe slid an arm under his shoulders and then one around the bend of his knees, lifting the smaller mech easily and taking him out into the hallway, turning left toward Blaster's quarters. He didn't miss the smirk Sunstreaker gave him, or the meaningful glance from Jazz. Rolling his optics, he peered down at his friend. "Maybe you should get some recharge. You're in pain and exhausted, Blast. It's not healthy."
"I'm fine," Blaster insisted vehemently, but he didn't pull himself away. The pain was too great. "One of the cassettes moved in 'charge and it hurts." Again he asked himself, when was the last time he had heard Sideswipe being nice to anyone outside his little click? He was the audios of the Autobots. Nothing was unheard by him. Though he was young and inexperienced, he had a rough idea… They came to his doors and he pressed in the code to the pad outside his door, turning the lights on at the same time.
Sideswipe sighed, glad that Blaster didn't try to force his way out of his arms. "Is the pain bad?" he asked as they stepped inside. He closed the door with one black foot, stepping forward in the lit room to lay his friend on his berth gently, careful not to jar his chest. "I can go get Ratchet." He didn't really know how cassettes worked, so he kept mostly quiet; the last thing he wanted was to make an idiot of himself. He reached out, dimmed the lights slightly, glanced around. "Do you want me to bring you energon?"
"No, I'm fine," Blaster replied to all the questions, scooting back on the berth further. He popped his chassis door open, heedless of the other mech in the room. Normally he would have been mortified beyond belief, but right now all he wanted to do was get the pain to stop. He slid his fingers around the tape deck, trying to reach in, but with the way his chassis transformed when it was open he could hardly reach around it, much less farther inside. "Come here," Blaster murmured, looking up to Sideswipe. "I need you to reach in there and put the one that's leaning over to the left side back upright."
Stilling, the red mech, the epitome of confidence, peered over at Blaster. "You want me to move him?" He stepped over, eyeing the open cavity in his friend's chest; the tapes were clearly visible. Hesitating, his intakes slowed. Damn. He'd never... he wasn't good at clever, precise little movements. Gun he could do. Hell, null ray he could do, if he ever managed to rip one off those damn seekers, but not something like this. Blaster was in so much pain, though... "All right..." He sat, trying to steady his arm, and reached carefully around the other tapes. A part of him was flattered that Blaster would even consider letting him do this, especially with his and Sunstreaker's relative reputation. Leaning a little closer, he reached carefully around one tape, gently tilting the one that was leaning into the correct position, avoiding brushing his fingers against anything that could harm Blaster more. When he was done, he immediately pulled his hand back, watching carefully. "Better?"
"Yes," the red mech breathed, sighing deeply as the last tingles of pain evaporated from his circuits. He pushed his chassis close one panel at a time. Blaster kept his gaze stubbornly on the tip of his chest where he rested his hand. "Thanks," he murmured, hardly audible, twitching his fingers. He'd give the cassettes a long talk about locking down when they went into recharge when they woke up. He looked up around his room, surprising bare and empty, with the only decorations as few datapads lying on a counter, and a nice soft metallo-mesh berth cover.
"Sure," Sideswipe said awkwardly, nodding. He wasn't sure how many others had been allowed that kind of contact with Blaster; it felt intimate and almost certainly limited. He had a feeling there were few who had touched his cassettes as well. "Any time." He glanced away, hands in his lap, unsure if he should leave now. His optics rose again, settled on Blaster. "... Why are you so angry all the time now?" he finally asked, and suddenly a tension relieved in his mind, a weightlessness developed. He'd wanted to ask it for weeks now, wanted to know, to help.
Blaster froze, the gears grinding together in his shoulders harshly. He flexed his fingers. "I'm not angry all the time," he replied, pushing himself off the berth, ready to leave and go back and fix the boards. After all, Red Alert didn't even know he had left. He brushed past the red mech, but then paused and looked back, his blue optics dark. "I'm just stressed; I can't keep doing this solar cycle after solar cycle."
"Whoa, no." Sideswipe put a hand on his friend's shoulder, pushing him back down gently. "You need some rest, Blaster. You're right- you can't keep doing this. So lay down, get some recharge. I'm not gonna let you run yourself into the ground." He leaned over Blaster, his optics softened. Rubbing the other mech's shoulders with both his palms, he hummed softly. "C'mon, relax, please?"
There wasn't much Blaster could do to resist. Sideswipe was a frontliner after all, and though the mech may not have realized it, he had a tough grip. "Please, I don't get tired from just sitting in a chair all day," Blaster cocked his head to the side, narrowing his blue optics minutely and asked the question he'd been wondering. "What's it to you?"
Sideswipe scoffed. "Then why're you so irritable all the time? And I hardly ever see you recharge anymore." He continued to rub at Blaster's shoulders, trying to relax him. "Whaddaya mean, what's it to me? We're friends, Blast." Sideswipe kept his optics down, his fingers working under the plating gently, massaging. "Friends are supposed to keep an optic on their friends, and it would only be right for me to do the same and stop you from hurting yourself."
Blaster suddenly felt stricken. He wasn't worried about himself, but Sideswipe's words brought his attention back to his cassettes. He cared for them like sparklings, and in almost every sense they were, and they were being overworked as well. Blaster brought he hand up to his chassis, touching the cover as if he could convey his feelings to those within, even though they were so deep in recharge Rewind hadn't even woken up when Sideswipe moved him. "I-I don't have a choice, do you see any other communication experts wandering around base?" but despite his words, the red and yellow mech leaned back, relaxing into the berth.
A smile crossed Sideswipe's lips, his small victory taken and appreciated. "There," he murmured, his hands ever-moving. "It's not gonna kill everyone if you take a few hours off, Blast." He shifted, pulling himself all the way up onto the berth so he could reach better, working his fingers gently. "There may not be other communication techs around here, but I don't think you need to be working twenty-four hours a day. Everyone's noticed it, honestly. You're tense, you snap at everyone..." A sigh. "I'm not ridiculing you, honestly, I'm just... trying to help."
"Jazz noticed first, I'm sure," Blaster sighed deeply, letting the fingers relax him. He cast his gaze down and away from Sideswipe again. "I'm sorry, I've been busy… and angry, it isn't like me," Blaster sighed again and moved his hazy blue optics upwards, parting his lips as if he were about to speak. This attention… it was getting to him, making him remove down his defenses, turning him pliable, flexible… Soothing his sore mind. Perhaps subconsciously he'd been begging for someone to tell him to tune it down? Sometimes Blaster just didn't know when to quit. He hesitated.
"Sideswipe?" the words were tentative, soft. "Would you… help me relax?" There, he'd said it.
Of course Jazz had noticed first; he was the most sensitive to others among them, and Primus knew that Sideswipe wasn't even close. The bigger mech kept rubbing, moving gently down Blaster's chest then back up to his curving shoulder-plates, humming to himself. At Blaster's question, he glanced up. "Help you relax? Of course." He tilted his head, rubbing a little more firmly, but not near enough to injure the communications officer. But then the look in Blaster's optics caught him square between his own. "... Relax how, Blast?"
"I'm not sure," he lied, feeling the embarrassment constrict his vocalizer. "I'm filled with idle energy; I just need something to release it on..." Blaster was starting to feel ridiculous, but the tendrils of unadulterated lust were seeping through his circuits like liquid fire and he was having trouble controlling himself. Why? Why did these thoughts have to come to him now? Sideswipe couldn't possibly be interested in him that way.
Sideswipe's optics widened almost imperceptibly; Blaster couldn't be talking about that sort of thing, could he...? Then again, Sideswipe knew Blaster didn't have a track record like he did, and therefore probably didn't get some as often as he did. His pattern of breaking sparks had slowed, though, when he'd started to keep an eye on the younger mech. "Idle energy, hmm?" He moved again so he was beside Blaster on the far side of the berth, his back pressed to the wall, his fingers tracing patterns on Blaster's shoulders. Finally he went out on a limb, murmuring, "... You talking about what I think you're talking about?"
"Yes," the communications officer turned his face, lightly touching the inside of Sideswipe's wrist. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered pulling away, "I'm sure you've got someone… can't believe I suggested that." He scooted backwards on the berth, face downcast with optics shining with embarrassment, and an innocence lust, while his pouty lips trembled.
So he had meant it like that? Sideswipe's grin was wide. "Don't apologize," he chided gently, moving his hand in turn to cup Blaster's cheek. "I don't have anyone; I'd be more than happy to help ya out." He laughed lightly at the tinge to the communications officer's cheek. Pausing, he considered, humming to himself. "Helping you relax is something that I would love to do, Blast. It's not a problem." His other hand moved up too, stroking Blaster's chest. "Mm?"
Blaster bit the bottom of his lip, drawing his face fully into Sideswipe's hand with his optics dimmed low. "This usually isn't like me…" he trailed off when the other touched his chest. Blaster sighed gently, reaching up to hold the black hand to his face, nuzzling his face into it while his digits began to wander over Sideswipe's wrist.
"Well, you're not usually overworking yourself to death," the red twin murmured. He let out a breath as the smaller mech's fingers stroked his wrist. His smile dimmed into something more affectionate and he leaned in, pressing his lips gently to Blaster's. He wasn't very good at this, this soft, sweet stuff, but he could manage. For Blaster. "You want me to...?"
Blaster placed his hand up on Sideswipe shoulder, drawing closer as he leaned into the kiss. "Yes, I do," he murmured against the other's lip, his breath was hot and small dewy drops of water condensation formed on his lip components. His pump beat was furious, staining his cheeks with warmth. "I want you to touch me, please…" he breathed softly, kneading the shoulder in short soft strokes.
Shifting into Blaster's touch, Sideswipe sighed quietly, licking at the smaller mech's lips affectionately. "... All right." He let his hands wander slowly, over Blaster's chassis door, pressing his fingers in varying patterns all over the smooth red plating. His optics slid half-closed and he wondered how long he'd wanted to do this. "... I'll make you feel good, Blast..." he murmured, voice low near Blaster's audio as he leaned forward to press his lips to the communications officer's neck. His hands slipped down, caressing Blaster's waist gently, his optics flickering off.
A breathy gasp escaped him as Sideswipe licked his lips, and he clutched tightly onto the red mech as those delicious hands moved across his chassis, inadvertently messing with his presets, causing his systems to scramble for a rehash of the connections. Blaster moved his head back for Sideswipe, giving the mech greater access to his throat, all the while moving his lithe fingers under the lamborghini's plating to play with his sensory net.
Ohh, that was nice... Sideswipe pressed himself into Blaster's hands, lowering his head to lick, nip at Blaster's soft stomach, stroking his chest still, nuzzling his hip gently. "You like it, Blast...?" he murmured, his glossa flicking out over the shining red plating. "You're so pretty like this..." And he was, pretty like a lover. Whoa, what? No. Blaster just wanted him to help him relax, not take him like Sideswipe did his nightly 'lovers'. More monthly now, though.
"Yes..." Blaster moaned, his abdomen quivering under that talented mouth. He wondered what other amazing things the red twin might know to do with those lips, but discarded the thought as the other moved down to his hips, rubbing his face on the warm metal like a cybercat. Blaster moved his arms behind him, leaning back on his palms as he instinctively spread his legs for the other. He parted his lips, opening and closing them as if he were about to speak, but no words came out.
Red legs spread beneath him; Sideswipe grinned. Gentle he may have been, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the sight of lovely little Blaster spreading his thighs. Obediently, he rubbed his face against the communications officer's codpiece instead of his hips, pressing his cheek to it, purring. The low rumble vibrated his throat, so he stretched it out, letting it rub against the red codpiece. "Mmmm... good..." He let his glossa slip out, lick along Blaster's codpiece, his hands massaging the smaller mech's hips.
Blaster's arms were shaking as he let go of a heady moan of pleasure, optics darkening to a deep cobalt blue, and then dropped onto his elbows, his weight and position forcing him to then lie down fully on his back, arching his hips up towards that mouth. He bit his bottom lip, face twisted in pleasure as he tossed his head to the side. The pose was so erotic he couldn't look down his frame to Sideswipe without fluttering his optics and flushing his face with heat.
Sideswipe's grip on Blaster's hips was unassuming as his slowly reached under the smaller mech's codpiece to pry it away ever so gently. He set it aside and licked around the edges of Blaster's port before slipping his glossa inside, rubbing at the sides even as he hummed, his optics flicking up to stare at the smaller mech. "How's this, Blast?" Teasingly he pulled away, wiping his mouth with a wrist. "I don't think you like it..."
He cried out when Sideswipe's glossa touched him, keening a quiet sound as the air assaulted the slick fluid in his port around the red twin's glossa, cooling it, but at the same time it heated him up even more. He looked down to Sideswipe when the other spoke, optics flickering in pleasure as the red mech between his thighs licked the lubricant off his lips. "Yes I do, it feels good," he moaned, lifting his hips up slightly, asking for more.
"Awwww." Sideswipe leaned up, kissed Blaster's cheek. "You're cute." He caressed the red mech's cheek, slipping a finger into Blaster's port as he caught his lips, not the sweet, cute kiss of earlier but a slightly rough one, one that aimed at pure passion, his finger slipping out of the officer's port and then back in. "What about this, Blast...?" he murmured, finger moving faster. "Hmmm?"
He clutched Sideswipe around his middle, his fingers digging into the red frontliner's back struts. He let out a tremulous moan, breaking off the kiss to toss his head from side to side, arching his back until it was almost painful. He moaned the other's designation softly as a travel of static electricity danced across his frame. "Ah-Sideswipe!" he mewled, writhing, arching hips, aching for more.
The red twin managed to slip another finger in, both of them moving faster, massaging Blaster's port's walls. "Mm, you're wet, Blaster..." he murmured, nuzzling the red mech's cheek."I bet you taste even better now..." He moved down, licked at the seams to Blaster's chassis door. At the call of his name, he grinned, watching the communications officer's wanton actions. "Such a little slut, Blast..." he murmured, but there was no heat to it.
Blaster licked his lip components and held himself still, unable to find a rhythm to move his port on those devious fingers. He moved his legs out further, gasping brokenly, stroking Sideswipe's helm as an outlet for his repressed energy. His port was wet, but not enough for the red frontliner to be able to glide inside of him with ease. The red and yellow mech's mouth was stinging with the fluid that would be needed to cover the other's spike so penetration wouldn't hurt. He heard Sideswipe's words, which only served to turn him on even more.
Ohho... Blaster's port seemed to clench around his fingers at 'slut', and Sideswipe grinned again. The officer was wet, but not wet enough... He had a feeling he could make Blaster come with simply touches and words, though really, for now, all he wanted was a little more lubrication. "Mmm, what was that, Blast? You like being called a slut?" He leaned close, lips brushing Blaster's audio as his fingers slowed, teasing agonizingly. He had a feeling Blaster could take this, but he didn't know how far the communications officer would want to take the games. After all, he certainly hadn't inquired per the rest of his sex life, but if that little show a moment ago was anything to go on... "Do you tell the others that, too? Do you get on your knees for them or do they service you...? 'Cause the way I heard it, little whore, sluts are supposed to lick and suck and please their masters, not the other way around..." His voice dipped low and he used it to his devilish advantage, his hips working against the black thigh that he was straddling.
"Sideswipe," Blaster moaned and arched, nearly hitting the back of the berth with his helm in passion. The words glided into his cpu like the sweetest of high grade. He loved words, verbal expression, it was the main reason he'd wanted to become a communications expert in the first place. He was rather submissive during sex, something that Jazz used to use to his advantage. Though it had been some time since he had been with the saboteur, because they only interfaced sporadically and the black and white mech had been exclusive with Prowl lately. Blaster heard Sideswipe speak and his intakes hitched, warmth coloring his face. This mech seemed to know exactly how to play Blaster. His face desperately searched for Sideswipe's, eager to let the other taste the sweet lubricant building in his mouth. Oh, he wanted it badly, he'd do anything at this point to get there.
"Blas-ter..." Sideswipe sang back, grinning as he caught the red mech's wanton lips, slipping his glossa inside, sparks conducting and shooting between them. When he pulled away, his glossa briefly laving Blaster's lips, searching for more high-gradelike lubricant. Oh, he hadn't missed the reaction his words had gotten, hadn't missed the way Blaster had convulsed ever so slightly. "C'mon, slut..." he replied, testing his new partner's limits, pulling his fingers completely from Blaster's port."When I ask a question, I expect to be answered..." He stopped moving, stopped shifting, halted all stimulation as he stared into the officer's optics; the smile on his lips was almost playful, not in the least mean. 'Delayed overload' was something he could use to his advantage. Blaster had asked for his help, and he would give it to the best of his abilities. He'd be Primus-damned if there was enough energy left in Blaster to allow him to get up and work again when this was over. "So let me ask you again... Do you like being called a slut...?"
As those fingers moved out of his port Blaster was able to gain some semblance of reality again. His bottom lip quivered slightly as he looked back into Sideswipe's sharp blue optics with a hazy gaze. "Yes… yes I do, oh, please Sideswipe…" he murmured hoarsely, twisting underneath the mech. Though the words, 'I would do anything,' were unspoken, they resonated perfectly clear in the air. He ran his fingers up the red painted sides, tapping into the mech's sensor net, digging into the plating seams.
Sideswipe had to restrain a yelp as Blaster's perfect, gentle fingers slipped into his sensory network; he managed to stay somewhat calm, convincing himself that yes, he was in control. He obeyed the plea, slipping three fingers into Blaster's port and pumping it quickly, continuing to build up the necessary lubricant. "Mmm, I'm glad... Such a whore, Blaster, one day I'll have to put you on your knees and make you serve me, hmm? Put you in your place, you dirty little whore..." He had to admit, the visual was lovely. He knew that some of the other mechs (namely Sunstreaker and Prowl) engaged in what was called a 'master and slave' relationship, Sunny with Bluestreak and Prowl with Jazz. He rather thought it would be nice to train Blaster, to get him to be a little more vocal and a lot more subservient. Hmm... But perhaps it would have to wait. For now, he'd overload the officer. Later was for consideration. "You're a good boy, Blaster..." he praised, low and deep in his throat.
Though Sideswipe hadn't realized it, when he pushed those three fingers inside the port he hit Blaster's sweet spot. He mewled and writhed, hardly able to understand what Sideswipe was saying. His mouth opened and closed in wordless expression of his intense pleasure, optics bright blue as he gasped in sharp breaths. Oh that was sweet, almost too sweet for him to handle. If Sideswipe pulled out now, he didn't know what he'd do. Probably finished himself off, regardless of the other watching. He clenched his denta tight and scrabbled his finger's up Sideswipe's back. He felt… lowly that he had hardly paid the red twin any pleasure at all.
Blaster's sudden bucking and sounds had Sideswipe clued in enough: he'd hit something inside Blaster that could set any mech to screaming. The pleasure that he knew to be sweeping Blaster's systems was intense, almost as good as overload. When a black hand trailed up his back he reached around and caught it, leaning close and murmuring, "No no, Blaster, you'll repay me later..." as he quite nearly ripped his codpiece in, stroking Blaster's sweet spot once more before letting his spike unsheath and slip into the officer, not roughly, just smoothly and quickly enough to be pleasureful. He thrust his hips, tilting them so he continued to stroke that special spot, continued the blissful pleasure. He wasn't going to overload himself. He would overload Blaster, let him recover, and then have a little fun... And maybe Blaster would get another overload out of it. If he did well. And if he consented to 'training'. "Come for me, slut..." he purred, rumbling gently, low in his throat. "Hmm?"
He clutched to Sideswipe, staring into his icy blue optics as his orgasm hit, long and slow. His mouth was open, and he shuttered his optics closed, face contorted in pleasure as his port clenched tightly around Sideswipe's spike. It was odd, he thought vaguely, of how quiet he tended to be in the berth, but loud and outgoing outside. It seemed he had missed an honest overload or two in his mindless haze of work. Though he didn't count himself as a sexually needy mech that often, it seemed that Sideswipe could probably change his mind. His port clenched even tighter once more, and then loosened as the lubricant filled his port, flowing smoothly out as he moaned, deep and tremulous.
The red Lamborghini almost admired the way that Blaster could remain so silent, but not for long, no... He'd have to teach the lovely little mech that he liked hearing his berthmates. "Mmm, there ya go, Blast..." he murmured, kissing his friend's temple as he felt Blaster's port clench around his spike. He let out a soft little moan at the lubricants trailing down his and Blaster's thighs, pulling out gently and slipping to the officer's side, pulling Blaster to his chest, enjoying the deep moan that was released from his throat. He reached down, coating his hand with Blaster's lubricant and, making a show of it, pulled it up to his mouth, licking the glistening liquid with a smile etched upon his faceplates. "You taste good..." he finally purred, cleaning his own hand in long, swiping strokes. His other arm was gentle around Blaster, holding the red mech close.
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