Let's pretend that it took Ultra Magnus a few days to figure out his new hand.
Warnings: angry smoochin', some human swear words (because I am a child and enjoy using the words fuck and damn), drunk/sad Ultra Magnus and smug/concerned Wheeljack.
Try to enjoy my sad attempt at angst-ish stuff and sex-y stuff.
"Didn't take you for a drinker."
Ultra Magnus slumped down further, if that was possible, his elbows sliding off his thighs. He even allowed his head to fall on the makeshift table he had assembled – two weapon crates pushed together – with a resounding thunk.
He had been sitting in the awkward position far too long, his long legs and having gone numb fifteen minutes ago. But he couldn't get over-energized standing up, now could he? How badly would that end?
Ultra Magnus didn't want to think about it, so he didn't. As awkward as it was slumped cross-legged on the floor in front of two weapon crates pushed together, awkwardly standing and drinking would have been worse.
He raised his head, and good hand, and grabbed the nearly empty cube of high-grade. This had been his…fourth? Fifth? He couldn't remember.
Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea.
"Commander?" Wheeljack actually sounded concerned. Although it wouldn't be the first time; the Wrecker had seemed rather worried when they had returned from fighting the Predacon. Not that Ultra Magnus had even really noticed.
He had been too busy being unconscious.
Ultra Magnus pushed the cube to his mouth, leaning his head back and swallowed the remaining contents. After giving himself a moment, he decided to answer Wheeljack.
"What is it, soldier?" He was impressed with himself; the slur was nearly nonexistent. Or maybe he sounded better to himself than he did to Wheeljack – the Wrecker failed to keep his mouth from twitching into a lopsided smile.
That stupid, cocky, I-know-everything-because-I'm-a-Wrecker-and-I've-b een-there-and-done-that smile.
Ultra Magnus guessed he could call it a smirk, but…
"How much have you had?" Wheeljack paused, beginning to step closer. "And where were you hiding it?"
"Don't remember, and not telling you."
"So it's like that."
Ultra Magnus huffed. Like what, exactly? He wasn't sure he wanted to know what Wheeljack meant when he said like that.
So he didn't ask. Simple as that.
"There's a reason I'm alone in here." He stretched his legs out, his inner thighs touching the sides of the crates. Primus that felt good. How long had he been sitting there? Apparently long enough for someone to notice.
Wheeljack of all the mechs on base.
He was surprised – and somewhat hurt, he realized – that it hadn't been Optimus. But his leader was busy with fighting a war. Something he himself should be doing, not getting drunk like some cadet pissed about failing mid-terms –
" – Magnus?"
Ultra Magnus did not feel like talking. Didn't feel like listening; he had missed everything Wheeljack had just said and…well, didn't care. "I want to be alone. That's why I'm alone in here."
Wheeljack sighed, falling down into a sitting position mere feet away. Wonderful.
"As stupid as you think I am," the Wrecker said, grabbing and examining the empty cube, "I got that much."
"Apparently not," he hissed, making to stand. He didn't want to fall victim to whatever speech Wheeljack had prepared for him. The Wrecker's views were skewed at best; the wild mech was damn near the opposite of Ultra Magnus in every way possible.
"I don't think standing is such a good idea, Maggie."
Ultra Magnus stopped, his gaze finding Wheeljack's scarred faceplate.
"What did you just call me?"
Wheeljack shrugged, leaning back. "Maggie."
"For the last time," he growled, leaning forward. "It is sir, or Commander."
"Even when you're fucking wasted?" Wheeljack paused for effect – Ultra Magnus knew – before adding
"Sir."
Ultra Magnus was not an angry mech by any means – if anything he was very good at keeping his cool in any situation. Most would call him detached, emotionless even.
So when he lunged at Wheeljack, he blamed the high-grade in his systems.
Wheeljack was quick to respond – no, quicker. The smaller mech hadn't consumed enough high-grade to render him to a dizzy pile of limbs. Wheeljack successfully kept his commander from causing him any harm by, and Ultra Magnus was ashamed to admit, easily shoving the larger form into the hard, concrete floor.
Ultra Magnus yelled out, his shoulder colliding painfully to the solid surface. Wheeljack was unrelenting, however, and put all of his weight into keeping Ultra Magnus shoved into the floor. When he tried to get up, the pressure only increased. Ultra Magnus growled, the sound feral and foreign and…
Primus he was pissed.
At everything.
"Get off me!" He commanded, his voice a roar.
But Wheeljack only made himself more comfortable, straddling the larger mech. The position was making Ultra Magnus even angrier, and then that smirk again–
"Naw," Wheeljack said, his optics blazing with something Ultra Magnus couldn't identify. "Think I'll sit here while you cool down."
Ultra Magnus barked out a laugh, getting to sit up. As if this tiny Wrecker could keep him down.
But he did.
And it stung.
"A little uncoordinated there, huh?" Wheeljack teased, his grip tightening. "You really should see the look on your face right now; it's kinda scary but mostly embarrassed."
"Shut up," he grumbled. The high-grade was burning through him, and while the sensation was usually pleasant, now it just fueled the shame and anger and he just wanted Wheeljack to get off of him.
But Wheeljack wasn't going anywhere, it seemed. His aft pressed firmly into Ultra Magnus' middle, his hands still holding the larger mechs arms flat against the floor. He was staring, and it was getting…uncomfortable. Now the shame was setting in full force and it took everything not to start begging Wheeljack to just leave him alone to wallow. Just for a little while – he'd be back to his "normal self" in the morning, he promised.
It was just…he needed to take a little break.
Yeah. A break. Like the Decepitcons took breaks in scrapping their forces, in killing their comrades.
Why had he thought this was a good idea?
"Seriously, how much have you had? You're burnin' up." Wheeljack began sliding one of his hands to – sweet Primus, sensitive – neck cabling. Too over-energized to hide anything, Ultra Magnus had to bite down on his glossa to keep from making any unwanted sounds.
Well this situation was just getting better and better…
The pleasant burning through his systems coupled with Wheeljack's aft pressed into him made not being horny an impossible challenge.
Of course, Wheeljack had seen some sort of reaction and that was enough. He smirked that stupid smirk again and Ultra Magnus' anger returned, a tidal wave crashing into him –
And then into Wheeljack. The Wrecker yelled out in surprise when he was thrown on his back. Ultra Magnus climbed onto the smaller form, his good hand grabbing both of Wheeljack's, keeping them above the Wrecker's head. He glared down, his ventilations heaving.
He was met with that damned smirk again. Ultra Magnus growled, having had enough of that.
"Why do you continue to pester me, Wrecker?"
Wheeljack's smirk disappeared. He had hit a nerve somewhere. "Because you're an aft."
Ultra Magnus bent down further, his face mere inches from Wheeljack's. He was going to say something, to yell something, but he never did.
Instead he slammed his mouth into Wheeljack's, biting and hard and angry. He just wanted to make Wheeljack shut up, to stop smirking.
The Wrecker began biting back, his arms struggling against Ultra Magnus' grip. It didn't take long to realize that the smaller mech was enjoying this, his systems roaring with arousal.
Ultra Magnus couldn't say that this surprised him. Not that he could say much of anything at the moment.
The biting and licking continued until Wheeljack freed himself from Ultra Magnus' grip, shoving his hands into the others chest. Ultra Magnus, reluctantly, pulled back, making a frustrated sound.
Wheeljack took a moment to collect himself, and Ultra Magnus watched.
Finally, after wiping his mouth and calming his ventilations a bit, he spoke. "We should…uh, probably wait until you're not drunk out of your processor before doing this."
"Perhaps," he admitted. His vision was getting rather blurry. "But the question is: will I want to do this when I'm sober?"
Wheeljack smirked again, but this time it didn't make Ultra Magnus want to punch something. "I get the feelin' that ain't gonna be a problem."