Notes:Normally I would never write anything like this but this particular plot bunny would not leave me alone. I read a review comment where Optimus wondered if Bumblebee knew anything about femmes, figuring he didn't then a week later is holding his sparkling. Oops, he did! Plot bunny attack!

This looks like a few chapters ( I have 3 in progress right now ) but please set add story to story alert to know when they are added. I plan to get this posted quickly this week and get this plot bunny gone. Moreover, I am a femme so no complaints about femme bashing. There is NO SLASH or SLEAZE in this fic. It is a mech with a femme each time with unexpected results so yes, smut, interfacing, and sparking.

WARNINGS: Adult references to mating, interfacing and sparking. Rated M for a reason.

CHAPTER 1

Mount St. Hillary, dormant volcano outside Portland, OR

The Autobot ship, The Ark

"Bumblebee will stay behind and help guard the Ark while we are gone. Roulette and Flareup are inbound within the hour," Optimus reminded the femmes. He stood at the front of the Autobot line in his position as Prime. His red and blue armor shone in the light, displaying a vitality and strength only his military grade armor could. The mechs lined behind him in a perfect military order, all systems charged and ready for battle and waiting for the command to roll out. The femmes stood on the ark entrance side and looked unimpressed. Arcee and Moonracer remained by the stone wall while the other three femmes confronted their leader.

"We can guard ourselves," Firestar reminded. Her deep red armor reflected the light of the setting sun spectacularly.

"We are warriors," Chromia growled, the faintest trace of anger showing across the graceful alignment of her lighter blue faceplates. Her rifle lay across her arm, her dark blue armored fingers curled around the handle but not the trigger. Her reminder they were capable and armed warriors.

"Femmes do not need guarding Prime," Elita One said. The pink and white femme was smaller and lighter mass than the mech she faced but as commanding in her presence.

"Wrong choice of words Commander," he rumbled behind his silver battle mask. "The Decepticons are attacking all over the world and three of you have been the direct subject of their attacks. Bumblebee's transform sequencer was heavily damaged and Ratchet needs time to rebuild what he can not repair. He is to stay and monitor while our teams are dispersed throughout the continent. Do not let him talk you into releasing him off medical leave because he is walking. He cannot transform, use weapons or roll. The Decepticons would love such a target."

"Slagging 'Cons ain't giving us venting space either," Ironhide ground out. The old red armored warrior had been part of Bumblebee's rescue party and still burned with hate for what Starscream's cowardly attack on him and the two femmes had done. "Hitting targets then running and striking again ain't fighting. It's running away."

"Cowardice and destruction are mottos of the Decepticons," Prime reminded in his regal baritone. "Our teams will remain in contact but stay alert all of you. We cannot afford to lose even one of us here. Autobots transform and roll out!" The sound of their transforms into their alt modes was nearly overwhelming in the small space, quickly drowned out beneath the roaring of their engines,.

The femmes turned, retreating into the Ark as the mechs rolled away, kicking up dust and dirt.

"With a hearty hi ho silver and they are away," Arcee teased, closing her vents while moving away from the rolling dust cloud.

"Prime really should pave this outer area. In the winter it's mud and summer its dust." Elita One complained, waving to keep the dust off her pink armor.

"I don't mind," Firestar chirped. "Gives me an excuse to be in the wash racks."

"You and any mech you can trap there you mean," Chromia teased her friend. Moonracer giggled, waving as she turned down the hallway heading away from them for the command deck.

"When you and Ironhide aren't fragging each other in there you mean," Firestar teased right back, chuckling as the older dark blue femme vented rapidly as they all headed for the recreation room to plan their defenses.

"You know what I'm curious about?" Arcee began.

"Why the Decepticons are suddenly targeting us?" Elita One stated, her command processors having been working on the problem for days.

"No, why if Ironhide raised Bumblebee, having a reputation for serious chasing and catching of femmes before he met you Chromia, no offense," she looked towards the other femme before continuing. "And you two are known for doing it anywhere and at anytime. Why is Bumblebee never with any femme?"

Chromia vented hard, stopping and resisting the motion to clasp her armored hands together. "Ironhide has had "the talk" with him and more than once. We offered to answer any questions he had. Ratchet from a medical perspective and even Prime offered to listen if he needed someone to talk to.

"No wonder," Arcee vented in exasperation. "The mech who raised him, our leader who is the best exampled of what a true Autobot should be and an intimidating wrench throwing grumpy medic and you expect our youngest to ask them his most personal processing ideas and desires? Poor mech probably doesn't even know the words to frame his questions let alone to those three!"

Chromia tilted her helm, her optics dimming as she ran scenarios super fast. "You're probably right. Whom would you suggest? Hound, a fellow scout? If he is here long enough to ask that is and I am not sure he knows any more than Bumblebee. Mirage with his high-class ideas and aloft ways? Jazz with his wildness or Prowl with his rule happy stiff protocols?"

No femme there had an answer. Chromia began walking, the others following. Firestar's processor suddenly burned with an idea then she stopped, closing her lip plates firmly. 'It's my idea and I can see about making it work. Too much talking and not enough action has been the problem,' she reasoned.

The Ark

Night Shift

Firestar hummed, having picked up the trait from her time around humans. A check of the time showed Bumblebee would be arriving soon. 'Phase I, corner Bumblebee in the recreation room and get him to agree to come to my quarters to discuss things tonight, without specifying what to discuss. Check. Get my quarters clean and the right mood to romance said mech, check,' she processed. Her armor gleaned fresh from the wash racks, polished and shined. 'Hearing mech's footpads outside in the hallway, perfect.' She stepped away from the door, standing by the doorway to her private recharge area.

"May I come in?" He asked, his voice carrying clearly thorough the partially open door.

"It's open," she called, picking up a datapad and pretending to be studying what was on its screen. The mini bot limped in, his left foot barely dragging within its support bracing. She bit back a comment at the silver metal chest plate and arm pieces newly repaired, glaring against his normal bright yellow paint. "'Didn't even have time to paint them yet. Even one of his horn tips is missing.'

He gazed at her, aware of her reaction to his injuries but ignoring it. He had earned them in battle and he would be fully repaired soon enough. "What did you need to see me about?"

"Truthfully?" she began, setting the datapad down. On a silent signal, the door closed and locked behind him. "I want company tonight and I would prefer if it was you."

"The Ark is secure. All the perimeters are set and the main doors are sealed. Not even Megatron or Soundwave could break in here," Bumblebee stated proudly.

"I want you as a mech, if that is okay?" she stated then leaned against the wall. Her slender armored hands clasped each other by her midriff, showing off her distinct femme design in her chest plates and inward molded hips.

"Me?" He squeaked then recovered. "Mech me?"

She nodded then stood up, walking and entering her private room in two steps. She looked back over her shoulder, making a come here gesture when he remained stationary. His optics shuttered rapidly then he slowly walked forward, optics intense on her.

"Is this a joke? Are you taping me for Sunstreaker or Sideswipe? I'm not a prank target," he folded his arms across his Volkswagen molded front chest, looking stern.

"No joke," she murmured, sliding back onto the recharge berth. Sitting, she faced him, her legs bent at the knees while she rested her arms across them and her head on her arms. Her optics were intense.

"You never asked before," he relaxed a little, moving closer and unfolding his arms.

"You were never available before," she challenged, leaning up and off her legs, sliding them out a little further and swinging her knees out.

"You really want me?" He asked.

She moved her legs wider, clicking her interface port open. He immediately looked away, his cooling fans kicking higher.

"I can explain what to do," she offered.

"I uhm, know what to do. Medical tapes," he stammered out, still not looking her direction, his side horn nearly blocking her view of his faceplates.

"Have you even touched a femme?" She regarded the bright yellow armored yellow bot.

"Of course! To grab one out of the line of fire and when I help in med bay." He faced her direction, tilting his head up high in almost comical way to focus his optics on her optics and nothing else below them. "I have very skilled hands. Small and agile enough to reach almost anywhere and sensitive enough to align the most delicate parts. If I were a full size bot, I would be a medic like Ratchet. "

"Skilled hands huh? Okay," she nodded making a decision. Her interface port closed with a distinct click and she shifted her legs together before tucking them under her. She laid down full length on her side and patted the recharge berth. "Lay beside me and talk. Tell me what you know medically."

He hesitated and she softened her gaze, telling her active systems to go into standby. "I promise not to jump, grab or force you Bumblebee. Talk only and you can show me what you know with your hands without touching anywhere but my arm. Then if you want, you can leave and I will never mention this to any bot and we are what we have always been, friends and Autobots. Agreed?"

He nodded, relieved and embarrassed at the same time. He moved to the bunk, hopping up and laying down beside her but nearly hanging off the edge.

Firestar scooted back until she was tight against the wall. "Come here, I won't hurt you."

He scooted closer, cooling fans shifting lower into a more normal pattern. "Your arm has the standard triple armor defensive plating but here," he pressed lightly and she winced. "Is old damage to your protoform below at the joint and vulnerable. But if I press here while applying a small magnetic pulse," he grinned when she gasped and writhed, nearly jerking her arm away.

"Wow! That feels good," she exclaimed, her optics spinning a little faster.

"Pleasure overrides the pain sensor in that area. Competing waves of energy trigger a programmed response. The magnetic pulse and the pressure both are required to do it," he explained.

"Where else does that combination work?"

"Your shoulder plates, your middle back and a few other places, none intimate," he answered, moving up towards her shoulder.

'And that's how it starts,' she processed triumphantly then shivered as the intense pulse radiated out from her back shoulder and through her sensitive neck cables.

Recreation Room

Next Morning

"I have been fragged by the best," Firestar vented softly, flopping onto the long couch. Her comment had every femme's instant attention.

"The best huh? Who would that be?" Chromia asked, taking a sip of her energon cube.

"Not be, Bumblebee," she chortled.

"What!"

"You didn't?"

"No way!"

"Yes many many ways," she laughed, pulling her feet against her chest and folding her arms around them as she regarded the astonished femmes. "Took awhile for him to relax but oh wow! First two overloads I still had my interface port closed."

"Then how?" Arcee asked, narrowing her optics.

"Those wonderful dainty armored hands of his. They can go in places you would not believe and he has been medically trained by Ratchet, did you know that? He knows every sensor relay, every pulse point to make you feel every touch and magnetic pulse into processor blowing overload without even nearing your port," she smiled in memory.

"So you two never?" Firestar asked, wanting to know the important part.

"Oh, we did eventually. He's a scout, use to going all night on stakeout and tracking a subject for days with minimum recharge," the femme reminded.

"But his size… I mean isn't he?" Elita One asked.

"Small? Not really. He is well developed but even him fragging me multiple times was great! I pulled out of recharge and was not sore one slagging bit! No torn filtering between my outer plates, no protoform bruising from repeated banging metal on metal, and no inside wall damage. I swear he mapped out and targeted every sensor node I had inside and hit them all repeatedly but softly." Her faceplates warmed as continued talking. "Skill, skill and pure skill. The best without any damage and then we…" she stopped, not wanting to reveal the last event.

"Fell into recharge?" Arcee finished with a sigh. "How romantic. The fighter and the mini bot."

"Recharge?" she snorted. "More like stasis after that intensity. I already downed two energon cubes to get here. I went temporarily offline three times during our activities. What does that tell you?" She stretched out, leaning back against the padded side of the super sized couch. "I need an afternoon recharge to recover. "

"Not possible," Elita stated. "Chromia and I are checking the outer patrol perimeter and you have control room duty. "

"I will be there in a breem," she agreed while hiding a smile at their last event. 'His spark was so bright and powerful then that power hit mine. I felt that charge to my feet pads. Still feel an echo of it. Hard to be with any other bot after that. Time for more energon then back to work." If she checked her own internal diagnostics they would have registered a special set of protocols running. Ones that protected the forming energy essence below her main spark.

The day passed quickly and evening found Firestar returning to her room alone. "I am so tired. Feel like I've been battling all day. A good long recharge, that's what I need." The door pad recognized her, opening long enough for her to enter then shutting. Bumblebee peeked around the far corner, feeling guilty. "Last night was wonderful and I enjoyed it. Ironhide was right. Femmes are fantastic and should be loved and taken care of gently. Stupid mechs that are rough," he grumped. "I could never hurt a femme." He crept by her door, quiet as only a scout could. Two doors down, the room door slid open, allowing him inside.

"I hear you are the best," Arcee greeted him.

"Aw shucks," he blushed, feeling his face plates warm.

"I have a cog out of alignment in my shoulder, can you help?" She asked in sincerity, the damaged piece tweaking her pain relay as she sat on the edge of the recharge berth.

He quietly and expertly repaired her shoulder cog, sliding the armor plating back into place when done. A few magnetic pulses and pressure tweaks and she was practically pulling him on top of her. The night passed quickly, Arcee finally falling into deep recharge. Her pink and white form was sprawled sideways across her recharge berth, the area stained with their combined fluids.

From the chair in the next room, Bumblebee watched her. He chuckled, fingering a deep set of bite marks on his one intact horn tip. "I never knew she could scream like that in an overload. And the sparking is intense." He rubbed one armored hand over his spark, feeling drained and a little sore on his protoform below. "Definitely more active than Firestar in her movements but paint marks rub out." He rose to his feet, careful of his bent leg and brace before hobbling back towards his own quarters.

In the control room, Elita One requested an identity check of all Cybertronian energy signatures within the ark and relaxed when hers and Chromia were in the command room and the others each in their own quarters.

"Quiet night tonight," she remarked, adding a note to the log entry.

"Best type to have" Chromia half answered, busy reviewing the field entries from the field teams.

In her room, Arcee shifted, twitching only for an astro second as a special set of protocols activated, protecting the forming energy essence below her main spark. The Ark's sensors were unable to detect its faint existence as it had the one Firestar carried.

To be continued…