Early Morning Phone Call :..: Smokescreen/Rozalina Esquivel : smut :
In the position they were in, it was a little bit painful to grind his hips upwards, but with the noises she was making, he was bent on helping her achieve total satisfaction. Besides, the tiny aches only added to his own eagerness, and in no time, he was grunting along with her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his body, clenching around him with each thrust, and with her lips right beside his audio receptors, he could hear every moan and whimper clearly. He was starting to feel the familiar sensation of an approaching overload, and by the way she was starting to become louder, he could tell she was just as close. His optics closed as he pressed his forehelm to her shoulder, and he-
SLAM!
His optics shot open at the jolt of discomfort spreading from the back of his helm and nearly blinding him. Smokescreen let out a hiss as he reached his servo to the most sensitive area, twitching as he ran his digits along the sore metal. The Autobot 'Newbie' allowed the pain to slowly die away, but instead of feeling any relief, he merely noticed another throbbing part of his body. And upon looking down, he couldn't help but feel ashamed of himself.
His interfacing hatch must've opened during his deep recharge, he concluded, because his spike was already pressurized and ready to go, leaking transfluid from its tip. For a moment, he didn't react, simply scrutinizing his spike as if it was all in his imagination, but it wasn't. He really did have that embarrassing dream about his own charge, and it had been enough to stimulate him into revealing himself. He was grateful that Rozalina was not in her house, or she might've walked into her garage and seen his immodesty.
Then he felt it - the Hispanic woman must've forgotten to turn off her air conditioner, because it drifted against his spike and he moaned louder than he thought possible. His embarrassment was enough to make him grow nervous, afraid that Rozie would call any nanoklik to tell him that she needed to be picked up and he would be caught. He had to come up with a way to get rid of his problem, and he needed to do it as soon as possible.
Without much of another option, Smokescreen looked away from his thighs and trailed his servo down his body, shuddering when he touched his spike. He vented slowly, his bright blue optics closing momentarily as he scratched his tip, instinctively thrusting upwards until he was firmly holding his spike. He bit back a groan, his denta gently scraping his bottom lip as he abruptly pushed his servo down.
He opened his optics, gazing down at his spike through a haze when he trailed his digits around his base, scratching up his length and lingering on his tip. Even with the pleasure (and humiliation; he was actually doing this in Rozalina's garage), he knew that something was missing, something that mere fantasies could not bring to him. He needed the real thing in front of him, moaning just as much as he was biting back, helping him with the issue and guiding him through it.
Smokescreen needed Rozalina, and he needed her now.
His next actions were a blur, something his body made him do before he could even think about stopping himself. He thrust into his servo with a low moan just as it was done, and it took nearly three nanokliks for the girl to pick up. "What's up?" Her voice on the other end sounded melodic, as though she had no idea the effect she had on him, and all he could do was vent heavily. He expected her to freak out, to threaten to call the police at the inappropriate noises he was creating, but when she spoke again, she was completely calm, albeit confused. "Smokescreen?"
"Rozie," he whispered out, optics closing again as he drawled out his sensual touches, running his servo up his spike and coating his digits with the transfluid that was already dripping. "Can I ask you a favor?" He was glad he didn't stutter, but he did moan when his grip tightened as he pushed his servo down the length of his spike, leaving a faint trail of his fluids that clung to the smooth metal.
There was a moment of silence where he heard slight rustling and had a feeling she had nodded out of instinct, and then she chuckled at herself. "Yeah, okay. What do you need? Is it the 'Cons?"
Smokescreen grimaced at the thought, though with a quick grinding of his hips, the thought slipped his processor. "No, it's you. I-I need you to pant. For me. Please?" His voice sounded strained as he dragged one digit across the tip of his pressurized spike, and his back arched without thought as he moaned. He could feel the thick liquid stick to his digit when he did it, and his venting became more labored as he hung his helm. The sooner this was over with, the sooner he could forget about it.
He expected her to say no. He expected Rozalina to make a noise of disgust and leave him hanging, alone in her garage to finish himself off, so when he heard her sigh, he braced himself. He heard the sound of things being gathered, and a rather lazy excuse to what must've been her professor for leaving early. Smokescreen panicked through his excitement, hoping she wouldn't come home and lay her eyes on him.
"Fine," she breathed, "just give me a second."
His spark skipped a beat at her agreement, and in his blind eagerness, he thrust into his servo and instantly moaned loudly, to which he heard her breath hitch. He heard the distant sound of a door opening and closing, but after that, it fell silent. Smokescreen glanced toward the opening of the garage, praying to Primus that no one would peek in and see him.
"Smokescreen," she whispered, her own breathing becoming sporadic, and it didn't take a genius to know what she was doing. He risked a moan, his optics shuttering closed as he began to picture her in his helm, seeing her with her back pressed against a cool wall and with her hands pressing against her thighs. She managed to chuckle before gasping, and a slight noise let him know that she hit her head. "Don't be embarrassed about it. It happens all the time, and besides, you look cutest when you're squirming, you know?"
Her words prompted an immediate response, transfluid surging out of his spike and splattering onto the hard floor, and just that made him want to bury his faceplates into his servos and hide away from the world. "Rozie, don't s-say that!" He yelled, shaking in his own servo that was still holding tightly to his length. She laughed on the other end, a noise that made him smile sheepishly. Even when he was on such a high as this one, he could still appreciate her moments of utter charm.
Then she moaned as well, and he knew that she had slipped a finger into her folds, had begun to directly please herself. "How can I not? You're really - mm - cute when you touch yourself. I've heard the noises you make when you think I can't hear y- oh!" Smokescreen shook against the wall, pumping his spike quickly and without pattern, simply running his servo along his length and thrusting into it. At some point, his other servo moved to join him, and he was heaving himself into the empty air.
"Oh, and what about you? You think I don't notice what you," he stopped himself with a low moan, feeling the transfluid trail down his spike and cool down his metal. "What you do at night? You're a loud human, Rozalina, and it's what got me in this situation." She whimpered, and he heard an abrupt beep before a loud clatter was heard from the other side. Smokescreen could only assume that she had dropped her phone to allow herself more access to her body, so when he heard her voice a bit more distant than before, he knew he was right.
"Really? I didn't think you'd be the type to spy on a lady when she's alone," Rozie moaned just as he thrust into his servos, feeling his fluids sticking to his digits and momentarily keeping his aft on the ground until he pulled up. Glancing down at his aft, he groaned when he saw it stained with the bright blue liquid. The Autobot hissed as his transfluid came out in a slight rush, and he was certain that color would not be disappearing any time soon.
"You aren't much of a lady, you know."
"Gee, thanks." She meant to sound spiteful, he knew he did, but with the way she practically screamed almost immediately afterwards accomplished nothing but rouse an overload from him. When it happened, it wasn't clean in the slightest, blue transfluid spurting out of the tip of his spike and splattering all across the garage floor immediately in front of him. He arched his back with a load moan, and he thrust a couple times, more frantically and uneven than before.
He heard her panting into her phone, which echoed perfectly in his audio receptors, and just the shiver that ran all over his body was enough to prompt another overload, since he was already so sensitive to it. His optics watched as transfluid stained his lower body, sliding down his stomach, and Smokescreen let out a quieter moan, studying the way his liquids clung to his servos and his spike, which was twitching.
A sensual giggle made him stiffen (especially when he realized that he had forgotten she was on the other line and must've heard everything), which became an uneven moan of satisfaction.
"I'll see you soon, Smokescreen."