A/N A little one-shot I've been working on...not the only one. And...this is just smut. Utter, complete, total SMUT. Read at your own risk.
It was nearing nighttime. Smokescreen sat on his berth quietly, only starting to drift off to recharge when he heard the door slide open. He looked up lazily. It was Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead, filing inside in that order. Smokescreen shot them a crooked smile.
"Hey guys. What are you doing in here?" He asked sleepily. The trio didn't answer, staring at him blankly. Suddenly, altogether they stepped forward. Smokescreen shifted uneasily on his berth, sliding off. "Uh, guys…?" He frowned at the silence. Suddenly, Bumblebee and Bulkhead each took hold of one of Smokescreen's arms before the young Autobot knew what was happening. They threw him against a wall, his back to it, and pinned him there. Smokescreen's breath was knocked out of him and he forgot to breathe again. "Wha-wha…" He stuttered, too shocked to think. Arcee, still keeping her optics trained on him, gave a servo signal at the door. Ratchet entered the room, optics cold.
Was this some kind of Decepticon trick? Smokescreen wondered, still too stunned to speak.
Ratchet stopped right in front of Smokescreen and scanned him, especially around the hip area. Checking the readings, he huffed.
"Let him go," He commanded the other Autobots. Smokescreen was released. Ratchet turned toward the door. "He is," the Autobot medic called.
"Good," The reply was quiet. Ratchet turned back to Arcee, Bumblebee, and Bulkhead. With a wave, he led them out. Smokescreen was still blinking. He had no idea what happened. Just then, the lights dimmed. The mech whirled, optics wide, searching. There was a touch from behind. He stifled a cry as warmth engulfed him a little, as if someone came extremely close behind him.
"Hey Smokescreen," The greeting was soft. Smokescreen stiffened. He felt servos trailing down his sides…he shuddered. Did he know that voice…Wheeljack? He spun, to meet the face of the grinning Wrecker. "The berth. Now," Wheeljack murmured. Smokescreen backed up, and he was pushed down on his back against the berth. He was lying down. The other mech swung a leg over him and crawled on, their chests pressed together. Smokescreen squirmed from under him.
"Wheeljack, what are you-"
"Don't ask," Wheeljack replied, not even waiting for the other to finish. He moved a servo to Smokescreen's crotch. Smokescreen gasped, sensing where this was going. Gently, Wheeljack coaxed Smokescreen's interface panel open. Smokescreen didn't remember opening his panel. He wondered silently how Wheeljack did that, but this was no time to ask. Wheeljack lifted Smokescreen's legs higher and wrapped them around his sides, pressing the other's thighs against his hips. He opened his panel. Smokescreen shoved against the other Autobot, trying to escape his grasp. It wasn't possible. Smokescreen yelped when he saw Wheeljack's thick spike near his valve.
"Wh-Wheeljack!" Smokescreen choked, feeling Wheeljack's touch sapping his strength. His optics pressed closed. "P-PLEASE!"
"Relax…it'll only be for a few minutes," Wheeljack whispered, his face close. The other mech shivered, moaning. Wheeljack smirked, thrusting his spike deep into Smokescreen's valve. Smokescreen cried out suddenly, writhing desperately now. Wheeljack grabbed Smokescreen's wrists and slammed them down on the berth, meeting Smokescreen's face in a kiss. Smokescreen moaned, his spark pounding in his throat and his chest heaving.
Wheeljack built up a steady rhythm, gaining speed so slowly it was hard to tell. His optics were closed as his glossa explored Smokescreen's mouth. Smokescreen's cooling fans were on full settings, roaring in his audios. His overload was embarrassingly high. Wheeljack sensed it. He pulled away from the other mech's face. Smokescreen panted, optics shaking in desperation. He silently pleaded it was over. Was it? Wheeljack gave two particularly hard thrusts. Smokescreen yelled and struggled. Wheeljack ignored him and spread Smokescreen's legs wider. Smokescreen whimpered, trying to close them again. But Wheeljack was in control. Once again, Wheeljack shoved his spike in, this time harder than ever. Smokescreen screamed. The feel of a seal inside Smokescreen brought a smile to Wheeljack's face, even though he noticed it was unusually far back. Wheeljack smothered Smokescreen even more, making them both sink deeper into the berth. And Wheeljack fragged Smokescreen as hard and fast as he could.
"WHEELJACK!" Smokescreen choked, feeling helpless and bare. "Stop! PLEASE, STOP!" The other mech ignored the cries. Smokescreen optics filled with tears as Wheeljack bore onto him, knocking the breath out of him with each thrust. "PLEASE, stop…" He whimpered, shutting his optics tight against the stabs of agony inside him. A pained groan escaped him and he clawed at Wheeljack's sides desperately. With a final frag, the seal ripped apart. An audio-splitting screech from Smokescreen sent Wheeljack's brain pan reeling, but he forced himself to train his optics on Smokescreen's faceplates. The younger Autobot was shivering violently, his optics pressed tightly closed. Tears started to form on the edges of his optics, his breath quivering. Wheeljack began to get off the mech as Smokescreen curled into a ball on the berth, quiet sobs wracking his body.
Earlier that day, Wheeljack felt extremely aroused. He needed to frag a virgin. So naturally, he called Team Prime if they had any. Team Prime tried to resist him, but in the end the Wrecker won them out. But none of them were, even Arcee, and Bumblebee was Wheeljack's last subject when he was feeling like this. However, Smokescreen was still new. They didn't know if he was a virgin. So Arcee, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee pinned Smokescreen against the wall so Ratchet could get a scan. He was.
Ratchet called Wheeljack in…and you already know the rest.
A/N ...See what I mean? SMUT.