Disclaimer: Transformers © Hasbro
Warnings: Mech sex of the "sticky" pnp variety, as written in so many of Antepathy's movieverse fics. Allusions to not-really-cheating on other partners.
Notes: Written for tf_rare_pairing's weekly challenge for May 23rd through May 29th. The prompt this time was Cliffjumper/Bluestreak – "Everything's a competition with you, isn't it?"
Also, please be aware that while canonically Cliffjumper is another Bumblebee repaint in the movie universe, in my personal canon he's still a minibot and therefore a motorcycle. I don't know if Blue's depicted in any manner (and he's most likely Silverstreak if he is) but I've decided that for my personal canon he's a Chevy Impala. Because Impalas are fucking sweet, that's why.
Healthy Competition
Bluestreak was never quite sure what it was that drew him to the mech.
It couldn't be his sparkling personality, because Cliffjumper was brash, abrasive, and tended to cut with his words just as easily as he blasted away Decepticons with his oversized arm-and-shoulder canon. It couldn't be that his smaller size made him appear more delicate and in need of a protector, because the first time Blue'd ever seen the mini-mech he'd been engaged in hand-to-hand combat practice with Sideswipe and thrown the larger mech into the wall three times before Sides had tried hitting on him as a method of distraction.
(Yet somehow they'd wound up bonding shortly after that. Who could have seen that coming?)
No, what probably grabbed Bluestreak's attention so thoroughly was what little they had in common. To be specific, their need to turn every little training session, every trip to the shooting range, every battle against the enemy, into a personal competition of one-upmanship made for a rather interesting friendship.
"Hey, Blue," Cliffjumper said with a smirk. "Betcha I can hit that boulder dead-on and not crack it."
The Impala turned his attention to said boulder, optics narrowing as he scanned and calculated the relative mass as opposed to his friend's weapon of choice, then snorted in amusement. "No way, 'Jumper," he replied. "Your canon mod is powerful enough to knock a Seeker out of the sky even if the slagger's shielded beyond belief, not to mention that you can blast through three or four 'Cons and not need to cut it off again. And that hunk of rock doesn't have nearly the same properties as our armour or the advantage of a deflector shield, so if you blast it the only thing that'll happen is we'll have a pile of smaller rocks on our hands and Prowl exventing down our necks for" he lowered his voice in imitation of the grouchy second in command "acting like a pair of glitched-out hatchlings with no keeper."
The motorcycle bit back a laugh. "Nice Prowl impersonation. Been workin' on it long?" He grinned at Blue's shrug before adding, "Still. Betcha I can do it. If I can do it, you have to let me give you a proper 'welcome to Earth' greeting."
Bluestreak shutterblinked. He would have thought that Sideswipe's presence on the planet meant that the mini-mech was getting more than enough interfacing sessions, but then again that was generally how Cliffjumper said 'hello' after an extended period of time. And to be honest, the only reason Bluestreak hadn't really approached his friend earlier than now was due to his own mate's proximity. He was never really sure where that particular mech stood in regards to the mini, and he didn't want to cause any trouble.
But... Cliffjumper was an enjoyable interface partner.
"And if you break the slagging thing into a billion pieces, you have to not fight against being pinned to the ground and 'faced into reboot," Bluestreak replied, grinning at the faint engine rev that came from the mini.
"Deal," Cliffjumper managed to say evenly before turning his gaze towards the boulder. Even from where he was standing, the Impala could tell that his friend's concentration was slightly off, and it was all he could do to keep from rumbling his own engines in anticipation. The cyclebot's optics narrowed slightly as he initiated the transformation sequence on his arm-and-shoulder canon, obviously trying to regain his focus before firing off his shot. The blast hit the boulder hard, leaving behind a scorch mark and several deep cracks as the smoke dissipated.
"Well, damn," Bluestreak said, voice mildly speculative. "Looks like we both lost that one. It's still standing, so I lost; on the other hand, you said you wouldn't crack it but you did."
"Or, lookin' at it at another angle, we both won," Cliffjumper replied, tilting his head back to smirk at the Impala. "You know what that means, right?"
Bluestreak shifted his weight slightly and lunged, expecting the sudden dive the motorcycle made to the side. The smaller mech was quick, that was a given, but so was Blue. He faked toward the left before sweeping his arm around from the right, just managing to grab hold of Cliffjumper's shoulder rigging and drawing a sharp gasp from the mech. The Impala grinned and pinned the other mech to the ground, a bit startled at how easily he'd caught him.
The only warning he got was the mischievous flash in Cliffjumper's optics before the cyclebot brought his kneebend up sharply, striking Bluestreak in the midriff with just enough force that he had to pull back some of his weight. The mini-mech used the weight-transfer against him, flipping the Impala onto his back easily and perching on his chestplate.
"Everything's a competition with you, isn't it?" Bluestreak mused, half-expecting his hand to be knocked away as he reached up to open the smaller mech's interface panel.
Cliffjumper surprised him again by allowing the move, his own sharp little talons carefully prying open Blue's own panel. "Makes life more interesting," he replied. "And you don't exactly hate it, do you?"
The Impala snorted slightly, not surprised to find that Cliffjumper's module was flashing all-green; his own had been pinging at him since they'd made their bet. It was very hard not to get turned on by the mini's never-say-never attitude and bravado, and not for the first time he almost envied Sideswipe for snatching the mech up before anyone else got a chance. Then he was moving quickly to try and make the connection first, because this was just another part of the game the two of them played – be the one in control, be the one to win the game, be the one who reduces the other into a pile of quivering metal.
Bluestreak fairly purred at the doubled electrical snap, his own module clicking into Cliffjumper's port at the same time as the mini-mech's module connected with his. Oh now, things just got even more interesting; simultaneous connections weren't exactly common. In fact, they were so uncommon that most mechs didn't think it possible.
"You gonna yield, kid?" Cliffjumper asked, supporting his weight on shaky arms as the Impala's heavier datastream assaulted his systems.
The larger mech smirked slightly, ignoring his own rapid exvents even while wondering how he'd forgotten just how fast and light his partner's datastream could be. It was almost addictive, and maybe next time he would play the submissive. "Keep dreaming, 'Jumper," he replied, pushing hard against the smaller mech's systems in an effort to force him into synchrony.
Cliffjumper let out a sharp cry, weight dropping quickly as his arms gave out even as he likewise attempted to draw Bluestreak's rhythm into synch with his own. Talons scraped over the Impala's armour and slipped into seams in an attempt to gain the upper hand even as the larger mech's blunter fingers fondled panels and tweaked at exposed kibble. For all their love of the game and competing, though, the mini-mech finally sent a final shove before allowing Bluestreak's datastream to take the lead. Given how charged up they had been at the start and the teasing both had done after connecting, it didn't take more than a few minutes for synchrony to occur. Bluestreak fairly howled as he overloaded, absently registering Cliffjumper's own sharp cries as he slumped back on the ground.
The cyclebot collapsed across the Impala's chestplate, intakes working hard to cool him down. It took him a moment, but Cliffjumper worked his hands between them in order to disconnect their modules and carefully tuck them away once more before dropping again. "We gotta do that more often," he panted, optics dim with post-overload haze.
The ping of an incoming comm call accompanied by a brief pulse over the bond he shared with his mate drew Bluestreak's attention away from suggesting a quick recharge-nap and a second round. The Impala opened the comm and grunted out a tired, ::Yeah?::
::Y'all realize you're out where anyone just passin' through can see you, right?:: Ironhide asked, the amusement that he'd expressed over the bond apparent in his 'voice.'
Bluestreak groaned and slapped a hand over his optics, drawing a faint growl at the movement from the mini-mech still sprawled across him. ::Primus! I'm so sorry, 'Hide, I didn't mean to—::
::Oh, you meant to, babe,:: the Topkick cut in, the amusement in his tone becoming underlined by a hint of arousal. ::I ain't mad. I've known 'Jumper for eons, baby Blue, and if he ain't saying 'hello' like that he's probably torqued off at'cha.::
::Really?:: Bluestreak asked, still a bit uncertain and yelping slightly as Cliffjumper's weight abruptly vanished. He uncovered his optics to see Sideswipe grinning down at him, the mini-mech settled cozily in his arms as he rolled backward.
"Really," came the response, out loud and accompanied by a quick pulse of desire and love over their bond before the Impala found himself hauled to his feet by his bonded. "But personally, I think we should head inside 'fore we all finish what you two done started."
End Note: *nervous snickers* I, uh, blame the whole concept of Ironhide/Bluestreak on Antepathy; until her gun kink fic I hadn't even thought of matching the two of them up! And really, CJ and Blue aren't cheating on Sides and Hide if they're encouraging – and participating – in the sex, right?
