Demon Days – Gorillaz

The sun felt absolutely glorious on her arm and chest, sending that warm tingling sensation through her entire body, and coupled with the wind that ruffled her hair and the music Prime had blaring out through his ass-kicking stereo, it made for a wonderful ride.

They weren't even going very fast, it was more a pleasant cruise than the speed-freak thing that Bee and Jazz liked to do. At this speed Mikaela could watch the greenery pass and hear the giggles of the children playing in the nearby park. She could smell the grass.

The simplicity and… peacefulness of the whole thing was just so different than what she was used to. It seemed, well, very Prime-like, even if the music wasn't. Chilling out and observing, gliding, immersed in watching what they were both fighting for.

Orgasmatron - Motorhead

Megatron liked to see himself as a ladies' bot. Sure, he was leader of a massive army who had the reputation of ruthlessness in getting what they wanted, and in turning people to their point of view through torture, but that seemed to only help, not hinder, his sexual exploits. There were plenty of femmes out there who liked it a little rough.

But this one was frightening him.

He'd never say it, or even loudly think it, but this one… she was worse than him!

As soon as she had him in her quarters she'd locked the door with a flourished kick to the lock, then pounced him. He barely withheld an effeminate scream as she knocked him off his feet and rose above him holding… oh my primus, was that chain?

"Naughty Megatron… Looks like I'm going to have to teach you a lesson."

He quickly found himself bound to her bed, both scared slagless and unbelievably turned on.

The femme smiled down at the splayed and exposed mighty Leader, and purred.

"Now… say my name…" Her fingers caressed circuitry only his medic had touched, and he howled.

"Elita!!"

Don't Follow - Alice in Chains

It was one of those half cloudy half moonlit nights, and yet again he was by a campfire, but this time it was only him and Ironhide.

In the aftermath of yet another battle, the two war-torn males sat together in silence, drinking whatever would get them drunk and staring into the fire.

Will couldn't take the silence after an hour of hearing crickets and the fire crackle and the occasional sigh from his twenty foot guardian.

"Hide?"

grumble

"You okay?"

grumblesnort

"What's wrong?"

Ironhide shifted, cracking the log he was sitting on in half.

Will smirked. "Besides now having splinters in your ass?"

Ironhide glared at him a moment. "Thinking about home."

Will shut up and nodded.

Koko Taylor / BB King – Blues Hotel

On Judy and Ron's 20th anniversary the whole group of Autobots and humans got together at a local Blues club. Naturally, only the Autobots with fully functional holos were allowed to come, it wouldn't do to have them flicker out in the middle of doing the Boogaloo.

Judy and Ron spent most of the night dancing the night away, getting more than a little drunk on the fine beer and whisky the bartender handed off to them, some rounds for free in honour of their special day (and for bringing in a whole hell of a lot of clients on a slower night), while Sam and Mikaela danced together awkwardly and sipped Coke, watching as the Autobots were swept up by the local females to dance dirty and swing around like they'd never done before.

It was wonderful to watch, and out of them all, Jazz, and surprisingly Ironhide were the best out of the seven Bots in the room. Jazz, he had a small harem of earth women at his feet, that was no shock, his holo was, in human terms, scrumptious, and the 'man' moved like butterscotch.

Ironhide though, he had two women on his arms, and they took turns up on the dance floor with him, steadily plying him with alcohol and thoroughly enjoying it when he'd pick them up by the waist and swing em around. The Bot found rhythm he never knew he had, and that night he put it to good use.

Goneja – Skinny Puppy (oh hell)

Once again Prime got stuck listening in on Malena's music as they cruised on the highway, this time to a not-so-jovial occasion, and her music was much slower than her usual fare. The electronic voice of the presumably male 'singer' was so distorted Prime had trouble picking it up properly, but what lyrics he could understand were… in a way incomprehensible. It took him an hour after the song ended for him to interpret every word and a little longer for him to make any sense at all out of it.

The convoy pulled over half an hour after Prime gave up on understanding the dismembered lyrics and just sat there frustrated. The irritable hissing of his breaks and a small huff of smoke from his pipes unfortunately drew Malena's attention.

"Who stuffed what up your tailpipe, Legs?"

Again with the nickname… "Nothing is up my tailpipe."

"Horseshit."

"…"

"It's a figure of speech big guy. What's eatin' you?"

Prime decided a retaliatory smart-assery was in order. "Rust."

She kicked his right tire. "I mean what's wrong, buckethead."

Buckethead? "I cannot seem to understand the point of the lyrics of the song you listened to at 2:37 pm."

The small human female cocked her head, smirked, and checked her little mp3 player. "OH! Oh. Shit, man, I don't either and I've been listenin' to his stuff since I was 12. Ogre's music is pretty abstract. Ya need a translator sometimes to get what he's sayin'. If you wanna learn Ogre-speak, try 'Smothered Hope' instead; start with the easier ramblings before you get to the real quirky shit. It's like learning another language through immersion."

Bionic Chronic – Fear Factory (fuckin 32 second song!)

If there was gonna be a stoner Bot amongst them all, it would be Beachcomber, Jazz reflected as he watched the army boys light up another doob and laughed at the image of his buddy sittin' there smoking a waterbong.

WWIII – KMFDM (oh goddamn it, the beginning makes me giggle)

Mikaela was in a particularly bad mood today, and Bee somehow knew exactly how to make her grin. He put on a song with slamming base and a lot of screaming rebellion and drove fast enough to make soccer mom's squeal.

She'd flunked a relatively easy examination in Law and suspected her teacher was just being a prick. Trent and his rich butt-boys decided to slam on Sam again in the hallway between classes, and called her trailer trash. She saw one of the cheerleaders get particularly nasty to a drama club girl and nobody but Mikaela stood up for her. Naturally it was Mikaela who got into trouble, and the cheerleader walked away triumphant.

Since when was standing up for someone a crime? When had she finally realized that the world she had been immersed in before she'd met the Autobots was just… stupid? Why was the aesthetically pleasing more important than the intelligent? Why didn't that drama girl fucking stand up for herself?

She had momentarily considered dropping out of school and saying 'to hell with the lot of you'. It would do the world good to have their moronic conceptions rejected. She didn't need indoctrination, and she really regretted the years she kept her mouth shut.

And goddamn Bee was encouraging her!

Jar of Dirt song – Captain Neon

"This is the most ridiculous movie I've ever seen."

Sam smirked.

"I mean, a submersible ship inhabited by a squid man with no heart and crewed by undead crustacean people? You humans have strange imaginations."

"Yeah, But you gotta love Jack."

"He's the worst of them all! A complete lunatic!" The mech pointed at the screen as Jack fell down the stairs and proclaimed quite loudly and annoyingly that he had a jar of dirt.

Sam laughed hard. Leave it to Prowl to try to analyze Sparrow and come up short.

Live With Me – Massive Attack

Maggie finally got the chance to play with those legs.

Sort of.

Prime sat there in truck-mode as Maggie and Mikaela scrubbed his giant body down with soapy sponges, working up a sweat when they got to the hitch area. It was the dirtiest part of him right now and Maggie knew damn well this part of him turned into his legs in his bi-pedal mode.

So she put extra work into it, letting herself run fingers and sponge into creases and pretending this was more a sensual massage than a clinical washing. She was allowed, she told herself. She'd had to stare at those fine legs for months and if this was the only way she was allowed to touch, so be it.

It didn't help when once in a while Prime would let out a small sigh of contentment or she felt the metal beneath her fingers tremble.

I couldn't resist that 'buckethead' thing. I read it in a fic recently and I giggled. :D I just love envisioning Prowl face-palming at that scene in Dead Man's Chest…