Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers


Bluestreak's back hit the wall with a resounding clang. His grunt of discomfort muffled by the sensuously soft mouth sealed over his. Groaning he reached around strong shoulders to caresse black and white doorwings. When he had come back from patrol he hadn't expected to be tackled from behind by Prowl the moment he keyed open the door to his quarters. Not that he would complain, he doubted anyone would if they had their arms full with a gorgeous, whimpering, writhing, black and white Datsun.

Every brush Prowl made against his armor sent tingles through Bluestreak's senor relay, it didn't help that Prowl was practically grinding against him. His superior was frantically moving his hips against Bluestreak's, whining in need. The gunner could feel the lubricant leaking from Prowl's valve (the tactician must've opened it earlier) as it ran down white thighs to smear against his plating. The sight, the feel, the very smell of Prowl was seeping into his circuits and trapping his CPU in a pleasant fog of lust.

Gently he pushed Prowl away, smiling at his mentor's groan of disapproval. Making his way to his berth Bluestreak laid down, carefully arranging his doorwings, and motioned Prowl over. Prowl practically teleported to the berth, straddling Bluestreak's hips his mouth automatically sought out his fellow Datsun's. Sighing happily into the kiss Bluestreak opened his mouth for the elder, huffing in amusement when Prowl wasted no time in slipping his glossa in.

Drowning in Prowl's exotic taste it took a few moments for Bluestreak to realize that his fellow Praxian was pawing at his interface cover almost desperately. Breaking the kiss he smiled at Prowl's flushed faceplates, he could get used to seeing Prowl like this, and grabbed the black hips that were still grinding against him. Giving Prowl a reassuring kiss on the cheek he began to pull the other's hips up his body, leaving a trail of lubricant.

Bluestreak kept guiding Prowl's hips until they rested right above his faceplate, with Prowl's knees on either side of his helm. Licking his lips the gunner admired the sight of Prowl's dripping valve for a moment before snaking his glossa out to give the 2IC's entrance a long, hard lick. Gripping Prowl's hips harder when the elder jerked, Bluestreak began to alternate between sucking, licking, and occasionally nipping at Prowl's valve.

Bluestreak had to fight a grin as Prowl latched a hand to his chevron and slammed the other against the berth. The tactician was moaning and keening in frustrated arousal, Bluestreak's hands were keeping his hips still and the blasted sniper was giving his valve the most torturous treatment. He was lavishing attention on the rim but he never once slipped his glossa inside, and all of Prowl's inner sensors were aching to be stimulated.

Smirking Bluestreak pulled Prowl away (sweet Primus a growling Prowl was sexy), pushing the tactician back to his original position over Bluestreak's hips. Bluestreak snickered slightly at the furious glare Prowl was giving him and clicked open his interface panel, swiftly extending his spike straight up into Prowl. Bluestreak immediately took a photo capture of Prowl when the enforcer's head shot back, optics bright and his mouth open in a silent scream. The elder's doors were quivering in pleasure, his body arched forward as his hands gripped Bluestreak's armor tightly.

Bluestreak groaned, his hands kneading Prowl's hip plating gently, reveling in Prowl's tight heat before slowly rolling his hips upwards. Prowl whimpered at the movement but took the hint, bracing his hands against Bluestreak's stomach armor he began to gently rock his hips. Gasping at the sensation he grabbed one of Bluestreak's hands in an unspoken plea for help, the younger's ministrations earlier had left his valve incredibly sensitive and every movement threatened to swamp his processor in overwhelming ecstasy.

Grasping Prowl's hip's once again the grey and red Datsun slowly rocked the black hips forward and backward in a soothing wave pattern, drinking in every moan and keen that spilled from those luscious white lips. Prowl shuddered and trembled uncontrollably, leaning forward to rest on Bluestreak's frame. His hands came up to rest against Bluestreak's chest in an almost hug, lightly kneading the sensitive headlights.

Bluestreak smiled, moving his hands to where one rested against Prowl's thigh to pull his leg higher while the other gripped Prowl's aft. Bracing his feet against the berth for leverage Bluestreak began a slow rhythm, pushing into Prowl as deep as he could go before drawing back out. He didn't speed up his pace, choosing instead to keep Prowl whining and panting as long as he could. Glancing down at the white faceplates he was pleased to see Prowl's nearly midnight blue optics were half shuddered in ecstasy, his cheek seams flushed nearly red, and his lips were parted and begging to be kissed.

Indulging himself Bluestreak leaned up to capture those soft lips, happily swallowing Prowl's moan. Nearly chuckling as a devious thought entered his mind Bluestreak slid his hand away from Prowl's thigh and towards his valve. Tightening his grip on Prowl's aft he unceremoniously thrust two fingers into the already full valve.

Prowl's optic's flared white as he tossed back his helm with a scream of pure unadulterated pleasure. Bluestreak grunted as the already tight valve spasmed around him as Prowl overloaded hard. He was nearly able to work through it till the realization that Prowl (his mentor, and Autobot Second in Command) had just climaxed around his spike, and with a low groan Bluestreak followed Prowl into overload.

As the last aftershocks went through he system Bluestreak managed to glance down at Prowl, a smile tugging at his lips at the sight of the satiated tactician. Leaning up to press one last tender kiss against Prowl's lips before falling into recharge, barely catching sight of Prowl's own small smile.


A few hours later Bluestreak woke up to find Prowl gone. Glancing down at the dried lubricant on his chassis he bit his lip in contemplation. How the hell did Prowl convince him into an interface without even speaking to him!?

"Huh... I guess Ratchet wasn't kidding..."

Shrugging he laid back down, uncaring of the mess all over his frame. Staring at the ceiling for a few minutes Bluestreak suddenly smirked.

"Prowl's not going to like this once he comes to his senses..."


Bluestreak's turn!!! I think he'd be the 'slow and steady' type XDDD

To everyone who doesn't know I have no idea how exactly this story will turn out, I'm pretty much going by the seat of my pants on this. Honestly I had no idea how to continue after Jazz and I was afraid that I wouldn't get this done until tomorrow. However this scene came to my head as I was eating Lucky Charms at 2 in the morning and was immediately followed by the thought

'Prowl - He's magically delicious!!!'