A/N: this part has sexual content...
Redline
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Part 10
She hit 35 miles per hour in eighth gear. The residential neighborhood they had passed through had opened up into a wide, perimeter road that wound all the way around the city, like a ribbon of charcoal-black baking under the hot sun—it was as smooth and velvety under the semi's tires as only freshly-paved asphalt could be. A nice, wide stretch of road, it was perfect for driving a little faster on.
Settling back into the seat, Mikaela narrowed her eyes in determination, breathing in a deep breath and willing herself to concentrate on the road and not the Peterbilt. The tension she'd felt building up inside of her would have to wait for some other time—she had a job to be doing, after all. It took all of her resolve, but she managed a series of impressive upshifts that hit each gear perfectly as fast as she could without comment—but she could not ignore the way the sharp acceleration made the Peterbilt's engine groan. Good god, she thought to herself. She was only in eighth gear, it wasn't even like she was putting the truck through its paces and yet—it was almost like he was trying to be sexy on purpose…
"You're getting a lot better at this, Mikaela." Optimus's voice was as heavy and breathless as it had been right after he'd stalled. "I am—impressed—"
Mikaela chose not to comment, instead raising one eyebrow at the rearview with a small, shy smile. The truck rumbled along noisily at a steady speed, but the rumbly quality of the Autobot leader's praise had sent a lance of heat through her that had nothing to do with how warm the cab had become, despite her attempts to ignore it.
The air conditioning inside of the cab was beginning to feel almost nonexistent. Mikaela pushed several loose strands of hair back off of her sticky forehead and behind her ears, squirming a little in discomfort. The combination of the truck's warm air and her own feelings was making her begin to sweat—she tried very hard to ignore the way her legs stuck to the smooth, squashy leather of the driver's seat when she moved. It was only making her skirt ride up even further.
"God…" she whispered to herself, reaching out to fiddle with the climate controls, but they'd already been maxed out. At the same time, she became conscious that the leather seat beneath her was beginning to feel as though it had been baking under the hot sun. Had she accidentally triggered the seat warmer?
Confused and distracted, she glanced down at the center console, trying to search for the switch while keeping one eye on the road, but if it was because of the seat warmers, she couldn't find the damned controls. "Optimus…" she said in a hesitant voice, half-given up searching. "Um, you don't have seat warmers in this thing, do you?"
"Mmm, no," purred the Peterbilt, his voice low-pitched and sexy. "Why…? You aren't cold…?"
"No," she muttered quickly, her eyes snapping back up to the dashboard to check the rig's temperature gauge instead. "No, uhh, it's actually… pretty warm in here, to be honest." The coolant levels seemed fine, but Optimus's temperature was elevated, she noticed. "Are… are you okay? I think you're running a tiny bit hot, boss…"
The semi was only vaguely surprised. "Oh, yes, sorry. You are right…" he said distantly. "That is… nothing to be concerned about, Mikaela. I can fix that. Here—"
There was a whirr from deep within the engine, and after a few moments, air began to pump through the vents again. Only, the breeze was not nearly as cold as she had been expecting. It was a rather warm draft, and Mikaela yelped in surprise.
"Whoa! Jesus, that's not cold at all!" she frowned. "What the hell is wrong with your air-conditioning?"
Optimus was obviously confused and embarrassed. "Oh, slag. That is not very cold, is it."
"Definitely not!" she fanned herself. "I mean, I know I said that you're hot stuff," she teased, cocking an eyebrow in the rearview. "But I didn't really mean inside…"
As she spoke, she had released the gearstick and trailed one long, slender finger down part of its shiny length, watching with lazy satisfaction as the dash lights flickered and the highbeams flashed by themselves, contemplating his reactions. "Um… uh," choked Optimus in an uncharacteristically weak voice, lost for words. "That's—I—"
But she didn't give the Autobot a chance to recover. For she understood, now, that he could physically feel every little touch she made against his interior, as though she were touching his skin. And that the smooth metal parts of him that were lacking in protective coatings of plastic or rubber were obviously more sensitive. As she realized this, the nearly irresistible tension she'd been fighting peaked in one long, slow wave—how could she resist teasing him? He was so damned cute when he was flustered…
If he even was actually flustered…
Forgoing the use of the steering wheel's rubber cover, she wrapped her hands around its chrome spokes to steer instead, winding her fingers around the gearshift with a devilish smile and a wink at the same time—because honestly, it was only fair. If she had to sit here and be subject to the tantalizing vibrations of such a big, powerful truck all afternoon, she was damned sure she was going to return the favor!
Careful to touch as much of the surprisingly warm , exposed metal as she possibly could, Mikaela made a left onto the road that would take them back over the bridge and toward the freeway, savoring the way the entire rig shuddered as she did so. Warmth pooled in her belly as she groaned internally, half-hating him, caressing the middle portion of the gearstick as she bit her lip.
This goddamned truck… I blame him for everything…
"Uh—Mikaela—" Optimus's voice was full of an almost innocent disbelief. "Are—are you sure you want to… ah—"
But she took this moment to shift into ninth gear, cutting him off as she slammed the stick forward roughly into the gear slot and the whole Peterbilt trembled with a deep, growling noise so strongly that she was momentarily concerned that he might just collapse the rickety old bridge they were crossing with a decibel like that.
I almost hate you, you know that, Prime?
"—um, go faster," Optimus finished in a very weak voice.
"Go faster?" she challenged with all the determination in the world. "Why, Optimus. If you say so…"
Fire flashed from her eyes as she twisted the steering wheel, making a sharp left onto the road that would take them back to the highway. A very long, very straight line of asphalt stretched out before them, cleaving the near-endless expanse of desert wasteland in two. Without a backward glance, Mikaela and Optimus left the city called Margo and headed straight south on a beautiful empty road with no obstacles or turns for miles until they'd hit the interstate.
It was perfect.
It was the chance she had been waiting for—the chance she wasn't sure she should take. It was her golden opportunity to test if what she was doing to the semi by driving him, and touching him how he hadn't been touched by human hands before (when he was so clearly starved for any kind of physical contact), was actually causing him to lose his self-control almost as badly as it was making her lose hers. She fingered the splitter switch on the side of the gearhead, unsure, wondering whether or not she should wait until they hit the highway to start revving him up again, or if she should even continue driving him at all.
She so wanted to. And it wasn't just because she enjoyed driving fast—but also because Optimus's reactions to her touches were an undeniable turn-on she hadn't even known she'd had. Because there was no mistaking the Autobot's body language, not even with how hard he was trying to hide it (which was probably hard to do in the form of a monstrous, beautiful semi with lots of bells, lights, and whistles)—she was dead sure that he was enjoying this more than she'd ever thought he would.
That was what she wanted, anyways. To explore him, to experiment a little with his chassis, his 'body'… heck, what kinds of buttons wasn't she willing to push in this thing? It wasn't every day she got to do that with any kind of boy. God, the opportunity felt so rare these days, and let alone with someone so… unique. Just the thought of doing—well, him had her heart pumping faster with nervous excitement.
God, though, what would Sam say? What the fuck would he think of her if he could see her right now, if he knew what she was doing and that she was seriously considering all of this?
He'd be fucking pissed, and she knew it.
But it wasn't all bad, was it? Her actions would be pure, even if her motivations were not. She wasn't going to do anything except keep driving the rig.
No, she thought, pushing the sensation of guilt pooling in her stomach away. She had absolutely no proof that any of this was as dirty as it felt. It was just driving! And even though she didn't know much about Autobot sex (aside from the fact that they obviously did have the capabilities to …interface), she was pretty sure that driving did not qualify as … that. No matter how… potentially intimate the experience was.
God, they were so close to the freeway, she could almost taste it. Mikaela's right hand continued to gently stroke the metal rod of the shifter as they approached the onramp, and she smiled to herself as she watched the Peterbilt's tachometer needle twitch a little in time with each touch, each flicker more and more obvious than the last.
"Hell yes," she muttered, talking to herself as the shape of the freeway overpass loomed ever-closer in the distance. "You ready for this, boss?"
The tachometer spiked visibly in reply as she felt yet another wave of heat roll through the cab. At the exact same time, a brand new and unexpected sensation (one that she could not place, except to say that it was kind of tingly) swept over her, making the baby hairs on the back of her bare arms stand on end. Little goosebumps erupted there.
Okay, she thought, rubbing her arms. There's no way I'm imagining this anymore. Optimus Prime is definitely turned on, too…
"Mikaela."
Optimus's voice was suddenly serious over the radio. "Something wrong, boss?" she asked him.
"Not wrong, but…" he hesitated. "I would be lying to you if I said I did not want this, Mikaela… however, there is something, something important that you must know, before we—"
Mikaela held her hand up to the radio display. "Shh," she told him. "I already know, boss."
He paused. "…You do?"
"Well, yeah," she said as slowly as the mounting anticipation inside of her would allow. "Don't you think I can tell? I mean…" she whispered, her eyes flashing in the direction of the dashboard's many instruments. "It is pretty obvious from here what's going on… it doesn't take a genius mechanic to figure it out. I never thought I'd see the day where I'd say this, but I thiiink I've found myself alone with a horny Optimus Prime," she smirked.
"Ah," he said, clearly a little unsure of what to do or say next. "Okay. That, I was not expecting. I thought I had been subtle—"
"It's okay, boss," she interrupted in the most comforting way she could think of, patting the dashboard affectionately. "Really. I remember what you said about how long it's been. I can't even imagine. I haven't gotten laid in like, a month," she groaned (squeezing her thighs together tightly as her subconscious went into overdrive at just the thought of sex, imagining many very, very dirty scenarios that involved—of all godforsaken things—the fucking Peterbilt's gearshift), "…and I'm dying."
The appreciative rumble the truck gave and the tone of his voice were semi-contradictory. "I am sorry," he rumbled weakly. "I thought… that I was far more capable… of resisting these, uh—urges—and for that, I apologize. I would never have… ah, offered to do this—"
But Mikaela had had enough. They were ever so close to the highway and she just couldn't take it anymore! When was this stupid truck just going to admit that he wanted to be fucked and let her—well—do the best at it as a tiny little human driving an Autobot big rig could?
"Optimus Prime, do you want me to drive you or not?" she demanded.
"Mikaela!" cried Optimus, equally desperate. "You must understand! If I—if we continue like this, if we keep going in this direction—I am afraid, so afraid of reaching a point that… neither of us… will be able to turn back from! Do you understand this? You must understand!"
His words were heavy, but Mikaela had already decided. She knew what she wanted. She wanted him—it had been the same ever since she'd first heard the decibel of his voice, since she'd first seen the way his low chrome visor shone under the sunlight, felt the vibrations of his power source spreading up her legs—she'd wanted to shatter his stoic exterior for so long. She wanted to do it, and she wanted to do it now.
Of course there were a million reasons why she shouldn't—a million reasons why she should have already pulled over and asked Optimus to bring her home—but something inside of her had snapped clean in two and she just didn't have the willpower anymore. The reckless daring brought on from an afternoon chock-full of diesel fumes and pure horsepower had sent strong surges of adrenaline through her veins and she found her resolve completely shattered by them.
And at that precise moment, she gripped the wheel tightly with one hand and the shifter with the other, groping for the next, intoxicating gear—fucking hell, I cannot believe I am going to do this...
"I want to drive you insane," she all but growled, ignoring the way the rig shuddered in appreciation. "I get it, okay? God, don't you get it? I want to drive you… I've wanted to drive you hard and fast for hours now… I'm going to go fucking mad if I don't, and I think I'm right when I say that you feel the same way, Optimus Prime!"
The heaviest silence yet swept through the cab, and for a moment, nothing could be heard but the ever-increasing hum of the truck's RPM. "But what about Sam…?"
"Forget Sam!" she shouted. "Optimus, I want to fuck you!"
"B-but!"
Mikaela was ready for him. They vaulted over the overpass, and she took this precise moment to shift gears—her thumb, which had been riding the lip of the smooth outline of the splitter, flicked it with a very satisfying little click before she roughly shifted back into the first gear slot, now toggled for tenth. Optimus's voice stuttered so badly over the radio she could hardly make out what he'd said.
"—P-p-primus. I had no idea t-this would—oh. Oh, no."
She'd hit the merge lane clocking almost sixty in eleventh gear, feeling the heat from the Peterbilt's engine ooze through the cab exactly as a fresh wave of heat shot straight through her body to her groin. She felt the gear stick twitching, like it wanted to eject itself out of the gear slot but she was too strong for him—she held it there, even while the Autobot made a grinding, almost guttural sound, very similar to the one he'd made when she'd missed a gear except different—more frantic.
Twelfth gear. With half her mind still on driving, she moved over the dotted white line, groaning to herself. Had she thought she was turned on earlier? It was nothing compared to how she felt now—the mounting anticipation was at its breaking point and it was all that she could do to keep the rig steady as she felt the shifter vibrate even harder under her hand. It was growing hot, too, making her feel like she was holding onto some kind of giant, mechanical dildo that had been left outside in the sun.
Great analogy, she smirked.
"Y-you must slow down." Optimus's voice was faint over the radio, a pop of static interference evident in the harsher syllables. "Mikaela, if you… if you keep doing this, I… I-I'll—"
"You'll what, boss?" she asked in a dangerously sweet voice, guessing at what the Autobot leader was going to say next.
And then, sure as hell—
"You're going to make me overload."
"Is that a challenge?" she flashed him the most seductive smile she was capable of. "Because, Optimus Prime…" she was tracing the length of the gear stick sensually as she spoke, marvelling that this, of all things, was what seemed to be affecting him the most, "…You of all people should know that I like a challenge…"
Leaning forwards as carefully, Mikaela planted a quick, tender kiss to the top of the rig's rubber steering wheel before she took it between her teeth as gently as she could, pressing just hard enough to keep him from moving but not so hard as to hurt him.
"What on earth are you doing," he asked, almost as though he were dimly surprised to find her climbing on top of him or something, and not just biting his steering wheel. "Not that it isn't… not that it doesn't, ah, feel… unexpectedly nice…"
Choosing not to answer, Mikaela used her free hands to wiggle her skirt all the way up so that a pair of pink cotton panties were exposed. Before she could lose control, her hands were back on the wheel and the gearstick and, breathlessly excited, she was upshifting, her head starting to spin as her heartbeat rushed in her ears. Not only was she aroused as fuck right now, but the adrenaline rush from the speed they were travelling at—and they weren't even at maximum speed yet!—was beginning to take its toll on her.
They were driving fast. But it wasn't fast enough to get him off—just like the way the constant vibration of Optimus's sheer power was so, so good, and did so much for her, it was not enough to get her off, either. Oh, yes, doing this—driving fast—was so exciting but if she wanted what she dearly wanted, she was going to have to find a better way to close the link and make the Autobot come.
Her hand was on the shifter again, right fingertips sliding up and down its length while she steadied the wheel with her left. "Tell me what you need," she requested, her voice a whisper, barely audible over the rumble of the Peterbilt. "Tell me, boss… what you want me to do…"
"Your—your hands, Mikaela." It wasn't just the radio that was flickering in time with his deep, resonating voice anymore, but every single instrument on the dashboard. "Your hands. They're soft—that's good—"
Another wave of static rolled through the cab, and this time, she could pinpoint its source as being the shifter itself. And whatever that meant must have been good, because the Autobot groaned then, for the first, real time—a very real, liquidy sound of pleasure that filled her mind with a blank, blissful kind of buzz.
"Oh my god, you like that?" she gasped, redoubling her grip on the shifter, hands sliding a little against it with sweat and then she realized that the moisture was even better for him—
"Oh, primus, yes," he moaned.
She shoved the shifter into thirteenth, letting go of the wheel with her left hand, struggling to try to reach down to ease some of the aching tension she felt, too. But before she could do more than palm overtop the sensitive area on the outside of her underwear, the rig swerved right over the yellow line and it was all she could do to regain control again—which meant that any kind of self-administered relief was most definitely out of the question unless she wanted to risk their lives.
She sighed in frustration. She would have to just focus on him, then.
"Shit," she groaned, mentally chiding herself. She just didn't want to let go of him, not when she was doing so well that the staticky feeling was building strongly enough to make her entire arm start to tingle the longer she stroked him. "Errgh, why've you gotta have such a huge stick… fucking hell, Optimus Prime—"
Even through his pleasure, the Autobot leader was surprised by the statement. "Nnngh—is it? This is the—ahh—small one…"
Mikaela felt her mouth open in surprise. "No way."
"Oh, yes…" his voice was suddenly so gravelly and so deep that it took all of her determination to keep part of her brain that was concentrating on actually driving from crashing them. Good lord. "My true form can be… much more—nngh—impressive, in that way… even if this one is capable of—ahhn—um, capable enough."
"More than capable enough, in my opinion," she sighed, her eyes half-lidded. "Hmm. Uh, Optimus, what are you doing—?"
The Peterbilt had been moving without her noticing at first. The seat beneath her, as cushy as it was, had suddenly become even more soft and malleable, enough that she found herself sinking even deeper into it. Its intense heat enveloped her lower back just as she felt something semi-cold and metallic graze against her left thigh.
She jumped, looking down to see that her seatbelt had undone itself and had started to wrap itself around her upper leg, just as the right-hand seatbelt did the same thing to her right thigh. A startled-but-pleased sob wrung itself from her throat as she stiffened, biting down hard on her lip as she felt the two seatbelts gently spread her legs apart.
Holy. Shit. Keeping her foot firmly on the accelerator, she allowed Optimus to tug at them, hardly able to concentrate through the haze that was filling her mind. I can't believe he's doing this…
"You have made me… desire you, Mikaela," said Optimus, his voice so thick and husky, pitched so low that it was almost as though he was whispering right into her ear. "But I am not able to fully—hnn—interface you, in this form… I will do the best I can…"
While he spoke, something else was happening. Mikaela felt her spine arch away from the seat of its own accord as the cushion below her started to move—part of it had risen into a solid little ball shape that rested precisely near a very sensitive place. She yelped, squirming, but the seatbelts Optimus had wound around her held her in place, gently coaxing her to slide forward a little so that the bump could make contact with the thin cotton outside of her panties.
"Ooh," she murmured as a surge of relief shot through her groin, making her back arch further still and her hips jut forward into it. The thing was vibrating, vibrating at the same speed and oscillation as the huge semi's engine was, but in a much more intense, satisfying way—a way that tickled and teased and somehow had more 'life' to it than any other vibrator she had ever felt down there before. It was not an instantaneous rush like the one a typical sex toy would bring, but something hardly like a sex toy at all—it was slow and powerful and carried with it all the lust and passion of a partner who was enjoying pleasuring her.
"Jesus," she moaned, blinking lazily with half-lidded eyes while willing them to stay glued to the road, but the sudden, strengthening wave of static that was spreading from her hand's contact with his gear shift went all the way up to her brain and did nothing to ease the foggy blissfulness that was forming like a halo around her consciousness. "God, that feels good." Her own voice sounded distant and unreal. Fuck, he could screw her easily like this, if he had had the equipment—she was so wet…
Focus, she told herself. If she wanted the Autobot to overload too, she was going to have to concentrate, no matter how hard it was. Breathing out a shaky sigh, she repositioned her hand on the gear stick, gritting her teeth as she accelerated and, with the pad of her thumb riding the edge of the shifter knob, slid the Peterbilt into the fourteenth gear.
"Ahh—" Optimus's gasp was interlaced with static as Mikaela felt the shifter vibrate harder than ever, threatening to pop back out of gear. She recognized that right now, what the rig needed more than anything was a firm hand, and she was more than happy to supply it—she gripped the metal rod so hard that it hurt, forcing it to remain in place. "You must—ohh—you must not stop—agh—!"
Click.
The small sound was noticeable even over the ever-increasing rumble of the Peterbilt's dizzying RPM, and so unlike anything else she'd heard so far that she found herself glancing down in time to see the little panel set into the top of the shifter's knob (the one inscribed with the gear numbers) eject itself to expose—well, whatever it was looked like some kind of—
—some kind of port—
And as she watched, a part of it glowed, pulsating with a strange, blue light.
"Is that—?"
"Yes," said Optimus, totally breathless. "It is, of course… different in this form… but the function is… essentially the same—"
"Is that right?" Even through the haze of arousal and the mounting tension from that absolutely distracting hard spot that was still hitting just the right spot, she was curious. So this was arguably a part of his reproductive anatomy, then, she thought, meaning the gearstick—and she'd had her hands on it all day, had she? Endlessly, endlessly teasing him along…
He must have really wanted it, then… but Optimus Prime had yet to do the one thing she was just dying to hear him do.
She wanted him to ask for it.
Continuing to hold the shifter around the metal shaft, she watched the Peterbilt's reactions carefully as she prepared to slide the transmission into the fifteenth gear. She gave the accelerator pedal a little pressure, testing him, and immediately the semi's tachometer needle spiked and the resulting flood of power bled straight through him and right up into her groin. The muscles in her legs tightened and she swore, leaning forward into the feeling before she regained control of herself again. Biting her lip, she tried to relax and stop straining against the seatbelts Optimus was using to hold her in place. Damn it…
There were only two more gears left. Somehow—amazingly—she willed herself to concentrate for long enough to slide him into the next gear, holding him tantalizingly softly and letting him aaalmost pop the gear back out before pressing it fully in.
"O-oh, oh primus," gasped Optimus, and she knew that he was almost there. "I c-can't—you h-have to—ahh—"
The little blue exposed port on the top of the shifter throbbed then, and she felt more of that tingly static race right up her arm. Simultaneously, the part of him vibrating so hard against her groin throbbed with it, too, and she outright gasped at the unusually pleasurable sensation.
"Fuck—"
There was no good way to describe it—it was the most amazing, tingly, pulling sensation and she tensed in anticipation of the zap she was sure would follow—what would it feel like? Would it hurt?—but whatever it would feel like, it did not come, and her body arched with disappointment as the sensation faded, wanting more. "What was that?" she demanded breathlessly. "I had no idea you could do that…"
Optimus did not hear her. "Please," he was begging, and with an electric jolt, Mikaela realized that she'd finally gotten what she'd wanted. The Autobot's voice was breaking over the stereo, the ends of his gravelly voice overridden with interference. "Please, finish this, Mikaela, never before have I—I needed this—! Rghhh…"
The whole truck trembled with the depth of his rippling, frustrated growl. Holy shit, she thought muggily, and a stab of something foreign laced through her—the Autobot's voice had been tinged with anger, and the notion that she'd driven him so far to the edge of reason that he was even losing control of his emotions gave her a thrill of power that felt nearly as good as the vibrating seat did.
She was so close herself… and, unable to resist any longer, she redoubled her grip on the shifter, summoning her remaining concentration to move the stick into the last, final slot. She felt the back of the driver's seat arching to press firmly against her spine as the Autobot tensed in expectation, aware of what she was preparing to do. The seatbelts wound around her legs tightened, too, pulling her downwards into the warmth of the seat, and she felt a shock of pleasure from the pressure he was applying crash through her.
Heat oozed through every inch of him as she shifted him—through the chair, through the floorboards, it bled through all the way past the sleeper in the back to the outside of the truck. The steering wheel, the dashboard, the gearstick—everything was hot and tense and vaguely, she realized that (not that she had actually wondered about it before) this was what it must be like to be inside of an Autobot's alt-mode before they climax. The instruments on the dash were going haywire, but with startled disappointment she realized that the semi had not actually gotten off yet.
What? she thought, and then—oh!
The highway's yellow lines were a blur as she stomped on the accelerator, feeling her own climax come closer than ever before. Fuck—so close—
And the Autobot shouted when she'd done it, when she'd finally realized what it was she had to do. She'd reached up with the pad of her thumb and rubbed it hard, right against that little throbbing blue node and the resulting cascade of static tingled and then she felt the zap she'd needed, spreading straight out from her core in waves. The Peterbilt roared as the tachometer needle redlined, and she was slammed against the seat as the semi shot forward like a lightning bolt, twin flames of spark-energy trailing from each stack.
Fuck, it was like an orgasm but so much more—everything was him, the feel of him, the smell of him, the sound of his deep, resonating voice cracking as he yelled triumphantly, 'Ohhh, Primussss!' and she let go of the steering wheel, overcome.
She was dizzy—she couldn't breathe or see anything, she could not hear herself screaming—and through all of it they were still travelling at breakneck speed down this road, faster and faster with no one in control and it was a miracle they hadn't crashed already.
After what felt like eternity, it faded. Mikaela forced her eyes to open just in time to take the wheel before the entire rig veered off course into the ditch. Her heart hammering inside of her chest, she dared not touch the instruments inside of the cab that were arcing with residual energy—only once the white sparks had receded, and the tachometer needle began to settle down did she do anything besides guide him.
The truck began to decelerate. For a while, nobody said anything, and Mikaela watched, feeling drained and exhausted as Optimus manipulated the gear stick and pedals clumsily, finally bringing them to a rolling stop as he pulled over onto the side of the highway. She'd almost never felt so glad to be stationary again after such an absolutely wild ride. Her head was spinning from the rush of it all, but not in a totally unpleasant way—it was about ten times better than the best afterglow she could remember, but distorted, as though she'd just travelled through space and time to another motherfucking dimension with the Peterbilt.
"Wow," said Optimus finally, his shaky voice still staticky over the radio.
"You can say that again," she mumbled with a sigh.
"You enjoyed yourself?"
"You better damn believe it," she answered, eyeing the Peterbilt's rearview with a wink. "That was… probably the craziest thing… I have ever done… in my entire life…"
Optimus chuckled, his gravelly voice sluggish and heavy with his own afterglow. "Indeed, it may have been inadvisable… but I think we'd both agree that it was worth it."
"Fuck yes," Mikaela answered, stretching and stifling a yawn.
"Though… I hope you will not be offended when I say that I would rather that I drove home without… assistance. I am feeling a little, uh—"
"Overwhelmed? Fucking ravaged?" she grinned.
"Yes, that," he said awkwardly, and she could hear the pleased smile in his voice.
"That's fair," she yawned. "I could use a nap, anyways, boss."
"There is a bed in the back if you would like…"
She listened to the sound of his engine as she climbed carefully over the center console and collapsed into the sleeper. It was as comfortable as she had hoped, and Mikaela curled up in the nest of blankets to let the post-coital exhaustion consume her as the rig swayed a bit. Optimus pulled off of the shoulder with the accompanying crunch of gravel under his tires.
"Incredible…" she mumbled drowsily, and the last thing she'd heard before she fell very deeply asleep was the Peterbilt's radio turning on to play a song, which Optimus quietly began to sing along to.
"You say the weight of the world
Has kept you from letting go
And you think compassion's a flaw
And you'll never let it show
And you're sure you've hurt in a way
That no one will ever know
But someday the weight of the world
Will give you the strength to go…"