A/N: I'm back! I'm really sorry for the long update. School, work, and Dragon Age (both I and II) have distracted me a lot lately. So, please, enjoy this short chapter. Hope it satisfies anyone's fix for this story, at least temporarily. I probably don't deserve this, but reviews would definitely make my day! I love you all!
CHAPTER 25: Inheritance Arc, Part III - Nightly Passions
Sunstreaker groaned when the hoarse shouts continued late into the night. He really couldn't blame Ironhide though, but can't an Autobot get any sleep here?
There was a particularly loud yell at one point and then it quieted down from there. The yellow warrior waited for a few kliks and his optics slowly offlined. Then, a crash from the next room caused one of his lover's decorations to fall off from its shelves. The optics onlined sharply.
"That's it! I'm gonna frag those two!"
Sunstreaker made to get up but a strong arm held him tightly to a warm chassis.
"Leave them be," the other Autobot murmured behind him. He snuggled even closer to the struggling warrior. Sunstreaker tried even harder to get out of Sideswipe's tightening grip and the increasing cries of passion from the next room echoed his own growing frustration.
Sideswipe decided to go with a more direct method of stopping his lover's frantic movements. He forced Sunstreaker to turn around and kissed him. The yellow mech was so intent on getting out of there that the kiss took him by surprise, something his lover had anticipated.
The silver mech's hands held Sunstreaker's face until Sunstreaker calmed down, at least enough to stop struggling.
"Wait! They're-ohh!"
A questing hand stroked around his spark chamber and a glossa licked along his neck cables.
"They're getting it on, baby, and we should too. See if we can be louder, hmm?"
A strong hand grasped his aft and then pulled the yellow warrior closer to him, bringing their chassis together. They both moaned at the delicious contact of their spark chambers and Sideswipe ground their hips together.
"Sides…stop…"
"No…we haven't been together since the battle of Tygar Pax and I will have you now."
Sunstreaker, one of the Autobot's strongest warriors, whimpered at the dark promise. He found himself manhandled on his back, with Sideswipe's slightly smaller form covering his. Another breathtaking kiss and then hands stroked down his flanks, followed by soft kisses.
Sideswipe heard his lover groan deep in his chassis when his fingers trailed down to the silky but hot inner thighs. The two Autobots were already in their 'undressed' states and thus, Sunstreaker's valve was exposed to Sideswipe's eyes, a sight that much aroused the silver warrior.
Laying kisses down the yellow mech's chassis and stomach, Sideswipe brought his lips right above the quivering opening, feeling his lover shudder in pleasure.
"You're oddly hot here," Sideswipe whispered against the heated plating that protected the covered spike. The silver mech was thankful that the both of them shared the same features. They were twins after all, a rare occurrence in the race of Cybertronians. Just like himself, Sunstreaker had both a spike and a valve. However, having known his twin all his activation period, Sunstreaker favored being taken by him. That didn't stop Sideswipe from coaxing the plating to open up for him and it slid open with a soft hiss.
The spike peeked out and then grew, causing Sideswipe to smirk at his lover.
"Sides...please…" Sunstreaker pleaded and he moaned in frustration when Sideswipe merely kissed to the side of it instead of swallowing him whole. He brought his servos around to clasp Sideswipe's helm, hoping to gently bring him closer to his aching need. It didn't work, much to his chagrin, and the fact that the cries and shouts from the next room had all but discontinued was lost to Sunstreaker.
Sideswipe's glossa swept around that sensitive area and the hips arched up. The silver mech pinned his lover down, refusing to let Sunstreaker guide their lovemaking. He may be the leading warrior in the Great War, right behind Prowl and Jazz, but here, in the privacy of their berth, he willingly submitted to the love and care of his twin.
More lubricants slipped out of the twitching spike and Sunstreaker's servos clawed at the hard berth underneath him, admitting defeat in his effort to dominate their session. That's when Sideswipe knew he won again and he rewarded his lover by taking him into his mouth.
The results were instant. Sunstreaker cried out in pleasure and he thrust his head back. His systems were going haywire but the yellow mech didn't care for that. All he cared was how Sideswipe worshipped his spike, how those lips wrapped around his spike so seductively, so wetly.
Sideswipe's own need ached to be released and the silver mech's hand snaked down to his groin to do so. He moaned around the spike as he stroked himself, allowing his lover's soft cries and flustered looks to bring him closer to completion. When he felt him growing dangerously close to the edge, he released Sunstreaker's spike. His lover moaned a protest, a protest that grew into a surprised shout when Sideswipe entered him without any preparation.
"Pri-Primus!" Sunstreaker clutched at Sideswipe's sides, his digits digging into his lover out of the pain his sensors were detecting from the sudden penetration.
"That's not my name," Sideswipe said to him in a husky voice and he pulled out enough to leave only the sensitive head inside his lover. Whatever smartass comment his lover had to spout at him, it was lost in a desperate whimper at another deep thrust.
Their old dance continued for a while, the familiar giving and receiving of pleasure. Sunstreaker grasped around his lover, wanting to bring his other half closer.
"Give yourself to me, Sunny," a whisper in Sunstreaker's audio receptor was said to the crying yellow mech.
"Yes! Please…please…" Sideswipe didn't have to ask what Sunstreaker was pleading for. He saw Sunstreaker's spark bared to him already, the whirling ball of energy hypnotizing him. He nodded and felt his own chestplates separating.
His spark almost rushed to meet up with that of Sunstreaker and everything they knew burst into white brilliance, their bond reaffirming itself after the long years of war. However, it was too much for them and they both went over the edge, howling out each other's names.
The next thing they were aware of was the same pair of lovers banging aginst their wall, but to voice their complaints.
Sunstreaker felt his lover grin against his shoulder. "Heh…I think…I think we won…"
"Me too…" Sideswipe murmured tiredly and he pressed lazy kisses against Sunstreaker's neck before finally kissing those lips. "Now will you go to sleep?"
-o0o-
Epps walked tiredly into the human-sized kitchen, his hand immediately seeking out the freshly brewed coffee. His other friends were already piled out in the connecting common area, the dark circles underneath their eyes showing what Epps must appear to them.
"Didn't get any sleep, eh Epps?" One of them commented after he downed his fifth cup of morning brew.
"Hell no! Not with all that racket! You would think they were like having a contest or somethin'!"
"You checked with them kids?" It was an odd question to ask first thing in the morning and Epps gulped down the cup of coffee he poured for himself before wiping the excess of it from his mouth and answering.
"No man, I just woke up from a one hour-sleep and you think I had time to ask them about Prime and Prowl?"
"I heard they were almost done with programming some weird ass shit." It was Greg who said that and he was the only one who sort of looked like he had more than four hours of sleep. His dark brown hair was barely combed, a couple of strands still stuck out in a few places, and the shade of darkness underneath his gray eyes was marginally lighter than those of his friends. His own hands were nursing a cup, not of coffee but of Earl Grey Tea. His prolonged stay in the US, let alone its secret military branch, did nothing to wear off his British habits. Three cups of tea first in the morning was one of them. Another habit of his was to swear like a sailor when everybody was barely coming awake.
"Shitty Decepticons fucking us around like this. I say just send in Jazz or some sniper expert to take them all out."
"Wish it that easy, my friend," Reynold replied, another British soldier. "Blame it on politics. President's been bloody flaky these days about this whole situation. Heard on the news that he initially signed a Bill that would allow Autobots certain rights when it comes to dealing with their own kind. Now, he's refusing to recognize it as well as ordering other countries to nullify their alliances with the Autobots."
"What? That can't be happening! We have friends overseas! What'll happen to them?" Epps slammed his cup on the table, the liquid sloshing over the rim and spilling unto the table.
"Guess, we may have to call them back. Besides, we could certainly use Jolt's whips to whip some recruits into shape." Reynold smirked at Greg and Epps. The three soldiers were the oldest NEST operatives and thus, their long service to the US was awarded with having to train a handful of newbies. Mounds of paperwork had to be completed before they could even contact potential candidates and then the Oath, the training, the shouting at the stupid mistakes recruits make, followed thereafter.
"Yeah, remember that time John was shooting at something and someone called his name out? Poor fella got distracted and almost shot out Ironhide's eye. Have to tell ya, that mech's mean when he's nice. And when he's just, well, you got my drift."
The trio all guffawed in laughter at that memory of Ironhide scaring the crap out of the new recruit. Needless to say, he never became distracted every again.
They were just about to continue on about sharing funny stories of their training together when someone burst into the kitchen, sweat rolling off his face as if the man had just ran a marathon.
"They did it! Prime and Prowl are online now. They want to see you, Epps, now."
"'Bout damn time!" Epps exclaimed. The dark-skinned man gulped down the rest of his coffee before getting up and following after the messenger. With what's been going on recently, Epps figured they could use a break and the revival of the Autobots' top officers is certainly a good one.
-o0o-
"Mikaela, how are their sparkbeats?" Ratchet's voice was gruff and hoarse from lack of sleep. Unlike Epps and his men, the exhaustion originated from staying up all night with the hackers, trying to install the new program they had developed. The binary code converted the virus into a less malicious form of a worm and the two hackers were finally able to destroy it.
"Steady. They should be coming online now," the girl said, her form hunched over one of the computer pads that monitored the electronic pulses of the two Autobots lying on their respective berths.
There was a soft groan and a loud hissing sound as the rousing patient slowly took in a deep breath. Mikaela turned around and saw that it was Prowl who was just waking up from his forced offline status. Ratchet watched his patient very carefully, ensuring that the primary and secondary systems were working as they should. He held a scanner in his hand and it thrummed with power, signifying that all systems were working, with no complications.
Prowl's optics became brighter and brighter as his processors rebooted. He lifted his head, slowly, as if still stuck in offline mode.
"Ra-Ratchet? What's…why am I here of all places?" The black and white mech attempted to get up but Ratchet's yellow servos gently but firmly held him down.
"You were sick. It's a miracle you're still alive," Ratchet answered the Communications Officer's question. "What do you remember?"
Prowl's optics dimmed slightly, the mech deep in thought as he tried to recall the last memory cycle he had. The party, Sam Witwicky, Mirage…
"Mirage! He did this!" Prowl cried out and the sparkbeats increased exponentially, indicating the panic the patient was in.
"Much as I hate to say this, it wasn't Mirage who did this to you and Prime," another interrupted and Ratchet's head swiveled to regard the intruder. It was surprisingly Ironhide and if Ratchet didn't know any better, he looked like…what was that human expression again? Like the cat got the cream and maybe more.
The face became stony before Ratchet could say something about it and Ironhide walked to Prowl's berth. The warrior's eyes were immensely relieved and his servo touched Prowl's shoulder to reaffirm that Prowl was at least online and moving.
"It's good to see you awake, Prowl. I know Jazz will be quite happy about this."
"Jazz? Where is he? Is he here?" Prowl's optics searched around the berth but Jazz was not present.
"He's on a mission," Ironhide growled in answer.
"A mission? Why?"
"Sam's been kidnapped," It wasn't Ironhide who answered Prowl's question and all eyes turned to gaze at Optimus Prime. The tall, slender form of the Autobot Commander was already sitting up in his berth. Those optics, normally kind and compassionate, were now steely, almost like blue ice, and everyone was suddenly glad that Optimus Prime was on their side. A Prime in his peak was a terrifying figure of strength and a furious Prime was just a horror to behold.