Chapter 11: Cutlery

(M rated for all my fellow robo-booty watchers)(srsly tho, robo-dick warning)

Corvin was on Tumblr. Yes, Tumblr. She had hooked up her laptop to one of the spare data pads and was now surfing the web while sitting on the top of the silo. It was actually really funny; she still had the internet from her world, which meant she had fan art, and fanfiction. All about the bots she was currently living with. Oh, this was great!

Corvin snorted at the post she just read before her face went back into a neutral expression. She looked up several tags, scrolled through her dash, seeing robutts galore and feeling like a delighted pervert when a rather risqué picture of Optimus came up. She hit the reblog button as she cackled internally. She just hoped that no one would look through her laptop and find it a good idea to look at her history. She didn't want to explain half of it.

"Head-cannon about Optimus and sweets, eh?" Corvin tapped her metal chin in thought. She was a decent baker as a human, what's to say she couldn't make some cybertronian sweets?

The femme closed the tap for Tumblr and stood, subspacing the data pad and her laptop, she went down to ask Ratchet a question. Coming down into base she heard the kids saying something about a race.

Oh yeah, the race, Knockout, got it. Corvin didn't want to get into this one, mainly because she just knew Optimus was going to give one hell of a lecture to all who participated. Nope, don't wanna do dat, being yelled at by Ops would be sad.

She walked over to Ratchet, making sure to walk a bit heaver to announce her arrival. The medic turned to her.

"What?" He snipped, clearly he had more important things to than speak with her. She smiled brightly, not bothered in the slightest by his tone.

"Would you happen to have any data pads on Cybertronian treats?" Ratchet looked thrown through a loop. He responded dumbly with a 'what?' and she smiled wider. "I wish to learn how to make food for us." Ratchet blinked before giving her a look.

"Why would you want to learn that?" He asked in suspicion.

"Because having the same thing day-in-and-day-out is boring." She whined. Ratchet rolled his optics before grouchily informing her to look in storage bay 4. She beamed and hugged him tightly for a moment as she said her thanks, making him sputter in shock. She pranced down the hall before he had time to recover. She cackled as she saved the picture she had taken of Ratchets face into her hard drive.

She whistled a loud tune as she walked to storage bay 4, thinking on what she would find. She wondered if she could make rust sticks.

She reached the storage room and opened the door. The room had not been entered in a while, judging on the thick layer of dust that had settled upon the Cybertronian sized crates. Corvin moved through the boxes, reading the labels that had been written in Iaconian. The glyphs were easy to read now.

Weapons, first aid, history, data logs, personal files (tempting), AH! Cuisine.

Corvin went over to the smaller crate and clicked at the locks, opening them with a set of 'snap's

Inside was a few data pads, about 4 of them, but there was other things, too. A bowl looking thing, a metal sheet with 12 long groves, a spoon that looked like a whisk and a fork, and a few cubes of different things. Corvin hummed, closing the lid and picking up the crate as she stood. She carried the crate to the main room, Optimus was there talking to Ratchet, Jack and Bee were nowhere in sight.

"Hey Optimus!" She chirped. the Prime temporarily stalled his conversation with Ratchet to look to the femme who called his name. He blinked at the sight of the crate in her arms. "Can I use this?" She looked hopefully at him, her optics wide. She was bouncing slightly on her heels in excitement. Optimus smiled slightly and gave the affirmative. The femme gave a happy gasp and turned on heel to bounce down the hall, the 'clank clank' of metal hitting metal fading as she moved away from them. The smile stayed on Optimus' face as he continued to speak with Ratchet on a few matters before he excused himself to go finish some paper work in his quarters. He was walking down the hall towards his room when he heard the faint sound of music, which grew louder as he walked closer.

"Fallin' to pieces, but I need this, yeah I need this," He heard a voice go with the music and he quirked an optical brow. He heard the voice continue in a strange sort of singing. H reached the source of the music, which happened to be Corvin's quarters. Her door was slightly open and he was able to look inside and spot the femme.

She held a cutlery bowl and spinner (the spoon-whisk-fork thing). She was dancing as she twirled the spinner in the bowl, her whole frame moving with the song as if she was programed just to do so. Shamefully, his optics didn't stay respectful, no matter how much he tried; his optics seemed to be glued to how those hips seemed to move from side to side, then in a circle, then back and forth once more.

"But I still stay, 'cause you're the only thing I know. So won't you take oh, won't you take me home!" She rocked her whole frame back and forth, the contents in the bowl sloshing around, but the femme didn't notice. Shameful fantasies raced through the Prime's processor of that frame, rubbing against his own, that smile of hers, just for him.

She moved wilder, helm bobbing hard to the beat, adding to his fantasies. He could feel his core temperature raising. So many thoughts raced through his processor, but one kept coming back, his programing singing with it: Breeder.

Finally the femme's wild movements caused the inevitable, and some of the bowl's contents spilled over the side, causing the femme to curse as thick, glowing liquid splashed across her frame. The liquid traveled down, past her chassis, to her legs, trailing down her thighs. Optimus had to leave, or the raging fire in him would take control.

His sides burned, as did his interface array and chassis. He made it to his room, retaining his composure; until he reached his quarters. His door seemed to open all too slowly, drawing out the burning feeling; the burning need. His programing screamed, his frame roaring in response as his mind denied it. He moved quickly, shutting the door behind him. He sat heavily in his desk chair, which sat on the opposite side to his berth, which was wedged in the corner on the far side of his quarters.

He was an undignified mess, so unbefitting of his Prime status. But Optimus highly doubted any of his predecessors had this kind of problem.

An unbonded breeder femme that was also a seeker, it was the combination of all things desired. Optimus could smell her from a mile off, her scent was intoxicating, exotic, and erotic; it called to him louder than anything. Optimus didn't doubt that his men could also smell her; he had seen it in them. Thankfully, the seeker was oblivious.

He took a deep vent, which did the exact opposite of what he had wished. He could smell the faintest scent of her, but his olfactory sensors locked on that drop of scent. He gripped his desk hard enough to dent; he could smell that she was untouched. He moaned out reluctantly, the burn had been dying, but had soared back to life as he smelled it again.

He… needed to compose himself. This… was… not fitting… for a Prime… to think of his men in such a way.

A small voice, deep within his processor cooed at him. They would never know, what was so bad about just thinking? Imagining it, like it was really happening before him. What was wrong with that?

Nothing

The Prime groaned as he gave in, his flat digits, tracing down the seam of his chassis, scraping over the glass of his windshields. He leaned back in his chair, positioning his legs wider as his servos traveled lower. He had not done this in a while.

One servo traced over the seams of his codpiece as the other traveled down his sides, his helm rested on the back of his chair. There was a 'click' and the Prime groaned in relief.

He grasped his spike with one servo, digits wrapping around the base, hitting well known sensors all along it. He gave a few light strokes to his aching spike, before squeezing the base. His baritone rang out deeply, vibrating his whole chassis with the force of it. He hissed as he moved to the tip, using his thumb digit to rub over the top. His frame burned so gloriously, one of his peds jerking as he hit a sensitive node.

He breathed in deeply, letting out a huff of overheated air. His optics closed, the picture brought forth from his memory banks was sure to bring him guilt later.

Corvin sprawled out, the sweet liquid from the bowl all over her, in abundance on her interface panel. Her optics were dimed, mouth open slightly as she stared up with such desire and need. Her servos would trail up and down her frame, coating every inch in the sticky sweet substance.

Optimus let out a choke of static as the fire rose, almost to the top. Sadly, the feeling dimed as he paused his ministrations to vent deeply. He moved his servo, up and down, slowly working up the heat within him back to the top. His spike was hot in his servos, the bio-lights along the sides glowing brightly from the extra energon flowing through it.

Now she was with him, touching him, spreading the sticky liquid all over him, before licking it off herself. Her tongue dug into every seam and crack of his plating.

"Oh, Primus!" He moaned out at the erotic thought as he moved faster, building the fire. He was close, very close.

She was on him, his servos on her hips as they ground together. She was moaning, rubbing all over him like she was in heat. Her lethal claws ranked up his sides as he moved to clutch at her wings, rubbing them as she clawed at his back.

"Optimus" She moaned.

That was the thought that carried him over.

His frame arched as he experienced a powerful overload, static choked from his vocals as his optics scrunched up. One servo clenched at the chair as the other continued it ministrations upon his spike. Silvery transfluid fell over his servo and arcs of energy crackled in between armor plates. His optics shorted out for a moment at the charge flowed through his frame like a storm.

The fire was slow in dying away; tingles of pleasure racing up and down his frame with his slowing movements. His venting was deep and his fans roared loudly in his audios.

The burning that had fogged his mind dyed away, and guilt took its place. He had just… serviced to one of his soldiers. He…

Optimus could not continue the thought, shame and guilt replacing the burn. How was he going to look Corvin in the optics after this, when that thought would always come up at the sight of her? He sighed, cleaning himself up.

He could kick himself as he filled out that paperwork he had been putting off.

OoOoOoOoOoO

"AHH-CHOO!" Corvin covered her olfactory sensors as she let out a vicious sneeze.

She was dragging a rag over her front, trying and failing to get the sticky rust stick batter off her frame. But it was fucking everywhere! She could feel the sticky substance get into her gears and make it difficult to move. The silver femme hissed, this was pissing her off!

Giving up her failing attempts to clean herself, Corvin got up and left her room, heading for the wash racks. She grumbled to herself as she walked, cursing the batter and how it seemed to spread to even more places now. She was still grumbling to herself when she heard something.

A grunt?

It was so quiet; she doubted that anyone else on base could hear it, except for Vela. Corvin heard another noise, and tried to pinpoint it. Her fin-like audios twitched, scoping around for the location. It came from a door at the end of the hall: Optimus' quarters.

She only knew that it was his room because she had kind of pulled a creeper and watched to see just where he would go.

The seeker femme moved over silently, her curiosity peaked. She pressed an audio to the door, listening in. A moan before she heard a smooth baritone praise his deity with the most sinful of voices.

Oh, OH MY GOD!

Optimus… He was… He was!

She could feel the silent scream in the back of her throat. It wasn't a scream of horror or embarrassment, no no, it was one of utter delight and fan-attack. It was more like a squeal that somehow developed into a silent scream. It was also one the purest amusement. Well, not that pure.

Optimus was fucking masturbating! Who wouldn't laugh?!

Corvin wondered what had gotten her stone cold Prime to need some relief…

Another deep groan was heard. Corvin felt the shiver rocket down her spine and collect at her sides and pelvis. This was a huge turn-on, her beloved Prime, moaning in ecstasy, servicing himself. She could picture it, Optimus with his helm thrown back, a leg propped up on his desk as his servo moved quickly over his spike. Or was he a valve mech? Or did he have both?

Arousal raced through her, her frame secreting a scent that could drive anyone crazy. A large, pleased grin fell onto her face.

Corvin didn't deny it, her mind and body were eager to please. But Corvin had a few things holding her inner succubus back from going full-out and fucking the daylights out of every transformer in sight. She would not act out in any way until that specific moral was filled out, she'd remain sealed until then.

Didn't stop her from daydreaming, from plotting out every moment for when she was ready.

A deep purr rang out from her vocals. She kept quiet enough as not to be heard by the mech she was eavesdropping on. This was so fabulous, so amazing, she was fucking eavesdropping on one of her favorite characters doing the solo tango.

She heard a particularly loud groan, and a static electric sound accompanied by the scratching of bending metal. She guessed he was done. Corvin grinned, all her metal teeth showing in amusement as she scampered silently away from the door. She got to the wash racks just as she couldn't hold back anymore. She swore later that she bust her gut laughing, her fists hitting the walls and floor as she huffed and puffed, trying to catch her breath but failing. There was a wisp of embarrassment in her fields, but that was overpowered by her amusement and… frustration.

She was rather flustered at the moment, those sounds he had made, when put to her fantasies, made them all too real. The femme groaned, damn that mech and his… sexiness. She was highly attracted to Optimus, if you hadn't guessed.

Corvin moved from her spot on the floor to one of the showers, and took a lengthy amount of time to clean herself. She didn't try and relief herself due to the extremely high chances of a bot walking in at any time. That would be weird.

Making sure the sticky crap was out of every gear and seam, the silver seeker dried off and left the wash racks. She passed Optimus in the halls, no doubt he was going to check on why Bee missed his shift, then he would find out that Jack had took him racing, then the scolding. She couldn't help the grin that spread over face as she saw him, what she had overheard immediately coming to mind.

"Hey, Optimus," she greeted as she walked past him to her room. The Prime only met her optics for a second before looking away, greeting her in turn before disappearing around the corner. Not too unusual, so he mustn't know she had heard.

Good.

What Corvin didn't know was that he couldn't look at her because he knew he would look her over, checking for the sticky, sweet liquid. Optimus could not look her in the optic because he couldn't help but remember his shameful act.

If only he knew that Corvin would be more flattered (and perversely delighted) than anything else if she did know.

Mutual ignorance strikes once again.

Corvin entered her room, spotting her rust stick batter, which had begun to crystalize in the bowl.

"Shit," She cursed as she scurried to the bowl, emptying the batter into the long, stick-like molds. Sticking a digit into the batter she tasted it, hmm a bit bitter. She added a bit of iron and tin, tasting it she hummed in approval.

Corvin killed time by reading some Cybertronian bedtime stories as she waited for her rust sticks to harden. The instruction said that it would take up to a jour, which Ratchet said was just about an hour in earth time.

She played some music she had on her laptop through the data pad. She did love her music.

She couldn't stop thinking of how she had caught Optimus, the stone cold, ice box Prime… jerkin' off. The thought alone made her laugh in disbelief. She'd keep this little happening to herself; she wouldn't endanger her future booty-call chances by saying something stupid.

Hehe, future booty-calls.

She was a terrible person, but that was Ok. She still loved herself and that was ALLL that mattered!

She cackled.

Corvin moved to the rust sticks, the grin never leaving her face. It had been over an hour, and when she poked one, it held together. She popped out the rust sticks, 14 in all, two for each of Team Prime. Corvin broke off a small piece of one she had claimed and tasted it. It was good… but could be better. For the next 15 minutes Corvin tried different metal shavings on top of the rust stick, until she got a surprisingly good blend of mercury and titanium. It was sweet and left a pleasant after taste.

Corvin hopped excitedly as she put the rust sticks into a small can and pranced out of her room. She moved down the hall towards the main room of the silo. The air was heavy with guilt as she walked in, she could just tell that Optimus just got done with his scolding. Whew, she dodged a bullet there.

"Yooo! Guess what!" She spoke in the back of her throat, making her voice sound strange. The bots looked up, most clearly in a bad mood. Some even glared *cough cough* Arcee.

A rattling sound was heard and they all looked at her in curiosity as she brought forth the can. They were about to roll their optics when she pulled out its contents. Instead of rolling up, optics could have rolled out of their very helms as she held her rust sticks for all to see.

"Everyone gets two" she sang. The bots gathered around her, except for Optimus and Ratchet of course. They shot off questions as they munched away; she answered them and even asked them a few. Like what was their favorite flavor? After she settled their curiosity, she moved over to the medic, and had to practically shove them on him.

"Take them, damn it!" She placed the rust stick in his servo when he tried to make her give them to someone else. He wanted them, but thought that someone else deserved them more. Fucking idiot.

After he finally took them, she moved over to Optimus. She set the can down on his console and took her one remaining rust stick out.

"Those are for you Optimus." She dearly hoped her head-cannon was right…

Optimus took one and slowly placed the end of it in his mouth, Corvin watching every movement with sharp optics. An extremely pleased look came upon the mech's face. Yesssssss, head-cannon so cannon.

Optimus totally had a sweet tooth, she could just tell by the look he tried to keep of his face, and Corvin planned to utilize this knowledge to the best of her abilities…

(AN: Hehe… um, my hand slipped? Anyway, I hope you like the robotic-porn put into words! Also known as fanfiction~ Mwahahaha!

I got art up of Corvin and even some up of Domi! Corvin also has a Tumblr! Like, a legit account! Corvin-was-here is what I made it.

Now, you know that this story is Rated M, for obvious reasons. I have stated it clearly, so you should not be surprised.

Jazzman-Music-Central-Party: Glad to make you laugh! Primly Booty got me going to, as well as the first chapters with Domi, ooh! I died writing it! It is soooooo obvious who she's pinning for, but hold on to ya teeth, I got some twists and turns planned that will knock ya out!

Till all are one!~