Hearts Desire
Authors Note: Thank you for all the reviews! I'm replying as much as I can, slowly but steadily. :-) Here's yet more Optimus erotica!
Chapter Three
From his position on the floor of Optimus and Elita's room, Ironhide grumbled to himself. Invited for interface, overloaded twice, then shoved off the berth without so much as a 'You're wonderful Ironhide, thank you'. He snorted. He wouldn't have known what to do with a thank you, anyway. Those kind of words made him cringe.
"Ironhide...?"
The soft murmur of Elita One's melodic voice drifted down to him. He looked up. Prime's femme was hanging over the edge of the massive berth, her fingers over the berth lip with her chin propped on them, her optics soft and inquiring.
"I would love for you to stay the night, I won't let Optimus push you off again. Please?"
Ironhide flared his optic shutters. How did that femme manage to get such an utterly sweet and innocent look on her faceplates? She fooled Optimus all the time with that combination of energon-goodie sweet innocence, and a ferocious temper and rifle as her back-up.
He and Optimus had just finished two-timing her, both of them concentrating on keeping the slender, curvaceous femme sandwiched between them while they overloaded themselves into her two ports. He smiled faintly at the images and feelings of his romp on the berth in his CPU. Optimus nestling himself between the wide open thighs of his femme, inserting his fingers into her and warming her up before entering her with his spike and going deep. He remembered the feel of Prime's heavy spike rubbing against his through the thin metal separating Elita's ports. The intense expression on Prime's faceplates when he overloaded into Elita; the flexible metal of his upper mouthplates opening outwards in a grimacing pout, his optics flaring, chest armor spread wide by his arching back, his appearance at the point of appearing agonised by the intense pleasure flowing through his spasming physique.
He wanted more of that. Optimus was damn interesting when he lowered his 'Prime' persona and indulged his desires. He'd have to work on getting the fragger to try some other, more risque, experiences.
"Eh," Ironhide said in answer to her plea, and rubbed one hand over the side of his head, avoiding her gaze, "you sure? Your friendly sparkmate just handed me my marching orders with his foot."
The black mech was surprised by Optimus leaning over Elita's body – thank Primus for long arms – and extending his hand palm out to his friend. "Get up here and stop back-chatting, soldier," he rumbled warmly, optics shining. His hand waiting to be grasped. "Come on, up you get."
Slag it. More touchy-feely stuff. He felt a warm sensation flooding his spark chamber, helping to ease the pain of Chromia's absence. He'd have to be tortured to admit but it would be nice to recharge with another spark-warm body nearby. Maybe he would be able to get some real rest...
He grasped Prime's hand, his spark jumping at the way Optimus closed his silver fingers around his black accented digits. Ironhide silently rose to his feet - then paused and looked down at himself. The inside of his thighs and his crotch were covered with Elita's drying lubricant. Not to mention his own transfluid discharge on his chestplates from her enthusiastic hand-job. A glance down at Prime's body showed him to be not much better off.
Optimus noticed. "We better tidy ourselves up."
"I've got wipes," Elita said helpfully, subspacing a small pile of cleanser fluid impregnated cloths into her hands.
"No, dirty mechs need more than that I'm afraid," Prime chuckled, patting her shoulder. "Ironhide and I will use the hose outside. Won't be long." He slid his tall self off the berth and motioned for Ironhide to follow him. The black mech did so.
Once they got to the hangar doors the never-ending rain greeted them.
"Maybe we won't need the hose..." Prime mused out loud, lifting an optic ridge and staring out into the wet black night, his red, blue and chrome body backlit by the lights from the hangar.
Ironhide grunted, brushing past him to step fully outside, allowing the rain to cover his thick body before he began rubbing at his metal to clean away 'evidence'. Optimus tilted his head and watched him. He was such a simple mech, 'Hide. Jobs were done as they needed to be, without fuss, simple actions, easy outcomes. No obstacle was ever so great that pounding his head against it or using his cannons wouldn't fix it.
Prime walked out to join his friend in the rain. As long as they rinsed off the 'fluids' on their bodies, raising their body temperature would evaporate the water quickly afterwards – all the better to get back to the beautiful femme waiting for them on the recharge berth. His peripheral vision caught Ironhide opening his crotch plates. He felt a tingle in his chest and tried not to stare when the mech casually extended his used spike and began lovingly cleaning it; stroking, rubbing; using his palm and fingertips to good effect. He didn't appear embarrassed or modest at all about himself. He was quite comfortable with displaying his intimate parts.
Optimus hesitated, thinking. He was a very private mech, not prone to revealing himself, but if Ironhide felt comfortable with it... Making a decision, he straightened himself up and sent a signal down below so his groin armor retracted. It took him a few more moments of gathering up his courage to think about revealing his own spike, the thick organ staying within its sheltering hole while its master contemplated. Slag, he just couldn't take the final step to get his 'little Prime' out in a non-interfacing situation in front of another mech...
"Get it out, Optimus, stop being so nervous," Ironhide spoke.
Prime looked at him and widened his optics. Ironhide's spike was beginning to thicken and rise. He was semi-hard and stroking himself from base to tip without a care in the world, standing with his thighs spread wide apart in a laid-back position and his hands touching his spike sticking out in front of him without any trace of embarrassment. Optimus was shocked even more when the other mech removed one hand from his spike and held it out palm upwards in front of Prime's spike housing.
"Put it in my palm, you shy fragger." His deep voice rumbled, fingers beckoning. "Come on. I don't know what you're worried about, your spike is huge, stop tucking it away and keeping it to yourself. I just watched you playing with your femme and thrusting yourself up inside her next to my spike! What on Cybertron are you being shy about now?"
"I-I... er..." Optimus stuttered, his words coming to a halt. It just made him feel so awkward to be looked at. Or touched.
He knew what the problem was. In the heat of the moment with his urges aroused and wanting to interface, it barely crossed his CPU to be 'shy' about exposing himself, especially when he was around his beloved sparkmate. His systems over-rode his timidness. But when his metal was cold... no. He was excruciatingly self-concious. They had told the humans that Cybertronians didn't have any hang-up's about intimacy, that they shared and displayed themselves with no trouble at all... most of them. He wasn't going to volunteer to made an addendum saying , 'Except Optimus, he has issues'.
Ironhide boldly tapped the tip of his index finger onto the barely visible rounded of Prime's retracted spike, making Optimus cringe his hips backwards. "Bring it out, you're not going to get past this until you do."
"Ironhide, I don't think this is really-"
"Out. Now."
"The humans-"
"Are asleep at this hour of the night, and the guards can't see us in the dark in any case. Use your sensors if you want to be really pedantic."
Ironhide kept his palm out. Waiting. He was going to break his Leader of being this silly even if it offlined him. Only Primus knew why he had such a problem with revealing himself.
Finally, Optimus blew air out of his intakes and flexed his crotch. His long spike came out willingly into Ironhide's waiting hand.
"Good mech..." Ironhide smirked, closing his fingers around Prime's equipment, "now why was that so hard?"
"It's not hard, its limp," Optimus said sourly, putting his hands on his hips and staring down at himself in Ironhide's hand.
The black mech chuckled in an almost evil way. He moved himself to stand in front of Optimus, then began squeezing and caressing Prime's spike, the rain washing away the dried lubricant from Prime's incursion into Elita. He stopped touching himself with his other hand to concentrate both hands on Optimus, leaving his own erection upright and very lonely.
"What are you doing?" Optimus spluttered when it became obvious that his spike was now VERY clean and Ironhide was still caressing it. Prime could feel his systems waking up, sending slow but insistent throbs of pleasure up from his crotch. If Ironhide didn't get his hand off soon, he'd soon find himself touching a very 'prime' erection – and that would make Optimus' discomfort double.
"I'm not into mechs that much, they're okay, I prefer femmes, but you know what?" Ironhide said conversationally, fondling the head of Prime's spike with his fingers while taking the body of it into his palm and squeezing it, "You need this. You haven't been with another male before, have you?"
Optimus Prime's jaw worked like that of a guppy fish. His length was rising steadily upwards in Ironhide's experienced hands, and it was scaring him that he was enjoying it. "NO!"
"Thought not. You have to let me do this, I have a feeling that Elita would LOVE to see you and me going at it, but you need to be broken of this 'don't touch me' attitude. She wants a show, we'll give her one. She deserves it."
Prime struggled for what to say to that kind of argument. He'd do anything for Elita, but did that include interfacing with a mech? With Ironhide?!
"Turn around."
"What?"
Ironhide frowned at him, his optics shining an intense blue through the rainwater streaming down from his head armor, "I said turn around."
"Why?!"
With a growl, Ironhide grabbed his shoulders, spun him around and pushed him against the hangar wall. The building shuddered at the impact. Optimus found himself with his chest and noseplates pressed into the exterior of the building, and Ironhide leaning against his back. Prime planted his hands on the wall and tried to push off. No way was Ironhide letting him go, he pushed back with his body and kept him in place. Optimus would have to hurt him to get free.
...and then getting free became the last thing on his CPU. Ironhide's hands were doing a number on him. The mech was reaching around his hips with both arms, using his hands on Prime's now fully hardened and excited spike. One hand squeezed the base, the other cupped his length and made harsh jerks. Hard enough that Prime's hips were pulled forward with each tug.
"If you really want me to let go, just say so, but make sure that's what you really want," Ironhide murmured in his audio, upping the pace of his hands on the other mech's spike.
Prime closed his optic shutters, let his forehead rest on the wall - and stayed silent.
He was caught up in the sensations of his Weapons Specialist's amazing hands. It felt absolutely, freaking WONDERFUL to have his interface treated by hands other than his own that knew EXACTLY what to do, the way he'd want to touch himself if he was doing it. When Elita touched him; Primus bless her spark; she was nowhere near as hard and demanding, and she had certainly never pulled at him so hard that his hips were pulled out of position. Her fingers were light and probing. Full of love. Ironhide was a mech, he knew exactly how much force to use and he wasn't shy about doing so. He was treating Prime's spike the same way he treated his own, jerking him off with the right pace and firmness to get fast and explosive results.
Getting bolder, Ironhide let his hips settle against Prime's aft. Black armor scraped against red and blue flames. Optimus was a mech-on-mech virgin. Who would've thought it?
"C'mon, Optimus, come for me, I want that wall painted with your mech fluids. Keep it up... you can do it..."
"Ngh, Primus..." Optimus gasped, his hips working harder. He tilted his head back, gasping. It didn't matter how much he moved his body, Ironhide's magic hands kept up with him.
Ironhide was now actively grinding his hard spike into Prime's heaving aft, their bodies keeping pace with each other. Slag, no other mech could get close to how hot Optimus Prime's physique was. The rain turned into wisps of steam wherever it hit their bodies. This was turning him on. He wanted to touch himself but one hand wouldn't be enough on Prime's interface so he settled with rubbing it against Prime's beckoning rear end.
"If you need extra incentive, think of Elita overloading with my spike shoved into her to the hilt – while you watch..." Ironhide purred in a sultry tone. "She'll scream for me, I know she will."
Prime's fingers curled into his palms and his body went rigid up to the building. With a light scream his spike ejaculated his transfluid in hot spurts onto the hangar wall. His rapid pants brought a feral grin of success to Ironhide's faceplates.
"Ugh...ugh..." Optimus dropped his head down and rotated his hips feverishly, his spinal strut flexing, getting the last of the overload out of his spike.
"Good mech... good mech..." Ironhide muttered, and kept squeezing and pulling Prime's interface until it started to lose its hardness, then he levered himself away from leaning on the back of the bigger male and put his hands on himself. With a grimace and a few hard tugs, he sprayed his overload onto the ground between Prime's splayed metal feet.
Optimus barely noticed. He was resting his head on the wall and recovering. A long grinding shudder rocked his body. He moaned.
"I don't have enough wipes to clean that up, Primus you mechs make a mess, why can't you have internal overloads like femmes can?"
Optimus Prime froze. Horrified. Ironhide barked a loud laugh. When Prime lifted his head cautiously, he found Elita standing just inside the hangar doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, her body braced on stiff and planted legs. Her usual Femme Commander pose. How long had she been watching them?!
"...someone kill me..." Prime whispered weakly. The rain was already removing the 'evidence' of his pleasure from the wall, but the more sticky remnants of it remained as sparkly silver particles in globs.
Elita's facial expression was alternating between trying not to laugh and being flabbergasted. She shook her head, releasing her arms from being across her chest. Optimus watched, cringing, as she came over to him. Her optics met his. "At least I can't accuse you of being with another femme." She smiled indulgently at him and glanced at his mess on the wall. "You'd better wipe that down before the humans come around in the morning and start asking questions. I don't think saying 'aliens did it' will work this time." Her optics surveyed his wet body. "You missed a bit..." she purred, staring at his groin. With gentle fingers, she stripped the last of his transfluid off the underside of his hanging spike where it had dribbled from his tip and shook her fingers in the rain to remove it.
Ironhide's optics brightened hopefully when she faced him and stared at his spike. "Oh no, you can clean that one up yourself. And hurry up, we need to get SOME recharge before the sun comes up." Turning away to go back inside, she flipped a wave at both of them over her shoulder, offering a sexy smile, "I want two clean and dry mechs on my berth in five Earth minutes. Move it, soldiers!"
"Yes ma'am," Ironhide growled, smirking. He shrugged when Optimus sent him a disbelieving look. "You heard your femme, she wants us BOTH on her berth."
Optimus rolled his optics, standing up to his full height and spinning the engraved metal circles on the side of his head armor. "WE are going to talk in the morning," he rumbled deeply.
"Sure."
"...Seriously, talk."
"Okay." Ironhide grinned at him. Not worried.
Prime grimaced, grumbled for a few moments more, then gave in. Ironhide was Ironhide. He couldn't help but love him. "Dry yourself off so you don't offend my femme, and if I find your hands on my spike again before morning, I'll dismantle your cannons and ship them off to Antarctica."