Hearts Desire

Authors Note: Yes, incredibly, here is yet MORE hopeless smut! Slash too! Optimus Prime and Ironhide while Elita watches. Please enjoy... phew... I know I'M hot enough after this!

Chapter Five

Ironhide lowered himself down onto the berth, stretching out on his back with his hands behind his head, watching Optimus Prime take Elita One into his arms and give her a through 'soppy and loving' going over. Kisses, whispers of love, his hands all over her chassis, touching her intimately after her hard overload. Ironhide was content to see his best friend and commander so happy, even if their intimacy painfully reminded him of his own lost love; Chromia. Just like the couple in front of him, he adored snuggling with his sparkmate after interfacing. He grimaced slightly. He missed her so much he thought his spark would offline.

"Optimus... stop that..." Elita breathed, dipping her head back and dimming her optics while her body shuddered under his knowledgeable hands.

The Autobot Leader cupped her cheekplates with one hand, and pressed his mouth to her throat, murmuring, "Why?", in her audio.

Elita switched to her internal com, ::Because as much as I love your personal attention, Ironhide is watching you and from his expression, you're making him think of Chromia and that is not our intent::

Immediately, Optimus withdrew. His optics blinked at her. ::Oh.::

His femme smiled sadly at him, brushing her hand over his chestplating. ::Do something to break him out of his melancholy.::

::Of course.:: Optimus glanced at Ironhide with a calculating expression. ::I think you'll enjoy the idea I have for us.:: He squeezed her shoulder, then rolled onto his knees and got to his feet. He stood at the end of the berth and beckoned to his Weapons Specialist with one commanding hand. "On your feet, solider."

Ironhide cocked an optic ridge at him, not moving his huge black frame one inch, comfortable where he was. "Why?"

The way her sparkmate lowered his head and flexed his shoulders to broaden the width of his chest gave Elita some clue to what he was about to do. She wasn't even sure Ironhide would LET him do this.

Standing stock still, Optimus unsheathed one of his lengthy arm blades with a hiss of steel. "Because if you don't, I will begin slicing off your cannons and feeding them into the recycler."

Ironhide's optics widened, thinking, oh, this was going to be good. Optimus was going to try being the dominant one. With a grunt, the mech clambered to his feet and faced his tall shiny Commander. He growled, "Always knew you had a sadistic streak in there somewhere."

On the berth, Elita folded her long red and chrome legs underneath her and sat there expectantly, watching the mechs face off. This would be interesting.

Ironhide pouted when Optimus unsheathed his interface and allowed it to extend fully between his upper thighs. The black mech sighed. "You keep showing me that thing, youngling, but I don't know what you expect me to do with it." Privately, Ironhide knew most other mechs would be totally intimidated by Prime's overt display. What Optimus had between his legs was on the larger side of 'big', and that was putting it politely.

Suggestively, Optimus flexed his thick leg cables and widened his stance. Then he put his hands palm down on his hips and waited with a brooding expression.

Ironhide's gaze went back and forth from Prime's crotch to his optics. "You've got to be kidding me."

Optimus Prime's optics narrowed. The end of his interface twitched and thickened a little.

Ironhide chuckled, "You really trust me not to bite it off?"

"If you do, it won't be him you'll be answering to, Ironhide," Elita said sweetly, putting her hands in her lap and feeling her groin begin to self-lubricate itself. "Purge your processor of any action like that or I'll remove YOUR interface."

Optimus nearly broke from his little charade at hearing her words. Trust his femme to threaten another mech over harming his interface. He just managed to maintain his tough and intimidatory persona. "Knees, Ironhide. The sooner the better." Prime's deep voice reverberated around the room.

Elita covered her mouth with her hands and smothered a squeak when Ironhide reluctantly got down onto the floor. He kneeled at face-level with Prime's semi-hard spike.

"You know what to do," Prime said softly, nudging Ironhide in the shoulder with his knee armor.

Ironhide hesitated for long enough to make Optimus worry – not wanting to make this too easy for him – then slowly lifted a hand and encased the male equipment dangling in front of his face in his palm, stroking lightly.

"You better make slagging sure this is what you want, Prime. I won't be stopping if you decide you don't like it after all," Ironhide grumbled, glancing up at his Commander's stern faceplates.

Putting one hand on the back of Ironhide's helmet armor, Optimus drew the mech's face towards his groin, rumbling, "Start sucking, mech, and make it good. I want you to make me hard enough to pierce Megatron's spark casing."

Ironhide couldn't make a comeback to that one. His mouthplates were already occupied with sliding down the length of Prime's hardening spike.

Looking on, Elita smirked. Watching her sparkmate's length crudely disappear into another mech's mouth was a huge turn on. She clicked open her interface cover and cupped her palm to herself, feeling the stickiness. If Optimus really could make himself go all the way, she was going to enjoy this.

"Take it all, Ironhide," Optimus demanded, keeping both of his hands on the black head armor in front of him in case Ironhide decided to back out.

Prime stood on spread legs, bracing his hips and allowing the black mech to swallow him. He could tell by the way that Ironhide took him almost to his root that he had done this before. Optimus really had to wonder who with, since his Weapons Specialist wasn't known to be a submissive. Ratchet, possibly, he was a good suspect... any further thoughts he had on the matter were stalled by the simple sheer pleasure Ironhide was giving him through his incredible skill. Slag it, the mech was good...

"Ugh..." Prime bowed his head down over his chest, working his hips in small thrusts. The newness of this coupled with Ironhide's eagerness could easily send him over the edge very quickly. For Elita's sake, he wanted to draw this out and give her a good show, as well as keep Ironhide occupied enough that he wouldn't think of Chromia.

Looking up at his Leader with bright optics over his busy mouth, Ironhide put more suction into his movements. With a free hand, he squeezed and rubbed at the base of the spike. He could easily tell that Optimus wasn't used to such treatment, he was far too responsive and wasn't pacing himself adequately enough. He mused that Elita must not be all that great at giving head, but hell, when a femme looked as good as she did, she didn't need the extra skill.

Take this, he thought darkly, running his glossa in circles over the head of Prime's spike, and poking into the exit slit in the head.

"PRIMUS!" Optimus gasped, jerking out of his rhythm. Cursing himself for making this too easy for Ironhide to take over, he purposely withdrew his length from Ironhide's pouting mouth with a backwards draw of his hips. His spike strained upwards over his lower abdomen, testament to the black mechs skill. "Lick it," he growled, "no more sucking until I say so."

Ironhide didn't look happy at being interrupted, but did as he was ordered to. Holding the spike with one hand to stop it from wobbling, he began licking Prime's interface from root to tip, adding in a little dance over the head with the tip of his glossa. Optimus placed his hands palm down on his hips and watched, optics dimmed.

"Need a hand?" Elita slithered off the berth and stood next to her towering mech.

"No, he has two of them, even with a mech my size, he shouldn't need more. Make him work for it," Optimus replied, smirking, looking down at Ironhide shaping his mouthplates over the tip of his spike and giving one naughty very small suck before quickly going back to licking. Every now and again, Ironhide locked his optics on Prime's and flashed them. A taunt to the Autobot Commanders domineering attitude.

Elita noticed that Ironhide had extended his own spike. It was standing up erect between his kneeling legs. ::Optimus?:: She pointed down at Ironhide's exposed length. ::You want me to shake him up a little?::

Optimus smiled. ::Yes please, my love.::

The Femme Commander gave Ironhide a filthy look before stalking around behind his back. She made him wait for an Earth minute, then crouched down beside him, reached a hand around his waist, grabbed his erection and yanked it – hard.

Ironhide jerked his head off Prime's spike with an oath. By force of will, he stopped his hands from grabbing at Prime's sparkmate.

"Ironhide!" Optimus snapped, "Did I tell you to stop, solider? Do I look like I am satisfied yet?"

Shifting on his knees with some nervousness, Ironhide gave Elita nasty look, then lowered his mouth back down to Prime's waiting hardness.

"Much better..." Optimus purred, caressing Ironhide's cheek with the back of his hand, and tracing a finger along his flexing open jaw. He'd heard rumors that Megatron forced his more difficult-to-control and arrogant soldiers to suck him off, and he could see the power in it. A small part of him was enjoying this far too much.

A snort of amusement came from Elita. She was using one hand to pump Ironhide hard. She pressed her lips to his audio, whispering, "I've had plenty of practise at pulling mechs off, 'Hide." Her glossa poked out to run over his upper cheek. "I'm going to make you come for me."

Picking up on her tactics, Optimus glared at the mech by his feet, "Do not overload for her, Ironhide, no matter what she does to you. Understand me?"

A groan of bemusement rumbled from Ironhide's occupied throat. Two bots at once was making it difficult for him to concentrate.

Elita laughed, her rose colored armor shimmering, "I don't care what he says, when I want a mech to come, he comes."

"Don't do it," Optimus warned again. "If you even dribble for her from that under-sized spike of yours, I will punish you." To try and keep Ironhide's focus on him, he placed his hands on his head and began thrusting his stiff spike with a little bit more force than he thought Ironhide could handle. It did the trick. The glazed expression on his face receded, forced back by the urge of Optimus' motions in his mouth.

Elita lifted her optics up to her mate's face, ::I'm going to make him come before you do::

::Don't! I have plans for him yet!:: Prime sent back, keeping up the steady deep pace of his hips. He was flexing his knees to get more depth into Ironhide's throat.

::Don't enjoy yourself too much:: Elita said reproachfully, taking out her disapproval on Ironhide by giving his spike a few hard yanks. The black mech groaned.

Optimus couldn't take much more. He was going to lose everything – his transfluid in Ironhide's throat, and Elita's admiration – if he didn't move things along quickly and finish his plan. He was on the verge himself, and Elita's end of the sparklink was glowing red hot with her approaching need to mount a mech and ride him to her overload. With a growl, he released Ironhide's head from his hands and stepped back. Ironhide looked up at him, his mouth still open in a sucking motion. Motioning Elita to back off, Optimus pulled Ironhide to his feet, and roughly pushed him down onto the recharge berth on his hands and knees.

"Elita?" Optimus kept one hand on Ironhide's back so he wouldn't move, and held his other hand out to his femme.

Her expression curious, Elita accepted his hand and was pulled onto her feet and up against Prime's hard hot body. With little effort, he lifted her up with a strong hand under her aft and pressed a kiss to her mouthplates, getting her to groan wantonly, then he set her down and slid a hand down her abdomen and into her slick interface. She squeaked at the sensation of two fingers delving thickly between her interface lips.

Optimus withdrew from her and lifted two lubricant covered fingers up for his inspection. With a satisfied grin, he gently pushed Elita away and rapped a hard fist on Ironhide's back. "Open your aft port."

Ironhide's optics glared at Prime over his shoulder, "You are NOT going in there!"

"Open it," Optimus said again firmly, rubbing his hand repeatedly over Ironhide's aft.

"No!"

Prime sighed, opening a link to Ironhide's internal com. ::Do I have permission to use your aft?::

The bulky black mech hesitated, then gave his assent, ::Only if you work for it, and you better not reveal this to anyone or I'll send you back to the Well of Sparks in itty bitty pieces::

Optimus ran his hand quickly up Ironhide's back and swiftly jammed his fingers into the back of his neck. A rough but not painful, manoeuvre. A promise that he could exert fatal force if necessary. Not that he ever would, but still, this was a good display.

"Yield. Open yourself to me," he demanded. To heighten the situation further, he tipped his head at Elita, "Keep me hard until he gives in. I don't want his previous actions at my feet to go to waste."

Her faceplates displaying her open lust, Elita moved in next to her beloved's hips and put her hand on his erect spike, purring, "As you wish... lover." Her hands pulled, stroked and fondled his nakedness. She didn't actually think there was any chance that Prime's erection would start to sink, but touching him was always her greatest joy.

"Ironhide..." Optimus practically snarled, effortlessly tightening his hand in Ironhide's neckplates so the mech arched his back and squirmed uncomfortably. "Open – your – PORT."

::Don't hurt him:: Elita sent him.

::I won't, but he will be a little sore tomorrow:: Optimus replied.

::In his aft or his neck?:: Elita joked.

"Bigger mechs than you have tried, Prime! Don't think that you get special access!" Ironhide snapped back.

Optimus tried switching tactics. Ironhide was one of the toughest mechs he knew. Force and hard words weren't the only weapon he had to use on him, there were other ways to coerce a bot.

"I know you want to overload," Prime said smoothly, and relaxed his neck hold on Ironhide. He placed his other hand under his belly and over his thick spike, "but I won't let you unless you let me use your aft. You want to come, don't you Ironhide? I can feel that you do." His fingers squeezed and manipulated the other mechs erection. "You're so hard, so tense. It won't take much.... but I won't allow you to. Imagine staying on the brink of release but never getting there."

Ironhide groaned and flexed his hips, pushing his eager spike into his friends hand. "Ugh... fragger..."

"All you have to do is open your port to me," Prime continued. He leant his wide chest down over Ironhide's tense back, rubbing their metal together. Red and blue flames over deep black. "Let me give you a release." His hand began to jerk the spike in his hold. "Please?"

"...Fine."

Elita lifted a comical optic ridge at the click of Ironhide's rear port opening. ::I'll enjoy this.::

Optimus smiled and positioned himself at Ironhide's upturned aft. ::Please do:: He slicked up the open port with his Elita-lubricant covered fingers, then straightened up. "I am so glad you're taking it like a mech, Ironhide," Optimus said, beginning to ease himself inside his crouching solider. He had to move in an inch, then back out, go for another inch and a half, then forwards again, but he was getting there.

The Femme Commander watched with wrapt optics. It was such a turn-on seeing one big alpha mech entering another forced-submissive mech with a huge erection. The sight of Ironhide's quivering hard spike sticking out from his hips was even better. Her hand went to her open port, fingering her slick lips.

"Ugh..." Ironhide flexed his back and rolled his shoulders, getting comfortable.

Optimus made a few soothing noises, seating himself deeply within the other mech and shifting around inside to get his bearings. When he finally got all the way in so his groin was flush to Ironhide's raised aft, he breathed a sigh through his vents. This was much tighter than he was used to. His optics flickered to the side to view Elita touching herself. Primus. He would be lucky if he lasted more than five Earth minutes with this.

"MOVE!" Ironhide demanded.

In answer, Optimus set himself up by pulling back – then began a firm and deep rhythm of in-and-out. Ironhide's hard spike bounced with each shove into his aft by the Autobot Commander. It was true that Ironhide rarely let another mech do this to him, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy it. He appreciated a good aft reaming as much as anyone, he just didn't want his hardcore reputation aft-reamed as well.

Elita One reached out to fondle Ironhide's spike -

"NO!" Optimus panted, "Don't touch him. He gets no help." He groaned and thrust relentlessly. Ironhide's whole body was being shifted and pummelled by the bigger mech in his rear. "Don't come yet, Ironhide."

"Too late..."

"DON'T COME!"

"TOO LATE!"

With no one touching his interface, Ironhide exploded in harsh spurts all over the berth. His spike jerked and released fluid like it had a life of its own. He rotated his hips under Optimus, striving to drag out his overload to its fullest. One of his hands left the berth to blindly reach back and touch himself but Prime pushed into him so hard he was forced to stop.

Looking down over Ironhide's shoulder, Optimus intently watched the fluid being rapidly spilled from his friend's excited spike, and promptly overloaded within Ironhide's port.

"Primus..." Optimus panted, holding Ironhide's hips and grinding himself into his port. His hips shoved and pulled. His back strained. His faceplates wore a perplexed expression of pleasure and shock.

Elita watched with huge optics. She couldn't believe she was watching Optimus climax inside Ironhide's aft. Her mate's armor flexed and creaked from the strain of his protoform concentrating all its energy on releasing fluid in an overload. It was a wonder that neither of the mechs went into emergency shutdown when they finally descended from their highs.

Optimus removed himself from Ironhide and sank down onto the berth with splayed out limbs and a glistening wet half-hard spike. Ironhide collapsed in an awkward crouch, not daring or not wanting, to move any further. Elita One surveyed the pair of them. She put her hands on her hips and pouted. They may have enjoyed themselves but she had been left with a raging need to overload and neither mech had an erect spike for her to use.

...perhaps Ratchet had a Cybertronian equivalent to the humans Viagra she could administer?