A/N: Statistics are not conductive to smut-writing. Trufax.

Son of A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to Eowyn77 for the extra read-through/betaing and reassuring me that yes, it can actually be posted :D

There was less than a second of warning, a flash of intent through their bond, but it was all Will needed. Ironhide sent him tumbling an instant later but Will was already moving, drawing on a subconscious mix of Ironhide's lessons and the impression of the front-liner's own hazy memories through their bond – not enough to really get the upper hand, never enough to win, but still enough to matter.

He landed mostly on his feet, narrowly missing one of the parked Jeeps and almost losing his balance in the process but it was still a hell of a lot better than he would have managed without Ironhide's lessons.

For a moment his processors snapped into combat mode, ready to defend themselves in the unannounced training session... and then he realised what the mech was up to at the silent purr of a challenge over their bond and the responding flare of dominance-battle-possession-mine from his Seeker half. There was the strange feeling of unfamiliar fans brought online somewhere in his body – not quite starting yet but the definite expectation of being needed soon enough – and the look Ironhide gave him would have been enough to make him more than a bit edgy as a human, moving like a predator with a grace that should not be possible for someone that big and heavy. Will wasn't human, though, not anymore, and the Seeker would never accept being considered prey, and the smirk they offered in response was all challenge. They might be going down but frag it, they were going to earn the beating.

"If you wanted an aft-kicking, you could just have told me so, 'Hide. It's okay, we're friends, we're not going to judge you if you're into weird-aft-"

That was as far as he got before Ironhide struck again, no warning at all from their bond, and the gleeful thrill of raw pleasure from the Seeker was both alien and familiar in a way that he had no time to think about before they hit the ground and were pinned against the tarmac by the familiar weight of Ironhide. It sent the sensor nodes in his wings blinking like a Christmas tree on speed and made a silent demand of strength-dominance-control flare up as they spotted a familiar Energon-line between Ironhide's armour plates as he moved, and they took their chance and made a grab for it. Maybe the mech had expected it, maybe it was just good reflexes, but while he twisted himself out of their reach, it didn't stop sharp claws from leaving near-perfect lines down his chest.

Ratchet was going to kill them for it but somehow Will couldn't bring himself to care as the Seeker sent an impression of smugness to their mate.

Marked property, Will added with a smirk. Your aft is mine.

Which was entirely the wrong thing to say – or entirely the right, Will was never going to be sure about that one – because he was back on the ground a moment later with the Christmas tree of sensor nodes blinking in his processors again in what he'd swear was a mocking little soundless tune, and he couldn't quite keep himself from groaning.

Seeker reflexes, my shiny, fragging-

-Property, Ironhide finished for him with a dark purr to send a shudder through Will's body, and there was absolutely no doubt that the mech knew what that voice did to him, and did it entirely on purpose, too. He arched his back without thought and gave Ironhide the chance at his wings that he had clearly been waiting for. The ghost of a touch against the still-sensitive NEST tattoo on one wing, and then one strong hand gripped the ridge of the same wing tightly for an endless second and tore an involuntary moan from Will as sensors flared up for entirely different reasons. I outrank you, Lennox. That aft is mine.

Gathering his wits again enough to respond to that took a lot more effort than Will was ever going to admit to, and the Seeker was absolutely no help at all, either. The bird-brain had been reduced to a mental puddle of lust in an embarrasingly short amount of time and Will admittedly wasn't doing that much better. Age before beauty? he asked flippantly. Frag you and the ship you-

And whatever else Will was going to have said was gone a moment later when Ironhide tightened his grip on Will's wing again and drew a strangled whimper from the Seeker-human in question, processors gone in a confusing haze of lust and pleasure and fight and ohgodmore as he tried to figure out if he should fight back or just lean back and do his best not to think of Cybertron in the least, because Ironhide's hands were pure witchcraft and if this was what pawing at his wings could do, he was mentally cursing every divine being who might have cared to listen that they hadn't used their first make-out fight session to explore the possibilities of it all.

"'Hide." It sounded uncomfortably like a plea instead of the firm demand he'd intended but Ironhide's touch had turned from a rough grip to an only slightly less rough exploration of his wings and even the fact that he could somehow find the brain activity to think, much less actually say something, was pretty damn impressive to Will.

The mech in question seemed to agree because the feeling Will got through their bond was distinctively smug before it faded again to give way to a mix of lust and protectiveness and an undercurrent of silent fascination that Will instinctively understood. He was a Seeker and Seekers were a breed all their own and however many mechs Ironhide might have been with in his long, long existence, there had never been a Seeker among them. Every touch, every reaction, every claim was new territory and the possessiveness that surged through their processors at that was as much the human as it was the Seeker.

He twisted sharply, a pang of regret as he lost the touch of Ironhide's hand on his wing but gone before it could truly register to either of them, and talons dug deep under scarred plating and tore through connecting wires like strips of paper. Sheer strength and surprise let Will flip their position, knew damn well that there was no way he could keep Ironhide pinned if the mech didn't want to be and beyond caring as he let Seeker instincts take over. Ironhide seemed willing to play along for the moment and Will freely took what he was offered – the temporary surrender of his mate as curiosity about what Will was doing won over the satisfaction of a good fight.

One clawed finger brushed a secondary Energon line under the heavy plating that covered Ironhide's chest, analysed and categorised fragments of a second later as something that would be annoying but non-fatal to have broken and left untreated, and two pairs of burning optics met before Will smirked and the claw curled sharply against the underside of the plating to neatly sever the line.

Pink stained the tip of his claws, black armour, flowed freely from the torn line even as self-repair systems kicked into action and began to stem the flow, and he lowered his head, mouth poised bare inches above still-leaking Energon.

Mine.

It was a promise, threat, warning, claim; mate and his as he bit down sharply on the line to keep the wound open, and it was joined by the sound of tarmac cracking as Ironhide dug his fingers into the ground in an effort to stay silent and not give Will the satisfaction of a verbal reaction. Not all pain, either, if what Will picked up from the bond was anything to go by, and he smirked as he let go of the line and lifted his head again and let Seeker instincts take over. This time, the Energon flowed for long enough to coat his hand and pool where it could, making its way between plating and clinging to wires and lines, and there was something about the taste and scent that marked it as different from his own. Not by much, barely enough to matter, but still a reminder that he was a Seeker now and Ironhide was anything but. Different bodies with different purposes and however trained his mate might be, Will still had both weight and sheer size on his side. Not enough to win a fight but still enough to cause serious harm on accident.

The Seeker part stirred, snarled its annoyance at being denied what it wanted, and Will let it take over again and followed its lead. His optics glowed brighter and he held Ironhide's gaze as he reached up and rested one hand on the black armour above Ironhide's spark-cage.

Stained claws curled against scarred plating, drew a screech of metal against metal as he dug in as deep as he could before his fingers took too much of the strain as well – crude, forceful motions but there was purpose somewhere underneath the lazy lust of it all, something past the pure, intoxicating feeling of control and having Ironhide at his mercy, and when Will finally let go again, the deep gorges had filled with the pink from Ironhide's own torn Energon line to turn into a softly glowing glyph. It looked a lot worse than it was, Will knew – Ironhide was a front-liner and meant to take a beating and there were very few sensors in that armour compared to the amount found in a Seeker's wings – and Ironhide's darkened optics that were the only response he had given came from Will and the Seeker's emotions and the act itself more than any physical sensation.

Mate, the Seeker purred silently as it took in the view, its mate marked and claimed for all to see. Mine.

His fans had turned on at some point – cooling fans, he realised distantly, and it was so much different when the heat came from your core and wasn't just an easy way to show off – and the sound mingled with Ironhide's own cooling fans and the harsh sound of venting intakes.

Ratchet, Will figured in a moment of clarity, was going to kill them.

He wasn't aware that he had transmitted that at all, through his bond or otherwise, but he obviously had because the impression of Ironhide's purr filled his mind a moment later and distracted him from the feeling of the mech shifting almost imperceptibly underneath him.

Ratchet, Ironhide smirked, can go frag himself.

One second of even moderately docile Seeker was all Ironhide needed for an opening. The breed was meant for flying, never for ground-based things, and Will was painfully reminded of that fact as Ironhide took advantage of gravity and experience to send Will tumbling to the ground and tore a strangled whimper from him when Ironhide gripped both of his wings.

He was tempted for a moment to keep fighting just to feel that grip on his wings tighten and soothe the near-panicked need-lust-desire but the thought was gone when Ironhide moved one hand to trace across the wide expanse of metal and linger on the still-sensitive tattoo. Metal-on-metal shouldn't feel so fragging good, shouldn't make every sensor hyper-sensitive and feel like the metallic equivalent of having your hairs stand on end from static electricity, and Ironhide of all mechs sure as frag shouldn't be able to turn him into a whimpering mess of... something just by stroking his wings like some stupid pet bird.

He should argue or complain or do something but in the end he just groaned again and then whimpered at a particularly successful stroke of the tip of his wing. "Fuck."

Amusement-lust-smugness from Ironhide, bastard that he was, and Will was going to pound the ever-loving slag out of him when he got coherent enough again to do anything other than arch into that touch like some horny teenager, and he wasn't sure if he should beat up Primus or thank him for giving him wings like that.

Entirely too talented fingers traced one tattoo again, followed the curve of the wing to where it joined his body, and he felt the first, small jolts of electricity in the wake of that touch as the charge grew. It felt vaguely familiar, he realised, something he recognised from his first time in his alt mode but this time he didn't try to rein it back in.

Instead he reached blindly for Ironhide, dug sharp fingers in between layers of plating to draw a hiss of pain-lust-want from the mech, and he got a slight twist of one wing in return as a silent warning and promise both.

The air from Ironhide's intakes was near-scorching and his own probably wasn't much better, but he didn't care when Ironhide finally spoke out loud in a voice that was little more than a dark purr, low and dangerous and belying none of the silent fascination Will felt from him through their bond.

"That sensitive, Lennox?"

The words sent another flare of arousal through their systems and energy bolts dancing across wings and plating, white-hot and burning to leave freezing cold behind, and frag it all to the Pit. "No, I'm here because I like the view. For frag's sake, Ironhide! Get your aft in gear or I'll kill you and I swear they will never find the body."

Another dark purr at that and a silent promise of a very long afternoon if Ironhide felt like it, but the grip still tightened to draw another pleading sound from him.

"Touchy, touchy. The word you're looking for, Will, is 'please'."

Fragging smug amusement that made Will and the Seeker both itch to turn the tables on the front-liner again but their control was shot to the Pit and their focus wasn't much better, and then one of Ironhide's hands trailed from his wing and to the point right above his spark and their world descended into nothing more than a blaze of lust-desire-mine-want-claim as that pulse in his chest responded to the presence of their mate.

Lines of code had responded the moment Ironhide's intentions became clear, rearranging itself to activate dormant programming and put into motion the complex series of commands and codes needed to open the multiple layers of armour that protected the very heart of his being. It was better protected than anything else on this new body of his, could probably handle a shot that would have turned his arm into scrap metal if need be, but right now Ironhide's presence was all that was needed to bring online the last bits of coding that would complete the sequence.

The sound of shifting plates was little more than a low whirr but Ironhide still heard it or recognised Will's intentions from the emotions across the bond. The mech froze for a moment in sudden uncertainty-

- worry-hesitation-desire-choice -

- And Will took the decision out of his hands when his fingers tightened around the edge of one piece of armour plating and he pulled with deliberate viciousness to bring their bodies close and complete the sequence with the last piece of armour that was still in the way.

The word I'm looking for is mine, Will smirked and scraped the underside of the much-abused piece of armour to draw a sharp sound of pain-pleasure from the mech. Mine and ours. The only one who'll be begging is you, old-timer.

A blue glow joined the drying pink of the Energon on Ironhide's chest as the final layer of armour that covered Will's spark parted – soft at first but growing stronger fast, flickering across black and grey, casting deep shadows in Ironhide's features and adding an unearthly look to already blazing optics, and it was as fascinating as it was terrifying to Will as he realised that he was looking at his own soul, laid bare and unprotected between them.

Even the Seeker's overwhelming desire to claim and mark and keep couldn't override that terrifying moment, and it was probably a testament to how far they had come that the Seeker actually reined in its emotion a tiny degree – still there, still tempting, still impossible to really ignore, but it was enough that he could think somewhat clearly again.

Ironhide felt his fear and hesitation and hesitated himself as well to let concern show through their bond, and finally Will lowered the last of his mental shields around his spark and allowed it all to catch up with him – the fear and uncertainty and sheer terror at the thought of what they were about to do, utterly unfamiliar territory and nothing that could be reversed again if he got it wrong, and he pushed it all aside with stubborn determination to focus on his mate instead.

My choice, Ironhide, he said, quiet, serious, and willing the mech to understand, to see that it was him and not the Seeker, that he could still think clearly through the lust and it wasn't just arousal talking. Nobody made that choice but me. The Seeker wants it but it didn't suggest it. So I'm a little freaked out – soul-sharing isn't exactly something humans do, in case you hadn't noticed. It doesn't mean I don't want this.

Having said what he needed, Will did his best to force those emotions aside and smirked instead as he tightened his grip on the plating again. From what he picked up from their bond, this time it definitely hurt and he would gladly pay for that later if that was what was needed to get Ironhide to move his goddamn self and do something. So to put this in terms even a front-liner should get, I want this and you stopped touching my wings. And if you don't get your rusty, glitch-infected aft in gear, I'll-

Whatever it was that Will intended to do, exactly, he would never know for sure because the thought was gone the moment Ironhide moved and the scarred armour that shielded Ironhide's own spark parted. The glow of the two seemed to feed on each other and intensify until the light was blue-white and near blinding, and whatever doubts he might have had left were gone when Ironhide crushed their bodies together and closed the last, few inches between them.

There was pain and pleasure, bright and glorious and terrifying, an alien feeling of something as his spark reached out to join with Ironhide's-

- And vertigo made his mind spin at a dizzying pace as his world exploded into a million pieces and reshaped itself back together into the single, all-consuming point that was his spark-merged bond-mate. It was clarity and overwhelming and too much and not enough and the fear that it would be too much was still there but for now he was still stable, could still find himself in the back of his mind, and knew somehow instinctively that however inexperienced he was, Ironhide was there as well and wouldn't let him fall too far into the maelstrom that surrounded him.

He was Ironhide and he wasn't, saw Ironhide see himself through Will's eyes, saw himself through Ironhide's eyes in turn and understood for the first time just why the Seeker could preen about its own appearance because through his mate's optics, the same creature that look downright ugly to a human became something exotic and desirable and elusive; and he had no time to consider it any further before he fell deeper into that presence and there was nothing left in his spark but the ancient, steady presence that was Ironhide and the overwhelming knowledge of a long, long life of memories.

Cybertron was the strongest among those memories – home and not home to the Seeker presence that still didn't quite know where it belonged – and a spark-wrenching feeling of loss at towering buildings that would never be again, glimpses of gardens he would never walk in and comrades he had never known but still missed in a strange way as the memories settled into his spark and became just as much a part of him as his own life had been.

War, combat; painful choices in the heat of battle, cutting losses so others could live, senseless destruction as city after city was thrown into conflict until the entire planet was engulfed and it was pain tinged with pleasure or pleasure tinged with pain as the memories of so many losses were tempered by the intimate knowledge of the mech above him and the absolute certainty that whatever he was and whatever he might still become, he wouldn't be alone.

He was vaguely aware of his own clawed fingers digging into plating, of energy dancing across armour and in between wires and seams to be lost in the blazing blue glow of their merged sparks; Ironhide's hands on his wings again and gripping with the same fierce desperation that Will himself felt, the constant feedback of his emotions felt by Ironhide felt by him and fed back through Ironhide as pleasure fed on pleasure and burned through any other emotion there might be left-

- And he felt it in the back of his mind as they fell over the edge, as the world was nothing but blinding, brilliant pleasure, the feeling of metal yielding under Ironhide's hand, and the last thing he was aware of was the sudden, panicked realisation that his wing was numb and he couldn't feel-

- And the world went white as the last coherent thought was gone and there was nothing left but instinct and the desperate need to fly.