Redline

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Part 9

The great big Peterbilt rumbled down Cliff Street toward downtown. As it was mid-afternoon on a beautifully sunny Saturday, many of the townspeople had taken shelter from the searing heat by hiding indoors, and it left Optimus and Mikaela with a fairly clear road ahead of them. The few people who they passed by could be seen reading or snoozing on front porches, under shady awnings, or else splashing around in the only overcrowded public swimming pool the place possessed. Quite a few of these people stared at the truck as it passed by.

Inside of the cab, Mikaela had started to sweat again, and this time, it wasn't from nerves. The repetitive motions she was making with her feet on the pedals and her hands on the gearstick and wheel were quickly becoming second-nature; she felt a great deal more confident than she had from when she'd first rolled Optimus into gear. She was becoming a lot better at eyeing the tachometer and listening to the truck to sense when exactly to shift gears without using the clutch. She hadn't had to use the pedal at all except to get him started the past couple of times, and she was rather proud of that fact.

No, she wasn't sweaty because of that—it was because she was simply too hot. She could have sworn that the truck's air-conditioning had become almost nonexistent. While she hadn't asked him to turn it down, she didn't think that it was a problem with his system, either. She seriously doubted that an Autobot such as himself would have any trouble keeping cool, even though the heat rolling off the immaculate flat top of the semi's hood was visible in waves. Prime's cooling system should have been more than a match for a long drive on a fine summer's day.

So what was the problem, then?

It wasn't her, was it? She'd been feeling, ah, a little bit 'frustrated' lately, but who could blame her, really? The damned semi vibrated like—uh, well. Suffice to say that it… vibrated sufficiently, actually, and it wasn't like she was getting laid a lot these days. Especially not with how busy Sam had been lately and how downright interfering his parents could be—and the attraction she'd just recently realized that she'd been feeling toward the Autobot leader did not help matters either.

God, sex… the very idea of it was making her warmer. She tried to put the thought out of her mind, instead reconsidering that the spike in the cab's temperature had nothing to do with her. Because as hot as she was, she knew that it wasn't the only reason why she was starting to feel so sweaty…

No, he's definitely turned it off, or something, she thought, stopped at a red light. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable and restless (particularly because once she started thinking about fucking, it was especially hard to stop thinking about it when she hadn't done it in god, what, a month? Or more? Shit), she squirmed in her seat, too distracted by mentally playing out brief scenarios of rough sex to notice the way her movements made her already short skirt ride up to the very top of her thighs.

"It's getting a little hot in here, boss…" she muttered as casually as she could, trying her best not to make the Autobot feel guilty, just in case he had actually turned off the air-conditioning without asking her first. "I could use a little more cold air, if you don't mind..." she grimaced.

"Duly noted," he answered pleasantly. "I will decrease the ambient cab temperature to something a little more comfortable, then."

"Thanks, Optimus."

God, I need to get laid, she thought yet again as she gritted her teeth, absent-mindedly wrapping her hand around the exposed metal length of the gearstick in preparation for the green light and foregoing the protective knob as she was tired of reaching all the way up to the top of the bloody thing to shift every single time. It was just so impractically long—it was ridiculously thick, too, she noticed as she wrapped her fingers around it (she could just barely touch the tip of her middle finger to her thumb). Why did the semi needed such a large shifter was beyond her.

She was in such a state that she could almost (scratch that, definitely) appreciate how—phallic—the large metal fixture looked, sticking out from the center of the cab. The placement, along with its unreasonable length and particular shiny metal thickness could definitely pass for a robot's, well—at least I'd know he's not compensating for anything, she grinned at the mental joke.

The truck's engine had choked when she'd touched it and as the light turned green, Mikaela eased onto the accelerator. She was surprised to feel the RPM rev quite a lot higher than would be expected for how much gas she was giving him as she shifted, making the Peterbilt jolt forward with a lot more force than she'd meant him to.

"Uh…" said Mikaela awkwardly, glancing down at her hand on the gearstick. There was no way that she'd done all of that by herself. Had Optimus—had he revved like that, because she'd touched the smooth metal of the gearstick opposed to the protective casing at the top? Surely not—obviously she was just being paranoid and perverted, having gone so long without getting laid and all…

Unsure if maybe she had done something wrong, she fixed the Autobot's rearview with a look of concern. "Whoa there, boss," she said. "Are… are you doing okay?"

"My mistake," Optimus replied in an oddly breathless voice. "My mistake, Mikaela, I… I must say, in my defense, that this is taking a lot more… concentration… than I had previously thought it would."

He also sounded awkwardly annoyed with himself—and it made her feel like she'd crossed some kind of invisible boundary of his by accident.

Mikaela felt her stomach plummet as she remembered how worried she'd been before she'd got to base that driving one of the vehicles would be a bad experience for the Autobot in question. Bee and Optimus had both placated her concerns in their own way to the best of their abilities, but here was outright proof that it was affecting the Autobot leader in some kind of undesirable way. Even he could not deny the displeasure in his voice—there was something about what she was doing that he did not like and he was far too noble to tell her, and Mikaela was not okay with this.

"Oh god, Optimus, I'm sorry," she said immediately, pulling the rig safely to the shoulder of the road so that she could fully concentrate on explaining. "I've been so stupid. I knew I shouldn'tve gone with Bee's idea to drive one of you guys around—I tried to ask him, how bad would it be? I mean… it's got to be super uncomfortable and weird, right? You guys aren't exactly built to have someone else taking control—"

But Optimus did not let her finish. "That is incorrect," he rumbled over her, sounding pained as Mikaela's slick palm slipped against the shifter's length as she let her hand fall away from it. "Un—uhh. 'Uncomfortable' is not the exact word I would have used."

Had the Autobot's voice just hitched when she'd done that, she wondered to herself. His reactions were a lot like someone who was being touched in a somewhat pleasurable way and yet trying not to let on to it, but this was impossible. The Autobots had physical sensory receptors inside of their alt-modes, this was true, but here was no way that he could feel her touch with the goddamned gearstick, was there?

"What is the right word, then?" She asked Optimus. She was beginning to feel very confused and more than a little curious…

"Ah," he said, his voice having not lost that pained, semi-awkward quality. "Well, 'distracting' might be a better word…"

She could have sworn that the Autobot had smiled at her, and the overwhelming feeling of being flirted with that had never wholly left her since she'd entered the Peterbilt's cab was on her again. Butterflies filled her stomach.

So she was distracting him, was he?

"Mmmmkay, so…" she said slowly, weighing every word, "that's not exactly a problem then, is it, boss, as I'm the one driving? Leaving you free to be as distracted as you please... Unless of course, you'd prefer me to stop—"

"No." Mikaela was startled by the forcefulness of the word. "Uh, I mean, unless you have had enough—I did not mean to imply that I find this procedure… undesirable. In fact, it is quite the opposite."

Mikaela raised an eyebrow at the rearview. "Ooo," she grinned mischievously. "Is that so?"

"Ahem," Optimus simulated a throat-clearing noise. "Yes. It feels rather, ah—nice—to be able to let someone else take over and drive, for once."

She couldn't help but smirk as her shoulders shook with a huff of silent laughter at how awkward and god damned innocent the Autobot sounded when he'd said this. "Okay, boss. Just as long as you'll tell me if any of this gets a little too much for you, then."

"You have my word."

A rather long silence stretched between the two as Mikaela pulled off of the shoulder and continued driving through Margo's downtown core. As they crossed the rickety old bridge that passed over the rubble-filled riverbanks, she pretended to be very interested in the town's southern-esque architecture to avoid conversing with the robot, her mind far too full of what Optimus had just said.

So, driving him wasn't exactly how she had guessed it would be for him—instead of the Autobot finding the experience unwelcome, he had fully admitted that it was at least a little enjoyable. But what exactly this implied was what had Mikaela confused—on one hand, she was pretty sure that Optimus would tell her if driving him (or, for good measure, touching any part of him whatsoever) was akin to anything more than a relaxing backrub (to use the same metaphor Bee had previously used)… especially because of how much he respected Sam. But on the other hand… she knew well that the robot was the exact kind of person who would—perhaps foolishly—consider himself above such whims like desire and potential lust until it was too late.

Mikaela shook herself mentally. Was she really sitting here wondering whether the sentient Peterbilt truck she was currently driving was feeling lustful toward her or not? God, what a weird thing to wonder… and about Optimus Prime, nonetheless, the endlessly stoic and collected leader of the Autobots…

And she was seriously considering that maybe she was making him lose his cool? As if…

No, what was more likely was that the 'bot simply was, as Bee had said, enjoying a nice relaxing experience out with a good friend. And so was she, she was doing nothing more than sharing that, ah, soothing, tranquil experience, with him—a friend—who, incidentally, could probably feel everything she did, and every which way she moved…

Optimus Prime, who could also most likely sense every molecule of her skin touching him and practically feel the whorls of her fingertips against his gear stick… and was probably continually assessing her heart rate, her breathing rate, etcetera, through that contact pressed gently against the smooth chrome shaft of the thing…

Aaand who could probably also feel the naked back of her thighs sticking to the burgundy leather of the driver's seat as her skirt rode up ever higher while she drove along…

Okay, she told herself. Think of something else… anything else… she tried to make herself more interested in the residential neighborhood surrounding them than she was. The small-side street was barely wide enough for the massive truck…

But she was disappointed—not a soul could be seen, not even on the shadowy porches of faded houses packed with mismatched chairs and tiny decorative potted cactuses, some of which were partially obscured by hardy vines with trailing feelers clinging to sheets of lattice and chicken wire.

The street was dead until eventually, the pair of them came to a little group of children who were playing a haphazard game of hastily-drawn hopscotch off to the side of the road with broken sticks of rainbow sidewalk chalk. They had to be no older than eight, Mikaela guessed as she watched them— there were two girls (who looked to be sisters, with identical curly locks of golden hair), and one dark-skinned boy who was clearly the youngest of the lot.

It was the boy who noticed the approaching Peterbilt first. He nearly tripped over himself in his hurry to point out the truck to his hopscotch companions—Mikaela couldn't help but stifle a giggle as he leapt up and down on the spot, quivering with excitement and pulling at the girls' t-shirts and pointing. It was heartwarming.

The truck had already been going pretty slow due to the nature of the road they were on, but as she watched she felt the truck downshift on its own to barely a crawl. Mikaela saw a switch on the dash—one marked by the little imagine of a headlight shining—flick to the 'on' position and knew that Optimus had turned on the Peterbilt's many accessory lights.

Despite the brightness of the day, Mikaela saw the reflection of the rig glowing bright neon blue against the nearest house's dark window panes. Yet again, Optimus Prime's apparent weakness for showing off was showing through—he just couldn't resist, could he?

And the children loved it—the young girls cheered and the little boy was so excited Mikaela saw his eyes nearly pop out of his head.

"Aww…" she murmured affectionately, more to herself than anything. "That's so adorable!"

"Mikaela," said Optimus, and the tone of his voice was a dead-giveaway that he also harboured a soft-spot for human children. The semi was totally into it, and she could darn well hear him melting through the radio! "Do you see that cable hanging down in the top left corner of my windscreen?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said, eyeing the slender black cord.

"Pull it."

It was pretty obvious to Mikaela what the cable was for even before she followed his instructions. The horn that she had accidentally triggered earlier (or, rather, the horn that she had the increasing suspicion that he had triggered earlier in his surprise when she'd kissed his steering wheel) was no more than the typical city-horn that every vehicle was equipped with by law. But big rigs were also designed with a much louder equivalent—the air-horn—and, although she'd heard Optimus Prime use his in battle before, she had never been so close to him when he sounded it.

And when she pulled it—she pulled it twice, for good measure—she had to admit that the loud, oddly dominating sound went straight from where it reverberated inside of her chest right down into her groin, because it was just so damn impressive and attractive and… and all-encompassing. Her mouth went dry. She'd always liked the sound of a rig's horn, but hearing it while inside of the cab, so close-to, and actually pulling the thing herself—it was a whole different experience, and a lot more intense than she'd previously expected it to be.

"Holy fucking shit," she'd muttered appreciatively to herself, her jaw practically on the floor. "That is so…"

She barely even noticed how the children down on the sidewalk were cheering and clapping enthusiastically as she had rolled past. Without even thinking, she pulled the horn again out of sheer desire to hear it again and breathed deeply as the blood rushed to her face.

Was it just her, or was the cab becoming increasingly muggy again? "That is so hot," she whispered, licking her lips.

How could a vehicle make her feel so sexually frustrated? Dang it all, Optimus Prime… it was his fault. Because this Peterbilt was doing things to her that she had previously thought no vehicle would ever be able to do…

But if Optimus had heard her comment, he had ignored it. Breathing out a long, shaky sigh, she blinked hard and tried to concentrate on driving to the end of the street very slowly, minding the parked cars on either side of the road (it really was a tight squeeze for such an enormous truck). The sensation of pooling warmth and tension that had started with the air-horn was distracting in the worst possible (or maybe the best possible) way, and she willed it to fade—but either her subconscious was making her rev the Peterbilt at a higher RPM than she'd meant to, or Optimus was doing it on purpose, because before she knew what was happening the rig was absolutely purring under her even worse than before and it was making her whole entire goddamned seat vibrate.

"God damn it, shit," she gasped, gritting her teeth as she worked the clutch and gripped the shifter's rod with sweaty hands that shook and slipped accidentally as she locked into second and then down to first, finally hitting neutral and stopping just before a stop sign at the end of the road. Could he be any more tempting if he tried?

"If you need a break, we can pull over," the truck suggested in the deepest, most rumbly, gravelly-and-yet-maddeningly-innocent voice she'd heard him use yet. "Or if you are in need of some assistance… I am, as always, more than happy to help."

She could have sworn he'd revved briefly while he said this, causing the tachometer to register a slight hiccup in the RPM idle, and she could have killed him for doing it.

"O-oh, hah," she laughed forcefully, trying to maintain a level voice. "N-no. I-I'm doing just fine, Optimus. You just—uh, well… you remember what you said to me, a little while ago, right?"

"Which part?"

"Um, about you finding me driving you around kind of distracting?" she winced.

"Yes, and what about it?"

"W-well," Mikaela choked, face burning bright red, "I'm… I'm finding you a little distracting, too, to be honest."

She'd been at a dead stop, hands off the shifter and feet on the brake and the clutch only, but she felt Optimus shake hard as his engine spluttered and died. The rig had utterly stalled all by itself—Mikaela plunged her finger into the starter button on the dash reflexively and the engine coughed before turning back over. She'd removed her finger right away, but the tachometer needle still spiked again anyway, causing the truck to make a long series of coughs just as Optimus's voice came over the radio.

"R-really, Mikaela?" he choked. "Is… is that so?"

Her heart beat was beginning to hammer inside of her chest as recklessness seized her. She'd never felt so wild, and she found herself saying in a downright seductive voice, "Yes, Optimus Prime. And you should know something else. …I've always thought you were a very sexy truck…"

His RPM dropped so suddenly she almost thought he'd stall again—but then rose back to a semi-steady idle, oscillating with pulses that were a little higher than normal, almost like a quickened heartbeat. The low vibrations bled straight through the floor of the cab, up her legs and up into her seat and right into her groin where she felt her own heartbeat throbbing.

"…Well then, I am flattered…" Optimus positively purred over the powerful rumble of the Peterbilt's idle.

Mikaela licked her lips thickly, trying to focus. Jesus, they had a task to be doing, and here they were, becoming increasingly flirtatious? Or, well, she was. She still didn't know for sure if the Autobot was being so suggestive on purpose or not… but then again, he'd just stalled when she'd said she found him distracting!

"Ahem," Mikaela cleared her throat pointedly, breaking the heated silence that had stretched between the two. "We're supposed to be driving, remember…" she raised her eyebrow in the rearview.

"Hm, yes…" said Optimus, somewhat guiltily. "Yes, we are…"

But… then again—she thought, as she eased out the clutch slid the truck back into first gear, buzzed with arousal and all-too-aware of the way the entire rig trembled as it moved forward—driving is the thing that got us here in the first place…