Cybertronian time measurements according to 'The AllSpark Almanac':

nanoklik ~ a second

cycle ~ 1,5 minutes

megacycle ~ 2,6 hours

solar cycle ~ a day

orbital cycle ~ a month

stellar cycle ~ a year

Boring!

Boring, that word described Bumblebee's situation to a tee. Boring were his companions, boring was this waiting for Primus-knows-what. And so was this morning.

Too weary to look for a way to escape, he and Blurr were relaxing on the berth. Only Prowl had left the room, either for kata, meditation or simply to be alone. What else was new?

But looking at the bright side, it had been a solar cycle since his and Prowl's tank issues were resolved, and they could now fuel on Energon like "regular members of their species," as Blurr put it.

However, it had also been a solar cycle since his other problems began. Problems so much more intrusive than boredom.

He rolled to his side, watching Blurr intently. Blurr was lying on his backplates, like a log, not too far away. His expression remained impassioned, save for that palpable frown between his optical ridges, as he stared stubbornly at the ceiling.

The air surrounding Blurr's frame was waving, and he could feel the heat caressing his faceplate. Blurr wasn't saying anything, but it didn't mean he was quiet - the annoying loud hum of his cooling fans had been filling the room for the entire morning. Well, Zippy might keep his mouth shut about his predicament, but at least his frame was so much more forthcoming.

Sure enough, he would have been in Blurr's place if he hadn't indulged himself in the bathroom a time or two. Or three. Okay, it was more than three times.

But the tingling beneath his codpiece was a reminder he needed more than self-service to tame his drug-induced desire. He had also tried cold showering, but it had only eased the need for half a megacycle at best.

But why mortify the frame with freezing solvent or kill off his servo with constant jerking off, when there was a much more efficient solution? Much more pleasant, too.

With that in his processor, he piped up, "At this rate, you'll fry your circuits in no time, you know."

"So?" was a gruff reply. Blurr didn't even spare him a glance.

He rolled his optics. Of course, Zippy wouldn't make this easier for him. What a dead spark plug. "All right, forget I said anything," he mumbled, trying to ignore the heat rising low in his frame.

Blurr snorted in frustration, and that was the end of their brief conversation. And then Bumblebee did something very stupid, something very Bumblebee-ish.

He grabbed Blurr's thigh.

Instead of the growing displeasure on Blurr's faceplate that he had kinda expected to see, his look was more akin to a flustered surprise, his lipplates slightly parted as he stared at his servo.

Jackpot.

He put on a sheepish expression. "Sorry, my servo must've slipped," he said coyly.

And only then did he remove his servo.

Blurr's gaze turned to him, giving him a tentative look. "It's no big deal," he stammered, that peculiar glint in his optics.

"Since we're doomed to each other anyway for the time being," he reasoned, "why don't we at least get to know each other better?"

Blurr's optics widened. "W-what do you mean?"

He couldn't help but chuckle at his awkwardness. "Let's talk! Unless you know better ways to get to know each other," he teased, his neglected equipment begging for attention.

"Uh, we can talk. What would you like to know?"

"Well, for starters, did you really spend all that time in alt mode on Earth?"

"Not all that time, no," Blurr replied pointedly.

Oh, he is referring to me blowing his cover, oopsie.

A sheepish grin spread over his lipplates. "And how long exactly were you on Earth?"

"A few orbital cycles."

"Oh, slag! I would go crazy after, like, one solar cycle!"

Blurr shot him a look hard to decipher, and with that, he returned to staring at the ceiling. His ventilation system kept filling the room with its loud humming, and it was getting really hard for Bumblebee to ignore his own arousal.

Slag.

"Isn't it bothering you?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Blurr sat up, crossing his legs above his tires. "What do you mean?" His gaze was almost expectant, a faint smile on his lipplates.

And for the first time, it crossed his processor that maybe Blurr wasn't that oblivious to his condition. Maybe he was just... shy? After all, not even a blind and deaf drone could ignore such an intense call from within its frame, and this bot here was quite intelligent and educated.

Frag it.

Following Blurr's example, he sat up, comfortably resting his legs on the berth. Blurr continued to look at him with that faint smile plastered on his faceplate.

He smiled back at him, an impish glint in his optics. "You know, now that I think of it, I've never properly thanked you for saving me from Blitzwing."

Saying that, he scooted behind him. His abdominal plating burned furiously, demanding direct stimulation.

Blurr craned his neck to give him a look. "You and your human friend freed me from Master Disaster's control. I believe we're even."

Oh, we're playing hard to frag, are we?

He regarded him for a moment, studying the bright stripes on his backplates.

Finally, he said, "Trust me, that was mostly Sari's doing. I was more focused on nailing the blue racer." His optics wandered over the blue frame, lingering longer on Blurr's aft and waist. It was only his sheer will (though at its end) that held his spike unpressurized in its casing, and his codpiece - closed.

"So you were," murmured Blurr, nodding his helm.

Getting emboldened by his arousal, he drew even nearer, spreading his legs at Blurr's side. Without a second thought, his digits brushed Blurr's backplates, tracing along the bright stripe.

Blurr all but jumped at the touch. "Oh! W-what are you d-doing?" he asked, but his tone was by no means accusatory or indignant.

"Zippy, you need to unwind a little," he purred into his audials, causing Blurr to tremble.

"I-if you say s-so..."

He put his servos flat on his backplates, pulling a sigh out of their owner. "Fortunately for you, I'm more than glad to help."

Without wasting more time, his servos roved over Blurr's backplates, exploring them from every angle. Blurr's engine revved softly, his fans buzzing as he leaned into the touch. The plating under his digits burned hot, giving voice to what Blurr truly wanted.

His caressing touch travelled lower, teasing transformation seams along the way. Blurr quivered under his ministration, little noises escaping him in a steady flow.

His servos slid even lower down the dark waist, only to stop right above Blurr's aft. His digits lingered there, prompting Blurr to arch his backstrut as his engine purred, making it very obvious what he wanted. He descended at a deadly slow pace, making sure anticipation was coursing through Blurr like liquid lightning. Then his servos went up, just missing his aft at the last moment. Blurr whined in objection, bringing a mischievous smirk to his lipplates.

"Something wrong?" he asked coyly.

"Uh, nothing," Blurr muttered.

"Good." A pause. "I want you to really relax," he drawled, closing his legs so they brushed against Blurr's.

Primus, his spike housing was painfully tight around its resident at this point, not to mention the lubricant pooling inside of him.

He got closer, pressing his chassis and faceplate into Blurr's backplates. His overheating codpiece rubbed against Blurr's aft, eliciting a gasp from its owner. Wrapping his arms around Blurr, he placed his servos on Blurr's chestplates. A few strokes there and then he slid lower. Without delay, Blurr's waist and hips were his next stops. His patience to play this game was wearing thinner with every nanoklik.

And when one of his servos landed on Blurr's abdominal plates, a fervent "please" on Blurr's behalf was enough of an invitation. He revved his engine up in approval, but before he could do anything else, Blurr freed himself from his embrace.

Blurr rolled onto his side, crooking one of his legs to provide easy access to his now exposed valve. A single trail of glistening lubricant made its way to the mattress. Warmth crawled across Bumblebee's faceplate at the sight, tingles exploding between his legs. Wow.

"I need, please... just..." Blurr panted out.

"Oh, I know," he murmured, getting closer. His own codpiece had unfolded involuntarily, his already fully pressurised spike practically shooting out of its casing. The lubricant, no longer trapped inside, spilled between his legs.

Having settled at Blurr's side, with his spike poking at his aft, he dipped two digits into Blurr's wanting hole. Moaning softly, Blurr arched his backstrut, pushing himself against the eagerly welcomed digits.

He kept fragging his valve with his digits until Blurr was shaking, unable to stay still. His moving aft was bringing friction to his spike, setting his Energon to boil. Primus, if he didn't frag something soon, his processor would sizzle.

That was why he removed his lubricant-covered digits from Blurr's valve, earning himself a displeased whine. Blurr's aft fell victim to his servo, some of the lubricant painting the dark blue plates.

Bumblebee smirked. "Now it's your turn, Zippy. Show me you want it."

The sound that left Blurr's mouth was a mixture of indignation and needy despair. "I'm already letting you- ugh, you know! Just- j-just… just frag me!"

Seeing the eagerness with which Zippy offered himself to be taken, he almost gave in to that ardent request. But tempting that uptight bot to the point of driving him crazy for his spike was so much more fun!

"Well, make me," he said, leisurely stroking his length.

That flustered frustration on Blurr's faceplate was deeply satisfying indeed.

"Ugh, fine," he said petulantly as he sat up.

crossing his arms behind his helm, He lay down, leaving the field clear for Blurr.

For a few moments, Blurr caressed his thighs before spreading them out some. The newfound space between his legs became Blurr's territory, his faceplate drawing level with his spike. His spark fluttered with excitement.

Electricity shot through his frame when Blurr licked his spike's tip. With his mouth open and his glossa swirling around the spike, Blurr took him inside. He groaned deeply, feeling the wet, tight heat engulfing him.

"Mmmph... Oh..." he gasped when Blurr sucked on him. He lifted himself a little so he could see his spike disappearing past Blurr's lipplates.

As if on cue, Blurr raised his helm a bit too, and locked his stare on him. Then, he fraggin' smiled around his spike. If he had been any closer to overloading, he would surely have come on the spot from that sight alone.

"Wow," he murmured instead, his voice heavy with pleasure.

Blurr's gaze dropped, focusing back on the task at the servo. Or in the mouth, in this case. His helm was moving up and down as he mouthed around his spike with passion. The way his glossa worked around his length left him squirming and moaning.

Hollowing his cheekplates, Blurr swallowed down, eliciting a loud sigh from him. And then he swallowed yet another inch. His hips surged forward on their own, seeking more sensation, more friction, and more pleasure from that wickedly talented glossa. Blurr continued bobbing his helm, sliding down further and further until his lipplates were touching his plating, oral lubricant drooling all over. Frag.

Note to self: being able to spit out hundreds of coherent words per cycle means amazing blowjobs.

Sure enough, he forgot what he was thinking about when Blurr pulled out with a wet pop.

"Do you feel convinced enough?" Blurr asked in a sultry voice.

Without waiting for a response, Blurr straddled him, pressing their lengths together. A sharp gasp escaped him, partially from pleasure rocketing in his lower frame, partially from sheer astonishment this dead spark plug actually knew how to be a tease.

He grabbed both their spikes together, his servos going up and down around them. At one point, Blurr moved his servos away to mount on his spike.

His processor went blank, only focusing on the sensations coursing through him at that moment.

Blurr hummed in relief, grinding his hips at a steady, punishing pace. A groan ran past his lipplates. His servos roved over Blurr's perfect frame, only to be captured by Blurr himself and pinned to the berth over his helm.

Towering over him, Zippy whispered, "What if your friend hears us?"

What friend-

Primus, being so engulfed in his primal need and busy wooing Blurr, he had completely forgotten about Prowl. But he wasn't very far away, right? Neither was he immune to the drug...

He smirked, rolling his hips. The grip on his servos tightened, and he could see Blurr biting his lipplates, trying not to make any sound.

"Then he'll come to join us, I guess," he said nonchalantly, though his voice almost cracked, feeling that warm valve enveloping him so tightly. After a short while, his own words dawned on him, prompting warmth to crawl across his faceplate. The thought of Prowl joining them sent a jolt of arousal shooting straight into his array.

Blurr shot him a quizzical look, but recognition flashed across his features soon after. He didn't waste time trying to understand what went through Blurr's processor as he twisted his hips, urging him to move. Blurr let go of his servos and placed his own on his sides. Then, he started to move up and down on the spike in no rush, shutting his optics tight.

He studied Blurr's expression, the way he was panting through barely parted lipplates, his frame trembling with each descent.

Is he holding back? he wondered hazily, moving his servo to Blurr's aft. Is he keeping it down so he - we - won't get heard?

Zippy's optics shot open when he slapped his rear with a loud thud.

"Oh!" Blurr gasped, locking gaze with him, before looking away like a bashful school-mech he was far from being.

He couldn't help but smirk. Frag that rigid grouch a little, and suddenly he becomes all meek and mild. Funny how that works.

"Turn around," he instructed, slapping Blurr's hips expectantly.

Blurr spun around on his spike, giving him a perfect view of his black aft, further working him up.

He grabbed his hips, prompting Blurr to look over his shoulder. And throwing him quite a smouldering glance at that.

Blurr rose and lowered himself on his spike several times before he got the idea. He'd rather pound Zippy into the berth, have him squirm underneath him than impassively lay down on his backplates.

He lifted his chassis and, without any warning, shoved Blurr off of him. Blurr landed on his front clumsily, with his aft up in the air.

"Stay as you are, Zippy," he panted out, barely thinking straight.

Like a wild mechanimal, he all but lunged himself at Blurr, positioning his frame between those slender legs. His spike pressed against the dripping entrance, savouring the heat radiating from the inside.

Then he pushed in some, and Blurr moaned, his engine purring.

And with that, he slid deeper into that wet, tight passage. Gripping his hips, he buried himself to the hilt. He couldn't help but groan, feeling the valve clench and ripple around his length. Then he draped himself over Blurr like a thick, warm, and very yellow blanket. Having planted one pede on the berth for support, he started pounding into Blurr.

Blurr mewled in pleasure, pushing his aft against him, meeting his thrusts halfway. He grasped his shoulder to keep him in place, Blurr's frame scooting away from all that ramming. Blurr desperately clawed at the bedding, panting and whimpering. His grip on Blurr's hip tightened as he was grunting and revving his engine softly.

"Mmph, harder, ahh, Bumblebee..." Blurr demanded, grinding against him with a furious urgency.

And so he obeyed, barely stifling a chuckle. Putting more pressure on Zippy's shoulder, he pinned him to the berth. He almost pulled away before slamming into Blurr, hitting all the right spots, if the way he moaned, nearly wailing, squirming underneath him, was any way to go.

His overload was right around the corner. There was something satisfying about reducing this haughty hard case into a pathetically mewling mess, he thought to himself, wiping drool out of his faceplate with a shoulder.

"I knew I wasn't the only one going through this," an amused voice arrived from the entrance to the berthroom, prompting him to cease his movements, much to Blurr's displeasure.

"You knew it and yet decided not to tell anyone, Prowl?" he asked, now lazily rocking his hips into Blurr. Blurr's engine purred in delight, his digits curling against the fabric.

Prowl approached the berth, resting his servos on his hips with the most peculiar expression on his faceplate. He sent him a quizzical look, but Prowl's attention seemed to be drawn to other parts of his frame.

His lipplates quirked into a smirk. The sense of prudery was always alien to him. After all, he had nothing to be ashamed of with that hot, gorgeous frame of his! Besides, he liked it when others looked at him.

Especially in the manner in which Prowl was doing it just now, his vents heaving loudly.

His faceplate went burning hot. He sighed, provoking Prowl to look at him in the optics.

Eventually, Prowl piped up, "I can say the same about you."

His optics lingered on Prowl for a little longer until Blurr wriggled his aft, dropping him the hint to focus back on him. And so he did, ignoring Prowl as he re-adjusted his grasp on Blurr's hip and shoulder before resuming his relentless ramming. His pace quickened, chasing after his desire just as much as he was bringing Blurr's closer to his own release, but his thoughts circled around Prowl somewhere behind him.

Blurr all but screamed as he overloaded, his entire frame trembling. The clenching of his valve pushed him over the edge too, as he came inside of Blurr, panting as the clamping canal milked him dry.

He lifted himself gently off him, without disconnecting them, to sit between his legs. Blurr trembled as much as he did.

"Are you alright, Zippy?" he asked, pulling out. Transfluid flowed out of the slightly gaping valve, pooling on the bedding.

Blurr mumbled something, followed by a long sigh.

Bumblebee chuckled. "Oh, I'm glad to hear that."

Primus, his spike was so spent. But his valve throbbed with need, lubricant dampening the bedding between his legs. He turned around on his aft.

Prowl was sitting against the headboard behind them, leisurely stroking his spike. He almost snickered, seeing rather a funny-looking expression on Prowl's faceplate, all hot and bothered. A stark contrast to his regular "poker face."

"Enjoyed the show then? I know I'm quite a sight," he said, casting Prowl a coquettish glance, heat blossoming in his abdomen anew.

"I have until you started talking," Prowl replied dryly, letting go of his spike.

But the way Prowl's optics were roving over his frame was telling a different story. And when he caught Prowl's gaze, full of pure lust, he could only smirk.

"If you don't like it, then make me shut up," he teased.

"We both know it's impossible."

He remained silent as he crouched over Blurr's leg and sat next to the worn-out bot, yet keeping some distance between them.

Prowl arched his optical ridge. His answer was a smouldering gaze before he turned around, feeling a stream of fluid trailing down his thighs. He was on his knees and forearms in no time, arching his backstrut, his aft high in the air. Primus, all he needed at the moment was to be fragged senseless.

"Prowl?" he purred, enticingly rolling his hips. "Stop complaining and get going."

Engine revs filled the air as Prowl got behind him, heat radiating from his frame. Agile digits trailed along his transformation seams, brushing and probing plating on his waist, aft, and thighs... He ventilated heavily in anticipation, leaning into the touch.

Resting his helm sideways, he turned his gaze to Blurr. Blurr sent him a curious look before darting his optics away.

A gasp escaped his mouth when a digit ran over his valve lips. He pressed against the servos touching him, feeling his valve clench with the need.

But Prowl apparently didn't get the point, as he backed away a bit. His digits barely dipped into his valve, maddeningly. Biting his lipplates, he pushed himself against the intrusion, but Prowl withdrew again.

He growled in frustration. "Ugh, stop playing around, you glitching slowpoke! J-just give it to me already! It ain't one of your stillness exercises!"

"It's called foreplay. I don't want to damage you," Prowl replied evenly, but he could hear a smirk in his voice.

"Damage me? Pfff! Don't flatter your- Oooh!" His words transformed into a moan when Prowl buried himself to the hilt in one swift motion.

The sensor nodes lining up his valve flared to life with bursts of hot tingling pleasure as the spike pressed and rubbed against them, making him arch his backstrut even harder.

Primus...

"Happy?" Prowl asked smugly as he planted his servos on his hips, grasping them.

"Y-yes!" he moaned out. Oh, so fragging happy…!

Prowl began rocking into him in languid thrusts, revving his engine from time to time, as he ground his aft against the length fragging him.

"You don't need to be so gentle with me," he murmured between gasps and sighs. "Put some energy into it! Do you want me to rust before I get a chance to overload?"

"Stop being obnoxious," Prowl growled.

His spark sank a little. But then another funny idea popped into his processor, a smirk forming on his lipplates already.

"Mm, Zippy! C'mere!"

Without being told twice, Blurr scooted closer, his faceplate still a bit groggy, but his optics were glinting with curiosity. He rose up to his palms until they were faceplate-to-faceplate. He pecked Blurr's lipplates, but Blurr immediately pulled back, surprised.

"But I-" Blurr protested, a sheepish expression crossing his features.

"Don't be a killjoy, Zippy," he said, before grabbing his chin and planting another kiss on his lipplates. Blurr kissed back, awkwardly; it was so obvious he wasn't a "casual interface" type of bot.

It wasn't long before they locked in a passionate kiss, their lipplates melding together in hungry, slow movements. They kept at it for a while, until Prowl, revving his engine, pushed Blurr away from him. A cry out of pleasure filled the room as he received a particularly hard thrust, hitting his ceiling node.

"Oh, yes! Mmph, yes-yes-yes...!" he moaned out, angling his hips so the spike inside him would poke at his sweet spot with each rough thrust, completely forgetting about Blurr.

More thrusts followed and soon muffled mewls and sighs were breaking the air as he had buried his faceplate in his forearms. His frame was quivering; too jelly-like to do anything but let himself be rammed down into the berth.

The sensation of his ceiling node being pounded with every hit dominated all his thinking. He was whimpering into the bedding from pleasure, fully aware that he couldn't silence himself even if he wanted to.

"Prowl, please!" he moaned, burning need and desperation in his voice, so close to overloading.

Prowl withdrew, his spike barely staying inside, only to slam back in a moment later, aiming perfectly for his sweet spot.

His helm shot up. A loud, sustained cry-out escaped him as he exploded in pure bliss.

"Primus," he squealed, clawing at the bedding, trembling from pleasure.

His valve clamped frantically around the spike, his spark pounding madly in its chamber. He barely had time to collect his hazy thoughts when Prowl resumed his thrusting.

His helm flopped heavily on the berth, drool running past his lipplates. His overload hadn't even begun to subside from its pinnacle when warmth bloomed within him, Prowl's grip on his hips tightening almost painfully. Hot transfluid tickled his now oversensitive sensor nodes, wringing another overload out of him, right on the heels of the previous one.

His processor went blank, unable to produce a single thought. Prowl groaned behind him, digging at his plating. He slumped all over, only the servos on his hips keeping him from totally collapsing.

"You are so loud..." Prowl said suddenly, breathless.

Unable to produce any coherent words, he only mewled softly into the bedding.

Prowl pulled out of him, leaving his valve clenching around nothing as the transfluid flowed out of his passage. And when Prowl's servos vanished from his hips, his knees gave up. Strutless, his frame dropped on the berth, transfluid pooling out between his legs.

Movement behind him and sounds of arousal prompted Bumblebee to open his optics. Primus, he must have dozed off for a moment. He rolled onto his side and-

Before his very optics, Prowl lied on his backplates, legs spread wide, with Blurr sitting right in front of him, his servo eagerly taking care of Prowl's intimacy.

A pang of jealousy bolted through his frame. He was the main course here, not some slaggin' appetizer! He belonged in the spotlight! He wasn't supposed to watch from the sidelines!

And now Prowl and Blurr were having fun without him.

"What are you doing?" he croaked out.

"What does it look like we're doing?" Prowl asked with a withering expression.

"But-but what about me?"

Blurr cast him an incredulous look, never stopping working his servo before his attention was drawn back to Prowl.

A sound of surprise broke the air, as Blurr grabbed and lifted Prowl's left leg in one swift motion. And then Blurr's hips crashed forward.

Prowl gasped at what seemed like a sharp entrance. A few more thrusts and his helm lolled back onto the berth. His servos clawed at the bedding, as he was moaning helplessly. Blurr's ventilation was screaming as he pushed his hips back and forth, panting and grunting.

His cooling fans kicked in again, his frame overheating from the mere sight before him. And sounds. He crawled to Prowl's side, feeling fluids traveling down his thighs. It only worked him up further, heat blooming anew under his abdominal plating.

Primus, he needed to be impaled again, stretched out, and filled to the brim. Or to sink his spike in something tight and warm.

Aaaand Zippy's unoccupied valve appeared pretty accessible. Without ceremony, he crouched behind him. Transfluid and lubricant were trickling down Blurr's dark thighs, bluish fluids flooding out of his hole with each thrust. Coaxing his spike to pressurization with a few strokes, he grasped Blurr's hip. The metal under his touch was almost scorching.

His servo froze when an engine growl escaped from Blurr.

"Don't," he hissed.

A frustrated sound bubbled out of him, his lipplates pouting. "But I want to!" he whimpered as if his proudly jutting spike wasn't enough to show his urgent need.

Not even sparing him a glance, Blurr pried off his groping servo. "Wait your turn."

He let out an impatient groan. He would have to fend for himself, it seemed. At least he had something hot to watch...

He returned to his previous spot and enjoyed the view. His digits curled around his spike, and as if on cue, Blurr grabbed Prowl's neglected spike. He bit on his lower lipplate, his optics on the white servo, going up and down on the length. Prowl was a picture of the undone mess, moaning without any control under Blurr's double ministrations. A wave of desire washed over him, his unattended spike aching, begging for some attention.

So he began pumping himself, tightening his grip. His mouth opened of its own accord, letting out a groan after a groan.

Prowl looked at him with his dimmed optics, his faceplate contorted in pleasure. Each thrust coaxed quite an obscene sound out of him, sending a tingling sensation up his backstrut.

Primus, he needed more. He got onto his side, keeping the interfacing bots in sight. His free servo went to his valve, two digits squeezing into the seeping hole. Mewling and panting, he scissored himself, his gaze sweeping over his companions. Blurr was giving it his all, ramming into Prowl so hard that only being held by a leg prevented him from scooting away with each hit. He revved his engine, seeing Prowl so fraggin' undone, all but sobbing in pleasure, moaning some incoherent words.

He wouldn't last long; not with this sight before him, not when his equipment was still sensitive from the previous overloads. A third digit sank into his valve, and he jammed them all as far as he could. His legs couldn't stay in one place when his main sensory node, along with minor ones, had fallen victim to his unyielding ministration.

He lolled his helm back on the berth, optics shutting tight, pressing and rubbing his sweet spot. His other servo pumped his spike in an almost painful grip until a wave of exploding pleasure washed over him. A long, loud cry escaped his mouth as his valve rippled around the digits. Soon after, hot transfluid splattered on his frontal plating, and he kept pumping himself until he could not wring a single drop out of himself. Panting, he went slack, his digits withdrawing from the clenching canal. Spasms pushed lubricant and remnants of Prowl's transfluid out, coating his thigh and dribbling onto the bedding.

Ignoring moans and groans, he turned over on his backplates and stared at the ceiling. Suddenly, a surge of worry washed over him, causing him to shift uneasily. This simply seemed too easy. And since when was being a prisoner of war easy? Or pleasant?

Where was the catch?

He snapped back to reality when Blurr grumbled something about "never talking about it" before going straight to the bathroom. Prowl, on the other servo, went into recharge almost immediately without saying anything.

But he couldn't escape the feeling that something was wrong. So wrong.

Author's note:

Okay, now it's time for my geeky babble.

In tfa Blurr says: "(...)a decacycle of covert surveillance(...)". But according to the Almanac a decacycle it's ~10 days. Aaand he was sent to Earth shortly after Elite Guard visit in Detroit? Or so? It was more specified in one of the comics, but I use the term "specify" in tfa's context lightly... Anyway, I think it's supposed to be way more than 10 days (?), so I made it a few months (orbital cycles.). Not very important to the fic's plot, but I thought I'd mention my little alteration. If you have better information on this, please let me know below!

P.S. Remember my warning from the first chapter! Non-con ahead!