Authors Note: I've had the idea of using 2009 Movieverse Optimus Prime, Ironhide and Elita One in a threesome tormenting my poor brain with fabulous ideas for the past week. It's not easy to serve customers at work all day with THIS in my head! I really should be finishing off my other fics and doing a special fic for Aozoran (a brilliant new writer I've recently made acquaintances with, and a fellow Aussie to boot!) but I can't help myself.
Please be warned, this is a very graphic 'sticky' fanfic. My imagination is on overdrive and it ain't going to back down any time soon! HUGE warnings for this one! Sticky, threesome, and every sort of pr0n my little heart desires is going to be in this. Hardcore all the way. Please stay WELL AWAY if you don't agree with this kind of stuff. Thanks!
Ironhide wasn't the most civil of mechs. Sure, he had a good spark. Massive cannons that some Decepticons swore were sentient. An intimidating presence. A fearsome reputation. A grim scowl on his faceplates. Even his paint job – sheer black – wasn't meant for anything else other than making him blend in with his surroundings until his frightening cannons flared to life and disposed of his enemy in a full frontal attack of plasma fire as bright as the sun.
...but Ironhide's spark was full of kindness for his fellow Autobots. Gruff and hard-sparked he may be, and possessed of a primal sense of humor that scared even the Corvette Twins, but when he saw or heard about another Autobot having a hard time or needing a hand, he was there. Always. Sometimes his support appeared as his hovering silent presence at the shoulder of another 'bot in need, but he always had something to offer and say 'I'm here'.
Which is what made Elita One's spark feel heavy and sad at the morose and listless expression upon the face of the older warrior mech currently sitting on his aft with his back to the wall in the Operations hangar of NEST, waiting for further orders from his Commander, Optimus Prime. The black mech had his head turned to stare out the open hangar doors at the persistent rain currently sweeping the island of Diego Garcia for the fourth straight day running. His only vague interest in the current orders being bantered around was 'Which Decepticon do you want me to offline next?', and even that interest was lack-lustre.
Ever since Elita One had landed and reunited with the lost Autobot army on Earth, she had gotten an uneasy feeling around her old friend. She was worried about him. And now, standing a few steps behind the tall powerful form of her bonded sparkmate – Optimus Prime – who was in deep discussion with the NEST team, she had the feeling that on some level Ironhide had temporarily given up hope of seeing his own sparkmate, Chromia, any time soon and it was weighing terribly on his spark. She was desperately sorry that she did not have better news to give him when she had landed. She honestly had no idea of her best femme friend's whereabouts. No one did.
When the Femme Commander and Autobot Commander retired late in the night for some recharge (the upper human commanders of NEST – of which Will Lennox was one – had scrambled to convert a small sized hangar on the far edge of the base over to living quarters for the giant mech and his newly arrived 'wife', giving them complete privacy away from the others when they needed it) Elita brought up the subject of what she saw as Ironhide's depression. And what they could do about it. Optimus wasn't too hard to sway to her proposal. If there was any mech the normally private Leader would be willing to share his berth and bondmate with, it would be Ironhide.
Cybertronians were not prude's when it came to intimacy. They had no hang-ups related to touching one another, or what activities they engaged in for pleasure. It didn't take the rose painted Femme Commander long to convince her over-sized mate of what was really necessary to convince Ironhide that life was worth living, and enjoying, in the absence of his beloved sparkmate. Eons ago, Chromia had spoken to Elita about what steps she was welcome to use if Ironhide ever got himself into such a depressive state, and Elita had no qualms about using her friendly orders to help out in a very private, and spark-nurturing way...
A few days later, just before midnight...
Elita One twitched at the feeling of several hands ghosting over her rose tinted outer armor. Rubbing her shoulders, stroking her arms, finding seams in her armor and teasing them. Being deep in recharge, she wasn't coherent enough to understand that the touches were coming from more than one 'pair' of hands. If she had been, her female vocal unit would have been fritzing. She was completely unaware that her legendary sparkmate Optimus Prime wasn't the only mech sharing the enormous berth with her...
"Touch her lower back at the same time as you rest a hand on her crotchplate, she'll start thrusting at you," Prime's voice rumbled sensuously.
The unmistakable baritone of Prime's voice lightened, "Try it."
Elita's CPU processed the softly spoken words but her logic centre just didn't apply them to herself. She didn't even connect the dots when a thick pair of male hands NOT belonging to her mate did the aforementioned actions, settling softly on her body, and her hips did begin to slowly jerk in response. More familiar hands rested on her shoulders, the fingers massaging at the seams of her protoform.
Two low-pitched male voices chuckled at the eager motions of her hips.
"Told you," Optimus said with a touch of mech smugness. There wasn't anything he didn't know about how to bring his femme pleasure. Every little whim and foible of Elita's was tucked away as precious information in a well-fortified part of his CPU.
"Ugh..." Elita curled up with her chin touching her chest and shivered delightedly in reaction to the hands roaming her body. She rolled over onto her other side and collided in a jumble of limbs with a hard male chest. Her head jerked up, optics flashing on, "Wha...?"
"Easy..." Optimus crooned, disentangling his arm that she'd trapped underneath her and extending it to lie on the berth above her head while the hand of his other arm rested on the hollow of her waist above her hip, "we were just playing while we waited for you to wake up."
Elita's optics flickered between staring at his incredibly handsome faceplates to locking onto the expanse of hot flame-decorated male chestplates in front of her nose sensors. The lights of the berth room she and Optimus occupied were on at a low level. Why was that? Dropping her gaze down she noticed that Optimus had his crotch plates open and retracted, revealing his sleeping as-yet-unextended mech spike just poking its head lazily out of its hollow space. Her peripheral gaze picked up on something else too. A big dark shape behind her back.
"Ironhide?!" Elita propped her hands against her mate and craned her head over her shoulder to meet the sultry optics of Prime's Weapons Specialist.
"Yeah. Who else would Prime invite in here, hmm? Ratchet, perhaps?" Ironhide playfully dragged one finger down her back armor until his hand cupped her small aft, flashing a hard grin at her.
Elita was quick on the uptake. "Only if Optimus wanted to see a gynaecological exam performed up close." She relaxed and smiled faintly at him, trying to shake off the last vestiges of her recharge state.
"You want Ratch' here too? Fiesty femme ya got here, Optimus. I'll go get him for you," Ironhide said with a purr, beginning to get up of the berth.
Elita snagged a hand onto his armor and yanked him back down onto the berth, refusing to comment on the Ratchet taunt, "You accepted Prime's offer? Our offer?"
Ironhide's optics darkened. He made his reply by leaning in close over her body, taking her jaw gently in one hand and capturing her mouthplates with his own in an expression of hot desire. There was nothing clinical or detached about the expression he put into it. Elita shuddered at the way her systems were reacting just to his kiss. Damn, he was good.
Watching their entwined heads, Optimus lifted an optic ridge and sighed, shifting his long body on the padded berth. Ironhide was clearly going to make this into some sort of game over who could make Elita overload the hardest – and the most often. His optics narrowed. Bring it on, 'Hide, I know her better than you do! No one upstages the Femme Magnet in his own territory! He actively groaned when Ironhide's groin armor slid back to reveal his semi-hard spike beginning to extend from his groin. Well, if Ironhide had her back half, he'd have her front half, thank you very much.
With practised ease, Optimus slid his splayed out hand down Elita's taut abdomen to rest on her closed crotchplate, putting enough pressure on it with his palm to get her attention. He smiled with satisfaction when she jerked and interrupted Ironhide's sensual kiss with a muffled 'ommph'.
Ironhide lifted his head to focus his darkened optics on Prime's innocent expression of 'What did I do?'. "Humph. You need to kiss this femme more often, she's acting like she's half-starved."
In response to the friendly taunt, Optimus leant back on his side to expose the inner regions of his crotch – and allowed his most prized asset to extend fully from its hidden opening. He knew he was more than well-endowed. He wasn't totally hard yet – he was purposely holding himself back – but he wanted to make an impression that Ironhide couldn't match.
"Hope you know what to do with that other than hang it out loose, youngling, because I'm not giving lessons," Ironhide drawled.
Elita giggled, spluttering into her hands. "Ironhide, don't be mean."
Optimus wasn't too fazed. He cocked his head, "I'll just about allow you to do anything you want here for referring to me as 'young', 'Hide."
"We'll see..." Ironhide responded, giving Prime a calculating look. "Having not been on a berth with both of you before, I'm not sure how far you're willing to go."
At that comment, Elita gently placed her hand on his cheekplate, "As far as we need to, far enough to bring some peace and satisfaction to your ailing spark. I know what Chromia told me to do with you, and so does Optimus." She glanced back at her mate, seeing his small nod of affirmation. Elita continued, "We're here tonight to give you everything you need or desire, except for an actual spark merge." The femme caught his gaze with her own. "Do you agree?"
Ironhide cupped her head and leaned in to give her another kiss. Optimus rolled his optics... but he lifted both of his optic ridges in surprise at Elita's next move.
::Optimus, get him on his back, please:: Elita communicated soundlessly to her watching mate when her hands on the black mechs chest failed to move him.
Without enquiring further, the red and blue Commander swiftly braced his hands on Ironhide's shoulders, twisted him around and shoved him none-too-elegantly down onto his back with a harsh thump.
"HEY!" Ironhide blinked up at his sudden view of the hangar ceiling. "Slagger! What was that for?! I've got permission!"
"Femme's request, Ironhide. Put up with it," Prime replied, shifting himself closer to the action as Elita threw a leg over Ironhide's hips and settled herself sitting up on his waist.
Elita hitched herself backwards to sit on the other side of Ironhide's crotch, ensuring that his rapidly hardening mech spike was between her and him. With a sly grin, she took him into both of her hands, tested his hardness for a few moments with her fingertips and then began pumping him without mercy.
"LITA! What... no! Don't do that!" Ironhide squirmed uncomfortably, trying to sit up. He was going to overload in record time if she kept that up!
"You need to climax first, I know what you're like, Chromia likes to gossip. You need a quick first overload before we can move onto other, more interesting, positions at a leisurely pace." Elita squeezed him from root to tip in one hand sweep to illustrate her point. His spike was already throbbing and moving along fast towards a resolution. To give him more incentive, she unlocked her crotch armor and opened the entrance to her femme port, giving him quite an erotic view. It helped that she squeezed the edges of her port with her inner cables, getting the glistening mouth of it to open and flex like that of a fish. A clear expression on her part of 'you know what's coming next, big bot'.
Ironhide groaned and thunked his head back down onto the berth. Defeated. He had to admit that if she wanted him to perform a 'quickie', she was going the right way about it, and with Optimus lying casually on his side a hands breadth away with his optics enjoying the show, his systems went into overdrive. He was starting to realise that while he knew Chromia had no inhibitions on the berth, her best friend wasn't so modest about her talents either. He started to hump himself with hard thrusts up into Elita's determined hands.
At her sparkmates murmur of her name, the femme took her attention off Ironhide for a moment, turning her head to glance at him. She almost completely lost the plot when he slid a hand around her head armor to lean her towards him and press his mouthplates to hers, and at the same time, his other hand inserted itself between her legs, and two of his fingers penetrated her in a gentle gliding motion. Elita gasped into his mouth and went rigid at the unexpected invasion of her port.
Seeing that was the end for Ironhide. When he saw Optimus' hand rummaging between her legs, he went over the edge. With a harsh bark from his vocal processor his back strained upwards off the berth and he overloaded transfluid all over himself and Elita in several spurts.
Optimus stared down at him and pulled his fingers free from Elita's body. Seeing her with her hand around the rigid climaxing spike of another mech had sent his own arousal soaring. His own spike was straining rudely upwards to its full impressive height and bumping its head against his midsection. Watching his friend, his optic sweepers clicked together. "Feel better?", he enquired.
The other mech grunted back at him, waiting for the last vestiges of his overload to drain away. His body relaxed comfortably on the berth in a sprawl. "Yeah." He lifted one large hand and patted Elita on her thigh in thanks, "That was great. Been a while." He noticed the mess he'd made of Elita. "Whoops."
"Hmm." Optimus studied him. "'Been a while' since you overloaded, or 'been a while' since a hand other than your own caused you too?"
"...I'm not answering that..."
"I am. You're going back up again. You haven't overloaded for a while." Elita answered for him and perused his interface as it began hardening again. It had only sagged halfway down before hardening and popping back up in front of her like a flagpole. "We all know you're missing 'Mia. There's no shame in that."
::Enough of this pitying slag, let's set her up, Optimus:: Ironhide commed to his mech friend while Lita kept talking about how Chromia would turn up and then he'd be all happy again.
Optimus smiled faintly, his optics going the exact same color as the blue flames on his armor. ::Fine with me::
Elita hissed when she was neatly plucked off Ironhide's body and cradled by Prime against his own. She gripped the protruding armor of his torso and tried to get her balance but Optimus wasn't giving her any chance of that. At a jerk of Ironhide's head to indicate that he should lay her on the berth, Elita found herself placed on her back with two huge mechs intent on using her body for pleasure leaning over her with their chests, one on either side of her position. The formidable spikes of both mechs were unsheathed and fully erect.
"Uh oh..." the Femme Commander said nervously. Now she knew how it felt to be prey for two very serious predators...