Authors Note: Man, this chapter is loooong. Over five thousand words! Sheesh! Warnings for this one. Lots of glorious nakedness, sticky, fingers in intimate places, sex toys being played with – just general all-out SMUT. Not into this? Don't read it, save yourself! For those who are beyond saving (ME!) read on...
Optimus Prime and Elita One's private quarters...
Ironhide slowly came back online. He grunted, running one hand down his facial plates. The rear port in his aft was tingling and aching with the after effects of Optimus Primes dominant thrusting. The fragger. Ironhide's repair nannites were busy repairing the one or two micro tears left behind by Optimus' penetration (he really wanted to have a chat with Elita about how her port usually felt 'post-Optimus' after a heavy fragging; he'd never seen her walk oddly, at least, was she that good at hiding it?). It wasn't bad, he was only grumbling to have something to grumble about, and Optimus would be horrified if he told him, his little act had been just that – an act. Part of the problem was that Prime was by no means small. He didn't brag, he didn't display himself to anyone but Elita (and whatever lucky bot was invited upon his berth), but Optimus was one very large mech with an even larger spike. Many Autobots – be they femmes or mechs – gossiped or joked about how 'big' their Commander was down below, but not many of them had firsthand experience of how oversized it was. Ironhide had always known, and now his rear port knew it as well. Intimately. He'd never forget that if Prime ever got really fragged off with him, he may just decide to assert his rights. Rights that involved an order like, 'bend over and brace yourself'! Ouch. It was time for a covert missile system to be installed down there!
The black mech was lying on his back. He knew he'd gone offline sprawled out on his aching aft with his limbs splayed out, but somehow, his left arm and hand had been dumped up onto his abdomen. One lazy glance to his left told him why. Prime had a big recharge berth, but it obviously wasn't big enough if he was going to be fragging Elita with another mech recharging on it.
Optimus had positioned himself lying upon his side and had taken his femme sparkmate into his arms and against his split red and blue chest. The big mech had lifted Elita's right leg up onto his hip, hitching her knee over the edge of his sharp leg armor so she was spread wide for him, and thrust himself boldly between her thighs. Ironhide could see the bulge of his thick spike sliding in smooth thrusts between Elita's held apart legs and into the puffy lips of her lubricated and sweltering port. Prime was holding her tightly to his body and murmuring softly down to her while he mated with her. With the femme in a state of utter bliss and nirvana, it was obvious that Optimus certainly knew what he was doing when it came to the pleasuring of his female. Another few rhythmic undulations of the Commanders long body finishing with Optimus holding himself completely inside of her and Elita was jerking abruptly with her long withheld climax. Her hands flailed against him with every shudder of her chassis. Grabbing at his chest, losing their grip when she grimaced and jerked, then taking hold of him again.
From the way Elita was barely emitting any vocal noise during her climax, Ironhide surmised that the femme was used to keeping herself quiet. She must have trained herself to be soundless after being with Optimus for so long. Most of the interfaces the Mech Commander wanted to sneak in would've been within audio range of his gathered warriors; if not optic range; and keeping as silent as possible would've been his mission objective. Silent frag, silent femme.
Ironhide scratched his head at how Prime was able to get his 'Little Prime' up and erect at all after what they'd both just been through. Special Prime qualities, his aft. The mech had to have some kind of turbo boost stiffeners in there! Ratchet would know. Maybe a few barrels of high grade dumped down the medic's throat would get him installed with one too. Now that would be something that Chromia would squeal hard about. Less downtime between frags. Excellent idea.
He watched openly as Optimus stayed on his side and overloaded transfluid into his femme with a few grunts and jerks of his hips. Prime's spike lost its mass very quickly once it had finished ejaculating. The Commander shifted his hips down to remove himself, then grasped his spike with his fingers to remove himself fully from the grasp of Elita's port. Those strong fingers that so easily manipulated a rifle to kill then massaged his limp spike. Elita moaned and restlessly squeezed her thighs together on reflex when Optimus did the same to her port, rubbing his fingers over her slippery entrance and cooing at her.
Optimus' flickering optics dimmed to a contented light blue as he met Ironhide's gaze over his quietening femme, her head held against his chest armor while her intakes vented vigorously. "Ironhide."
The other mech made a non-descriptive grunt. He noticed (proudly, since he'd been trying to coach his friend into exposing himself more often and not be so prudish) that Prime had left his spike uncovered and unretracted. It hung limp but naked outside of its protective sheath, covered from root to tip in a thin film of Elita's port lubricant. It swung sluggishly when the Commander moved. Ironhide's own spike was still un-retracted and was hanging down a short way between his heavy black thighs.
Prime shook off some of his post-overload haze and smiled at him while he rubbed one hand behind Elita's neck when she curled up and buried herself in the width of his big chest, "How's your rear end?"
"How do you think?" Ironhide responded sourly, openly reaching under himself to rub at his aft plating.
Prime quirked a thick optic ridge, "...Oh."
Optimus tenderly arranged his slack-framed and semi-online femme onto her back, staring down at her with an expression of intense adoration and love on his relaxed faceplates.
"Have you ever been fragged in your alt mode?"
Optimus Prime's head snapped up to stare over at Ironhide with absolute dumbfoundedness, his famous sparkling-blue optics flared wide. "Excuse me?!"
"You know," Ironhide lifted a hand and made a gliding and pulling motion, "it's not uncommon, consenting bots do it. Just shift a few exterior panels so Elita can slip her hand in," he shrugged, "Why not?"
Optimus had an expression on his faceplates that made him look like someone had just told him that Megatron wanted to interface with him. "That... thats..."
"Crude? Kinky? Well yeah, it is, that's why bots do it." Ironhide gave his friend a searching look, "Don't tell me you've never heard of it."
"I hear a lot of things Ironhide, not all of them reliable. What advantage is there to overloading in ones alt mode?"
Ironhide smirked, "Not much. Different sensations mainly, and you never know when such a talent may come in handy." The black mech coughed lightly, lifting his noseplates into the air, "Trapped in ones truck mode in the back of a C-17, maybe?"
Optimus rubbed at his cheekplate, wisely seeing where his friend was going with this. Ironhide wanted to keep their little berth partnership going. "There are many things left for us to attempt together if you want 'unusual'."
"Heh," Ironhide placed his hand on Elita's aft and cupped her with his palm. The femme grunted and clenched her hands on Prime's metal but didn't object. Making a soothing noise, he rubbed at the Femme Commanders tiny aft. "You know, we could try both being in Elita's valve together. She's an experienced femme, she could handle it."
The look of 'holy Primus' that crossed over Prime's faceplates was comical. "Both?" He glanced down between Elita's slack legs, "at the same time?"
Ironhide barked a laugh, "For a leader, you can be very naive, you know that? Of course at the same time! That's the point!"
"...go slag yourself, 'Hide, you're not trying that with me..." Elita's tired voice was muffled where her face was pressed snugly against her mates chest. Optimus Primes overlapping faceplates formed a grin, and he stroked her back soothingly with one large hand.
Ironhide grizzled, "Do you mean to say you've never tried it, Femme Commander?"
Elita growled, waves of irritation rolling off her red armor. She let go of her mate, subspaced her black rifle into her hand with a bright flash, and pointed the sharp end of it into the small hollow above Ironhide's slack interface. Optimus stared in shock then began rumbling with laughter.
Getting over the surprise, Ironhide smirked at her, "Femme, has anyone ever explained to you that if you blow that off you'll have to go find another mech who still has his interface attached the next time you get frisky?"
The femme huffed at him and prodded his spike with her rifle, "Oh yes," she gestured grandly at Optimus, "he did. I didn't pay much attention when he said it either, Cybertronian mechs outnumber Cybertronian femmes a thousand to one. There will always be a mech who still has a spike attached."
"Chromia would let Optimus try it with me and her..." Ironhide said vaguely, "thinking back, I'm sure that was one of her little role play fantasies." He knew, KNEW, that would rile Elita up. What Chromia could do, Elita knew she wanted to do also. Do it better. Her attitude under went a lightning change of CPU.
Elita's expression changed when she heard that. Her rifle disappeared in a bright flash and she rolled back over to face her sparkmate. Her small hands came up to rest on Prime's cheekplates, "Optimus, perhaps I could-"
"No, Elita, I couldn't," Prime cut her off, lowering his head to nuzzle her noseplates as the spinners of the side of his head whirring agitatedly, "We'd hurt you. Some fantasises are just that – a fantasy."
A little growl came from the lying down femme. She sat up, poking a slender finger into Prime's stiff abdominal plates. "I want to try it. My body, my decision."
"Yes, but remember how tight you felt when I was in your front port and Ironhide was in your aft? Remember? Tight. Too tight. Think of us doing that in your port together..." Optimus' optics darkened, "I do not think it is a good idea. You would be in pain and we could damage you."
Elita turned on her aft to face Ironhide. "Hide, do you still have those inanimate interface toys?"
"Eh? Yeah. In my subspace pocket."
The Femme Commander lifted her head up authoritatively, "Bring them out, please."
Prime's optics widened, "...Interface toys...?" He blinked. Several times. "Uh... Ironhide, why do you have those and how on Cybertron did you even know about them, 'Lita?"
While Ironhide ignored his question and sat up straight and proceeded to subspace flash several phallic-looking objects onto the expanse of berth in front of him, Elita pouted happily at her bewildered massive sparkmate.
"Chromia told me. She and 'Hide use them sometimes," she said knowingly, winking at her mech.
Optimus stared at the assorted intimate toys carefully arranged in front of him and Elita. There were five phallic rods lying there, all different colors and textures, in sizes ranging from average to 'Holy Primus, that's insane!'.
"Oh, one more, almost forgot," Ironhide rumbled deeply, bringing out his last toy. A wide hollow silver tube closed at one end with what looked like tiny fluid filled cushions inside appeared next to the phallic rods. "How could I forget that one?" He picked it up and held it in his palm, stroking it affectionately.
The Autobot Leader peered cautiously at what was in Ironhide's hand. "The rods I can understand – fake spikes and interface rods, correct? But," he pointed at the object in the hand of his Weapons Specialist, "what is that for?"
"The femmes get their toys, we mechs get ours. Watch this," Ironhide turned the tube upside down – and slid three of his fingers into the hollow space within it, pumping them in front of Prime's widening optics. "Get it? It vibrates too." The tube began to make a humming noise and shook itself in his hand.
Optimus Prime was speechless. His jaw worked like a guppy fish. "That... that... that's a fake femme port?!"
Ironhide winked at a hysterically giggling Elita One, "Bit slow on the uptake, ain't he? Yes Prime, it is a fake port, you slide your erect spike into the open end until your rod is all the way inside it and thrust into it repeatedly until you overload within it. Most mechs have one for their personal playtime – or so I've been led to believe. Have you really not seen one before?"
Prime was a big red and blue mass of indignant disbelief. "NO!"
"Ah. Right." Ironhide rolled his optics within their casings, his finger scratching at his black head armor. "Innocent fragger you've got here, 'Lita." He looked back at Optimus and held out his toy, "Here, take it. Have a look."
Like a curious sparkling, Optimus accepted the outlandish toy into his large palm, thinking, I hope he's cleaned it! He examined it, squeezing the outside of it, thinking what it would be like to use it, and if he really wanted to. He glanced down at his crotch to compare the size of his spike with the interior dimensions of the tube. He didn't think he'd fit himself inside of it...
Sitting up on her aft, Elita watched him closely. She knew this was a real education for her sparkmate, he was very closed off to many things that involved anything more than putting his spike into her port or aft. Even her aft he wasn't that keen on. Oh, Optimus loved interfacing and he had a very demanding interface drive, it was just that he was stuck on doing things the traditional way. His spike in her port and she had to overload before he did. Compared to the mechs in his extensive army, Optimus was like a shy baby youngling when it came to kinky interfacing. She laughed when he cautiously put his index finger inside of it – and yanked it out when the toy responded to him by vibrating noisily.
"It doesn't hurt, you big sparkling," Ironhide drawled, sitting up fully and crossing his legs in front of him, his armor making deep metal-on-metal noises, "if you can get yourself up again you should try it out. It's great. You can also adjust the tightness of it, but be careful with that, whoever designed it must've been a relative of Wheeljack because it can go tight enough to make you cry in pain." He winked an optic roughly, "If you're into pain and bondage I suppose that would be a plus."
Prime gave him a disbelieving look, holding the toy away from himself like it was contagious. "I don't think I would ever use something like this."
Elita groaned loudly, rolling onto her side to collide against his body armor, "Don't be so dismissive, grumpy bot. Try it!"
"I just finished fragging you senseless, femme, so even if I wanted to try it, I am all out of erect spikes," Optimus said pointedly, dragging up his armor-clad thigh from where he was lying along his side. He patted his limp spike and shrugged at her – see?
"Whatever," Elita smacked the back of her hand to his abdomen with a thud, "in any case, we're here to use the interface rods on me to see how I'll handle two spikes at once." She waggled her fingers at the mech toy, "Forget about that thing for the moment. That's dessert."
Ironhide let his optics wander from perusing the fake spikes to staring at Elita's slick crotch. If he got to watch her openly tucking a thick rod into herself with her thighs spread open, he might be able to show Optimus how good the mech toy was... because he'd be going for it hard if the femme put on a good show.
Optimus grunted, carefully placing the mech toy onto a small shelf above his head and eyeing it off like it was a Decepticons weapon. Silly thing. What kind of mech needed something like that?
Ironhide snorted, "You look like you're afraid it'll attack you."
"Won't it?" Prime said loftily, turning his head and quirking an optic ridge.
Ironhide shook his head at him. How such a handsome and femme-attracting mech could be so closed-off about his own sexuality was a mystery to him.
Ignoring the mechs, Elita hummed to herself and selected two of the fake spikes to try out within her port. She picked up the second smallest one and a medium sized one. Her aim was to slide one in and then try to get another one in alongside it. If she could handle that, she'd move onto the biggest spikes – simulating what it would be like to have Optimus and Ironhide in her at the same time. Maybe her port needing practise stretching first before she gave the males the thumbs up.
Ironhide saw what she was doing. His heavy black armor creaked as he leaned towards her, "You want help with that?"
"Hang on," Elita pushed at her mates long thick thigh that was in her way, "give me some room here, move over." Obligingly – and curious, and getting aroused by the erotic toys being flashed about – Prime moved his big body over. Elita petted his knee,"Thanks. Um... yeah. I would like a hand." She held up the middle-sized spike, "One of you put this inside of me? I think now would be the best time to try this. Optimus has already opened me up nicely from interfacing. We should do this while I'm warm and stretched."
Ironhide watched her openly put two of her own fingers inside herself experimentally, feeling around. Primus, it was going to be fun to try this.
Optimus bit back a groan at listening to his femme ask one of them to insert things inside of her. Oh yeah. He was going to get hard again. He wondered if he even had any transfluid left to come out. Could he overload if his transfluid tank didn't contain enough liquid? He tried to remember back to his over-active youngling days. He vaguely remembered getting a sore spike from over-interfacing with Elita when they first met one another, but nothing about being 'dry'. The curvy, bold, and dark red femme he'd been so attracted to had kept his interface in a constant vertical state for many an orn once they had begun their intimate activities.
"I think you should be doing that for her, Optimus," Ironhide gestured openly at him, "you've been in there enough times to reliably know how deep and wide she is, how much she can take. I've only been inside her a few times."
"Good idea!" Elita said, far too brightly for her mates tastes, eagerly handing over the spikes to him and leaning against the back wall of their recharge berth and opening her thighs with her hands, gazing at him expectantly.
"...now I know how Ratchet feels..." Optimus muttered wryly, looking down at where she was spread wide for him. He had considered being a medic once, but facing femmes intimate parts as part of an examination had deterred him. Facing anyones intimate parts had deterred him! He was much too shy for that. His optics glowed lovingly at his bold mate. Her glossy red armor accentuated the lighter tone of her spread port opening. Like a target. He held up one of the spikes. Well, he did have a 'missile'.
Prime positioned himself lying down next to Elita's hips. "Lita, whenever you want to stop this, just say so. I'll do this as gently and slowly as I can." His glowing optics met hers, "If it makes you feel more comfortable you can rest your hand over the top of mine."
His femme nodded, a smirk on her mouthplates, "No need. You shouldn't need telling that I trust you implicitly." She pulled her thighs apart even further and gestured at him, "Go on, get started."
"You're sure about this?"
Ironhide shifted closer to the pair, his optics glued on Optimus Prime's hand. He watched silently as Prime first positioned the tip of the medium spike in front of Elita's port, then swirled the tip of it through the sticky fluids to get it slicked up and ready for penetration. When he pushed it halfway inside, Elita shuttered her optics and moaned breathlessly.
"Expert..." Ironhide muttered at Optimus, "you're good at this."
Prime gave him a comical glare and shook his head. Moving slowly, he reversed the spike so it came out of her, then eased it back in, this time going all the way until only his fingers holding the base of the spike remained outside of her. Elita's femme port lips spread wide to accommodate the invasion. She shifted her hips and sighed, stretching her neck and flexing her head back.
"Elita?" Optimus clicked his optic shutters together, "Are you alright? Is this too thick or in too much?"
"I'm fine. It's not as thick as you are. I've got no problem handling this so far," Elita murmured, her optics shadowed and a pout on her mouthplates.
"You're not the only one," Ironhide chuckled, dropping his hand from his hip to his crotch at the erotic sight and running his fingers warmly over his stiffening spike.
Optimus kept his concentration on his job. It was certainly arousing to watch a spike – even a fake one – moving in and out of the port of his precious femme. The position she was in was rather explicit. Thighs spread open, her port completely exposed under the lights shining down from the ceiling, a phallus being thrust in and out of her, and another mech besides himself watching the whole thing. Even better that he and Ironhide had left their spikes out in the open and ready for action. Ironhide was touching himself, and his own spike was tingling and waking up. When Elita lifted her rounded hips up of the berth and began pumping them eagerly back at his hand – wanting more – he stilled the spike in her and grasped the smaller spike she had chosen to attempt this with.
Prime ran his hand in a massaging motion up and down her inner thigh, "Ready for the other one now?"
"Oh yeah..." She glanced up at him with a sultry pout, loving the look of him looming over her hips with the angles of his faceplates shadowed so distinctly that his cheekplates and square jaw stood out proudly, all topped by gorgeous azure blue optics. The sensual bulk of his body laid out beside her and the immense power it contained made her shiver happily. He was such a handsome mech. She knew beyond a doubt that no other mech in the universe was better looking than he was – and he was allll hers.
Prime nodded. The smaller spike fitted snugly into his hand. With one hand holding the base of the bigger one inside her, Prime brought the tip of the other spike up next to it. And paused. "Hmmm." He lowered his head down, checking out what space he had to work with between her parted interface lips. She was pretty stuffed full. "I think I need some help from Ratchet with this. This isn't going to work. There isn't enough room," he murmured. He let go of the bigger spike and gently probed her lips with his fingers, looking for a way to get in.
Ironhide snorted, chuckling. "Come on Prime, if you don't know how to get a spike into a femme by now, you'll be a disgrace to mechs everywhere."
Elita rolled her optics with a smile. "If you pull the bigger one back out so less of its bulk is inside, you may get an opening big enough to work with. You know, slide the tip of the smaller one in beside it."
"I was just about to say that," the black mech mused, nodding in agreement.
"I'm sure you were," Prime said dryly, looking up at his friend. Ironhide had his hand around his own stiff spike, giving it little pumps and squeezes. The practised way he handled himself made Optimus think that he did that fairly often. "Alright, lets see..." Doing exactly as his femme had advised him to do, Prime let the big spike come most of the way out so the narrow portion of it remained just at her entrance, and then manipulated the tip of the small spike up next to it.
Elita braced herself. She tensed and stayed still on the berth while her mate began pushing inside. "That's it. I can feel that." Her hips shifted, balancing themselves on the armor covering her hip joints. She looked up at him, meeting his curious gaze. "It's tight but not painful. Kind of like when you go inside me after not interfacing for a while."
"Ah." Prime's optics narrowed with concentration. "Hmm." He was so intent on what he was doing that he hadn't noticed his own spike begin to thicken and rise. Ironhide did. He glanced behind them at the interface toy that Prime had left up on the shelf. He was going to use that on the fabled Supreme Autobot Commander if it killed him. It would be great to get the huge fragger thrusting and moaning uncontrollably into it.
"Oh!" Elita's hand grabbed at her mate's forearm, "wait a moment." Optimus looked concerned and began to pull both of the spikes out but she stopped him. "No, keep'em there, it's difficult but not painful. Just wait."
Ironhide swept his optics down Elita's body, admiring her strong feminine shape and the perfection of her paint job; glossy dark red accented with touches of chrome. The femme had arranged her armor (consciously or not) so it revealed peeks of her grey protoform underneath. The whole effect was quite stunning. Seeing such a beautiful female being intimately touched by another mech was making him twitch with desperation.
"I can't go any further. I'll hurt you," Prime said warily. He moved his gaze from the spikes in her port up to her pinched faceplates. His voice lowered to a rumble."We should stop now."
"No!" Elita was getting irritated. "It's fine!"
As much as he was enjoying the show, Ironhide shook his head and opened his internal comlink to ping his Leader. ::I'm sorry I made the crack about Chromia wanting this, that's why she wants to keep going. I agree with you. Let's stop.::
::She'll only stop if we can distract her with something else:: Optimus responded. ::What do you suggest?::
Again, 'Hides attention went to the other toy. He grinned crookedly, ::Want to give the fake port a workout?:: He looked pointedly at his friend's erection. ::Looks like you'd make a good candidate for it.::
Optimus bore an expression similar to that of a sparkling who'd just been caught playing with his spike in public. It made him cringe to think of using that thing. ::Since you own it, I believe you have exclusive rights to it. You use it.::
"What are you two talking about?" Elita demanded loudly.
"Interfacing, what else?" Ironhide drawled, running his fingers along his jutting male length. "I was trying to convince Prime to let me use his aft."
"Liar!" Optimus protested.
"Maybe... but don't you want to try it?"
"Really?" Elita perked up. Now suitably distracted, she stared appraisingly at her hovering mate, "Would you let him do that? You've been in his aft, you should return the favour."
"I don't think any bot using another bots aft is called a 'favour'," Optimus grumbled, "Undignified torture is a better phrase."
Ironhide snorted, "Oh, is that what you thought when you were using me? How nice." He leaned over Elita's body and flicked his forefinger against Prime's stiff spike, making it tremble and bounce.
"Ironhide!" Optimus shoved his hand away and cupped his hand protectively over his spike, his optics flashing a violet blue.
"Just stop bickering and someone give me an overload!" Elita growled, frustrated at the males playing around while she was in desperate need of another climax, the result of her mate pumping a fake spike in and out of her port. This time she'd need a lot of help, several overloads in a matter of a few Earth hours had worn her down. She was still full of desire, her body was just going to be a lot slower to respond.
"Okay, okay," Optimus soothed, chuckling. He slid the spikes out of her crotch and used the tips of his fingers to rub her softly. She vented sharply through her intakes and lifted her hips up into his welcome touch.
Watching the two begin to play, Ironhide grinned. Optimus was an immensely huge mech. The size advantage he had over Elita was striking. He'd known them for eons but sitting back and looking at them together always made him smile. The humans would compare them to a cat and an elephant. Silly.
The mech brought himself back to the present. "Yeah?"
Optimus had clambered off his berth, leaving Elita stretched out on top of it by herself. He was standing at the end of the berth and stretching his arms out, limbering up his back. He appeared comical with his stiff spike standing out from his groin. "I think it's time we gave this femme the fragging of her life."
"Oh?" Ironhide said mildly, clasping his palm around his own excited spike. "Yeah. I agree."
From where she was lying on her back with her legs spread wide open, Elita held her arms out warmly to them, enjoying the view she had of two gorgeous males with huge erections just waiting to make her scream and writhe under them with pleasure. "Come and get it..." she purred, waggling her fingers.
A series of hard loud thumps on the hangar door made them all freeze.
"Are you aftheads coming out of there, or what? Galloway is here!"
Elita slapped her hands over her faceplates and started to giggle. Her mate growled. He made a fist of one hand and flexed his cables. Not impressed.
Ironhide rumbled menacingly, "Primus not now...", then pointed down at his crotch, "how the slag am I supposed to get rid of this?!"
Optimus shook his head, grimacing. Ratchet was going to find himself transferred to Mars – with Galloway as his only company...