A/N: OK, I finally got around to doing this request. This is from MissCHSparkles, asking me to do an Optimus/Elita-1 with a twist. But first, a few housekeeping things:

Disclaimer: I do not own transformers. Hasbro does (to my anguish – I want them all).

Warnings: This is NC-17 sticky, hetero, with elements of dub-con and voyeurism. IF YOU DO NOT LIKE, DO NOT READ. Simple.


The Voyeur - Part 2


Elita hissed in outrage, reaching for the gun hidden in a compartment in her thigh – only to realise with a sickening lurch that she and Optimus had left all their weapons back at base so as to enjoy the time more together. Her widened optics alighted on the fusion cannon on Megatron's folded arms. It was active with charge. She saw Optimus mirror her movements beside her, searching for some sort of weapon, when Megatron halted their movements by casually bringing up his fusion cannon and pointing it directly at Elita's helm.

"Prime, as much as you have insulted me by not having a weapon on you, move and I will blow your dear beloved Elita into oblivion," Megatron smirked, his blood red optics alight with grim satisfaction.

"Let us go, Megatron. There is no need for a fight," Optimus rumbled, hands curling into frustrated fists.

"Now, why would I want to do that? I have you at my complete demand," the grey mech replied smoothly, smirk still on his face. Elita wanted to punch it right off.

Optimus growled in reply, wanting to move closer to the pink femme he loved, to shield her from both the gaze of the Decepticon warlord and from any blast that might emit from his cannon. But he remained still. As reluctant as he was to admit it, Megatron held all the cards right now, and in comparison, he was powerless. All he could do was wait to see if Megatron's true intent was to destroy them forever, or whether it was something more sinister.

Megatron shifted his attention to Elita, who was held in a crouch, denta bared at him in a savage hiss.

He chuckled evilly, "My dear, must we be so hostile?"

"Yes," the femme replied succinctly through her gritted denta.

Megatron chuckled again, stepping forward and reaching a hand out, watching in satisfaction as she flinched away from his hand. He shifted again, making the fusion cannon more noticeable in the perception of her vision. That made her still once more, and the metal of his palm made contact with her helm as he patted her like one would a sparkling.

"Don't touch her!" Optimus growled, fists shaking in anger as he felt the fear emanate from his partner's side of the bond.

The gunformer merely turned his helm, meeting the glare of his enemy with another cool smirk. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak," he said, tone lowering threateningly.

Optimus huffed, and then in an unprecedented move, he lunged forward, punching Megatron hard on the chest. Megatron grunted – ignoring the searing pain in his chest, swinging back with his own strike, catching his bitter rival under the chin and forcing him to the other side of the cave walls. Getting up, the grey warlord snarled, "I can do whatever I want. I am so very tempted to kill you, take you and your bondmate's grey carcasses back to your pathetic base and sting them up for all of the soldiers to see. And then where would your puny Autobot cause be?"

"Then do it, you are wasting time," the red and blue mech spat back, anger flooding his circuits.

Megatron's optics narrowed. No, if Prime was willing, that was not the course of action he would choose. Sidling his gaze back to the femme commander, Megatron's processor came up with a wickedly devious idea. It was better than killing them. It meant he would get a nice show.

Standing to his full height, Megatron announced, "Because I am being a generous warlord today, I have decided not to kill you both." He took a moment to see the relief flicker briefly over each faceplate, before continuing, "Instead, I would like to see you both interface, in front of me, right now – while I watch and take my own pleasure. If I am satisfied as to your…performance, I will let you both walk away to your base."

There was a moment of silence in the large cavern.

Then:

"NO!" Elita shrieked in fury. Her hands shook as she raised one to point angrily at her enemy, "No! You disgusting, vile, evil, abominable, piece of scrap, spawn of Unicron!"

Megatron grinned horridly fiendishly. "Thank you for those kind comments, Elita-1," he simpered, mock bowing to her. She hissed at him again.

Meanwhile, Optimus was frowning in consternation, "What's the catch Megatron?"

"None. Entertain me sufficiently, and you will leave unharmed," Megatron re-iterated.

"Optimus, you can't seriously be considering!" Elita protested, turning her glare to her mate.

Optimus shuttered his optics and thought it over, thinking of the pros and cons. There were only two things positive about this, and that was: he and Elita got to live, and he was intimate with his bondmate for the first time in millennia. Cons…in a word: Megatron. While the Autobot leader felt awkward thinking over exposing themselves, it wasn't he whom he was worried about. It was Elita. This could damage their relationship beyond repair when it was already strained by duty and by distance. Pushing away the thought, one prevailed. If he and Elita refused, Megatron would carry out his threat and extinguish them both.

With caution in his tone, Optimus replied, "I concur."

Elita let loose with a growl, while Megatron nodded his helm, saying, "Fine. Get going." He then went over to the wall where the tunnel met the larger cavern and sat down, legs spread in front of him.

Elita wanted to scream and rage at both of them. Mechs! Optimus, of course, could not truly be blamed, but she wished it was something not so…exhibitionist. But on the flipside, she should be grateful it was not Megatron she was forced to do this with. Locking optics with her sparkmate, she sighed in an exhausted sort of way, crawling over to him and cupping his faceplate in both hands.

'I'm…anxious," she admitted over their bond.

"Me too. But if we push the thought of him aside, we'll be fine. Besides, Elita-1 knows no fear,' Optimus responded gently, letting her motto remind her to be strong. She could collapse into pieces later on base if she needed to. Elita nodded, pressing their mouths together in a slow kiss.

"Get on with it," Megatron snapped.

Elita snapped her lips away and snarled, "Do you want a show or not? Don't interrupt, and we will make sure you are satisfied." She was also slightly disgusted at how the grey warlord was already actively pinching and rubbing at his own circuitry to get him heated up. Wrenching her gaze away, she calmed her thoughts, encouraged by Optimus just to forget, to just pretend it was the two of them.

It was difficult to.

She had not been intimate with Optimus for such a long time. And self-servicing by either hand or toy got tiresome after the first 100 years. So she had stayed celibate for all this time, only bringing herself to overload once every 100 years, to commemorate another century gone by.

Optimus sent waves of calm, asking her silently to relax. She leaned into his body, kissing his jaw like she had done in the past, trying to find her groove. As she relaxed, her lover did too. Her hands began to wander again, tracing softly over his headlights, mimicking the reverent touch to the column of tourmaline she had done earlier. The reflection from the many jewels in the cavern gave a soft, yet exotic look to her Optimus's plain red and blue plating. It was beautiful.

"Not as much as you are," Optimus mumbled softly, deeply, sensing her thoughts of him.

Elita shivered. She had missed her lover's berthroom voice. It got her turned on like no other. And for the first time in many years, she felt stirrings of arousal deep within her circuitry.

Optimus nuzzled into her neck, running his hands over her back, they were warm and aiding with loosening her tense cables. He took the time to enjoy her smaller frame resting on his own, and felt his own arousal begin to stir. Setting himself to the task, Optimus tested a well known move he used to do to see if Elita was just as sensitive now in that particular spot. Still nuzzling her neck, he found a cable under her audio and lightly flicked his glossa against it. It earned a shiver from his lover. With a smirk, he then sucked on it, making her arch back with a soft moan.

Megatron had been losing hope of anything exciting happen when he saw the pink femme suddenly arch and moan enticingly. His optics brightened. Maybe this would be satisfying after all. He riveted his attention on the couple, watching them in their foreplay.

Elita's processor was conflicted. Part of her was worrying about the psychopathic warlord behind her, but another part was melting with the first jolts of pleasure coursing through her. After all those years, Optimus still knew how to turn her into a puddle of melted wires with only one move.

"Relax," Optimus whispered.

Elita sagged into his arms. The sooner she relaxed, the sooner they interfaced, and the sooner they could get the pit out of here.

Optimus smiled a little bitterly. It wasn't fair. But it had to be done.

The large mech began his pleasurable assault on her lighter frame, every touch carefully calculated to get Elita as revved up as possible within a short amount of time. His lips on her neck, his hands rubbing wide circles over her body and his frame pressing up against her own, hot with arousal. It always amazed Optimus how just the sight of her got his interface drive in gear. The little restrained moans and pants always managed to turn him on, and were doing so now. He let all thoughts of being watched out of his mind, letting the sight and feel of his bonded mate consume him. With a soft smile, Optimus removed his mouth from where he had been lapping at her neck, gave her a quick peck on the lips, before moving up to the top of her helm and curling his glossa around one of her antennas.

"Ah!" Elita gasped, a pure bolt of pleasure tingling her circuits, feeling her valve finally begin to really moisten up.

Megatron was watching the display with a smirk, rubbing his interface panel, which was burning with need under his own touch. Who knew that fierce Elita-1 would not even try and challenge the dominance that Prime was displaying? He licked his lips, watching as his rival sucked on the pink femme's antenna. With a sudden cycle of his processor, Megatron imagined that glossa wrapped around his spike, sucking him off. It triggered the released of his interface panel.

Optimus heard the sound, but ignored it. His mate was all that mattered. If Megatron got off on this, then whoopee for him.

"No fair," Elita said breathlessly. Her antennae were another point on her frame where maximum pleasure data was derived from.

Optimus just chuckled around the sensitive helm appendage in his mouth, before drawing off it, giving it a kiss and simply leaning back slightly to watch Elita's face contort in soft pleasure. It was…exquisite. He couldn't wait for her expression when he was filling her valve.

Elita let the pleasure wash over her, content to be completely submissive for once. It was unlike her, but she didn't care. Optimus's smouldering optics were on her, and his hands were deliciously warm and re-assuring. And knowing. They remembered the nodes that made her quiver, the wires that made her shake. Half-consciously in response to the loving touches, she opened her panel, baring her valve.

"Mm," hummed Megatron in satisfaction.

His spike had not extended, and he was simply playing about his interface array, palming the nub of the spike in its housing as he continued to get an opticful. He smirked when the pink femme opened her panel. It had been a long time since he'd seen a femme valve. Instead of purple lubricant, the colour for femmes was more of a light lavender. It was another difference between the two frame types of mech and femme. And Megatron could see it, shimmering delicately on the opening of the femme commanders valve.

At the sound, Optimus growled possessively, moving his hand to cover Elita's valve, and then realised it would do no good. Megatron would see it anyway. Instead, he traced a fingertip around her array, smearing the little bit of lubricant around, feeling the entrance quiver at his touch. Elita was slumped forward into him now, letting him take care of her.

"Elita," Optimus rumbled, revving his engine, vibrating against her frame.

"NNnnn," she hummed in reply, wrapping her arms around his neck, pelvic area trembling.

The semi alt-moded mech then tested to see how tight her valve was. He swirled his digit in the lavender fluid, and the ever so carefully, pushed the tip of his finger in.

"Ahn!" Elita gasped harshly, hands clenching on her lover's back plating, valve walls immediately trapping Optimus's fingertip in like a vice. Had it really been that long?

Optimus frowned. He could not penetrate her and get this act over with when she was this tight. With great care and dexterity, the Autobot commander gripped Elita's hips firmly, settling back against the wall, and swung her hips up so that her interface components were hovering over his face.

"Optimus," Elita murmured, watching as that handsome face smirked, before his glossa snaked out and swiped over her opening, tasting her lubricant.

The mostly red mech moaned, "Still as sweet and fresh as ever."

Elita chuckled at that comment, brining her arms up to rest against the wall above her helm, stabilising herself for what was to come.

Megatron grinned. This was better than watching Cybertronian porn! Pleasure drones were boring, and the hookers were always so fake. This was live, in your face interfacing. He could smell the faint smell of interface in the air already. He continued to touch himself, keeping his spike in his housing for a little while more.

Optimus raised his helm, bringing his mouth to the entrance of the valve, gently mouthing it, feeling her hips tremble, before doing a slow trace with his glossa in the slowly leaking lubricant. Upon hearing his mate's encouraging moan, the larger mech gently dipped his glossa in. He began to swirl it around, working it deeper and deeper slowly. His glossa was not long or thick, but Elita was clenching down like it was a spike. He rubbed the flexible metal of his glossa against the nodes in the walls, flicking, swirling, dipping out and in. He was rather excellent at this if he did say so himself.

"Optimus," Elita moaned, shuttering her optics tight with bliss. This was exactly what he had done on their first date, working her over slowly with his mouth until she overload from overstimulation. And it was going to happen exactly the same.

The pink plated femme felt that wonderful metal writher inside of her, hitting just the right spots. She shuddered as overstimulation built and built, her vents hissing as heated air passed them in her desire. She jerked her hips. Overload was fast approaching, and she struggled not to grind down into her lover's face from the stimulus.

The grey warlord pinched a few wires in his hips painfully so his spike would stay in its housing. The imagery was so hot it made him want to overload right then.

Elita keened loudly as overload cascaded through her circuits. It felt so good, so amazing, her whole body shuddering and zinging with charge, her valve tightening on her lover's glossa and a gush of lavender lubricant flowing out and into her love's waiting mouth. Her hands shook on the wall and her hips jerked again with the force of the overload. She could feel the skilful appendage within her retract, felt her bonded's smile against her opening. She panted, thankful as Optimus brought her back down to settle on his lap, directly on his hot interface panel. She nuzzled up to him, sending waves of gratitude and desire over their bond link.

'You're welcome. I'm glad I seem to have loosened you up,' Optimus said softly through the link.

Elita was currently too sated to reply coherently. She simply keened again when her love prodded his finger at her entrance again, to find there was less resistance than there had been before, and his finger slid smoothly in. Elita keened again, only this time it was slightly annoyed. Optimus was giving, and not doing anything for himself. Her hands became heat-seeking missiles, and found the immense heat and pressure of her lover's interface panel.

"Elita-" Optimus began to protest softly.

"You need to get off before you enter me, or else you will go too fast and finish too early for what he wants," Elita mumbled, half-reminding the matrix bearer they were being watched.

With a sigh, Optimus released his panel, his spike pressurizing to full, erect attention. And then, in a display or mechly alpha male behaviour, he glanced over to his enemy.

Megatron now had his spike out, and was pumping it languidly. He saw the glance and challenged, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Optimus huffed, puffing his chest out, and shifting Elita gently to the side so he could bear his hardware to the other mech, showing it off proudly.

The gunformer immediately felt a spike of jealousy.

While he himself was no slouch in the spike size department, Megatron conceded defeat upon seeing the Prime's spike. His was large and thick, but Prime's was longer and thicker still. For the first time in a long time, Megatron felt a stir in his very little used valve. Forcing that dangerous thought to the side and out of his processor, he only sneered, but made a mention for the red and blue mech to carry on.

Optimus smirked, Elita rolling her optics beside him, before readjusting Elita on his lap, melding his lips to hers, her mouth reciprocating wonderfully. Her delicate hands suddenly wrapped around his shaft, and began to pump up and down, nice and firm. He groaned loudly, accidently bucking up into the touch and dislodging Elita's hands, but she merely nibbled on his bottom mouth components and reached for him again, using that friction and exact pressure he liked so much.

Prime groaned again.

Elita whispered seductively over the bond, 'You know how much I missed you and this hot piece of metal in my hands? Self-service and toys are nothing compared to you.'

'You are tempting me.'

'Isn't that the point?'

Optimus couldn't reply, instead making a garbled string of sounds as she fisted him quickly, trying to get him off a swift as possible. Elita needed her mate, and she needed him now. If she got him off, their resulting interface after would be so much better. She corkscrewed her hands, squeezing from root to tip, paying special attention to the sensor underneath the slightly bulbous end. The pink femme felt him tremble, felt the heavy heat of the spike in her hands, and knew he was going to overload soon.

Meanwhile on the opposite cavern wall, Megatron was unconsciously copying the movements of Elita's hands on his own length, tightening and loosening his hand to stave off the pleasure. He was running hot now, vents cycling in his own arousal at the show.

Seeing his rivals had him so hot it almost made him embarrassed to admit that he was enjoying this too much.

He would definitely let them go after this. It was too good not to.

The red and blue mech threw his finial crowned helm back with a deep, vibrating moan as he climaxed, spike juddering in the hands of his mate, transfluid spurting out in long surges. So much fluid came out – because he, like Elita, had found self-servicing could get tiring after awhile and had not spike (or valve) overloaded in some time. The silver fluid flowed over Elita's hands, seeping in between her joints and trickling onto his powerful silver thighs.

With an amused sound, Elita lifted a hand to her face to inspect the fluid before lasciviously sucking it off, inhaling the thick, rich smell as she did so, savouring the taste.

Having not been able to do this for so long, the pink commander slowly licked all the silvery liquid off, feeling heavy pangs of arousal deep in her abdomen. The taste was sweet after all these years. It made her light headed, almost like a stimulant. Drug-like. Intoxicating. She rolled it around her glossa, humming as she reached her other hand up and repeated the process.

Both mechs groaned at the appetizing visual.

Megatron had to pinch his wires again to stop himself from overloading right then and there. Primus knew what he was going to have to do to keep himself from overloading straight away when the interface finally started.

Optimus looked to his rival again, smirking without mirth and saying, "You are a pervert, Megatron."

"Don't care right now," the grey mech replied, continuing to pinch harshly at his wires in his seams. It was effective, and his arousal was not as much as it had been merely seconds before.

Elita huffed, drawing her hands along her mate's chest. She was ready and raring to go now, and she wanted to be taken full advantage of by her mate. There was something strangely erotic about being submissive and willing under her lover's hands. It turned her on something fierce.

Optimus ignored Megatron once more, making himself more comfortable against the rock wall and smiling softly at his love. His spike was yearning once more, but now wanted to be embedded in the snug fit of Elita's valve, to feel her moving against him, with him, letting him bask in her love again and again until they were spent. He rubbed circles into her smooth pink hip plating, meeting her wanting, knowing gaze with his own.

Without any noise except for the slight hiss of their joints, the mech lifted the femme and tenderly impaled her with his spike.

They breathed into each other, keeping their noises at bay, trying to just keep feel and sensation in focus at the forefront of their processors. The slick channel in its grip around the hard, throbbing living meal of Prime's spike. Elita trembled, finally being able to experience her mate. Relief and spark-twisting desire overcame her, and she broke the silence by keening slightly and rocking her hips in place. The semi-alt mech cooed slightly in assurance, taking her waist in his hands and aided her in lifting off his spike, before slamming her back down to make her keen once more. He shuttered his optics tight, beginning a sure, strong pace and rocked up and down with each glide of his femme's valve over his spike. It was as snug and as comforting a fit as he'd hoped it'd be, and the Autobot commander lost himself in his true indulgence with a long, drawn out groan.

"Slag," Megatron whispered softly, watching the highly erotic scene. The length of his rival was buried again and again, flashing silver with the frenzied pace they went at. His optics narrowed on the point where the two bodies met, the lavender lubricant slipping out with each thrust to pool at the juncture of their thighs and smear over their lower plating.

Almost without realising it, he tightened his hand over his own shaft, pumping firmly over the heated appendage and palming the head to smear his pre-fluid. He rocked into his own hand, lost in his own bliss of self-service.

"Slag," Megatron hissed again, tightening his hand's grip.

Elita was panting, optics a deep sapphire with need, mouth open as Optimus pounded her into delicious oblivion. Having each node stroked against with each thrust, feeling so filled, feeling so loved and wanted – it all tumbled into a big ball of intense pleasure which spread itself along her frame. She knew Optimus was feeling the same. Her fingers tightened on the other's plating, hearing his rumbling groans at the action traverse through her.

It shot liquid lust straight to the apex of her legs.

Optimus was similarly affected, her frame pressed close to him made his spark flare with passionate desire. When they got back to the ARK, he was going to worship her body from helm to pede and keep her there for hours. He conveyed that thought to her, and she chuckled weakly from the desire.

"Make that a promise…uuhhhn…and I'll be the happiest femme in the world."

"I promise," the larger mech breathed deeply in her audial.

Elita suddenly shrieked, her sweetspot deep in her valve getting pounded harder as they moved in tandem, perfectly rocking against each other with each passion filled slide of spike into valve. Her circuits were screaming in pleasure, and all she could focus on was her mate.

"Uuhhhn, Optimus, please," Elita whispered, her valve tightening down on the spike within, and rolled her muscle cables to coax her mate into overload.

"Gah!" Optimus gasped out chokingly, feeling the rhythmic ripples.

Megatron raised a hand to his mouth and bit down to prevent his yell of fulfilment from slipping past his lips. His hand stroked in a almost harsh rhythm as he overloaded, climaxing with wild spurts of transfluid spattering across his abdominal plates in shining silver streaks. His vents whirred at amazing speeds, heat in his circuits pulsing throughout his body and especially in the head of his spike in the aftermath of overload. He slumped, and continued to watch the ardour passing to and from the bots opposite him.

Elita felt a shudder wrack her lover's frame. She tilted her helm up to look deeply into his optics, finding her expression of love and pleasure reflected intensely on his handsome faceplate. The moment hung suspended in the air for a moment, although it felt timeless to both Optimus and Elita, before all systems caught up with them and overwhelmed them with stimulation and passionate overload.

Optimus's hands tightened around Elita's waist and he bucked up and held still, spike pumping his load of transfluid into her valve, flooding the flexiable walls with the hot fluid. He groaned out her name, once, twice, three times before his overload completed. His wires were buzzing with released charge, and it felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Elita had overloaded at the same time as her red and blue bondmate, crying out his name to the rock ceiling of the cavern in bliss, hands clutching his plating so hard she dented the armour. Her valve rippled and clenched, lavender lubricant further slicking her tight channel and mixing erotically with Optimus's transfluid to leak out of her full and stuffed opening. It dripped out and smeared over their lower halves, and the usually pristine looking femme commander looked well debauched with the red and blue paint transfers dotting her frame, but she couldn't find in herself to care. She leaned against Optimus, tenderly brushing her lips against his own and stroking the wires and cables at the base of his neck.

'I love you,' she said softly over their bond.

'I love you too…let's go home and rest in our berth,' the Matrix bearer replied, nuzzling her nose in complete, sated contentment.

Elita nodded in agreement and carefully lifted herself off the large spike, closing her panel immediately and getting up to stand, legs splayed. She became suddenly aware of the gaze of the Decepticon leader, and it partially ruined her post-overload daze.

"Satisfied?" she asked stiffly, arching an optic ridge at the grey warlord, who was still slumped againt the opposite wall. He had made no move to clean the evidence of just how much he had enjoyed their 'performance' off him.

"Very. You may leave," Megatron mumbled. He couldn't care right now. Really. How could he? He had just gotten a processor blowing show.

Elita scoffed, and went to walk, but stumbled and her walk turned into a waddle. She gasped softly in surprise. She glanced at Optimus, who had just stood up after tucking his spike away, and made a 'come here' motion with her hand.

Optimus chuckled softly at her, feeling a surge of mechly pride that he had satisfied her to the extent she couldn't even walk straight. And then, ignoring Megatron completely, he picked up Elita in a bridal style, ignoring her squawked protests and carried her out of the cavern, content to pretend that he had not been watched while he was making love.


A/N: Whew, finally completed. I hope that turned out all right. Reviews would be fantastic. Really.

:D