Sunstreaker stared down at his lovers, unsurprised that he found them in a compromised and debauched state. Sideswipe seemed capable of convincing Ratchet of anything, it seemed.
He tilted his head and looked at his brother. “What’s that on your face?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.
Sideswipe beamed, his glossa flicking over his lips. “Ratchet’s transfluid,” he chirped. “Want some?”
Ratchet laughed, and wasn’t that a wonderful sound. “You’re ridiculous.”
Sunstreaker had to agree. “No, thank you,” he replied, surprised he could do it with a straight face.
“Aw, come on.” Sideswipe pushed himself upright with his arms and then scooted forward, down the length of Ratchet’s frame until he straddled Ratchet’s hips, Ratchet’s spike shadowed by his thighs. “It’s pretty yummy.”
Ratchet grunted and abruptly sat up, one arm going around Sideswipe’s mid-section to keep him from falling forward, the other planted behind him to prop himself upright. His face was as messy as Sideswipe’s, though his looked to be splattered with lubricant.
“Yes,” Sunstreaker replied, with an arch of his orbital ridge. “I’m sure it is. But I prefer something like that to be fresh.”
Sideswipe stared at him before he started snickering. His aft wiggled on Ratchet’s lap as he clutched at Ratchet’s arm. “Oooo, you’re in a good mood, Sunny. Does that mean you’re going to play with us?”
Sunstreaker shook his head. “I’m not getting on the floor.” He had too much dignity for that. He thought Ratchet did, too.
Ratchet tilted his head. “You don’t have to.” Something wicked gleamed in his optics. “In fact, take about two steps forward and standing will do us just fine.”
Sunstreaker folded his arms over his chestplate. “You have an idea?”
Ratchet grinned. “I have an idea.” He shifted again, weight redistributing so that the hand bracing himself could move to pat Sideswipe’s back. “Like showing you what Sides learned today.”
“Ohhhh.” Sideswipe purred and leaned back, into Ratchet’s embrace. “Just like you promised, Ratch.”
Part of Sunstreaker didn’t want to know.
The other part of him – seeing his brother’s dirtied face, the mess between his thighs, and the lust in Sideswipe’s field – was intrigued. Sideswipe did seem to have the good ideas, even if he was a depraved little menace.
“Come on over, Sunny,” Sideswipe said. He licked his lips, his optics bright with need. “I wanna taste ya.”
Sunstreaker narrowed his optics, but obeyed, moving within reach. Sideswipe instantly lunged, grabbing onto his hips and dragging him the last few inches. He purred as he nuzzled Sunstreaker’s panel, planting sloppy kisses over the heated metal.
“Just what have you been teaching him?” Sunstreaker asked as he shivered.
Ratchet chuckled and slid both arms around Sideswipe, his hands shifting down until they could caress Sideswipe’s exposed equipment. Sideswipe moaned, leaning back into Ratchet’s arms, his lower half wriggling excitedly.
“To be fair, he asked for it,” Ratchet said as the fingers of one hand dipped into Sideswipe’s valve, and his other hand curled around Sideswipe’s spike. “You know how much your brother likes to push the limits.”
Sideswipe licked a long swipe up Sunstreaker’s panel. “I’m right here.”
“Yes, you are.” Sunstreaker looked down at him. “And yet, you’re not doing that good of a job, yet.”
Sideswipe pouted playfully, a sheen to his optics that never failed to stir Sunstreaker’s spark. He looked up at Sunstreaker and pressed his lips to Sunstreaker’s panel again, while his glossa traced odd designs.
“I could,” he purred. “If you’d just open for me.”
Sunstreaker looked past him at Ratchet who nodded as he curled a third finger into Sideswipe’s valve, making him shiver.
“Fine,” Sunstreaker said. He allowed his panel to open, his spike surging free and his valve twitching at the rush of cool air over his sensitive components.
Sideswipe hummed in his intake and then sucked Sunstreaker’s spike into his mouth, swallowing half in one fell swoop. Sunstreaker groaned, his arms unfolding so that his hands could land on his brother’s head.
“I don’t see what’s so new about this,” Sunstreaker said, hoping to keep from giving in to Sideswipe’s indecency. “He sucks spike all the time.”
Ratchet chuckled. “He’ll get there.” He grabbed Sideswipe’s hips, and Sunstreaker knew the moment Ratchet sank into Sideswipe’s valve, because they both shuddered and Sideswipe’s engine gave a telling rev.
Sideswipe moaned around Sunstreaker’s spike and sucked him deeper, his glossa stroking along the underside of Sunstreaker’s spike.
Sunstreaker shivered. He did so enjoy Sideswipe’s affection for oral pleasure. He was good at it, too. Not that Ratchet wasn’t, because he was, but Sideswipe took a special enjoyment out of it.
Ratchet kept one hand on Sideswipe’s hips and the other rose, landing on the back of Sideswipe’s head between Sunstreaker’s own hands.
“You see,” Ratchet said with a devious smirk that nearly rivaled Sideswipe’s. “Your brother decided he wanted to learn deep intake penetration.”
“Let me guess,” Sunstreaker drawled as Sideswipe moaned around his spike again. “He learned it from the humans.”
Ratchet rolled his hips, pushing deeper into Sideswipe. “Of course he did,” he said, and his fingers flexed on Sideswipe’s head. “Now hold still. Sideswipe, you ready?”
Sideswipe purred around Sunstreaker’s spike, his glossa stroking down the underside. Sunstreaker’s engine rumbled, and his field filled with curiosity. He wasn’t seeing anything new, to be honest.
But then Ratchet pushed. It was subtle, not forceful, but he put a pressure on Sideswipe’s head, pushing his face closer to Sunstreaker’s panel. Sideswipe’s mouth opened to Sunstreaker, taking his spike deeper.
Sunstreaker’s optics widened. He stared as Sideswipe swallowed him, as the head of his spike bumped the back of his brother’s intake. And then Sideswipe shifted just slightly, leaned forward a tad, his fingers flexing on Sunstreaker’s hips. He moaned around Sunstreaker’s spike before Ratchet gave one last push, and Sunstreaker sank into Sideswipe’s mouth, the head of his spike sliding down Sideswipe’s intake.
He could feel Sideswipe’s intake rippling around his spike. He heard Sideswipe’s ventilations hitch, his engine rev, but more than that, he felt Sideswipe trembling, the heat of his arousal, in his frame and field.
“What the frag?” Sunstreaker breathed, his spike throbbing as the squeeze of Sideswipe’s intake rippled around it.
The sensation was wholly different than a valve. The rippling was inconsistent, but had a tighter grip. Sideswipe’s mouth twitched around him, glossa pinned to the bottom of his mouth. Oral lubricant welled up, and Sideswipe swallowed, causing his intake to flex around Sunstreaker’s spike again.
That was… unexpectedly hot.
Sideswipe’s optics onlined, glowing brightly. He looked up at Sunstreaker, his lips stretched wide around the base of Sunstreaker’s spike, his nasal ridge pressed to Sunstreaker’s abdominal panel. His engine growled louder, his grip on Sunstreaker’s hips tightened.
“It’s not… it’s not…” Sunstreaker looked at Ratchet, who’s smile was as devious as Sideswipe’s.
Ratchet kept his grip on the back of Sideswipe’s head, but he started thrusting into Sideswipe’s valve with short motions of his hips that pushed Sideswipe up and against Sunstreaker.
“He’s fine,” Ratchet grunted, his ventilations rapid. His optics were taking on that dark hue of arousal. “It’s not gonna hurt him at all.”
Sunstreaker’s glossa swept over his lips. He stroked his hands over Sideswipe’s head, enclosing his fingers over the sensitive finials and stroking them. Sideswipe’s mouth tightened around him. His engine purred and his spike bobbed. It dripped pre-fluid steadily.
Sunstreaker swallowed thickly and took a risk. He stroked Sideswipe’s finials and then rolled his hips, thrusting ever so carefully into Sideswipe’s mouth and down his intake. Primus, that felt good. His brother’s intake twitched and rippled as though trying to force him back out, but Ratchet’s grip – and admittedly Sunstreaker’s own – kept Sideswipe from being able to back off.
Sideswipe’s field exploded with lust. It latched onto Sunstreaker’s and dragged him down into the heat. If there had been any hesitation before, that evaporated. Sideswipe made a static sound between them, trapped on their spikes, completely taken.
Sunstreaker’s head dipped, his chin sinking down. His vents rattled, venting heat as arousal struck with all the force of a blaster shot. That was… what was…
He pinched Sideswipe’s finials again and rocked into Sideswipe’s mouth, staying deep, but teasing the head of his spike against Sideswipe’s inner tubing. He knew he’d made the right choice when Sideswipe started to squirm, when his fingers started tugging on Sunstreaker’s hips as though determined to keep him deep.
“That’s it,” Ratchet purred and Sunstreaker’s knees wobbled.
He fragging loved it when Ratchet started talking. Sideswipe talking was pretty damn hot, too, cause he always said the dirtiest things that Sunstreaker shouldn’t find enticing but somehow did. Ratchet, though.
Sunstreaker gnawed on his lower lip, grip tightening on Sideswipe’s finials.
When Ratchet really got into it, he was a fragging menace. Worse than Sideswipe.
“You’re doing so good,” Ratchet said, his hand stroking the back of Sideswipe’s head before it slipped down and then curled around, his fingers encircling Sideswipe’s intake.
“I can feel him in you, Sides,” he murmured and leaned against Sideswipe’s back, purring into Sideswipe’s audial. His fingers stroked the length of Sideswipe’s intake. “Swallow for me?”
Sideswipe shuddered, but he obeyed. Sunstreaker gasped as Sideswipe’s intake rippled around him, and Sideswipe’s field went all arousal-wobbly. His hands dug furrows into Sunstreaker’s armor, enough that it creaked. His optical shutters fluttered, oral lubricant leaking out the corners of his mouth.
“Good boy.” Ratchet’s smirk turned positively wicked as he kept rocking into Sideswipe’s valve as he stroked Sideswipe’s intake. “Remember my promise? My turn. His turn. My turn again.”
Sideswipe wriggled as little as he was able. His optical shutters slammed shut as he shivered.
Ratchet chuckled and looked up at Sunstreaker. “I think he’s thirsty,” he said, his glossa flicking over his lips. “Don’t you think so, too?”
“Primus, Ratchet,” Sunstreaker groaned and ground against Sideswipe’s face, his lips, his spike working oh so deep.
Sideswipe’s intake spasmed around him. His fingers pulled harder, though Sunstreaker couldn’t possibly go any deeper. His denta scraped against the dermal metal of Sunstreaker’s spike, and Sunstreaker shivered. Arousal throbbed in his spark and his spike, charge in his lines, pulling him toward overload.
“Mm.” Ratchet pushed harder into Sideswipe’s valve, shoving Sideswipe harder against Sunstreaker’s panel. His grip on Sideswipe’s intake tightened, but it was enough for Sideswipe’s engine to race loud enough to vibrate all three of them.
Damn kinky fragger.
“Are you going to give him what he wants, Sunny?” Ratchet asked, and his optics burned where they met Sunstreaker’s. “That way I can feel when he swallows you.”
Sideswipe made an unidentifiable noise. Sunstreaker’s armor creaked.
“I guess I have to,” Sunstreaker panted. His vents roared, and he honestly couldn’t have held back if he tried.
Not when Sideswipe’s lips tightened ever so briefly at the base of his spike, and his hands tugged.
“Would hate to disappoint,” Sunstreaker added, though it came out strangled.
He gripped Sideswipe’s finials as he rocked into Sideswipe’s mouth with the smallest of motions. The look in Sideswipe’s optics all but begged for it, as though he wanted it, because of course he did, the kinky fragger.
“Please don’t,” Ratchet purred and nuzzled his head against Sideswipe’s, his fingers twitching around Sideswipe’s intake. “Because I promised him we’d fill up his tank with transfluid tonight.”
Sunstreaker ground out a strangled sound. The overload started in his pedes and rattled upward and outward. He yanked on Sideswipe’s finials and spilled down Sideswipe’s intake, spurt after spurt of transfluid. Sideswipe swallowed around him, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.
Sunstreaker staggered backward, his spike sliding free of Sideswipe’s mouth, the last spurt landing on Sideswipe’s cheek, criss-crossing with one of Ratchet’s lingering stripes. Sunstreaker’s vents wheezed. His knees wobbled. Sideswipe looked so gone, his lips swollen, his optics glazed, his face still painted in Ratchet’s transfluid.
Ratchet grabbed Sideswipe’s hips with both hands. He dug his knees into the floor and started pounding into Sideswipe’s valve, his hips slamming against Sideswipe’s aft. Sideswipe made a whimpering noise, pawing at Sunstreaker’s hips as he tried to match Ratchet’s pace, and gave up, letting Ratchet frag him into next week.
Sunstreaker’s engine raced, and he dropped to his knees between one thrust and the next. Ratchet shoved Sideswipe against him, and Sideswipe clutched Sunstreaker’s shoulders, panting desperately, his field sticky with need and charge lashing out from beneath his plating.
His lips were swollen, hot, and Sunstreaker claimed them. Sideswipe more breathed against his mouth then kissed him and that was just fine. Sunstreaker worked a hand between their frames, grabbed Sideswipe’s spike, and stroked him. Nothing gentle in it, just rough, desperate pulls.
Sideswipe tossed his head back and wailed, his fingers digging into Sunstreaker’s shoulders. He shook, top to bottom. He rode Ratchet’s spike with single-minded determination, but it was still Ratchet who overloaded first, snarling as he grabbed Sideswipe’s hips and sank deep.
Sideswipe pawed at Sunstreaker, his field pleading, his hips jerking between Sunstreaker’s fingers and Ratchet’s spike. His engine revved into a higher pitch.
Sunstreaker squeezed Sideswipe’s spike, fisting him harder. He stole Sideswipe’s lips, bit at them with his denta, hard enough to draw energon. Sideswipe moaned into his mouth, a pitiful, static-laced sound. He fell against Sunstreaker’s front, clutching onto him, as he finally overloaded.
Sideswipe’s spike spurted, striping Sunstreaker’s frame and dampening his fist. Behind him, Ratchet muttered some kind of curse, but it was lost to the roar of Sideswipe’s cooling fans.
Sideswipe slumped, his body twitching in the aftermath, his frame exuding heat. He made little happy noises as he nuzzled into Sunstreaker’s intake, smearing the transfluid on his face against Sunstreaker’s neck cables.
Sunstreaker sighed. Sideswipe was damn lucky he was adorable in post-coital bliss.
He looked past his twin at Ratchet. The medic loosened his hold on Sideswipe’s hips, one hand patting Sideswipe’s back as the other helped him disengage from Sideswipe’s valve.
“No,” Sideswipe moaned piteously, and tried to twitch his hips backward. “Keep it there.”
“We need to get clean, Sides,” Sunstreaker said. “And get off the floor.” He shouldn’t be so surprised that in the end, he wound up down here anyway.
“No,” Sideswipe objected, still more static in his voice, and he nuzzled Sunstreaker’s chestplate harder.
Sunstreaker sighed again.
Ratchet chuckled and patted Sideswipe’s aft. He settled back into place, however, his half-pressurized spike nestled in Sideswipe’s valve.
“We can wait a few minutes,” he said.
“Maybe you can,” Sunstreaker grumbled. But then Sideswipe made a little happy noise, and well, okay. Fine. A few minutes.
“Well, I’m not saying I’m going to be able to get up easily, but I can manage,” Ratchet said with a shrug. “Besides, I’m not surprised.” He tilted his head. “I’ll bet that if you put your fingers near his mouth, he’d suck on them right now.”
“And get us started again?” Sunstreaker bit back a groan, and was tempted to sit on his hands so as not to listen because he was tempted. “Can’t we move that to a berth?”
Ratchet grinned. “Later.”
Sunstreaker cycled a ventilation. “He’s such a pain.”
Sideswipe made a protesting noise, his arms encircling Sunstreaker. His field had calmed at least though. In fact, he looked of all things like he was about to slip into recharge!
“Yes. But he’s our pain.” Ratchet’s face was damn soppy when he looked at Sideswipe.
Well, he had a point. Fragger could be pretty cute when he was quiet and snuggly.
Sunstreaker gave up. He would deal with being on the floor. That just meant Sideswipe owed him a good scrub later. Ratchet, too.
For now, snuggling it was.
Oh, the horror.