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It started with a wink.
Skywarp had been chatting with Thundercracker while they rinsed off one afternoon—definitely not whining, no matter what Thundercracker said—about how he hadn’t done anything exciting sexually in ages. (No, his trine didn’t count, they all had fun, yeah, but it wasn’t like they could get new sex toys mid-war, and it had been at least a century since any of them had developed a fresh kink to exploit.) And yeah, maybe they’d been having this chat in the very public washracks, but if Skywarp had to watch the Constructicons wash up all plugged in to each other like softcore porn after every battle, then everyone else could bear hearing him and TC chat about their interface life.
He was pretty sure no one cared—at minimum, definitely no one cared enough to yell at him about it. TC mainly just got flustered about it, and that was cute.
This time, though, he had noticed Ravage’s ears kept swiveling in their direction as he and Thundercracker talked. The cassette-cat-whatever was in the next shower over, supposedly just enjoying the solvent that was, for once, heated. She was probably paying attention to every conversation, spy business and all, but Skywarp could have sworn her tail started lashing a little more powerfully when he started waxing poetic about the interface shops he’d frequented before the war shut down all non-essential slag like that.
Skywarp could have ignored that.
Thundercracker stepped out of the main spray fluffed out his plating, showering the area around him with beads of solvent. “Skywarp. I don’t know what to tell you—have you tried masturbation?”
Skywarp scoffed. “Have I tried masturbation.”
(Was Ravage smirking? Well, Skywarp could ignore that too.)
“Wait, I wasn’t done,” Thundercracker said with an insistent wing-flick. “Look, if you’re tired of everything you have, go read some human porn! I’ve found some really, uh, inventive stuff on their internet.” At Skywarp’s responding pout, he paused and raised a brow-ridge. “What?”
“Reading? Come on, TC, you’ve gotta know that my hands will be way too busy for that, and I hate reading stuff on my HUD, it makes my optics hurt. I need the real deal!” Skywarp explained. “But I am going to find your profile and read your stuff, just so you know.”
“Of course you are,” Thundercracker sighed. “Well, I’m not giving you any more clues. We’re all clean now, anyway—come on, if we hurry, we won’t be the last ones at attention and someone else will get yelled at for a change.”
It was on their way out that it happened.
Skywarp happened to glance back into the main washracks, and Ravage… was already looking back. Then she made optic contact with him and winked. Skywarp couldn’t help it—he looked around in the universal sign of Who, me? , but no one else she could have been talking to was nearby. When his gaze returned to Ravage, she was clearly holding back a laugh as she nodded.
The message was clear. Yes, you.
Despite the fact that he was no excitable newbuild, Skywarp flushed. But then Thundercracker was calling him onward, and they were late for that formation training session, and the moment was gone.
But Skywarp kept thinking about it.
The only reason Skywarp didn’t immediately jerk off about the things that wink entailed was that he simply didn’t have time to. After their drill, there was the requisite yelling about the failed segments from Starscream, then dinner, then an abrupt break for a raid so they had enough energon to finish dinner. Normal stuff.
Skywarp didn’t get a moment to himself till he was practically shoved into the security room for a monitor duty shift. Normally, by that point, he’d have forgotten all about a brief interaction like the one he had with Ravage.
In spite of that, her golden optics stayed with him. They’d gleamed with the kind of tease that he loved to have in his berth, to say nothing of the mirth in her suppressed snickers that matched his own affable demeanor.
Look, Skywarp was very much of the opinion that sex should be fun, at its core, even if that meant you laughed more than you actually overloaded. He hadn’t yet hooked up with any of the cassettes, now that he thought about it.
Skywarp had kind of thought they were like gestalts or mechs in closed relationships, where he didn’t presume any of them actually wanted to fuck unless they specifically said so.
But with the way Ravage had looked at him… maybe they weren’t so exclusive.
Skywarp was startled back into the moment by a thump and—holy shit, there was Ravage! The door hadn’t opened or anything, but she’d just jumped up onto the table next to the monitor bay he was supposed to be watching. Her movements were as graceful as any photovoltaicat, drawing the optic (or at least, Skywarp’s optic) to the smooth lines of her armor and elegant biolights.
“Uh, hi,” he blurted. “Fancy… seeing you here?” Internally, he winced, resisting the urge to add that he was usually way more chill than this. Saying something like that would make it all too clear how worked up he was about the encounter.
She angled her helm at the monitor bank and grinned, fangs on full display. “You know Rumble’s flipping you off in front of Munitions Camera A, right?”
“So he is,” Skywarp agreed. He wracked his language banks for something clever to say. “In my defense, I dunno if Rumble or Frenzy flipping anyone off is weird enough to note in the shift activity report.”
Ravage snorted. “You make a point. Still, I can’t help but wonder if you’ve found yourself somewhat more distracted than usual today. Perhaps your processor has been running an extra algorithm or two.” There was that shine in her optics again, the kind that made promises Skywarp really hoped she meant to follow through with.
“Maybe I have,” he said, trying on a smirk of his own. And if he fluttered his wings a little to draw attention to their breadth and shine, what of it? “You got anything to say about it?”
“I won’t distract you from your duties tonight,” Ravage replied, tone and posture firm for only a moment before softening. “Well, any more than I already have. Tomorrow, though, I happen to know you don’t have any assignments for the first shift. If you meet me in the engine supply bay, I think I can solve that little issue you mentioned to your trinemate.” She leaned forward, and as if drawn by magnets, Skywarp leaned right in as well.
They hung there for a moment, the only sounds that of Skywarp’s whirring hard drive and the soft crackle of monitor static. Ravage’s own systems ran too quietly for Skywarp to pick up, though he could sense the excitement in her electromagnetic field.
Ravage shifted, and for a moment, he really thought she might lean in all the way—but then she just raised a paw and gently bopped Skywarp on the nose. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she promised, and then she was leaping from the desk to the top of the monitor bank to a protruding support strut into the vents.
Once his internal processes actually resumed, Skywarp realized something. “Wait, isn’t that bay always locked?” he called out.
But Ravage was long gone.
… Suffice to say, he was not any less distracted for the remainder of his monitor shift.
Skywarp didn’t get many recharge playbacks. When his processor shut down for the night, it stayed that way. Or if it didn’t, he didn’t remember the memories or fantasies it chose to rotate along the axis of his core programming.
When he woke up before the alarm for first shift even went on, wet behind his panels and processor spinning with what Ravage might have under her panels, he was a little surprised, to say the least.
Mostly he wished he had time to self-serve before going to meet Ravage, but hopefully she wouldn’t mind if he was a little close to popping off the moment he showed up. Besides, if she wanted to spike him, most mechanisms who topped him appreciated the clutch of his valve in overload.
There was no reason she’d be any different, even if she did have a spike like… like…
It was possible Skywarp got a little lost in thoughts of rubberized spines that stimulated every node and nearly prehensile, scandalously organic tentacles and impossibly whorled silicone and violet tingles of electrically-charged lines and vibrating bases and, and, and—
And Skywarp had better get going before Starscream yelled at him about filling the trine bond with arousal when some of them had to work first shift.
The engine supply bay was not locked after all.
Skywarp let himself in with a normal amount of caution, ensuring the door fully closed behind him. He scanned the stacks of equipment with his full sensory suite. Overkill, maybe, but Ravage was sneaky as Pits. When was the last time he’d pranked her? Hopefully this wasn’t revenge for some slight he’d forgotten.
:: Ready? ::
His own comms alert made him jump. Skywarp tried to convince his systems to spin down as he spoke with all the boldness he could muster. “I was forged ready!”
Then Ravage pounced on him.
Despite her smaller size, she was strong, and Skywarp found himself staggering backward. His knees hit a low cabinet, and almost automatically, they folded. He sat down hard, wings flaring out to catch his balance.
Ravage was less—solid didn’t feel like the right word, but he couldn’t describe it any other way. Without the force of her jump, her weight didn’t pin him down the way he’d expect. She was lithe, almost liquid as she nosed into the crook of his neck and—
Skywarp yelped as she mouthed a bundle of wires. “Ah! Wait, I mean—yes, again, do that,” he spluttered when she made to pull back. At first, he wasn’t sure where to place his hands on Ravage, but then her teeth were on his neck cables again, and he just grabbed instinctively, and hey, what do you know, her waist fit basically perfectly in his hands.
As she moved, the lighter armor there flexed and tensed, showing off all the power packed into her frame. Skywarp found himself laying back, urged by the gentle prick of her claws on his shoulders, till he was propped up on his elbows with her over him.
“So,” Ravage purred. “Do you want a run-through of my ideas, or would you rather be surprised?” She punctuated her question by ducking her helm to kiss the upper arch of his cockpit.
“Surprise me,” Skywarp said, voice a lot more breathy and less growly and cool than he usually liked. Charge shivered through his struts, electrifying every place where their plating connected.
And then Ravage bit him, not hard enough to puncture his armor, but definitely hard enough that his pressure sensors started blaring warnings. The warnings abruptly turned into a garbled mess when she licked the dents she’d left behind; her glossa rasped over his plating, an unfamiliar sensation that drew all his processing power to analyze it.
(In particular, his hypothesis generation unit was immensely curious about how her rough glossa would feel on his valve. … Actually, it was even more fascinated with what different textures might be involved with her spike.)
Ravage’s engine was rumbling, a different kind of purr than the more shrill vibrations of airplane turbines Skywarp was used to. She worked her way down his frame, nipping and licking and kissing till Skywarp couldn’t keep himself upright anymore. In no time at all, he ended up splayed back across the cabinet, hardly able to keep holding onto Ravage’s waist, let alone keep a hold of his admittedly weak self control.
“Enjoying yourself?” she murmured. Skywarp could hear the smirk in her words.
He meant to come back with some sort of snappy response, he really did, but then that rough tongue was laving over his panel seams, and, uh, his panels transformed back so fast he was surprised her tongue didn’t get caught in them. “It’s… s’good,” he got out, somehow.
“It’s about to get better,” Ravage quipped, and then her mouth was on his array. Skywarp’s processor kind of fell to pieces, then. That was the only way he could put it.
The heat of her and the texture and the vibrations and the, the everything!
This was going to reach a peak embarrassingly quickly, Skywarp thought, but he couldn’t get himself together enough to warn Ravage about it.
All he could do was shake and whine like an old turboprop in a crosswind, practically rattling himself to pieces. “Please—fuck—frag, Rav, I—ah, oh, there, there, there!”
Ravage worked him over unceasingly, pushing Skywarp to his overload and beyond it, wringing every last drop of pleasure from his frame. His frame felt raked by it, combed through and left raw and open. When he couldn’t stand it for a klik longer, he shoved at her helm. Skywarp felt weak as a pile of ener-jello, but Ravage caught on quick.
She sat up, licking shimmering lubricant from her lips like—well, like a photovoltaicat who’d gotten the cyber-canary.
Skywarp supposed that made him the cyber-canary.
… It was probably not a good sign that the comparison just made him even readier for a second round.
“Like the tongue barbs, do you?” she asked.
Skywarp snorted. “I think you know the answer.” She fixed him with a steady look, golden optics unwavering. Skywarp couldn’t help but flush, but he still made an effort to laugh it off, jokingly adding, “What, you wanna hear me say it?”
“Well, to quote you… I think you know the answer,” Ravage teased right back. “But don’t worry, I won’t make you beg for more.” She winked at Skywarp once more and sat back a little further, revealing the proud curve of her spike between her thighs. It was the same bright silver as her lower forelegs, standing out from the darker metal of her haunches. Smaller, platinum nodes covered her shaft in regular intervals, flexing and shimmering under the lubricant that already coated her. The monochrome aesthetic was only broken by a glowing red biolight that ran in a straight line from the base to the transfluid slit at the tip.
“Ah,” Skywarp said eloquently, by which he meant, I am going to lick that the moment I have a chance to and ideally get it in my throat, pretty please and thank you very much.
“Later,” Ravage promised. Skywarp couldn’t tell if she actually knew what he meant or just had a close enough guess that her answer still made sense.
Whatever, that didn’t matter, because what did matter was Ravage sliding her spike between his plush valve lips. She pushed up, a slow, smooth stroke, till her spike head just kissed his throbbing node.
The backstroke revealed something his optics hadn’t—her spike wasn’t rough, like her tongue, but as she pulled out, all those little platinum nodes flared into silicone spines. Each one dragged a hot spark of sensation along his already overstimulated lips, leaving him burning with renewed bliss.
Skywarp spat binary, unconnected blips of zeros and ones that somehow Ravage parsed enough to understand what he wanted.
Get in me right the fuck now or I will not be responsible for what I do next.
And she obeyed.
Ravage’s thorned spike thoroughly raked Skywarp’s ready valve. Slick relief was chased with wondrous agony was followed by yet more relief and still, after that, the sting of her spike bit him once more—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
After what could have been a moment and could have been a century, Ravage paused. Well, ‘paused’ in that she didn’t fully pull out. She was still rolling her hips in small motions, distractingly grinding her spike into his deepest sensors, reminding them with every motion that few spikes had ever taken him apart so quickly. No biggie. Skywarp could definitely concentrate on her words like this.
“... You said my name,” he theorized, after swallowing his mouthful of drool and watching her mouth move, but hearing nothing save beyond the sounds their frames made as they moved together.
Ravage huffed a laugh and shook her helm before stilling for real.
It was possible that Skywarp immediately whined and kicked at her back, wordlessly begging her to get back to it. That would be really embarrassing and needy, but it was very possible that he did it anyway. At least, till Ravage growled and bit the tip of his wing.
With a sigh of his own, Skywarp settled back. Ravage’s spike was still buried in him—even without either of them moving on purpose, every little movement reminded him of its presence. The platinum spines sang to his nodes, lighting them up like a bonfire.
“Where do you want me to cum?” Ravage asked, a purr continuing to rumble behind her words. “Want me to stripe your frame with my transfluid? Make you taste it? Or, perhaps, your pretty valve wants to feel my heat.” Ravage did move, then, slid her hips forward so her spike started teasing beyond Skywarp’s ceiling node, right up to the gate of his forge. “Better be careful,” she teased. “If I get deep enough, when my spines flare, I’ll lock in. Fill you right up with a whole litter.”
Skywarp’s valve squeezed desperately, as if trying to milk that promise right out of her. “Frag, Primus, please, ” he groaned.
“Please what, Skywarp?” Ravage smirked as she started up a slow rhythm, making sure her spike landed at that inner entrance at the apex of every push. “Use your words like a good seeker.”
“Uh-huh,” Skywarp mumbled, watching the pistons in her waist and shoulders move in time with her thrusts. “I want…” He struggled for any words at all, anything beyond I want, I want, I need!
Maybe he didn’t have to talk, though. Maybe he could use some of his own weapons.
Skywarp gathered all his wits (well, the ones that hadn’t been fucked out of him yet). He started rocking his hips along with Ravage’s, right at the top of her pushing in, so her spike head notched just that much further into his forge gate. His inner fittings were already hugging her spike, and it wasn’t too much effort to start clenching and releasing in rhythm. As the final touch, he looked up at Ravage—he didn’t even have to try to make his optics big and needy, he knew they were already shiny and wanton as could be.
Now Skywarp just had to say one word.
“Please?” he murmured.
Ravage sucked in a sharp vent, lower lip caught between sharp fangs for a long moment. “Oh, you are a menace, aren’t you, Sky?”
Skywarp laughed weakly, the sound practically punched out of him by each new thrust. “You, hah, you know it.” It was his turn to wink now. “Come on, Rav, don’t you wanna breed me?”
The snarl those words drew out of Ravage was one of the most beautiful sounds Skywarp had ever heard.
He didn’t need to egg her on any further—Ravage was rutting into him, mating him, like the beast whose form she took. With each frenzied beat, her spike enticed his gestation tank entrance to widen that much further, working him open.
“Close,” she grunted. “Frag, so close.”
Skywarp wrapped his legs around her waist as tight as she could, unable to stop himself from trying to get closer than close could be. If she was just a bit deeper, she’d be really, fully inside him, forge and all.
His frame wouldn’t wait that long. Couldn’t wait that long.
The overload began somewhere deep inside Skywarp, rolling over him like a seismic wave through the lithosphere—deep, steady, unforgettable.
Somewhere in the midst of it, Skywarp finally fully relaxed enough that when Ravage thrust in, his valve welcomed her all the way in. Her spike head nudged through his forge gate, gentle as a l33t-lamb. In response, Ravage yowled out her overload, tail lashing behind her and back arcing down. She was still humping even as her spines and head flared, locking her into Skywarp’s forge for the duration of her overload.
Ravage came a lot, it turned out. Skywarp hadn’t been filled like this by bots three times Ravage’s size. He was hardly conscious from his own overload, but it was hard to miss her hot transfluid pumping into him with such vigor. The volume was astounding, honestly—Skywarp wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up looking like he was already carrying. (In fact, he’d be disappointed if he didn’t.)
Yeah, they’d definitely be doing this again.
Skywarp should probably get his anti-spark shunt updated before that, though.
Then again, he thought, as Ravage nuzzled the protoform around his cockpit where it was beginning to bulge with her transfluid… maybe he shouldn’t.