Fic: Rewards Sequel

[camfield]

This is what happens when I take to long on something! @#$%

I make no excuses.

 

Universe: G1
Rating: nc17
Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Bluestreak, ?
Warnings: Incest
Sequel to ‘Rewards’

Bluestreak sauntered into Sideswipe’s quarters, hips swinging in an exaggerated arc as he made his way over to the red twin’s berth.  The front liner was in recharge, splayed comfortably over the foam surface, his vents coming in measured, even draughts.

Across the room, Sunstreaker was sitting, optics glowing in the almost dark, watching the gunner and his shadow situate themselves comfortably, both of them, on a chair the second mech had brought in with him.

He sent a query ping, jerking back a little at its rebuff, before growling into the silence.  A look from the second mech sat him back, but he stayed alert, watching them both with growing intensity.

Bluestreak had settled first, doorwings maneuvering easily over the low back of the chair and spread his legs just a little.  The other bot slipped into his lap, both of them facing each other, his own legs spread indecently wide over his partner’s.  Their pelvic plates were close enough that the slightest shift would bring them together, even though they were clearly deliberately kept apart.

Sunstreaker sat up a little further, his optic lenses dilating, and he set them to record the scene in front of him.  This was likely something that involved Sideswipe, but no way he was going to pass up recording this for when he had some alone time.

There was a murmur, and Bluestreak chuckled in a sinfully low voice Sunstreaker hadn’t heard before.  Pit, hadn’t known Blue even could talk like that!  Then he brought up a hand and tossed something at Sunstreaker’s brother, the item hitting Sideswipe with a loud metal ‘ting’.  The red twin jerked up, battle routines cycling until he noticed who was sitting in his room with him.

Vaguely, Sunstreaker wondered if he’d need to manually jumpstart Sideswipe’s ventilation system, seeing as it had completely stopped.

“So Sides, have you been good?  I fulfilled my end of the bargain, what about you?”

There was a shuddering vent that restarted Sideswipe’s systems, but his optics were fully dilated to catch everything in front of him, and his fingers twitched and grasped at nothing on the berth foam.  A blurb of static spat from his vocalizer in what was likely a response, if they’d been able to understand it.

The bot in Bluestreak’s lap murmured something close to his audial, doorwings fanning the air in a blatant display meant for the frontliner.  Humming in pleasure as gray fingertips circled his headlights, minute flutters interspersing themselves between every few full flaps.  Shudders and sighs as Bluestreak looked right at Sideswipe as he gripped the other bot’s doorwing hinges and squeezed.


A tremor ran up the bot’s backstrut, his frame jerking just slightly with each squeeze.  Bluestreak’s hands moving with deliberate slowness, gripping the entirety of the hinge joint, slipping fingers into the housing opening to stroke connectors and wires, playing with the lines that fed the sensor data back into the special secondary processing system.  Kinking them just enough to slow the data flow before smoothing them out.  The rush of data causing his partner to cry out, hands clutching Bluestreak’s shoulders, fingers spasming as he shuddered.

Sideswipe had his spike out, fully extended, and was stroking himself roughly.  His other hand digging in to the already mutilated foam of his berth.  Watching with greedy optics as Bluestreak manipulated the sensor and neural lines with the skill only someone with doorwings would have.

A click was heard, then a drop of glowing purple lubricant splashed to the floor, courtesy of Bluestreak’s partner. The dim lights catching the movement of a hand sliding down over an aft to dip fingers inside before returning again and again to paint letter glyphs over the sensor laden faux fabric insides of the doors.

P R O W L.

Both Sunstreaker and Sideswipe stalled for a moment in surprise, the latter rebooting his optics as the lights were ordered up enough to catch the brilliant white on black of Prowl’s paintjob, his ruby red chevron glistening with condensation.  Mouth open as  Bluestreak traced the seam lines in the fabric, pulling the door lock up and forcing it down, just softly enough that it didn’t break or jam.  Turning the window crank in a lazy movement that made Prowl’s hips twitch and rock forward, grinding him against Bluestreak’s still closed spike cover.

“What do you think Sideswipe, should I spike him?  Take him without preparation?”

Sideswipe groaned, thumb slipping over the leaking tip, hips rising into his hand.

“Or perhaps…”

Bluestreak let go, Prowl whimpering over the lost stimulation, and forced the other Praxian up.  Turning him around and pushing him over to Sideswipe’s berth.   Cocking his head at Sunstreaker in a blatant invitation.  Sunstreaker pushing off his berth to join them, standing beside the berth as Bluestreak prodded Prowl to climb up in front of the red twin, sending Sunstreaker an image that made his own vents stutter.

“On your hands and knees, Prowl.”

Prowl dropped to his knees, hands raking along Sideswipe’s torso and thighs to rest on the berth, looking up through his optic shutters, his lips parted, and he slowly, slowly ran his glossa over the plump metal.  Leaving behind trails of oral lubricant that glistened whenever any light caught them.

Sideswipe whimpered when that glossa was suddenly applied to his spike, his brother’s hands urging him to get up on his knees and spread his legs as Prowl continued to tease.   Sunstreaker slipping underneath Prowl to rest his helm under the Praxian’s own spike, his pelvic plate between his twin’s black thighs. 

Prowl suddenly arched back, a moan escaping him, and Sunstreaker could see that Bluestreak was working his spike in and out of the black and white with slow, dragging movements.  His own spike was still covered; pain starting to twinge in the housing, and it was a relief to extend it.  Feeling it bump and slide along waxed legs to the burning heat that was his brother’s valve, a hand, Prowl’s hand, clasping him and guiding him to the clenching opening.  Sunstreaker urged his brother to spread his legs further, his hands gripping thigh and aft as he thrust up, aided by Prowl, into the red twin.

Sideswipe had his hands hovering over Prowl’s doorwings, moaning and jerking even as his optics never left the movements of the sensor panels.  His legs quivered from the sensations of both penetration and blowjob and Bluestreak smirked at him and drug a finger along the top of the window glass, Prowl bucking in response.  He lost his hold on Sideswipe’s spike, but that didn’t seem to bother the red twin, his hands outstretched and not touching, vents hitching and chassis bouncing as Sunstreaker thrust up hard.  

“Oh Primus, please Blue!  Never again, just let me touch!”

Bluestreak never stopped his steady rhythm, optics locked on Sideswipe’s contorted face as he deliberately rocked Prowl forward, just enough that his doorwings would brush against the other, before they moved back.  Prowl clutching a black hip with one hand, the other digging furrows into the foam of the berth as Bluestreak moved.  Pressing his helm into Sideswipe’s abdominal plating  and keening when Sunstreaker raised up on his elbow joints enough to engulf his swinging spike in wet heat, the gold twin thrusting so hard his plating was a scratched and dented mess between his brother’s legs.  Pedes planted firmly on the berth as he put all his considerable hydraulic leg power into each thrust, the resounding clanks echoing amidst the wet schluckking noise of Bluestreak in Prowl’s dripping valve.

Lubricant was dripping down to splash on Sunstreaker’s helm, but he couldn’t have cared less.  The glowing purple sliding between the slats on his helm fins and lighting up Prowl’s underside in an effect reminiscent of those led lights humans put on their car undercarriages.  He could see every time the plating clenched tight, or something misfired and the cables would tighten nothing.  Could see condensation on the protoform beneath the living armor, glistening and flashing silver in an erotic dance that was impossible to fake.

Sunstreaker heard his brother moan, could feel his arousal in an almost painful capacity, and his engine growled and revved, the vibrations running through his body and making both Prowl and Sideswipe gasp as they were hit.  Bluestreak lay himself over Prowl’s back, in-between his doorwings, and reached around with both hands.  One to help steady them, the other to again trace along the sugar scoop headlights.  Both sets of sensor panels fluttering and waving just shy of touching Sideswipe and Sunstreaker could tell his twin was close to breaking.

“I swear Blue, I swear it!  No more pranks!  Please!”

A dark chuckle.

“A piecrust promise Siders?”

The red twin whined, fingers clenching on nothing.

“No!  I just want to touch… please let me have them?!”

Bluestreak murmured in Prowl’s audial and received a gasped reply. 

“Have them?  And then you’ll be good?  Is that an oath, Sideswipe?”

Sunstreaker thought that there was something weird in Bluestreak’s phrasing, but with his own overload building and Sideswipe just about incoherent he couldn’t figure out what.  The thought passing in and out of his processor in a flash.

“Primus yes!  Just PLEASE Bluestreak!”

Prowl pulled back far enough from Sideswipe’s pelvic plate to talk without being muffled.

“Then you have, Ah!  My blessing!”

A laugh from Bluestreak and Sideswipe’s hands flew over the two sets of doorwings.  Almost frantic in their quest to map out each microinch of the sensor panels, his own hips jerking frantically into nothing, Sunstreaker letting go of Prowl’s spike to focus his attention on slamming his spike up into his brother’s valve.  Hands clamped on either side of the black hips as he forced himself into the clenching heat again and again, Sideswipe’s transfluid spattering over Prowl’s face and his abdominal plating and it came in long, streaming torrents that ribboned across whatever was in its path.

Sunstreaker felt Prowl tense up and suddenly Bluestreak forced black hips down and his spike right into Sunstreaker’s mouth.  The gold frontliner immediately sucking as he felt the Praxian’s own transfluid rush down his intake valve, rumbling at the way that each lick, each suck, made Prowl jerk and keen.

Bluestreak pushed his doorwings further into Sideswipe’s grasp, laughing and gasping as his own overload took him over, pulling Prowl with him as he fell to the side, still buried in the second in command’s valve.

Sunstreaker felt Sideswipe try to move, but held tight to his twin’s hips.  Bending back his legs and flipping them over, sparks bursting in front of his optics as his thrusts became erratic.  Venting hard, pushing his brother’s legs high and wide and trying to keep a rhythm, trying to stave off the molten lava that was close to exploding outward in the pit of his tank.

Sideswipe grasped Sunstreaker’s purple stained helm fins and yanked him close for a kiss.  The gold warrior groaning into Sideswipe’s mouth as he finally stuttered and overloaded, grinding them together as transfluid and lubricant leaked from where they were joined to streak over Sideswipe’s aft.

Bluestreak and Prowl had pulled themselves up, Prowl lounging against Bluestreak’s front as they watched the twins, fingers lightly stroking over cooling plating that popped and pinged in the thick air.  Sideswipe finally lay back, Sunstreaker leaning back on his hands, the frontliners still connected, and looked at Bluestreak, his hand reaching outward to the gray and red gunner.

Bluestreak nudged Prowl off and slid over, curling in to Sideswipe’s side.  Tracing a finger over the center seam of his chestplates with a deceptively idle movement.

“I’ll hold you to that promise Sides.”

Sideswipe just looked blearily at Bluestreak, his hand petting over whatever bit of wing he could reach, Sunstreaker finally pulling out and curling up on his twin’s other side.    He crooked a hand at Prowl, who stretched before crawling over and laying himself on top of Sideswipe, the red warrior covered in warm bodies that lulled him into recharge.