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Delicate Situation	By : Ozphoenix Category: Transformers > G1 > Het - M/F Views: 2252 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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- 1-Delicate Situation
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DISCLAIMER: Transformers owned by Hasbro, not me.

Delicate Situation

By Phoenix

Rounded, pleasurable moans filled the room. A masculine, deep grunting sound followed by the higher-pitched whine of a female and accented by the soft thump of skin meeting skin. The sweet smell of hot sticky lubricant permeated everything.

“Lita…” Optimus Prime groaned, straining his head back and body up towards the panting femme riding his hips. Her optics where shut, hands trailing randomly over his coolent sweating upper body. His arms were stretched up over his head, and fastened to the pole of the bedhead with maximum security restraints. They were beginning to ache a little, but the pain was lost in the other sensations wracking his physique. The monster size bed shook with their movements, the femmes hips moving to the tune set by the lunges of her mate’s while she happily purred and stroked his chest.

Finally, Elita’s back curved tightly and her mouth opened wide, letting forth a cry of climax. Prime’s optics caressed her, coming to rest on her jutting breasts, swollen and peaked with the efforts of their coupling. She ground her lanced interface onto his groin – face taut with the strain – then fell forward to the relative ‘cushion’ of his heaving chest. Her lips puckered to make contact with the underside of his chin. The throbs of her interface were dying down to pleasurable twinges while her body was still being thrown rhythmically upwards by the quick, deep penetrating thrusts of the Autobot Commander. He was unable to move too much; restrained by the cuffing of his wrists.

The Femme Commander nibbled delicately at his throat, grinning at the choked cry he emitted. His lower body trembled spasmodically, signaling the beginning of his orgasm. She stretched her body further along the length of his, and rode out his climax. When the massive vertical jerks of his body ground to a halt, but his body still quivered, she sat up and grinned at him. He made optic contact with her and groaned at her chuckle.

“You’re still the same, Orion,” she grinned, slapping his wide flat chest appreciatively. She wiggled her hips in time to prevent his answering, and he gave her one last thrust with the dying vestiges of his erection. Smiling, she inserted one hand between them and grabbed at the root of his interface, holding it snugly and smoothly lifting her hips to remove it. It was slick with their combined fluids. She rubbed at it appreciatively while she lay back down along his side.

“Lita…” Prime panted.
“Mmm?”
“Undo my arms?”
“Oh yeah! Hang on…” She scrambled up onto her knees, fingers touching the clasps and attempting to work the lock. It was tight; wouldn’t move. Groaning at the effort, she kneeled closer and used the whole strength of her arms to get leverage. No good.

Beneath her – his optics getting an impressive close up view of her glorious breasts where they dangled in front of his face – Optimus listened to her grunts of effort. “Whats wrong?”

“Dammit…….ugh…can’t get them unlocked…” Elita puffed with each determined push. Prime pulled his body up a little more to give her more room at his wrists. Still she struggled.

Finally……

“I can’t get them undone!” she ground out from clenched teeth, still pulling and tugging vainly.

“What….!! But they went on alright didn’t they?! Try them again!” Optimus was getting nervous. He didn’t want to think that they *wouldn’t* come off. Elita set her fingers against the locks and tried again, crying out at the effort. She collapsed onto her thighs, hands aching. “I can’t budge them,” she panted, “we might have to break them.”

“They won’t break, they’re a Calladium-alloy,” Prime hissed, the pain in his stretched arms starting to build, “try getting a tool into them.” Elita concentrated and pulled a screwdriver-like instrument from her subspace pocket. Carefully, she inserted the pointy end into the small latch hole and pushed hard. Still she couldn’t make them move. Getting desperate, she tried physically pulling the cuffs apart but with a growl of frustration, she gave up and sat back on her knees. Prime’s optics were wide with worry. “Oh shit..” he muttered. Elita giggled, then shut up at Prime’s anguished glare.

“Maybe we can break the bedboard?” she suggested tactfully. Optimus saw a ray of hope. He arched his body up and put in a massive effort, the undersides of his arms bulging with strength. The bed creaked ominously, but didn’t break. “Help, Lita…” he gasped, and she pulled at the same time as he did. They tried successive attempts, but the bed remained intact.

“Dammit!” Optimus sank back down on the bed, recovering, “Next time we buy a bed that breaks!” Elita sat beside him, trying to keep the smile off her face. They would need outside help for this. She placed a hand on his arm, “Orion, we’ll have to get someone-”

“NO! We *can’t*!!” Optimus looked at her frantically, optics wild. Elita sighed dramatically, “Then you’ll have to stay that way until the locks rust.”

“They won’t rust,” Optimus almost sobbed. He *couldn’t* be stuck like this! It wasn’t possible! But he was… “Oh Primus….I can’t believe this,” he sighed. Elita patted him sympathetically – she actually found this hysterically amusing, but she couldn’t let him know that. The couple were silent for a few moments, then Prime spoke up, “Okay, who do we get?” he asked mournfully, shifting his body around to try and get comfortable.

“It’ll have to be someone who won’t...um…tell. You know, will keep their mouth shut. You want as few people as possible finding out about this, right?” Lita suggested.

“Yes,” Optimus agreed, staring at the ceiling and wishing this was a bad dream. It should be time to wake up now.

“If we can’t open the cuffs with tools, we’ll need someone physically strong enough to break them. If you pull, and they pull too, they might just crack,” Elita continued. Optimus nodded, “Who?”

“Springer? He’s strong.”

“NO!! Holy energon….he’d tell the whole army!” Optimus practically shrieked. Elita couldn’t stop a sly giggle getting through. Prime eyed her, “Its your reputation on the line too! I wasn’t alone in this.”

“I know,” Elita sighed, reaching down to caress his muscular thigh lovingly. Optimus rolled his optics.

The femme cleared her throat, “First we have to get covered. It’ll be worse if you’re buck naked too.” She replaced his codpiece and her armor, then turned to wiping up the ‘evidence’ as much as possible. Prime had come twice – once all over himself and the bed due to her ‘blowjob’, then again inside of her. The blowjob ejaculate was a problem. It was staining the sheets Prime was lying on under his thighs, and although she scrubbed as much as possible, the stain was still obvious. “Can you get off the side of the bed so I can change these?” she asked.

Prime shook his head, “I won’t be able to move far enough. Sorry.” Elita pursed her lips, “There’s nothing else I can do about that one,” she indicated the large circular stain, “you should control yourself more,” she winked. Prime groaned and didn’t respond. “If only you didn’t produce so *much* of it,” Elita continued gleefully.

“LITA….!”

“Sorry…” she giggled, and went to the bathroom to rinse out the towels she’d used. “Who do you want me to call?” she yelled from the washbasin. Prime went over a few candidates in his head, discarding those he didn’t think he could trust, as well as those who simply wouldn’t be strong enough. Finally, he was left with one person.

“Call Magnus,” he said tiredly, starting to think anything would be worth it to relieve the pain in his arms. Elita poked her head out, “You sure?”

“Yes,” he nodded, closing his optics and lying back. She smiled and started for the door, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What?” Ultra Magnus blinked, hands paused over the keyboard of his computer.

“Optimus is..um…caught in something. We need help to get him free,” Elita smiled.

“What about the rescue people? Surely they can-”

“No Magnus,” Elita smiled ruefully, “it’s a rather personal situation. We’d like only you to help.” Magnus was having trouble imagining what could be so personal that they couldn’t call for one of HotSpot’s rescue team to help.
“Well okay, sure. Where is he?”

“In our quarters.”

Magnus arched an optic, “Oh. Alright.” He was getting suspicious. What on Cybertron did those two get up to? And what was so difficult that Prime wasn’t strong enough to get out of it?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Oh my god….” Magnus couldn’t suppress the exclamation the moment he stepped into the bedroom. There was Optimus, laid out flat on his back, on the bed, with his hands shackled with maximum security restraints to the top of the bed.

Prime lifted his head, “Uh, hi Magnus.” Magnus opened his mouth to ask what the hell him and Elita were up to, but choked that thought off quickly. It was way too obvious what they’d been up to, and Magnus tried to squash his shock and amazement. He’d never thought Prime would be into such things…
As he moved up to the side of the bed, his optics caught the tell-tale stain of ejaculate between Prime’s thighs on the bedsheets. He’s seen it often enough on his own bed to recognise what it was. His shocked expression made Optimus squirm uncomfortably.

“We can’t get the restraints off,” Elita said, breaking the awkward silence.

“Uh huh,” Magnus was trying to get a hold of himself. He found he couldn’t look Optimus in the optic, and was trying not to look again at the ejaculate stain. And he definitely didn’t want to look at Elita either. This was too much. He heard a soft giggle, and was forced to look up. Elita was snickering behind her hand, optics brimming with humor. Prime glared at her and Magnus could only stare open-mouthed. The City Commander struggled to think what to say. “Um…look, guys, I won’t tell anyone about this…”

Elita burst into more giggles, “About what, Magnus?”

“LITA…!!” Prime cried and clenched his fists, causing a wave of cramping pain to travel down his arms. He groaned, whimpering. Magnus immediately recognised this was serious. Prime was getting hurt. His optics furrowed, “How long have you been like this?”

Prime’s optics darted to the chrono on the wall, “About two earth hours now,” he said, embarrassed, “if you’d get me out of these things, I’ll be eternally grateful. The lock has jammed, but if we both pull, they might break – or at least the bed will.”

Magnus nodded, “Lets try,” he moved closer to the captured Prime, and leaned over, placing his hands on the cuffs. “Ready?” Optimus nodded, and began to pull. Both males combined a great deal of force, and bit by bit, the cuffs were pulled past their limit of tension. Elita watched, becoming aroused by the view – Prime held down, and Magnus straining above him – both the males bodies taut and stretched. Mmmm. She was liking this… the power and vulnerability was a turn on.

An enormous cracking sound signaled the cuffs surrender, and they came apart around Prime’s wrists. Groaning, Prime pulled his arms down and sighed in blissful relief. Magnus picked up the mangled remains of the restraints and handed them to Elita; not looking her in the optic. He quickly nodded at the relieved Prime, then made for the door. He stopped in the doorway, thinking. A quiet smile crossed his face, and he looked back at them, “I hope you don’t do this too often,” he murmured, then slipped out the door before either of them could respond….

Elita collapsed into raucous giggling, and Prime sat on the bed rubbing his wrists and shaking his head – grinning to himself. There’d be no more of *that* for a while….

END!
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Delicate Situation