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Romp	By : DeeDaday Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 3018 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers in any way, shape or form, nor do I make any money from these recreational writings.

Chapter List
- 1-Romp
- 1
A/N: Kuh-reist. KEEEEEEE-ryst. What IS it about Prowl that begs to be debauched silly?
I sincerely hope that Torque is likable enough to screw Prowl XD This is the first time I’ve ever written a threesome and the first time I’ve ever done OC-sex, so I’m really, truly sorry in advance! GOOD LORD.
Also, I truck by the ‘No Metal Penii Goddamnit’ train of thought in CANON for STORIES, but I’ve since had all my prudish ideals broken by peer pressure… plus one very evil Scotswoman. Maybe. Iunno, this piece still goes by that rule (even while breaking it in the most gasp-worthy of ways) because it’s In-Story, but my next smuts will not. Probly ‘cos they’ll be off the books, technically, and porn for porns sake requires phallic imagery. XD
YAY EXCUSES ENJOY THE PORN.
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Romp
Noun: A boisterous or playful activity; a casual or lighthearted sexual encounter. Also, a swift and lethal blow to Prowl’s pride.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
It was different from the beginning.
For one, it began on the bridge. Prowl was lazing around in that vigilant, intellectually-concerned, straight-backed ninjabot style that didn’t remotely qualify as ‘lazing around’, probing through endless texts to recover some poetry that he had misplaced in the sub-space shelves of his olive data-pad. He lay on his fore, clunky legs crossed, the long-ago peace offering blipping and humming at his attentions while the stars twinkled outside Moot’s red glassing. His partner and their shared companion, who was staying on with them for another of her charmingly no-good-reasons, were tucked into other corners of the ship.
It was fairly monotonous play, so he didn’t consider it a loss when Lockdown meandered out of the shadows of his shop and knelt by him, one servo clanging down next to the suddenly unimportant data-pad while the other brazenly slipped between his creamy legs, stroking. There was no excuse, no verbal advance, but the hot, promising weight of the bounty hunter looming above him (after weeks of business-enforced celibacy) was enough. Prowl gave in quickly, rolling to give his partner access to his chassis and pulling Lockdown onto the floor with him with a heavy boom.
Next, Lockdown took time to coax him into an intimate, liquid straddle on his broad chest and kiss him silly. It wasn’t as though their oral components never touched in that gesture: it simply wasn’t often, and functioned more as a stamp of dominance and a crushing (if stimulating) act of possession when the bounty hunter grabbed his chin and pressed into the heat of his mouth. No, if he had had his wits about him, Prowl would have tallied up the anomalies and extricated himself before the trap could be sprung—but as it was, he melted in Lockdown’s strong, rhythmically-squeezing grip, crunched against his warming front and lulled by the sparkling impossibility that the recent rush of changes Torque had ushered on in his partner might have included a complete sexual tactic switch. He rubbed, kissed and nipped the aroused bike in waves, instead of assuming his favorite position and drilling downwards, and had himself a far more helpless Prowl for the extra care taken.
In essence, Lockdown seduced him slowly and carefully. Once again, Prowl should have noted the care and sprinted for the storage closet, but the plan became obvious enough when a far-away door hissed open. Absorbed in Lockdown’s scent and grinding touch, Prowl became aware of someone else in the bridge mere kliks before a second set of servos trailed down his golden tank, then settled on the curve of his waist.
Startled, the young mech looked back over his shoulder; not only were his partner’s servos otherwise occupied with his thighs, the touch was completely different from Lockdown’s salty grip and grope. As half-suspected, he found Torque’s confident mouth and glowing optics hovering just outside the glossy black of his fairing. She crouched behind him, on her armored knees, birthed from Primus-knew-where like a glowing, wily purple piece of art. He couldn’t help but gasp as the femme’s warm grip slid up the curve of his backside, followed by the weighty, supple push of her body as she pressed flush against him, pelvis to aft. She kissed the nape of his grey neck, digits tickling at his flanks.
“Hello there,” she whispered simply, and gripped his sides in a lush way that made his fans skip; he strained into her, then went stiff with shock. Comprehending both her weight and soft, luxurious aspirations in a single moment—thrown by her expert intentions, just as palpable--Prowl’s optics widened and his head snapped around—but Lockdown’s smirk was ready and waiting, further perplexing him.
“You gonna let her?”
His partner’s thick rumble was both teasing and honest, challenging him to buck beautiful Torque off even as her ancient Spark steamed against his back, heat and pulse reaching all the way through him to pluck at his own shuddering young star. The sensation of it was utterly intoxicating: it was what he’d felt from her before, that steady, velvety radiation, but now charged with sexual red. Prowl was sealed between the two older ‘bots, Lockdown rumbling and angular and colossal at his front, Torque filling the curves of his back, pelvis already slyly angled against his aft, pressing down ever-so-slightly…. And regardless of the more-than-frank conditions, ever-logical Prowl still struggled to make sequential sense out of it all.
“You wou—“
“Yes,” Torque hushed him, smooth vocals right behind his staticking audio unit. She drew a digit along Prowl's jaw, pressing her curled mouth to the base of his fairing. Prowl felt the thrilling little pinch of her bite and bit his own lip plating, exhaling sharply as the red fizzle ripped through his sensors. “If you don’t mind.”
The shock (the idea was considerable, but still not enough to flush the heavy, drugging arousal from his clenched Spark. It had eaten through his finer processing functions, it had swamped his circuits, and it was Torque, for Well’s sake. Lockdown—smirk heavy with that same tense anticipation--had worked him down to nothing, helpless and incapacitated with his legs hooked up over the hunter’s green-striped hips, wanting nothing more than jarring sexual satisfaction from any source. Overwhelmed by the relentless, hissing pull of Lockdown’s hungry Spark and his own quivering body, Prowl was too far gone to simply get up and leave the sticky, unheard-of situation—perhaps he didn’t even have the motor function left to do so.
Visor flickering anxiously, the young thing buried his face (already burning) into the crook of Lockdown’s black neck and that was all the assurance Lockdown or Torque needed. He was lucky he didn’t see the evil grin they passed between themselves like a fine wine, even as Lockdown forced his head up and distracted him with a grinding kiss.
The ninjabot had no idea how this was to go, but still managed to be confused when his swamped audio units picked out a muffled triple-click behind him. The sudden complexity of Torque’s formerly streamlined pelvic plating, now angled against him, earned her a reflexive flinch. When he strained backwards again, wrenching away from Lockdown’s mouth, she drew back a bit so he could catch a glimpse of something three-dimensional and thick at the apex of her formidable thighs.
“May I?” Torque purred, talented dark servos already at work blurring away the alarming sight with a new rush of lust, causing Prowl to shiver and melt before turning back to Lockdown with a foggy, beseeching expression. The other mech was no help at all, instead betraying him by doubling the caress, running one digit over his vibrating, light-rimmed Sparkchamber, kneading at the tender seams. They meant to pet him into dumb, moaning acquiescence, and sadly Prowl was falling for it, processor slow and muggy. The stunning, tight heat of his Spark had nearly dissolved his rationale alongside his verbal processes.
“W-what—“ Prowl refreshed his vocals, manhandling the nervous tremor—with no idea what to ask. “What does this consist of?”
“I wouldn’t hurt you, if that’s what you???re asking,” she murmured huskily. Her strong digits, cruising the delicate concavity between his thighs, made him shudder sweetly. “Just lay back, Prowl. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself.”
It was strange, how, even as drugged and wanting as he was, Prowl took her at her word where he would have been suspicious and reluctant to take Lockdown’s grimy, grinning, insincere assurances. He trusted this wise soul implicitly, even if this episode would teach him not to--that she was as mischievous as her old friend and in some ways twice a danger.
Prowl let himself crumple, pliant and panting, onto his partner’s pulsing chest, sucked into the delicious strokes both bounty hunters dealt him. They fondled and rubbed, wrapping him in a rhythmic noose of his own curtailed aspirations and hard, invasive kisses, first full and female then sharp and demanding. Neither gave him a moment to rest or think as both unique energy fields washed through his singing circuitry, filling him with a liquefying push-pull-pulse. Somewhere in the midst of it, possibly while Torque had his world narrowed and vibrating with the electric swirl of her mouth, Lockdown’s blunt touch snuck down his side and waist and aft with considerable creeping care. Regardless, Prowl’s optics still onlined in a sudden flare of blue when his partner tapped his groin and his exostructure folded back again, like so many stellar-cycles ago—which only boded ill in Prowl’s uptight processor.
Spooked, the ninjabot immediately struggled against the hard mech-femme vice, cold one-plus-one-equals-help reality of the situation threatening his syrupy agreeableness like a flame to fabric, because it was unthinkable-- but Lockdown seized his open lips and bit and kissed, erasing the chill exposure with a crunched moan and a ripple of heat. Lust spiking, Prowl pressed into Lockdown wantonly, sideswiped. His husky aspirations tightened when his partner’s blunt digits teased the edges of the gap for a split second before plunging into the tight space, thick and tingling.
Prowl bucked upwards, a half-miserable, half-ecstatic but mostly doomed groan escaping him. The ninjabot strained to regulate the convulsive suck and chug of his coolant as Lockdown invaded him further and further, still trying to keep his processor on the fact of what was behind him—very real and very protrusive and very attached to the curvaceous, clunky body of a femme. Her warm digits found the valleys of his pelvic joints, eager electrical field turning the nearest wiring to goo—very nearly working the same on his logic-coding.
He gasped, gritting his jaw and crying out softly when Lockdown's hard digits retreated then drove into him again in a series of quick jabs, sending a punch of nearly nauseating pleasure to Prowl’s quailing core. Torque craned him around to kiss the side of his wide-open mouth, chuckling appreciatively; Lockdown, engine running louder and one servo dug lusciously around Torque’s curvy aft, scraped his grinning lips over Prowl’s exposed chamber plating and hummed low and deep into the glittering, complex hollow, causing his Spark to skip three excruciating pulses.
“I wasn’t always a femme. I made the switch and kept what I wanted,” Torque whispered softly, smile (and intent to distract) evident in her vocals. Prowl nodded dumbly, lost in the scraping push of his partner’s attentions, lengths sliding in and out of the tight space and loosening the nervous net of wiring. He strained against the consuming hum at his front, both inches and miles from begging him to cease—if just to resume begging for Lockdown to slam him down on the floor and brutally overload him with a thrust and a flash of light. Primus, but his entire body was enflamed--
“There were a lot of trial modifications in my time. Different… methods. Experiments—which I volunteered for.”
Overheated as he was, quivering and gasping with every attack, Prowl couldn’t divert energy towards imagining what was to come. Every sensation sang in his gorged sensors and raced straight to his core, no interpretation—raw, shuddering sensuality with no room for higher function. In fact, realizing he was outmatched in strength, experience and forethought, and that his handsome foes were very, very determined, Prowl finally gave up with a single reverberating moan, unconditional sexual surrender etched in every contour of his body.
His partner grinned and groped his approval, grinding up into Prowl’s scalding pelvic plating and retracting his numb digits as Torque’s servos smoothed down the backs of Prowl’s trembling thighs. She nudged him flush against Lockdown’s reclining form as the bounty hunter’s coarse servos crept up and captured his legs, spreading them further and hiking his perky aft up in a splay-legged sprawl at the same moment Torque pressed in.
If not for the shock of the intrusion, Prowl would have recognized the split-second numbness from a certain episode earlier back—but as it was, his dark, secret insides convulsed around the vibrating girth, pressing unabashedly towards his tender center. Prowl twisted from the waist up with a tortured gasp, visual field fizzling, and as the stunned, stimuli-swollen wires loosened in the next few trembling moments, she withdrew and thrust in again in one liquid push. The invasive, heady sensation made Prowl cry out again; fully buried, she connected with something and the tight, spider-web friction sent waves of deep pleasure riding through his systems. The youngling bucked into Lockdown, who snarled and pressed his face into Prowl’s neck, dark, half-exposed Spark sucking at his partner’s golden energy field.
Before the friction could turn to harm, wetness coated his insides in a clever gush; the unseen glow of modified energon brought his wires to a sweltering tingle, which nearly overloaded his bruised systems. Within kliks, Torque was capable of a steady, grinding rhythm, thrusting into the young mech’s slick, tight-knit innards with husky aspirations, both servos clamped around his thighs. Lockdown, red optics flashing as he lay huge and vibrating beneath their throbbing, jerking tangle, fingered the filled gap, teasing his digits along the taut wiring and smearing the spare lubricant down the slope of Prowl’s groin, spreading the maddening pink tingle. The young mech sagged down to his gold-lined shoulders, body jolting in sweet anguish with every jerk of Torque’s full hips, shocks utterly compromised.
Before Prowl, twisting and moaning convulsively, could retreat to the shelter of his spiked neck again, Lockdown seized his chin and held it in place, feeding on the wounded expression on his long, pretty face: exposed, heat-struck, twisted with primal agony. Absolutely frenzied. The reserved creature actually vocalized, throaty and panicked, with everything from huffed mewls to honest, choked-off cries as Torque’s thrusts brought his scalding body grinding against Lockdown’s. The bounty hunter rumbled, blood-red vision hazing over in satisfaction as he crushed Prowl against himself with his free servo, half-exposed Spark sucking at Prowl’s through the sizzling slit in their chassis-plating, pleasure jolting up to bite at his core with every harried scrape between them.
Mindlessly angling his hips against her to allow her deeper-better-faster, Prowl clawed and clutched at his partner’s spiked shoulders as Torque had it out on him, glossy lip-plating parted with her own soft moans. Lockdown looked past Prowl’s twisted face to see Torque, yellow optics flickering, gazing at him with a lush, dreamy smile, which he returned unconsciously, letting his devious old flame slam his life-partner into screaming release. Yes, it was official—life was good.
Prowl’s white-hot Spark, spooked and enflamed, tipped over the edge when Torque shuddered and snarled and heaved him up high on Lockdown’s chest, wrenching penetration coupled with Lockdown’s digits prying lustily into his electrified chamber. Pleasure and thrilling ache ricocheted, each blow gaining velocity for their mad rush towards oblivion. The flash of light seemed to consume all three of them, crippling pleasure tearing through their clenched, panicked systems—noted by nothing but snarls, save for a clear, gut-wrenching and decidedly young yell before darkness.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Torque, as expected, rebooted first.
By the time Lockdown followed into the realm of sentience, substructure aching and echoing with the rattling it had just taken (with smarmy grin already firmly in place), she was curled next to them, yellow optics sleepy, clean pelvic plating once more smooth and unsplit. Inconspicuous, the devil was. Chuckling for no reason and every reason, the bounty hunter eased Prowl (so limp, as though he were nothing but a blown-out shell, Spark retreated to a shy seed of light) off of his chest, smoothed the retracted, still-slick exostructure back into place and gave him an affectionate, approving rub. He looked at his knocked-out, open-mouthed little partner for a klik more, noting Torque’s interested gaze over his spiked shoulder.
“Primus, I’d love t’be able to do that to him,” Lockdown admitted with a wanton, sore chuckle, shaking his head. “That look on his face…”
“I’m certain they still handle these modifications somewhere. In some seedy little antique shop, perhaps,” she suggested wryly, trailing one still-warm servo down the spikes on his back, pinching the thick white bases playfully. “It certainly fits your personality.”
“None’a that,” he snorted, amused at the thought of another ‘addition’ to his arsenal. “I quit that a while ago. Got all I need for what I do.”
Besides, he knew for a fact that Prowl was something of a sharp operator: incapable of being tricked twice and possessed of scalding, conservative hindsight. Even if he wasn’t mortified into non-operation upon rebooting, he probably wouldn’t consent to being violated a second time. Still, it was a fun experiment anyways; very, very fun. He rumbled and glowed with a job well done, grin stretching from spike to spike, but was pulled away from his happy body by Torque’s tug-prod-poke and her pretty face, dented in all the wrong places as she regarded him with true concern.
“Why did you do this to yourself, Lockdown?” She whispered as though she knew the answer, propping herself up on her forearm.
It took him a moment to realize she meant… everything. His whole body—all the modifications, inside and out, crammed in and forcibly assimilated for countless stellar-cycles. No respect for his original substructure, nor for the common laws of what a mech should and should not shove into his body. She touched his arm, lingering on the platinum crease where red mod met green exostructure.
“I worry for your health.”
“S’been this long. I’m still goin’ strong,” he huffed, heaving himself up and immediately groaning from the pinch of his tensors; the odd position had left him tense. She rose to a sitting position, already glaring at him.
“You know why Prowl is able to use those pressure points against you, don’t you?” She demanded, pointing to his chassis. “You’ve had yourself taken apart and put back together so many times, cutting new lines each time to fit in those damn gizmos, your exostructure is riddled with fractures. You’re like a gigantic crumplezone; he can probably find them with his sensors off-lined. I know you can’t fix what you’ve done, but for Spark’s sake, you must take care of yourself from now on.”
“You trusted me to before,” Lockdown growled back at her, too exhausted and pleased to be truly irritated with her diatribe. He peered at her, more appraising than anything, as his red optics regained some of their habitual smolder.
“No, I never trusted you before. I simply resigned myself to the fact you were going to drive yourself into the ground with your silly modification-sprees by the time you were a decamil old,” she snorted, frankness earning her a drastic quirk of his optic ridge. She climbed to her pedes, moving over to the other hunter with a careful pace. “In fact, the only thing that lends me the bolts to speak up now is that little creature over there.”
Lockdown followed Torque’s gaze and his beastly face twisted slightly as it fell on Prowl, still and small and crumpled on the floor. Blindsiding him, Torque took his arm.
“You have Prowl to think of now, honey. You must consider him in everything you do, which includes staying online.”
Lockdown shrugged her off, every circuit prickling uncomfortably with her words as he grumbled something to appease her strident Spark. Of course, she would catch him with a life lesson right after something so gloriously smutty—it was simply the way she worked, unobservant of all basic laws of contextual norms. When his old friend continued to stare at him, servos gravitating towards her thick hips, Lockdown flicked a digit at his partner. Begging a distraction.
“He’s gonna reboot by himself.”
“It’s an awful thing,” she admitted after a moment, rich vocals already softening. Retreating towards the glassy vista, she sunk to the floor, tucking her legs behind Prowl’s. She peeped up, yellow optics outshining the stars outside. “Care to join me?”
“M’good. Never been one for that.”
“Tragic understatement,” Torque huffed resentfully, settling in. “Back in the day, I couldn’t pay you to spoon me.”
“Everything’s negotiable if we’re talkin' money, darlin’,” the bounty hunter chuckled, leaning back in his navigator seat to pop the kinks out of his lower struts.
“Up yours,” she purred, slipping an arm, then two, around Prowl’s slender middle.
“Maybe next time.”
They barely had time to exchange a sultry glare before Prowl rebooted with a crisp little gasp. Already humming in pleasure and anticipation of a warm, cuddly ‘bot who wouldn’t toss her off… probably, Torque’s strong arms tightened around him, pulling him flush to her chestplating. After a moment of creaking uncertainty, Prowl looked utterly mortified as the last few shuddering, absolutely shocking, very sandwiched moments of his existence looped through his core… then the huntress whispered something to him and kissed his jaw, and he relaxed the slightest bit. Lulled by her smiling love. He caught Lockdown’s sated red optics and faltered, still wrapped tightly against Torque, but smiled hesitantly (still so shocked) when his partner smirked.
So slagging young. Overwhelmed by Torque’s enthusiasm and his partner’s devious machinations—still, no complaints in sight. Then again, he hadn’t stood up yet.
“Cute,” Lockdown muttered, more amused than he cared to admit (alongside an explicit breach of his banned vocabulary). Primus, what was it about the cocktail of these two that was so potent to his crusty demeanor? If Torque didn’t take off soon, he was going to lose it…
“Don’t we make a pair, though?” She sighed, squeezing the ninjabot, who stuttered a little. The smirking femme, curled around the little bike, glared up in a mock-predatory manner. “I swear, if I’d found him before you—“
“But you didn’t,” Lockdown rumbled in a prideful way that made Prowl warm inside, only adding to his rash of inner conflict.
String of fantasy thus defeated, Torque took to cuddling Prowl fiercely, crooning over how proud she was of him for going along with their romp (oblivious to the obvious cringing fact that Prowl would rather they never speak of this again, even if he couldn’t help smiling in a nauseated, stunned way). With Prowl so distracted, Lockdown actually had a chance to look at them—the pair of them. His partner, and the only ‘bot he’d trust with his partner.
Before all this (mess), he’d operated under the impression that physical looks had little to nothing to do with lasting attraction… if he had an impression at all, from his nonexistant scrapes with ‘lasting attraction’. While Prowl was certainly handsome, it was his fierce, fascinating Spark that brought Lockdown to his side—now, with both of his… partners twined together on the floor, the bounty hunter had to admit a few startling similarities between the ‘bots he found most attractive in the universe.
Both were bikes. Both were markedly tiny, slender-waisted, had capable servos and thick, formidable heel-struts—not to mention a nice, high-set aft. Both were intelligent and practiced a technomartial art.
Most of all, they knew how to deal with him. Torque had apparently been crafted with the ability, while Prowl had to learn it, but both could counter him in a glaring, well-placed moment if affronted. They were solid, even if Prowl was a thousand times more subtle than Torque, and they wouldn’t take ‘it’. It? His slag. That, he had to admit, was hot. Irritating at times, when he wanted his way (which was all of the time), but still hot on a girder-level that drove him to fight them onto the berth afterwards—knowing they would never let him down for a challenge. Knowing that they were their own ‘bots, and never anyone else’s nodders.
Yes, the likenesses were a little unnerving—weird, even—and okay, so maybe he had a fetish, but his main turn-on was the feral, polished ability to kick aft, and that was well-covered in either ‘bot curled on the floor. Lockdown smirked again and kicked back, idly wondering just how long it was going to take for Prowl to politely extricate himself from the femme’s sticky embrace and scurry back to his dark, safe little room to anxiously scrub himself clean, keening all the while. Planning on avoiding him for the next week, no doubt, and throwing him persnickety dirty looks all the while… Poor, burdened intellectual in a den of ancient, hot-Sparked perverts.
It was when Prowl looked up and steadily held his optics with a lopsided smile before simply leaning against Torque’s rounded chassis, radiating every sign of hesitant, somnolent comfort, that Lockdown realized he might be rubbing off on the kid a little more than he’d thought—and he didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing yet. The idea of this happening more than once… it was a little, well, alarming, but he would never back down from a personal challenge and both ‘bots knew it.
That’s exactly what worried him: him and his aching backstruts alike.
- 1
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Romp