Adult-FanFiction.org : Cartoons

Wingman	By : anonfeather Category: Transformers > G1 > Slash - M/M Views: 1575 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Transformer, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Wingman
- 1
Pairing/Characters: Tracks/Minibot, Raoul, Mirage. Naughty mentions of: Brawn, Bumblebee, Cosmos, Gears, Huffer, Windcharger, Warpath, Cliffjumper,

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Belongs to Hasbro and co.

Universe: G1

Warning: Smutting, crude and offensive language, polite dirty talk, vivid imagination,
Author's Note: This fic is for the "Suddenly Small" contest held over on y!Gallery. The winners requested Tracks being with a minibot of my choosing. Sadly, I didn't know who to pick... I played around. Also, this fic is unbeta-ed :(. After waiting a few months, no one was available to work on it. So... I decided to post it in hopes of getting someone. If you spot mistakes, please contact me so I can fix them. Thank you!
- - -
"So, what frame-type do you like to fuck?"

"Raoul!" Tracks gasped in shock from the sudden question. It took him so aback that he dangerously swerved in the street.
"Sorry," Raoul replied unapologetically. "What frame-type do you like to  frag ?" It amused the human to no end to push his preppy goody-two-shoes alien friend out of his comfort-zone. He discovered that the best way to bother the Corvette was to ask him about sex. Or, as the Cybertronians called it, interfacing. Tracks was so tight-lipped about it that it made Raoul giddy every time information slipped.
The other day, the young man had hit the jackpot when refuelling Tracks in his alt-form. The pump was automatically filling his friend with gasoline while Raoul was chatting up with the busty redheaded gas station clerk. It took a while, but he managed to score her phone number! However, it was already too late by the time Raoul came back to unhook the pump. Unbeknownst to him, the Corvette was beyond overcharged.
Raoul had freaked out when Tracks almost swerved off a bridge. Raoul had begged Tracks to stop and his friend agreed, transforming into root-mode laughing his gears off. After Raoul thanked the Madre and all the saints for being still alive, he grilled his friend with angry questions. He quickly discovered that the alien was intoxicated because of the earlier gas intake. Then, he took advantage of Tracks' inebriated state and asked everything that was brushed off in the past. He couldn't help being morbidly curious about the mating habits of a giant robotic alien species. It didn't help that Tracks had been mum about it. That day, he got the answers for all of his queries, except for Tracks' personal preference. The Corvette fell asleep - or in to recharge as he would say - at the end of the impromptu alien sex-ed course.
"C'mon!" goaded Raoul. "You know what I like."
"Yes and I remember never asking you to tell me," reminded Tracks. "I do not see how this is a proper conversation."
"It's guy talk, my main machine. C'mon, tell me anything! I'll start, okay. I like them with big jugs!" Raoul let go of the wheel squeezed the air a few times. "See it's not hard. Now, your turn."
"I," started Tracks. "I... I still believe that this isn't the type of conversation we should be having!" The Corvette's tone was decisive and demanded for the conversation to be dropped. As if to run away from the discussion, Tracks sped down the road.
"You're no fun," Raoul said, unbothered by the new speed. He leaned forward and pouted on the steering wheel. "Here I thought we were good buddies."
"We are!"
"Pff, not really. These are things friends talk about, you know."
Tracks was silent. Raoul kept quiet and mentally counted the seconds it would take for Tracks to be guilt-ridden enough to reveal his interface interest. Finally, the automobile gave in, slowed down to a stop and gave a heavy sigh. The Corvette transformed, holding his friend in his hand.
"You have won the argument," Tracks said as Raoul was placed down on the ground. He then sat down crossed legged, a pout upon his face. "I still do not understand why you have this desire to know. Nevertheless, I shall tell you. There is a certain frame type that I find... incredibly revving."
"Really?" Raoul asked with a sketchy smile on his face. "Oh do tell!"
"What else is there to tell?"
"What model? Oh God! I hope you aren't after those seeker-types!"
"Those strutting wings? No thank you." Tracks replied disdainfully. Raoul cracked a smile of relief.
"That's good to hear. So c'mon man, don't leave me hanging."
"I," started Tracks, "like the smaller frames. Minibots, if I may be precise. I just love that I can lift them so easily. Both my servos can circle then and keep them close. I only have to output 50% of my energy field to engulf them in utter ecstasy." Tracks soon began to imagine a minibot writhing under his ministrations and bit him lower lip component. "They are so fuel efficient that overload comes so easily to them. Moments after, they are ready for more. And I give them more. Oh, I assure you I do. I pump, and I pump more into them, and more, and more! They can take it and they want it. Oh, people will try to tell you that you shouldn't interface with them because they are so delicate. Ha, let me tell you they are  wrong ."
"Okay, I believ--"
"Minibots have solid little bodies and they're so grateful to be taken seriously that they unleash all of their passion. It's like they can never get enough. They will grind their little aft anywhere they can to tell you that they can take it. We must not forget those delicious little sounds that they make because they don't have cavernous space between their engines. It's like a cross between a purr and a squeak. Most are embarrassed when that occurs, but it just drives me wild! Not that I want to brag, but I know the hotspots to make it occur whenever I want. On the off-chance that that model doesn't have it, no need to worry. I just have to rub my servos all over their sweet small bodies and I'll find it quickly enough."
"I think I get it..." Raoul's attempt at stopping Tracks went unnoticed. He shrugged it off and let the bot go.
"There was this one time, when I was in Tarn, I met a minibot duo that have never been with a larger frame before. Nothing delights me more than making minibots discover the pleasure of a larger frame. I will confide into you; they didn't regret it anything that orn! They were insatiable. The only way I could take my energon was drip by drip, licking it off their steamy circuitry. Nothing tastes better. "
Raoul was glad that his friend was telling him this. However, as Tracks went on with the details, the human was starting to feel a little crept out. "Okay big guy, I think I get it."
"Oh?" Tracks blinked a few times and looked down at Raoul, ashamed of having forgotten the human's presence because of a naughty memory file. "Yes, pardon me. I think I got carried away. I... haven't had a lover since we crashed on Earth. I shouldn't stimulate myself like that."
"What? You haven't been laid in eons?! The hell man, you're a freaking flying Corvette! Aren't there any minibots around?"
"There's a dozen of minibots running around the  Ark ." Tracks thought back to the last time he was on the Autobot ship. A different memory file started playing, one just as naughty as the previous one. He had entered the wash racks to clean the mud that a jealous Sunstreaker had thrown on him. The moment he stepped in, he was presented with a delightful sight of three minibots sharing a stall. They were mutually cleaning themselves. They were laughed, soaped suds dripping their bodies while they playfully sprayed themselves off.
He squeaked at the show and stayed frozen. The sound had caused them to turn around. Because of his dirtied state, Bumblebee offered to help him out. Tracks had wanted to accept; Primus knew he wanted! Who wouldn't want three hot little minibots scrubbing and rubbing themselves all over him?
However, his vocaliser frizzed up and he stood there with a gaping mouth. Cliffjumper, belligerent as usual, lost patience. He decreed that Tracks was much too haughty to accept any help from them and stalked off. Even the loss of one of the minibot didn't manage to get Tracks' vocaliser to work. Bumblebee and Windcharger shrugged and followed their red companion out of the wash rack.
Tracks forgot about the sticky mud and self-serviced in the stall the minibots abandoned. That was the best overload he remembered having since the crash.
"Hum, Tracks?" called Raoul shaking his arm.
"Please forgive," Tracks replied embarrassed. "I drifted off."
"Yeah, you went to total hornsville. Your plating is burning. My man, you need to get laid!"
"I wouldn't refuse any offers... Except, I have a horrible problem when I'm around them. I don't know how to address them in a platonic fashion. They all think I'm an imbecile because I never spoke to any."
Raoul pondered his friend's dilemma. He guessed that was why he never wanted to talk about interfacing; it reminded how inept he currently was with the minibots.
"Okay! Here's what we're gonna do!" declared the human. Tracks looked down towards the young man. It was obvious he had a silly idea brewing in his brain. Tracks, for one, was wary of any plan his human companion might come up with.
"We're going to the  Ark  and I'm gonna be your wingman. We're not leaving until you've fucked a few minibots!"
Tracks stayed stunned and shook his head. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no,  no, no!  Out of the question."
"This isn't up to discussion." Raoul kicked Tracks' with his steel capped boot. "Get up, transform, and let's roll-out!"
"Ow, really that was uncalled for. We will not be heading to the  Ark  for such--"
Raoul kicked him again.
"Ow! That stings. Ow! Now stop it!"
"I can keep this all night, and Lord knows you ain't gonna stop me. You want to go there as I much as I want you to get laid. Think of all those minibots, all charged up for you. Calling your name, begging you to take them."
"Enough!" Tracks glared at his friend, heat rolling of his plate. He transformed and held the door open for his ward. "Get in."
"You really shouldn't argue with me. You know that I always win."
"No, you do not!"
"I do. Oh, by the way, after you score, you're gonna have to be  my  wingman. The girls go  loca  for a guy with hot wheels."
Tracks wanted to say that he would not stoop to being a 'chick-magnet', but he felt that like any of their other discussions, he'd lose that one as well. Raoul was a stubborn little creature.
OoOoOoOo
When they arrived at  Ark , Raoul immediately went on a quest to meet all of the minibots. He acted differently around them; keeping his sharp tongue well hidden and even acting like a friendly naive teenager. Tracks was constantly destabilised when his human companion started acting sweet and gentle.
Whenever the opportunity arose, Raoul would ask him what he thought of that minibot or that one. Part of Tracks wanted to strangle Raoul for butting in his interface life, while another part of wanted to thank him for helping him get laid. As each day progressed, the thankful part was getting bigger. Every time he thought of the surrounding minibots, he started heating up imagining running his digits over their tiny frames. He probably spent more time in the washracks self-serving than being a decent host to Raoul. Not that it bothered the human that much. He took his unsupervised time to observe the minibots to help him determine who was the best candidate to clear up Tracks' dry spell.
"I think Bumblebee would be the easiest to fuck," Raoul said. "He reminds me of a girl in school. Sweetest little thing, but a total slut."
"Raoul! Language please," Tracks chided, looking over the crowd in the rec room, making sure they didn't overhear their conversation.
Raoul offered Tracks a cheeky smile and repeated his sentence in Spanish. The Autobot groaned in frustration.
"That's not what I meant! Please be respectful." Tracks pleaded. Raoul laughed loudly as a reply. "Or at least keep in mind not insult anyone."
"Okay, okay. So, about Brawn?"
Brawn was short and stout. Very solid. Definitely able to resist a few hard rounds of interfacing. Usually, when Tracks took a minibot lover he always envisions himself as the dominant one. He would suavely seduce them, making them shiver with anticipation for when he'd take them. As he thought about Brawn, his valve twitched in interest. The stout warrior could easily lift him and hold him down for some memorable times. However,..
"He's too old."
"Oh, age's a factor then? Better nix Beachcomber too."
"Beachcomber? Why?"
"Sorry to inform you, but hippie-bot got some millennia under his belt."
Tracks contemplated the new information. Because of Beachcomber's smooth attitude he thought he was of the younger generation. Maybe he wasn't the best candidate. Age did mean experience after all. Beachcomber probably knew all the moves and it was more than likely that he had a few large bots in the past. Suddenly Tracks felt inadequate. "Pass."
"Okay then. Seaspray."
Automatically, Tracks replied: "No wheels."
"What?"
Tracks looked around, and whispered. "He had no wheels... Wheels are... hum, fun?" The Corvettes hands twitched as he explained.
"...," Raoul pondered. "Oh. Oh! I get'cha." He gave a knowing smile and squeezed the air in front of him a few times. "I love to squeeze too."
Tracks wanted to disappear, or to be overcharged. He minded a lot less about proper decorum when he had a few pints of energon fuelling his systems.
"So you want to have some nice, big wheels. Let's cross off Powerglide, Warpath and Cosmos then. "
"Wait, no need to be so hasty," Tracks said. It was true that he enjoyed large rubbery wheels, but those three did have interesting components to play with. Powerglide was one of the few flying Autobots around. The Corvette knew how sensitive flight equipment was himself having a few mods that allowed him to go over short distances. Powerglide probably had an array of sensor that could make him go wild with a touch. He would also know how to handle his own wings. Tracks wasn't interested in seekers, but a flight-capable minibot sure sounded exotic.
As for Warpath, Tracks had to admit that the chest cannon was rather enticing. Were he to pump it, would it make the red tank scream out  Pow! Zap!  and  Ka-blamo?  Licking the tip was bound to give him a spectacular show. Something about making the other become more out-of-control warmed Tracks up.
When he thought about Cosmos, he couldn't help marvelling about how adorable he was. It was known that he didn't have any lovers as his duties required him to be in outer space all the time. He must be lonely.  And desperate , he added. Not to mention that the little space bot was eager to please anyone. It seemed like a desirable combination. Maybe Tracks should visit the poor bot and give him the best overload of his lifetime. He'd have memories files to play during his next voyage.
"Look man, you've got to decide who you want to screw first. If you can't, you'll end up with zilch. Go bang them another day or something, after you've made yourself the minibot Casanova."
Tracks solemnly nodded to Raoul's reasoning and push back the three scenarios that were playing in his processor about the aforementioned minibots.
"So, what 'bout Cliffjumper?"
Tracks bit back a moan after the name was mentioned. The red-plated hothead minibot was one of the first to make Tracks engine rev. He often imagined Cliffjumper ordering him to  'get on with it'  and  'harder, damn it!'  He would yell, kick and bite for more and Tracks would gladly comply. He imagined Cliffjumper to be insatiable. When the Corvette wouldn't have any more energy, then Cliffjumper would straddle him and take his pleasure any way he wanted.
Raoul kicked him to bring him back from his dream zone. "Hey man, answer!"
"Cliffjumper is --"
"Off-limits!"
In front of them materialized a blue and white mech. He held himself high and looked down on Tracks with an air of contempt.
"Ah, Mirage we were, huh..."
"I know what you were talking about! I've been following the conversation from the start! Cliffjumper is not to be part of your perverted fantasy. He's mine! I'm officially stating my claim."
Raoul stared at the new bot and signalled to Tracks that he found the other to be a wacko with a hand gesture. Mirage immediately turned to glare at the small human. Raoul stuck his tongue out.
"Your human companion is rude, Tracks! I will be taking my leave now. Remember, don't you dare make a move on Cliffjumper. I'll be  watching you." With that, the noble mech dematerialized. Raoul and Tracks exchanged a look and agreed to find a secluded area to pursue their conversation.
OoOoOo
"Okay. No Brawn, Beachcomber, Cosmos, Seaspray or Warpath. I still don't get why we have to listen to that stuck-up brat Mirage about Cliffjumper. If you want to fuck that mini up a wall, what's that got to do with him? You told me you guys didn't date an' stuff. It's free-for-all."
Tracks gave a sigh. "Mirage is from the Towers. They, hum, tended to have harems-type relationships. It's in their coding. If they noticed somebot they want as theirs and they'll throw hissy fits when someone else is interested. I've been around some Towerlings long enough to know not to challenge them when they stated a claim. Mirage can be vindictive. Not to mention, he has the ability to turn invisible. I fear what might happen to my polish."
"Okay. Fine, for the sake of your paint job. No Cliffjumper. What did we say about Bumblebee?"
"I didn't say anything against Bumblebee."
"But, you're not speaking for him either."
"Well," Tracks cleared his throat. "You were somewhat right about Bumblebee. He has been favoured by multiple individuals in the past. I also know that he has some current lovers. I can, of course, court him. He'll accept me in a matter of moments, of that I am certain."
Tracks trailed off and started thinking about the bright yellow minibot. He would loom over the smaller bot and Bumblebee would offer a shy smile. Then, he would say that the hallway isn't an appropriate place to flare one's field. Tracks would say it didn't bother him and in a few moments it won't bother Bumblebee. He'd run his servo up the scout's arm and gently squeeze the tire. Bumblebee would give a squeak of delight and try to convince him to move their interaction in a more private location.
"I know a good private location,"  Tracks would rumble in Bumblebee's audio as his servo would lower and rub the other's interface panel.
"Oh! Tracks, "
"Tracks! Goddamn you man!" Raoul spouted with a mix of frustration and disgust. "Stop fantasising! Sheesh! It's burning up in here whenever you start thinking. I'm off to take some fresh air while you cool down. I'll be back in an hour or something. If you can't get your head straight enough to plan on getting laid, we're getting you a rental car!"
Raoul huffed and left the room without letting his friend a chance to apologize. Now alone, Tracks was relieved that Raoul had left. He could get down to business, so to speak. Maybe afterward he'd stop this insane plan of trying to get laid with one of the minibot. It was a bad idea. He could already hear Huffer and Gears now bemoaning his attempt to woo one of them.
Suddenly, and Tracks was unsure how, the complaint competition between Gears and Huffer turned into a challenge on who can be the loudest in the throes of passion. In his mind's eye, he imaged them kissing and fighting for dominance while he watched over them. He beckoned them to come closer and told them that he would be the arbiter. To help him decide, they needed to keep the glossa duel over his extended spike. Both minibots would instantly have a greedy look in their optics as they gazed upon his spike. It didn't take long before they started to fight for the chance to taste it.
"You're not doing it right!"  would say Gears as he would push his fellow minibot away from the spike. "This is how it should be done." Without hesitating, Gears would place his loud-mouth to good use while Huffer would look on.
"I know how it's done,"  the engineer would reply. Then, he would start sucking the base while Gears took care of the head.
Tracks enjoyed this scenario and without Raoul to stop him from being revved up, he retracted his codpiece. His spike was ready for some action. He cupped it with both hands, one at the top and the other around the base, simulating the small mouths that were on him in his fantasy.
It didn't take long to go over the edge. He imagined Gears with a surprised, but frustrated look because his transfluid splattered his face. Huffer laughed and told the other to stop complaining. He should be happy he had such a talented mouth. Maybe he should suck his spike as well.
Tracks groaned in desperation. Why couldn't he stop thinking about interfacing minibots! He shooed away the images in his mind and cleaned up. He hoped not to encounter them in the following days. How could he look them in the eye?
You can't, they're too short. But they are the right height to look you in the crotch,  supplied his mind that sounded suspiciously like Raoul. He was spending too much time with the teen, he figured.
Looking around his room, Tracks wondered what he should do as he waited for his friend to return. A klik after thinking that, someone was knocking at his door.  'Strange, Raoul said he'll be back in one hour. It couldn't have been more than 10 minutes since he left,  ' thought Tracks.
Frowning, he allowed the door to open. He wasn't expecting to see Windcharger on the other side. Suddenly the presence of a minibot so near him warmed his frame. He thanked Primus for overloading a few instants before. He might have sounded like a fool if he didn't.
"Hi Tracks!" chimed Windcharger happily.
"H-hey Windcharger. Ah, hum, is there some way I can assist you with?"
"Actually, I'm here to help you."
"What?"
"Yeah, Mirage commed me saying you had a hard mission and you needed a hand un-fritzing your system."
' That, that, conniving Angel!  ,' Tracks thought. ' Anything to get me away from Cliffjumper.'  ". Windcharger was good-looking with a silver-gray body and red limbs. He had some of Bumblebee's innocence, but with a zest of attitude that most minibot's shared. From Tracks memory banks, he couldn't find any official source stating that Windcharger had regular interface partners. Although not a Towermech, he did enjoy having a certain claim on a mech. The fact that Windcharger seemed unattached made him more enticing.
"So, can I come in?"
"Yes! Please do  come  in," Tracks invited the smaller bot. Windcharger was a bit surprised from the enthusiastic response, but shrugged it off with a smile. "Did Mirage say anything else...? Like how you'll be ' unfritzing ' me?"
"Not really. I thought about using my electromagnetic field and just set things right. Why else would Mirage ask me specifically? You guys good friends? I thought you guys -- well not disliked each other-- but were distant? Guess I was wrong. You aren't often on base so no one's really close to you. The others think you're a bit of a snob, but I think it's just because we don't hang out. Are you shy? Anyway, I'm good with back rubs; I thought I'd start with that. So you can lie down on your berth, now."
"Very well," Tracks agreed, finding it easier to follow the last sentence. Windcharger was apparently a bit of a chatterbox. Nothing wrong with it. He might make delicious sounds during an interface.
"Oh lie on your front, not your back." Windcharger commented noticing Tracks' position. "Hum, this is higher than expected. Mind if climb up on the berth. It'll be easier to reach all of your back."
"Excellent! I mean: Yes, that is acceptable." It took two tries for Windcharger to get up. Tracks found it both endearing and arousing to see. After being on the berth, Windcharger wiggled around to find a good position.
"Y'know, if you don't mind. I'll just sit on you. I'm light, you won't even notice." Windcharger did as he said. However, Tracks could feel every micro of their touching frames. He bit back a groan with the minibot placed his two servos in the middle of his back. "I'm going to charge up a little. If you don't like it, or want more just speak up."
Windcharger's fingertips started to light up. As he pressed down, a tingling sensation tickled Tracks' nerves.
"Oh," Tracks moaned.
"Feels good?"
"Very."
"Are your wings sensitive?"
"Very sensitive," Tracks replied with a husky tone.
"Oh," the tone was disappointed. "I was just wondering if I should go over them. But if they're sensitive, I won't."
"On second thought, they are not  that  sensitive. Go for them."
"You sure?"
"Definitely."
There was a hesitation, but the servos started tracing the wing's edges. The touch was tentative and the electromagnetic field lowered in intensity. Tracks gave a deep, pleasured moan. "Oh, yeah..." As the massage continued, Tracks' field unexpectedly flared up with a clear request: interface.
The delightful touch on his wings stopped for an instant. Tracks snapped his optics open; worried he might have offended Windcharger by the sudden interface invitation. However, the massage resumed normally. Or so thought Tracks for a few kliks. The magnetic field slowly got stronger with every stroke and the digits were getting bolder. They slipped in seams in a way that couldn't accidental. Not only that, but the lithe body stopped any professional pretence and was shamelessly lowering itself on Tracks whenever the fingers dipped deep into the wirings. Small sparks flew as their frames scrapped together.
"You're really tense," remarked Windcharger. "You're lucky I don't mind relieving any kind of tension you might have..."
Again, Tracks moaned and voluntary flared his field again. This time he wasn't ashamed for lust was taking control over him. Windcharger replied by flaring his own energy field, filled with desire. Tracks turned around with grace, keeping the minibot well-placed above him. He placed his hands upon Windcharger's aft and ground their crotches together.
"Oh my!" gasped Windcharger.
"I have a tension in a very specific place. I have complete trust in your competence to take care of it," said Tracks with a naughty grin. Platonic conversations with minibots were impossible for him. Nevertheless, place him in a sexual context with one and he suddenly becomes the most suave mech. His processor could focus on the situation at hand instead of drifting off into a lurid fantasy. Currently, an eager minibot was hungrily gazing at his closed codpiece. "Go on. Get your talented little fingers there."
Windcharger bit his bottom lip component as if coy, but his optics held an impish smile. He tentatively grazed the area with a finger, before removing it. "It's burning hot. I don't think I'm qualified to check that out."
"Don't worry. It does it occasionally. I assure you have nothing to worry about."
"Okay, if you say so. But you'll have to tell me if I'm doing something wrong. Or  right. " The digits returned and they traced the transformation seams. He activated his magnetic field at the apex of the codpiece. Tracks bucked. "Oh! Did that hurt?" Although Windcharger sounded innocent, it was obvious that he knew exactly the amount of pleasure the Corvette felt that instant.
"I'm not sure," replied Tracks playing with the fake innocent tone. "It would be best, I believe, if you were to do it again so I can ascertain if I feel pain."
"Yeah, it would be wise, wouldn't it?" Windcharger reapplied his digits to the seam and allowed his field to dance around the area. Tracks sent the command to pop open his codpiece, causing his spike to jut out.
Windcharger let out a surprised gasp. It sounded realer than his previous exclamations. He had removed his digits and avoided touching the sensitive equipment. "Dear friend, is everything all right?"
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. It's the first time I ever see such a large and long spike. I was a little taken aback...It's the first time I've been with a larger mech."
An unexpected rush passed through Tracks from Windcharger's admittance. "You need not to worry. It functions that same way as others. Might I suggest that you get better acquainted?"
The minibot kept a steady gaze on the spike, then carefully touched the tip. It twitched. "Yes, that's very nice. Don't be shy," encouraged Tracks. Windcharger again touched it, palming the head. The pleasured hiss that escaped Tracks made him smile. It gave him enough courage to seize it with more confidence. However, he realised that one servo wasn't be enough to encircle it. Both servos were needed to surround the head comfortably.
"Yes, very well. Work with both, it feels great."
"So, you like this? Even if I can't get a good hold?"
"It's perfect." Tracks had lifted himself on his elbows and observed the minibot working on his spike. Windcharger grunted and panted by the effort needed to stimulate the member. "If you want, you can kiss it."
Windcharger stopped the ministration long enough to look Tracks in the optics and offer a saucy grin. He bent forward with puckered lip and kissed the tip. He repeated the action again, followed with a lick.
"Very, very nice," commented Tracks. He petted the helm softly, offering encouraging moans. "You are good. I'm sure you can try sucking it a little." Windcharger gave a nod that Tracks felt with his spike. No sooner did he offer the suggestion did the minibot try it. He opened his mouth wide and tried to take in the member. However, only the head managed to fit in. Tracks was pleased that the gray and red Autobot didn't give up. He tried to stuff the spike as far as he could while his glossa moved around it to make better room. His effort made his salivate profusely, with oral fluid dripping from the corners of his mouth.
The sight was unbelievably erotic to Track. Part of him wanted to help his partner by holding the helm and thrusting deep inside, but gentleman as he was, he withheld. Instead, he caressed the helm and offered sweet words of affection.
"You're doing a wonderfully. Yes, oh yes." Windcharger's engines started to whine from exertion. Tracks regretfully pulled out. His partner tried to pursue the fleeing spike, but Tracks held him gently back. "You've performed more than satisfactorily, dear friend."
"But I didn't get it down enough. I couldn't even suck it right!" Exclaimed Windcharger with the ardent anger Tracks found so desirable in minibots. "I'll fit it in. I swear. Let me try again."
Tracks gently laughed and caressed the Windcharger to reassure him. "My friend, if you were to try again, I cannot promise that I will be able to contain myself. Your talents are exceedingly arousing and I fear I might overload if you were to approach your lips again."
"Really?" The praised illuminated Windcharger's face. "Wait, don't you want to overload?"
"I assure you, I do. However, I would be more delighted to sample your valve instead." A shiver passed through Windcharger's frame. Tracks traced down until his large servo covered the coveted area.
"My valve? Will it fit..? I've never tried..." The plating was hot under his touch. Windcharger ground against it as he rubbed the codpiece. Tracks offered a reassuring smile.
"Trust me. It will fit so well inside that every one of your node will demand more." Tracks' experience confirmed his saying. It was strange, but arousing how minibots always underestimated their valve's capacity. "Come on my dear, open up." Windcharger bit his lower lip again, but accepted the challenged. The codpiece retracted hastily.
Tracks circled the outside of the valve, the moistness slicking his digit. He slipped a digit inside and gauged his partner's reaction. The intrusion made Windcharger close his optics as he savoured the feeling. "Very good, Windcharger. You're enjoying this. This is but one digit. How does it feel?"
"It's big, but it's okay." Tracks pumped inside, slowly. At first, he gave shallow pushes, but as the minibot adjusted around him, he went deeper and deeper. "Oh! Hum, ah, yes..." Windcharger raised his hips the follow the rhythm.
"I'll push in a second one my dear." Two of his digits were roughly the same size as an above-average minibot spike. Windcharger took them with relative ease, but he felt full. He nervously waited for more. However, Tracks was patient and didn't force more in right away. He scissored the minibot's valve and held him tight so he wouldn't buck to overload. "There, there. How are you feeling?"
"I've n-never been so full... Unf, ahh.. Please... "
"Shh, shh, shh... You're almost ready for my spike, but not quite. I am going to squeeze a third digit inside. Relax my dear. If it's too much, I'll retract myself."
Windcharger was dripping so much that the third digit didn't encounter too much friction upon entry. Movement was restricted because of the tightness. The minibot's vents whined from the straining and condensation was forming on his frame to cool him down. "Ah, ah, unf... I, I, ah.."
"Oh, yes, squeeze. There, that's good isn't it? You're tight my friend. I can't wait to feel you around me." Tracks flexed his finger until he triggered a sensitive area that made Windcharger squirm. "Are you ready for my spike?" The minibot didn't give a coherent answer. "I believe you are. I would say that it is the moment that we are required to try it."
Tracks aligned the lithe frame above his spike and slowly lowered it. His digits were keeping the valve wide open to help with the smooth entry. "There we are. How are you feeling? Do you know you are completely seated on my spike now?"
Windcharger seemed too dazed to answer. Tracks waited for the minibot regain his senses. He avoided moving and let the poor bot grow accustomed to the largest spike he ever gotten.
"Ah... This, this.. My. Primus." Still incoherent, Windcharger did seem to notice the current situation. He shivered and each tremble sent spasms down his body as nodes he never knew existed were stimulated.
"Wonderful, isn't it?" Tracks whispered. "One move like this," he twisted his hips," unleashes you."
Windcharger howled in pleasure and his valve clamped down on the spike. Tracks hissed. His servos gripped the minibot's aft and slowly lifted an inch. The small movement was enough to cause Windcharger to overload. The tightness made it impossible to lower him down again. Tracks held him there with one servo, enjoying the clenching around his spike, while the other roamed the smaller frame. He squeezed the shoulder-tire and bit the other with his mouth.
Only when Windcharger came down from his overload did Tracks started moving the smaller bot in attempt to attain his own pleasure. He went slowly, making sure Windcharger wasn't in any discomfort. As he expected, Windcharger was gathering up new pleasure charges. Tracks knew that the minibot would be pushed over the edge a few more times before he reaches his peak.
"Ah, ah! Please, please!" cried Windcharger.
"You are very delightfully tight Windcharger." He lifted the bot up until only the head stayed in the valve. Then he brought Windcharger gently down until he rested on his thighs. "Is it the first time a spike as reached so deep into you?"
Windcharger let out a pathetic mew in response. Again, he was lifted and brought down again. "Yes! Ah, unf!"
"Yes, you're right. You mentioned it before, if I recall correctly." Tracks had a perverted pleasure of asking these questions when his partner was unable to give a coherent answer. It went straight to his spike when all they could reply were moans.
"Can you feel my spike charging up all of your nodes in one strike?" He asked as he gave a long thrust inside.
"Mhump. Ah, ah."
"Oh, I believe it is the case. However, to make sure, let us try a few more times." Windcharger was lowered a couple of times in quick succession. Tracks slowed down only when Windcharger was in throes of an overload.
"Did you know that I can hit a better spot by changing position?"
"Erm?" Although he didn't formulate a question, the moan sounded interrogative.
"It's very true. Allow me to show you." Tracks effortlessly laid the minibot on his back without disconnecting themselves. The legs were folded until the feet rested on his shoulders. Satisfied with the position, he pushed in. As promised, new nodes were activated.
"Oh Primus!"
The Corvette wasn't as patient as before and plunged again. Windcharger held tightly around his neck, mewled and called out again to Primus. "Primus, oh my, oh my!" He started to have trouble controlling his magnetic field; his servos were stuck on Tracks' frame.
Tracks decided that it would be a good time to release his pent up pleasure. He pounded eagerly in the smaller bot, until he went over the edge. His transfluid dripped out of Windcharger as there was no more space for it to occupy.
Windcharger released his magnetic field that left him clinging to Tracks. He shuttered his optics and relaxed into recharge. Tracks held him, and stayed in the warmth of his valve. When the minibot wakes-up, he'd be prime and ready for another round.
Tracks sent a command to the door to stay locked. He wouldn't want Raoul to in and cramp his style.
OoOoOoOo
As Raoul said, an hour later he returned to Track's room. However, the door refused to open when he rang. He kicked it, but sadly, it remained unresponsive.
"Damn it Tracks! Let me in! We got to solve your  little  problem!" He kicked the door again, but to no avail. If it was Tracks he was kicking, he would have giving in by now.
"That ruckus is quite enough," said a cultured voice. Raoul glared in annoyance. He turned around and a white a blue Autobot materialised in front of him. "You will find that Tracks is currently unavailable and I suggest that you scamper off."
"Unavailable? What the fuck did you do to my main machine!"
"Nothing uncouth, I assure you. I simply suggested to a mutual friend of ours to pay him a visit. Now, he's sated and that small problem of his is settled. You have no need to barge around the <i>Ark</i> anymore."   <br>
"So... He's currently porking someone in there?"
"Affirmative. And he probably will be for the following days."
"The fuck am I supposed to do until he's done!"
"That is not my problem you ruffian." Mirage turned away with a snap in his steps. Raoul glared at the retreating form. Then, a devious smile formed. Might as well go and have a fun chat with the minibots. They probably won't be happy to know that a Tower mech has stated a claim on one of them.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Wingman