Motormaster's Awesome Day, Chapter 5
Title: Motormaster's Awesome Day.
Author: Kyra Neko-Rei.
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of sex. Self-stimulation, including the BDSM sort.
Summary: From the Awesome Day Meme, Motormaster has 24 hours in his awesome day, in which awesome things can happen to him.
This Chapter: Motormaster just can't catch a break. Or an overload. Silverbolt helps.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine.
4:00 AM - Gets a private message from Silverbolt.
-----
The situation on the bridge took longer than Motormaster cared to spend on it even when he wasn't keyed up and leaking energon; Ravage's badly-concealed snickering and obvious comm connection with his siblings (who were doubtless doing more than snickering) did nothing to improve the situation but was short of actual insubordination, so Motormaster endured it in silence, trying not to squirm as his arousal slowly cooled down to a tolerable level.
Then Skywarp had to pop in with a status report, combined with a blatantly-interested look, and then go and speak to Ravage about something and flutter his wings about, and that killed the "tolerable" part dead and gray, and Motormaster was just about to pounce on him, bridge and audience and on-duty status be fragged, when he 'ported out of existence back to wherever he'd come from. Motormaster sank back into the command chair, fighting the urge to sulk.
An incoming message pinged on his comm, its signal nonstandard and differently encoded than standard Decepticon communications.
Silverbolt.
//Are you free this afternoon?// A sultry, teasing, low husky voice flowed silkily past his audials.
Motormaster did squirm, at that. //Primus, frag you, I wish I were free now// he responded somewhat acidly.
//Oh really?// Silverbolt's voice was suggestive---he'd almost say it was leering if Silverbolt wasn't an Autobot---and Motormaster snarled. //Cut that tone, I'm wired enough as it is!//
//What's wrong?// Silverbolt wanted to know. Autobots.
//My morning's been for slag, Ramjet got me all hot and then overloaded and passed out on me, and I'm on duty so I can't find someone and take off to get laid.//
//Can you disappear into a storage closet?//
//Yeah, but there's nobody up and around to face!// he was indeed pouting, slag it.
//Not in person, no.// That tone was back, and Motormaster began to catch on.
//Oh.//
//Oh, indeed.// Silverbolt was purring over the link. //Why don't you go find that storage closet, hmm?//
Motormaster got up and did so, managing to make it out of the bridge before his engine purred to life, and darted in the nearest door, sitting down on a crate and leaning back against the wall.
//I'm in,// he said. //Where are you?//
//I'm lying on my back on my berth,// said Silverbolt, //swatting at my wings with a radio antenna from an old car.//
Motormaster's engine revved.
//How hard?// he asked.
//Pretty hard// came the response. //Want me to do it harder?//
Motormaster groped at his hip joint, a wave of pleasure shooting up towards his spark. //Yes. Hit harder. And talk to me while you're doing it, I want to hear your voice break.//
//Motormaster, I wi---ahh! Wish you---were---the one whipping m-eee!//
Motormaster purred. //Touch yourself. Caress where you've hit. Is the paint scratched away?//
Silverbolt's aroused purr echoed in his audials. //Yessss.//
Primus, that sound. Motormaster could see him, in his processor's optic, laying across his berth, fingertips shaking against his sensitive scratched wings . . . he tipped his head back, losing himself to the pleasure.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
Motormaster's head snapped up and he glared lasers at the door. "Motormaster! You in there? Megatron wants you on the main viewscreen, now!!"
//Slagging . . . !// He bit back a roar of frustrated rage. //I'm needed on the bridge.// he grumbled to Silverbolt.
//Ahh . . . I'm sorry,// the jet sounded regretful in his very Autobot expression of condolences. //Meet me this afternoon, if you can, and I'll try and make it up to you?//
Motormaster smiled at that. Just a little. //Sure.//
He opened the door just as Dirge's fist was about to impact with it again; Dirge hit Motormaster's chesplate instead and Motormaster's mood was just slightly improved by the excuse to knock Dirge headfirst into the far wall; he turned and headed for the bridge with as much dignity as he could muster.
Author: Kyra Neko-Rei.
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of sex. Self-stimulation, including the BDSM sort.
Summary: From the Awesome Day Meme, Motormaster has 24 hours in his awesome day, in which awesome things can happen to him.
This Chapter: Motormaster just can't catch a break. Or an overload. Silverbolt helps.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine.
4:00 AM - Gets a private message from Silverbolt.
-----
The situation on the bridge took longer than Motormaster cared to spend on it even when he wasn't keyed up and leaking energon; Ravage's badly-concealed snickering and obvious comm connection with his siblings (who were doubtless doing more than snickering) did nothing to improve the situation but was short of actual insubordination, so Motormaster endured it in silence, trying not to squirm as his arousal slowly cooled down to a tolerable level.
Then Skywarp had to pop in with a status report, combined with a blatantly-interested look, and then go and speak to Ravage about something and flutter his wings about, and that killed the "tolerable" part dead and gray, and Motormaster was just about to pounce on him, bridge and audience and on-duty status be fragged, when he 'ported out of existence back to wherever he'd come from. Motormaster sank back into the command chair, fighting the urge to sulk.
An incoming message pinged on his comm, its signal nonstandard and differently encoded than standard Decepticon communications.
Silverbolt.
//Are you free this afternoon?// A sultry, teasing, low husky voice flowed silkily past his audials.
Motormaster did squirm, at that. //Primus, frag you, I wish I were free now// he responded somewhat acidly.
//Oh really?// Silverbolt's voice was suggestive---he'd almost say it was leering if Silverbolt wasn't an Autobot---and Motormaster snarled. //Cut that tone, I'm wired enough as it is!//
//What's wrong?// Silverbolt wanted to know. Autobots.
//My morning's been for slag, Ramjet got me all hot and then overloaded and passed out on me, and I'm on duty so I can't find someone and take off to get laid.//
//Can you disappear into a storage closet?//
//Yeah, but there's nobody up and around to face!// he was indeed pouting, slag it.
//Not in person, no.// That tone was back, and Motormaster began to catch on.
//Oh.//
//Oh, indeed.// Silverbolt was purring over the link. //Why don't you go find that storage closet, hmm?//
Motormaster got up and did so, managing to make it out of the bridge before his engine purred to life, and darted in the nearest door, sitting down on a crate and leaning back against the wall.
//I'm in,// he said. //Where are you?//
//I'm lying on my back on my berth,// said Silverbolt, //swatting at my wings with a radio antenna from an old car.//
Motormaster's engine revved.
//How hard?// he asked.
//Pretty hard// came the response. //Want me to do it harder?//
Motormaster groped at his hip joint, a wave of pleasure shooting up towards his spark. //Yes. Hit harder. And talk to me while you're doing it, I want to hear your voice break.//
//Motormaster, I wi---ahh! Wish you---were---the one whipping m-eee!//
Motormaster purred. //Touch yourself. Caress where you've hit. Is the paint scratched away?//
Silverbolt's aroused purr echoed in his audials. //Yessss.//
Primus, that sound. Motormaster could see him, in his processor's optic, laying across his berth, fingertips shaking against his sensitive scratched wings . . . he tipped his head back, losing himself to the pleasure.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG.
Motormaster's head snapped up and he glared lasers at the door. "Motormaster! You in there? Megatron wants you on the main viewscreen, now!!"
//Slagging . . . !// He bit back a roar of frustrated rage. //I'm needed on the bridge.// he grumbled to Silverbolt.
//Ahh . . . I'm sorry,// the jet sounded regretful in his very Autobot expression of condolences. //Meet me this afternoon, if you can, and I'll try and make it up to you?//
Motormaster smiled at that. Just a little. //Sure.//
He opened the door just as Dirge's fist was about to impact with it again; Dirge hit Motormaster's chesplate instead and Motormaster's mood was just slightly improved by the excuse to knock Dirge headfirst into the far wall; he turned and headed for the bridge with as much dignity as he could muster.