Sticky Response pt2
This post is closed to new stories! Head over to Pt 5!
Stories that were started here continue here.
FIC: Continuity - Title (optional) - Characters - brief Kink (please include the entire thing on every part you post and for every comment!) and put Ch# or Pt# at the end. Note any major squicks or kinks in the header as a courtesy to the ( Read more... )
Stories that were started here continue here.
FIC: Continuity - Title (optional) - Characters - brief Kink (please include the entire thing on every part you post and for every comment!) and put Ch# or Pt# at the end. Note any major squicks or kinks in the header as a courtesy to the ( Read more... )
*****
It was a silly thing to keep quiet about, but it wasn't as if any of the others would understand in the least.
Sunstreaker was sick and tired of having no interface life to speak of. If they hadn't been stranded on this silly little organic world, he would have had his pick of dozens of mechs and femmes to suit his... tastes. As it was, however, there was no real means to maintain long-term contact with Cybertron and only two mechs amongst the crew that technically would serve his needs.
That is, they would if either Hound or Brawn appealed to him in any way.
The problem with Hound was his personality. Something about it just rubbed Sunstreaker the wrong way, and no matter how lovely that shade of green was on his plating, there was no way the Lamborghini would be able to look past the too-cheerful and too eager-to-please manner long enough to get off.
Then there was Brawn. The green of his plating was a touch more towards brown than Sunstreaker preferred, but he'd had lovers of that shade before and been pleased with the encounter. The simple truth was that Brawn hated everyone indiscriminately and Sunstreaker wasn't the type to cajole an unwilling lover into berth no matter what rumours might state.
So, that was the full list of every mech that had the proper colouration to get his motor running.
However - and unfortunately - there were several mechs that appealed to him on an aesthetic level and would be perfect if only they were repainted.
At the top of that list were the Praxian-builds, although Smokescreen was a weak maybe due to the fact that Sunstreaker just knew the mech likely psychoanalyzed every mech he'd ever 'faced in his entire life - definite turn-off. Prowl and Bluestreak, though, seemed like the types to focus on their berthmate and enjoy the encounter for the mutually-pleasurable experience it should be.
Jazz... oh yes. Jazz was easy on the optics and fun to be around. He would probably spend hours teasing and pleasing a lover, driving both to distraction and to at least two or three marvelous overloads without ever touching his partner's cord or valve. There was something to be said about a few tactile overloads, although Sunstreaker preferred a good solid cord overload immediately after. Jazz would definitely be a marvelous lover. If only there were some green in his colour scheme...
And then there were the few minibots that appealed to the Lamborghini's optics. Windcharger was a swift little thing, not too bulky and not too tiny either. Replace those reds and grays with greens and whites, and Sunstreaker didn't doubt that he could keep up with the minibot for just as long as Windcharger was able to go. It was always those mechs that kept to themselves somewhat that were cybercats in the berth, and there was no doubt that Windcharger would be a wild one at that!
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So he really shouldn't be blamed for having a very healthy fantasy life even if he wasn't getting any in reality.
Sunstreaker slipped quietly into his quarters, grateful once again for the fact that Sideswipe had switched out to share a room with Wheeljack (granted, he didn't understand what his twin saw in the engineer, but at least one of them was getting 'faced through the berth on a regular basis... lucky slagger). Locking the door securely behind him, the yellow Lamborghini headed to his desk and pulled a datapad out of subspace, connecting it to his work terminal and letting out a shaky exvent. It had been risky carrying this particular datapad around with him, given the contents.
He'd initially meant to simply sketch out the mechs who he found pleasing to the optics aside from the lack of green in their plating, hoping that just an inked-out variation would be enough for him to fantasize about. However, he'd found himself debating on what shades would be best for each of his fantasy-repainted lovers, and by the time he was finished with the images they were in full living colour... all the better to fuel his dreams.
Sunstreaker opened up the file he'd saved all the images in, trying to decide which of the scenarios he wanted to view this evening. A few simple solo, coloured sketches had turned far too quickly into fantasies given life on a data screen, designed for his optics only and that he would be mortified should they fall into the wrong hands. The basic, life-sketch style images were skipped over, and the Lamborghini turned his attentions to the slightly more erotic fare he'd drawn.
Pulling up a slideshow of the sensual images, Sunstreaker slouched back in his chair and allowed his optics to drink in the slowly cycling visual feast. A deep green and white Prowl with doorwings hitched up as he nibbled on a sea-green and gray Bluestreak's neck, fingers teasing the other Praxian's valve. A pearlescent, shimmering green and gold Jazz lounging on a berth smirking at an invisible observer as he trailed his fingers across his chassis and along the tip of his erect cord. A camouflage-repainted Windcharger licking spilled transfluid from his dark fingertip with a sultry, come-hither glint to his optics. A yellow-green Bumblebee with violet stripes interspersed across his frame and a shamrock-green Cliffjumper with white and red detailing curled around one another, glossae delving into one another's valves and scratching at their counterpart's plating.
The Lamborghini purred softly as the images cycled through, the order shifting randomly so he was never quite sure which scene he would see next. His fingers lightly delved into transformation seams as he imagined himself into each of the scenes he'd drawn out, feeling his core temperature gradually rising with each renewed fantasy. He finally paused the slideshow on the image of Bumblebee and Cliffjumper, unlatching his interface cover and wrapping a hand around his painfully-erect cord as he let his imagination fill in the sounds of oral interfacing.
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The Lamborghini slipped his digits free, nearly laughing aloud at the disappointed whine he garnered from the deeper green minibot before lining his cord up and driving into that delicious little valve. Cliffjumper groaned, the sound muffled slightly by Bumblebee's valve, and the lighter green minibot whined in pleasure at the vibrations. Sunstreaker began to rock his hips slowly, enjoying both the tight clench of the valve wrapped so wetly around his cord and the soft rasps of Bumblebee's glossa as the second mini leaned down to get a taste.
Sunstreaker fairly howled as he overloaded hard, transfluid spilling over his fingers and electricity crackling throughout his entire frame. He slumped weakly in his seat, listening as his cooling fans worked hard to regulate his core temperature back to normal and frame popping slightly from the excess heat. After a moment he reached a shaky hand to the terminal and closed the file, disconnecting the datapad at the same time. He gave himself a few minutes to compose himself, eventually able to sit up straight and tuck the datapad back into subspace.
Sated for the moment and wryly amused that his fantasy life was so needlessly complex, Sunstreaker hauled himself to his feet and stumbled to his berth. He was in deep recharge before he hit the surface.
*****
AN: That's it thus far. There's definitely more to come. Next part, some minibot finds something he really shouldn't have and... reacts oddly. Stay tuned!
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I think his minibot one was my favourite. I know you're going to have Cliffjumper find it, and part of my brain keeps picturing him seeing it and going "WHUT." Bumblebee would probably just be mortified.
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That minibot one was fun to come up with. I have a bit of a fetish for minis, so that worked out well for me XD
And, as you can probably see in the update, it sort of broke poor Jumper's brain a bit. He'll get better.
(And I keep accidentally de-anoning. Anyone who gets these in your mail, please keep it on the hush for a while? I want to hold off on totally revealing who I am - as much as possible - until the end XD)
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...O_O So hot! *blushes*
Oh Sunstreaker, you devious mech! 'Having a very healthy fantasy life', indeed :D
So far, I really like what you wrote, dear anon author; it will be hard to wait for the next chapter ;D
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Sunstreaker's fantasy life is awesome. I would be jealous if I wasn't the one actually writing it out (although my own fantasies pale in comparison... I'm not quite as pervy as Sunny can get!)
Next bit is up now, and I will say right now that there will be at minimum two sex scenes. They're demanding smut, and I don't tend to argue when smut is demanded!
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*****
It was a generally accepted fact that Cliffjumper, for whatever reason, was under some long-term punishment detail from Ironhide and Red Alert to assist them with collecting the scouting reports from each mech who had been on a patrol mission at any time. No one knew what he'd done to deserve it, and most mechs were just happy that they didn't have to do it.
What no one but the security team and the special ops mechs knew, though, was that Cliffjumper technically was part of the security team. They were just all content with letting the majority of the crew think he was just another grunt in the army who'd seriously torqued off a superior and was being given scrap assignments for it; the truth of the matter was that it was far simpler for a slightly more approachable mech to collect the reports, and Cliffjumper was damned good at pulling off the I don't wanna do this anymore than you'd wanna, just give me the report and we can both get on with our lives vibe.
Jazz had several times expressed annoyance that Ironhide had snagged the minibot up first; Ironhide responded that Jazz had Bumblebee and to just get over it. The two minibots in question were just, in short, amused that they were so 'popular.'
"So the only reports left for to collect are the three Sunstreaker is still holding onto," Cliffjumper said quietly as he walked down the corridor with Bumblebee. "Once I get those and hand them over to Red, I'm clear for a week."
"Sideswipe actually turned in reports before his brother?" the yellow mini asked, optics wide with surprise.
Cliffjumper nodded. "I think it's probably because Jack told him he wasn't getting any until all his work was out of the way."
Bumblebee promptly whacked his frame-brother on the arm. "You're horrible," he huffed in feigned annoyance, following it up with a grin. "Although now that you mention it, I haven't seen either of them since I passed by Jack's lab this afternoon. You think they're...?"
"If they aren't swapping paint right now, I'll be surprised." Cliffjumper huffed an exasperated sigh through his vents. "Anyway, I should go track down Sunstreaker before it gets too much later. I'd like to enjoy a bit of time off."
"Alright," Bumblebee replied. He glanced around surreptitiously to see if there was anyone in visual range before leaning in and pecking the other mech's lips softly with his own. "I'm off to harass Mirage for a bit. Comm me when you're free."
Cliffjumper watched the other go and huffed out another sigh. He'd known Bumblebee for eons, longer than most mechs aboard the Ark realized, and in that time they'd shared more than a few secrets. They'd also shared a berth more than a few times, but mostly more in the capacity of friends with benefits than as long-term lovers. Bumblebee's current hoped-for conquest was his fellow ops mech, and Cliffjumper wished him the best of luck in dragging Mirage into his berth.
The red minibot turned the opposite direction and headed towards the rec room; he'd commed Red Alert just before bumping into Bumblebee to find out where Sunstreaker was, and chances were pretty good that the yellow Lamborghini would still be there. His hunch proved to be correct when he spotted his target shortly after walking through the door. He took a moment to admire the taller mech from a distance before approaching the table where Sunstreaker was slouching and pretending to listen to whatever Tracks was talking about today.
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Ignoring the wicked urge to drop onto the mech's lap and kiss him senseless just to see if that would get a reaction, Cliffjumper stopped by the table and allowed a put-out expression to cross his face. "Hey, Sunstreaker," he said, allowing just the right amount of I hate my life to slip into his tone.
Sunstreaker turned to face him, optics flickering slightly. And if Cliffjumper wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of gratitude in them as well; apparently Tracks was boring the mech more than usual. "Cliffjumper," he replied with a slight nod. "What brings you here?"
"Red is on my tailpipe about those reports you haven't turned in yet," the minibot huffed, rolling his head to one side in a gesture that fairly screamed aggravation with his superior officer. "If you got 'em, it'll make my life easier for a little while."
The Lamborghini half-grinned and pulled a datapad out of his subspace pocket. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I got a bit... distracted yesterday and forgot that I hadn't turned them in yet." As he spoke, he pulled a connector cable from the pad and offered it to the minibot.
Cliffjumper pulled his own datapad out and connected the proffered cable. "It's no big deal. Although try telling that to Red sometime and see what happens." He opened the transfer program and quickly made a copy of the file Sunstreaker had titled Reports to Keep Red Alert Off My Slagging Back (and privately snickering at the title; he was going to have to leave them in that folder when he transferred them to Red) before spotting what seemed to be a junk folder. The title was just Scraps, and most likely it contained little more than files that the mech intended to delete later, but Cliffjumper made a quick copy of it anyway. If nothing else, there were probably first drafts of the reports he'd just collected, and it was always interesting to see what didn't make it into a final copy.
"All done," he announced as he disconnected the cable and returned it to Sunstreaker, who smirked slightly as he tucked the cable and datapad back into his subspace pocket. "And now maybe the slagger will let me have a joor or two to relax already."
"Maybe if you kept outta trouble you wouldn't get scrap jobs so often," Sunstreaker opined, smirk broadening at the glare he received. "Hey, just a thought."
"I'll keep that in mind," the minibot drawled, letting a ghost of amusement flicker through his gaze before turning on his heel, not bothering to catch whatever expression his actions may have drawn. "Catch you later."
It took no time at all to deliver the last of the scouting reports to Red Alert - although the laughing fit that both Red and Ironhide had nearly collapsed into at the title for Sunstreaker's reports nearly made him lose it as well - and Cliffjumper soon found himself relaxing in the quarters he shared with Bumblebee most of the time. The other mini had said to comm him once he was finished, but Cliffjumper had spotted his friend getting quite cozy with Mirage just outside the Ark and decided to give the other mech enough time to hopefully seal the deal. Besides, a quiet night alone wasn't going to offline him.
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Oddly enough, it appeared to be a life drawing of a Praxian-framed mech, but not any that he could recall ever seeing. The mech in the image was a deep green and white, although something about his face plate seemed oddly familiar. Cliffjumper opened another file, this one another Praxian in a lighter green with gray accents with yet another familiar face plate. The minibot frowned slightly, resetting the colour calibration on his monitor before his optics widened in surprise; with the colours removed completely from the images he could easily recognize both Prowl and Bluestreak.
He restored the colour settings and leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the desk as he looked over the two images. For some odd reason, Sunstreaker had captured the two Praxians' frames and faces perfectly yet opted to colour them in shades of green. It was... odd, yet there were no protocols against a soldier creating repainted art of fellow soldiers or officers. Cliffjumper was both confused and more curious than before, so he opened the next four files to find repaints of Jazz in green and gold, Windcharger in camouflage (which looked pretty good on the mech), Bumblebee in a vaguely yellow-green with purple accenting, and to his shock one of himself in a warm leafy green with red and white accents. And there were still several additional files he hadn't even touched yet. Suspecting that he'd find more drawings of fellow Autobots repainted, the minibot clicked the next item in the folder.
And almost immediately closed the file when he realized that it was a fairly - no, scratch that, a very pornographic rendering of himself and his best friend locked in a private moment.
Cliffjumper stared at the now-blank screen, trying to make any kind of sense of what he'd just seen and coming up blank. He automatically disconnected the datapad and slipped it back into subspace before moving to the berth and dropping onto it heavily. It was several hours later before he dropped into a fitful recharge, still trying to figure out what the purpose of those images could be and why he would be included in the collection.
*****
AN: So, Cliffjumper has stumbled across something that he doesn't quite understand. Will Sunstreaker find out that his secret files aren't so secret anymore? Or will CJ keep his mouth shut?
...pfft. Next up, Sunny gets an unexpected visitor.
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Scraps. Oh Sunstreaker. You need to hide your porn better. And not keep it on a datafile you hand reports in on. That's just dumb bro.
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I also have this thing for unusual pairings; I blame tf_rare_pairing for that honour gladly XD
In Sunstreaker's defense, he honestly thought that no one would think twice about that file if they stumbled across his datapad. It half-worked; Jumper probably would have ignored it if he wasn't... well, if he wasn't Cliffjumper! But yeah, that was a boneheaded move on Sunny's part.
...on the plus side, he'll get laid. Win/win?
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Also, recaptcha is... fun: curves interest.
...why yes, Cliffjumper; Sunstreaker is interested in your curves.
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Can't wait for more anon!
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