Chapter Six

[girloz14]

Typewith: http://typewith.me/organicsaregrossbutalsokindahot

Title: The Best Secretarybots a Magnus Could Ask For

Rating: This entire fanfic has no porn, but does have adult themes.

Summary: Optimus and Orion have a plan to bond to Ultra Magnus, and not even overenthusiastic Decepticons, a far too large and disorganized datapad storage, or not enough energon will get in their way.

Warning: Twins, near starvation, threesomes, mentions of possible foursomes or moresomes, and absolutely no porn.



It is about a klik later that Megatron lands lightly in front of them, pointed peds touching the ground rather than landing as a spaceship. "Let's get you some of the candy here, shall we?"

They stand to guide him to the concession stand. "Optimus, Orion," the bot there says cheerfully. "No Sentinel or Elita this sol? Will you still be wanting our energon bars?"

Orion tips his head towards Megatron, "We are on duty right now. Perhaps something a little less-"

"I'm sure they would love a tray of whatever they normally get," Megatron interjects, holding out a credit pad. "If possible, give them something nicer than the normal."

The bot nods, "How large of a tray?"

Megatron smiles, optics dim as he looks at the twins, "The largest, I think. They still need to recover from that energon deprivation."

The twins keep from looking guilty or anything like that, this bot is the largest gossip they know, and that's going to be all over by the time they leave. They just hope the largest part about the gossip chain will be the fact that they're with Decepticons that are insisting on fueling them, rather than the fact that they were half offline.

When their tray is offered to them, it's too large for either bot to hold on their own, and Megatron takes it from them. "Come. I wouldn't mind sampling a few of these treats myself." He takes them back to the bleachers, and they sit down, one on either side of Megatron. They'd rather be together, but Megatron had insisted. They're pretty sure he intends to have them move up onto his lap to be together.

They're each handed a bar at first, and they each eat it cautiously, not really sure if this is what will be happening for each of them. They know they can't eat too many before they get overcharged, and hope that isn't the plan.

At the next bar pulled out, Megatron sprinkles a light dusting of the lacewing over top of it, "I think you should share this one, and tell me what you think of it."

They glance at each other over his legs, and then crawl up onto his lap to share it.

He just put fragging lacewing on it. They're not going to object to putting on a little show for him. Orion takes a bite when it's offered to him, and immediately moans, the delicate lacewing dust melting on his glossa, mixing with the energon treat in a way that makes him want to sprawl out and let the mech do whatever he wants to get more of it.

He's thankful his twin is there, so they can kiss and touch the entire way through the treat. They eat it slowly to draw it out, unwilling to eat it quickly, no matter how delicious it is. They lick the other's servos clean, glossas flicking in finger joints to get it all. They end with a long drawn out kiss, each running their glossas in the other's mouth to get more of it.

Megatron's chest is very hot by the time they're done, and the other three Decepticons are landing to see what has their leader so distracted. Starscream leans chest to Megatron's back, rubbing against the larger bot as he says, "Want to try some more, little bots?"

They're pretty sure if they eat another that way they're going to be opened up and overloaded in public, which is not generally accepted in Autobot society. Decepticons may be all for public interfacing so long as sparklings aren't around, but Autobots don't take kindly to spark grinding where any bot can see you.

Not unless you're in special clubs for that sort of thing.

They look at each other nervously, trying to figure out a polite way to decline, when Megatron runs a servo on their frames, "I think that it would be a wonderful idea."

They shift unhappily, and are grateful when Lugnut taps his pincers together nervously, "My lord, we are getting quite close to the time to head to treaty discussions. I don't think that the Magnus will take kindly to us not showing up on time because of this."

Megatron frowns, "You are correct, Lugnut. We'll have to fly there to get in time." The mech smirks, "I apologize for this, Optimus and Orion," the bot nods to the wrong twin as he says their names, "but we'll have to carry you if you want to be there. Do you have a preference?" Large fingers pet at their seams, "I was thinking that Lugnut and I could hold you."

"Could Lugnut carry us both?" Optimus squirms, moaning softly when the Decepticon leader rubs over his sparkplates. He really wants to flash his spark through his clear plates, but if they reveal they have a mod like that, Optimus thinks that the Decepticons might decide to botnap them.

Better to resist the urge.

Megatron hums softly, "Only if Lugnut says he wants to." The mech looks over to the purple and green bot, "Would you like to hold them both?"

Lugnut blushes faintly, "I would not say no, my lord."

"Very well." They are handed over to Lugnut, and the tray placed in their servos, "Do put those away, I don't want to come visit you, only to find you both half starved again."

They tuck the sweets into their subspaces, and Optimus gives the vial of lacewing a longing look before turning to nuzzle his cheek against Lugnut's chest. The larger bot flushes again, his spark pulsing with a comforting warmth. "Thank you, Lord Megatron. We will be sure to stay properly fueled." Now that you forced us to confess to the Magnus and seek his pity. They're given pats on their frames by Blitzwing and Starscream, far more groping from the seeker, and they all take to the skies.

The very first thing they notice is that their frames are not happy about this, tanks churning at the feeling of being so high up. They cling together, and press close to Lugnut in quiet terror, thankful for the mech's comforting spark so close to them. They imagine it would be worse if they weren't being held by such a large bot with such a safe feeling spark.

At the same time, the speed feels fantastic, and they are caught feeling half-nauseous and half-elated the entire trip back. When they're placed on the ground at Autobot Command, Orion wants to kiss the ground with joy, but he stops himself. "Thank you for the ride back. We have more work to do-"

"No, you don't," the Magnus interrupts, and they spin around to face him. "You'll be settling in to your new quarters." His expression is weary, "I saw the work you've done on the datapad storage. I believe we owe you a pay increase for that job. I intend to discuss it with the finance department later."

They hold each other's servos tightly, "We're fine how we are, sir." Which is a blatant lie, they can't even afford energon, not with how they're saving for that paintjob.

Ultra gives them a flat look, "I've told you both it is unbecoming of a Autobot to lie. You will not do it again." They keep from flinching, just holding servos even tighter. The Magnus rubs his optics, "Normally I'd tell you to come with me as we do the treaty, but this is far more important than that. I'm sure Lord Megatron can agree."

Megatron smiles, "Indeed, Ultra Magnus."

Ultra continues before Megatron can suggest coming /with/ the twins to the apartment, "You will be escorted by Ironhide to your new place."

The orange mech waits nearby-the Magnus has clearly planned this out in advance-and the twins turn to Megatron. "We hope your trip out this sol was pleasant. We have little experience as guides, but we hope that our services have made you appreciate Cybertron more."

Megatron arches an optic ridge at Orion's word choice. "Your . . . services have been excellent."

"Thank you, lord Megatron." The nod their heads at the bot, turning to Starscream and Blitzwing, "We hope you had a good time as well."

"Oh, we did, li-" Starscream glances over at Megatron and Ultra, "Optimus and Orion."

They move over to Lugnut, pulling the bot down before he can protest, and they each kiss him on the cheek. They would have kissed him on the mouth, but Ultra would have disapproved of that. "We are glad to have met you, Lugnut. We've never met a bot quite like you before." They wish they could have rubbed their plates against him, but they content themselves with nuzzling their faces against his.

A loud cough startles them away from Lugnut, and Ultra Magnus stares at them, utterly unapologetic. "You should go retrieve your things and settle in to your new quarters now, Minors."

They stand at attention and salute him, "Yes, sir," they say in unison, walking over to Ironhide. "We are ready to go whenever you are, Ironhide."

The mech nods, "Let's head down to the datapad storage, then?"

They glance at each other, "Unless the fold-out berth has been removed already."

Ironhide nods, "The apartment, then. That was already taken." The bot tilts his head, "Let's transform and rollout, then?"

They glance over to where Blitzwing is still standing, and shake their heads, "We'll walk for now."

When they're out of sight of the Decepticons, they transform down, and Ironhide laughs at them. "Did'ya have fun with the 'Cons? I was expectin' ya to come back with more paint on ya."

They rev playfully at him, "Are you jealous, 'Hide? You know we have our sparks set on you."

The bot rams into Orion's side, knocking him off track, "Shut yer faces. You've got a relationship with the Magnus and Megatron right now. I think I rate pretty low on your 'to-be-'faced' list."

"The Magnus doesn't want to 'face us, and Megatron isn't a safe bot to 'face at all," they say, moving so that each of them are on either side of the bot. "And you're just so handsome."

The mech sighs, "Yer both absolutely horrible, you know that?"

They make kissy noises, cuddling close and sing-songing, "We do."

Inside Autobot Command, things are sectioned into different parts used for different purposes. Some of the lowest levels of the base are intended as military quarters, and Optimus and Orion have been given a set of them. Ironhide enters them into the lock system for the rooms, and guides them inside.

"The Magnus set up a nice place for ya here. Got you one of the fully furnished places, with a berth large enough for him to come visit ya."

They blink at the place, amazed that there are rooms. They're used to one room, and this is positively extravagant. "Is... is that a private washrack?"

Ironhide rolls his optics, "Yeah. It isn't very big, but ya got one."

They share a look of barely concealed excitement, they've never had a private washrack. Even on Haydon IV with their creators, they all used the public washracks. "This is better than anything we could have hoped for!"

It's hard to believe this is only costing half of their pay. /I think we should thank the Magnus for this,/ Orion says to his brother, /with our glossas. Maybe we can sneak into his berth./

Optimus rolls his optics, /That's a terrible idea. He'd just toss us out. And then we'd be back to square one./ He pulls Orion into the washrack, "Go ahead and get going, Ironhide. We're going to test the washrack now." He flickers his optics, "Unless you'd like to join us."

The mech snorts, heading to the door, "And get in trouble with the Magnus for taking ya? Frag that."

They both blow kisses and and call out to him as he leaves, then go straight to the washrack. They need to test how good the solvent is.

With their sparks.

When they show up the next sol, they're amazed to see Ultra already there before them. The mech gives them a sad smile, "I have something I need to discuss with you in my office. Would you please join me?"

/Frag. He's going to fire us after all, and just didn't want to do it in front of Megatron,/ Orion curses, but keeps a neutral expression on his face as he nods. "Yes, sir." He links servos with Optimus-not the most professional of behavior for them, but certainly not the worst either.

The Magnus sits at his desk, servos folded on top of it. He gestures for them to sit in the chairs opposite him, and they do. "I was speaking with the financial department, and we found an . . . error in your pay."

Optimus's spark sinks. How the frag are they supposed to afford anything with even fewer credits? Orion holds even tighter, somehow they manage to keep their voices from shaking, "Yes, sir?"

Ultra looks horribly upset, and they just want to leave. At least they won't have to go through this if they aren't there. A text message informing them they're fired and the paycheck they hoped for wasn't coming would be better than this. They fight the urge to just stand up and go.

The Magnus sighs sadly, "You've been working every sol but the ones that I told you that you weren't allowed to be here, correct?"

They nod reluctantly, that is grounds for being fired, and their sparks sink. They're going to be fired for working too hard, even though they kept up with the schoolwork in addition to this. "Yes, sir," they murmur softly.

"It's worse than I thought, then," Ultra sighs. "You've been underpaid. There was a mistake in the accounting computers, and the pay you've received has been less than a fourth of what you should be earning. And that was the pay rate you'd have been making if you'd been working the number of sols you were supposed to, and not doing nearly twice that much. That goes on top of the fact that the tasks I've been assigning you-unknowingly or not-are tasks that deserve a higher pay-grade."

They give Ultra a shocked look, "Y-you aren't firing us?"

Ultra gives them a stunned look, "What? Why would I-" The bot shakes his head, "You are not being fired. Get that thought out of your processors. You're getting a pay raise and the back wages you're owed. Especially since you're still going to be working on sorting the datapads. It is no wonder you were almost starving when if that's what you were being paid."

They give each other a cautious look, "I-if you say so, sir. Are we just going to be doing the datapad sorting?" The thought makes their sparks clench, if they are, they won't be able to get near Ultra at all.

The Magnus sighs softly, "You are both the best secretarybots I've ever had. I also hired you to be my secretary, even if it wasn't my idea at first." The mech looks them in the optics, "But if you'd like to just work in the datapad sorting, I will not tell you no."

"No," Orion objects, "no, we like working with you. There are two of us, and you really don't need both of us working as your secretary at the same time. The arrangement we have going will work just fine for us, if it will work for you as well."

The Magnus nods, "It will." He slides a datapad across the desk, and a credit transfer pad as well. "This is your renegotiated pay, and the amount of backpay you are owed."

Optimus stares at both with wide optics. "Sir, secretarybots are not paid this much."

"Mine are."

They both look up at the Magnus, absolutely stunned. After a bit, they finally get themselves together, "Thank you, sir. We'll get right to work."

Ultra raises a servo to stop them from getting up, "Take the sol off. You overwork yourselves terribly." They're about to protest when the Magnus frowns at them, "I know that you were working far into the night before. You won't be doing that now. I want you to be fully rested each sol."

Sheepishly, they duck their heads and agree. "Yes, sir. We'll come to work fully rested."

It's not like they want to stay up late reorganizing pads if they don't have to. It's tedious, dull, and fragging complicated, now that they've made their way into harder dialects.

"Get going. I don't want to see you in the office until tomorrow," the Magnus scolds them, shooing them out of his office. "I expect you to be on time, and properly fueled."

They pause at the door, looking back shyly, "Should we com you and tell you when you should leave, sir? We know you work too hard, as well."

The Magnus looks like he's about to tell them no, but then nods, "It would be hypocritical of me to tell you to do this, but refuse to allow you to tell me the same. If you think it is something that is needed, you are allowed to tell me to stop working and go home."

They flicker their optics prettily, "Yes, sir."

He wags a finger at them, "If you're using it to send me home whenever you feel like it, I have the right to ignore you."

They flush. Their intention had been more along the lines of getting him home so they could frag his spark, but they'll let him think otherwise if he wants. "Yes, sir."

Orion pulls his brother out of the room before the Magnus can add any more rules. /Holy slag, Optimus. Are we really going to be earning that many credits for the next vorn?/

/No,/ Optimus corrects him, /We'll be earning that credit level until we finish in the datapad storage. After that, we'll drop back down to secretary pay, although that's still quite a bit more than we were expecting./

They pull each other close, giggling softly as they head out of the headquarters, /What should we do with our sol off?/

Optimus shrugs, pressing a tiny kiss to his twin's lips, /We still have to talk to Elita. She's going to demand to know everything that happened while we were with the Decepticons./

/I don't want to talk to Elita right now./ Orion makes a tiny face, /Do you?/

/Not really, she'll try to shove us down and use our sparks when we tell her we didn't 'face any of them. She's very pushy, and I don't want to deal with a femme./

/We could contact Hot Rod. I bet he'd like to take us out on a date. Racecars are always fun in the berth, too./ Orion nuzzles against him. /We've got the credits to hit someplace NICE for celebration./

Optimus nods, and adds, /I wouldn't say no to going out someplace tonight. It could be fun./

Orion beams, /Do you want to com him, or should I? See if he has the sol off, or if we need to wait until later./

/I think we both should, so he remembers us. Racecars give their frequencies out to pretty much anyone that catches their optics. We want him to remember WE'RE special./

Orion nuzzles into his brother, /I don't think he'd have forgotten us in just a single sol. He got us that tray of crystals./

/A delicious tray of crystals. Perhaps we can thank him by . . . sharing them with him./ Optimus presses his fingers to his temple, waiting for Hot Rod to pick up.

"Hello?" the bot asks, unsure of the identity of his caller.

"Hello, Hot Rod," Optimus purrs over the line. "I hope it's not too soon to call about that date."

"Never," comes the enthusiastic reply, and both twins grin at each other, having connected up so they can both talk. "Just... who is this?"

They both make a mock disappointed sound, "You don't remember us? We're hurt. You'd think we'd stick in your processor, but maybe you see things like that every sol."

They can almost hear the ping of recognition and the mech thinking 'The hot twins!' making them giggle softly. "Of course I do, but you never actually told me your names."

"We didn't? How remiss of us, Hot Rod. Well-" they stop talking in tandem.

"I'm Optimus."

"And I'm Orion."

They return to talking together, "It's okay if you can't tell the difference in our voices."

"We do have the exact same model of vocal processor, after all," Orion purrs. He shares a sly look with Optimus, and adds, "Means we sound the same in the berth, too, you know? But I'll share a little secret with you, Roddy. Optimus has a ticklish spot that I don't."

Optimus elbows him sharply, "I do not."

Hot Rod chuckles, "Well, we'll have to wait until I get off work to find that out. My creators expect me to stay here at least three megacycles a sol."

They make soft disappointed sounds, "How much longer until we can go out?"

There's a soft laugh on the other side of the line, "At least three megacycles. You're welcome to come visit and take a tour again. I can show you some things that we didn't before."

They mock gasp, "You keep crystals hidden from the leader of the Decepticons when he came to visit?"

"We kept it hidden when we saw he brought a seeker in a berthbot gag."

"Oh, how naughty, Rod. Are you going to show us your cora collection?" Optimus pulls Orion close to him, trying to stifle his twin's quiet laughter. "I love to see a good cluster of cora."

The bot on the other end laughs for them, "Sure, if you want. Not sure why big patches of blue and purple cora do it for you, but you're welcome to pay them a visit when you're over."

They giggle happily, "We'd love to see it. Should we head right over, or do you want us to wait the three megacycles?"

"You're welcome to come right over, but it will be a little boring. You went to the racetrack after visiting us that first time, you can wait over there, and I can escort you back to my place when I'm done."

"Your creators work in the garden?" Optimus asks, curious about why they expect him to stay there every sol.

Another laugh, "Hardly. They own the garden, and our home is attached to it. I'm working here until I can convince them to let me join the Elite Guard."

The guidebot was from a wealthy family, then. How unexpected. Most wealthy bots did not make their sparklings do any work at all.

They smile at each other, "We'd love to see you at the racetrack, then. Com us when you're done working."

"Of course. I look forward to seeing you again." The bot disconnects, and they giggle at each other.

They change the course they were using slightly, going more directly to the racetrack. /I wonder who will be there. They'll be surprised to see us, won't they?/

Due to their credit situation, they'd never gone to the track two sols in a row. /Maybe they'll think we've decided to start selling our sparks on the side? I know a few of them would pay for it here./

A few of the bots on the racetrack had flat-out offered to pay for the privilege of 'facing them. It had always been the last resort back-up plan, if they could not earn credits any other way.

They're glad it's never gotten that bad.