FIC: Lies of Omission (Human Series)
Lies of Omission
By Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Bumblebee/Sam, Others
Rated R
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Greeks Bearing Gifts
In a Dark Ruby Stain
Interruptions in the Key of C
Half to Rise, Half to Fall
Moments of Forgiveness
Topics of Conversation
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
Note: Has it really been that long since I posted on this series? Yeesh. Well, for the two of you who are still waiting, here it is. More to come and certainly sooner than before. Now that I've seen the new movie, I ran out of excuses. ;)
~~*~~
It was bad enough to be sitting in the infirmary with an actual injury for a change. Worse to be trying not to remember what had brought him here, do not think of icy cold lips against his own, Sam told himself, not chilly fingers touching. Even worse to be sitting here getting a groove going for Ratchet even if Ratchet didn't seem to care much about it.
Add in one leader of the Autobots who was going to be asking for explanations and Sam figured he was going for worst day ever. At this point a Decepticon attack would be anti-climatic, the sour center to his shit-candy day.
But no one attacked in the moment it took Optimus to step towards them, his concern visible so Sam figured he was just going to have to roll with what he had. As in, lie.
"Optimus," Sam said with the bright enthusiasm of one under the influence of excellent pain medication. "Good to see you, man, good to see you."
Optimus nodded gravely in that way he had that never made Sam feel like he was a kid or stupid or...or anything. Optimus treated him like he was someone important, always had, and now he was going to sit here and lie to him, God, he was such an asshole.
Without waiting for Sam to get past his internal crisis, Optimus crouched next to them and surely he was already doing whatever the weird x-ray thing Autobots did. Sam kinda hoped it wasn't some kind of radiation. He really didn't want to add any mutations to the weirdness that was around him lately.
"How is he?" Optimus asked, his deep voice a quiet vibration that surrounded them and to Sam's growing, undying shame, the sound of it kindled the flame of his dying lust. His flagging hard-on perked back to life, straining against his jeans and of course if Ratchet had known it before, he probably damn well knew it now. Optimus probably knew it too, Christ, they both probably thought he had some freaky robotic kink, and geez, did he? Here he was with a broken arm and a boner, this wasn't right, this wasn't--
If Ratchet was worried about Sam's status as a possible Autobot pervert, he didn't show it. He didn't even look up as he spoke.
"Minor damage," Ratchet confirmed, still focused on Sam's arm. Only he could get away without looking at Prime when he wanted answers. "It's already healing."
"What happened?" Optimus demanded.
"He fell," Ratchet said succinctly. Sam tried to look as if that was exactly what had happened and there was no freakishness with the resident Autobot twins, not one bit. That was something he'd deal with later, preferably without Ratchet and Optimus present.
"Where?"
Sam blinked. "Huh?"
"Where?" Optimus repeated with slow patience. "Where did you fall?"
Okay, the plan, what little he'd had of one, wasn't working well. Ratchet obviously knew something was up even though he wasn't calling Sam on it, and Optimus was just staring at him, waiting for him, trusting him, and it wasn't a complicated question, he should have an answer.
"Getting out of bed," San blurted out and it was with resigned horror that he heard Ratchet say at the same moment, "In the shower."
Shit. Well, points to Ratchet for trying, anyway.
"I was getting out of bed to take a shower," Sam tried, weakly, and okay, there was no way Optimus would go for that, not a chance.
"I wish you would have told me that when you came in, Sam, I wouldn't have lectured you for attempting to shower alone," Ratchet said smoothly. "I do hope you will be more careful in the future. You are still recovering." And it was then that Sam forgave Ratchet for anything, everything, past and future because Sam might suck at lying to Optimus but luckily it seemed he was in the presence of a master.
"Sure. Yes. Absolutely," Sam said fervently. Ratchet glanced up and his stern expression made Sam snap his mouth shut so hard he bit his tongue. Don't overdo it, right, listen to the master.
And right now the master was still doing...things...to Sam's arm, his focus completely on that and that seemed like a great idea to Sam who started watching him intently. Easy enough, his head was still spinning, Look at the doc, not at the leader, look at the doc, not at the leader.
Soft sound of hydraulics whirring next to him and Sam couldn't help sneaking a glance up, watched as Optimus pressed his thumb and forefingers against his temples like his head ached. Could an Autobot get a headache? If so, he would have to bet that Optimus went through mega-sized bottles of Advil by the day because surely he and Bumblebee couldn't be the only headache-inducing trouble out there. He hoped.
"Let me see if I understand. You both want me to believe that you sustained a spiral arm fracture by falling?" Optimus looked kind of weird without his face plate, Sam decided, unsteadily. Not in a bad way, the lines of his face were cast in a soft blue glow from his optics, interesting really, almost attractive...Sam only realized he was listing to one side when large metal hand settled on his back, holding him upright and he offered both Ratchets a beaming smile. Oh, Optimus was still waiting.
"Yes?" Sam tried, echoed by Ratchet's, "Of course."
"Even though that type of injury is most likely caused by a grabbing or twisting motion?"
"Isn't that the weirdest thing? I always get the weirdest injuries, I bet my mom could tell you some stories, you should ask her. This scar right here, I got--"
"Sam," Optimus broke in, resignedly. "We brought you here to keep you safe. Thus far, you've sustained more physical and emotional trauma in our presence than anything the Decepticons have done to you."
"That's not true-" Sam started but whatever patience Optimus always had with him had finally seemed to reach its limit because Optimus interrupted him.
"Ratchet," Optimus began, sharply, and his tone made Sam wince, he'd never heard Optimus talk like that and it was worse, so much worse when he continued in Cybertronian and Ratchet answered him the same way, finally pulling his attention away from Sam's poor, abused arm and he sounded angry, he sounded--
It was weird, Sam thought, wavering a little even with Ratchet's support. The chair beneath him felt unsteady, the walls shimmering like looking through a fire. It was weird because he felt as though if he concentrated, he would know what they were saying, Optimus was demanding...he was...Ratchet didn't know what was happening, he'd told them before this was...this was...
No.
A sharp whine started low in his hearing, barely heard, flaring abruptly into the sharp scream of static feedback and Ratchet jerked away from him with a cry of pain, his holo form flickering abruptly out as his robotic one clutched at his head, at his audio receptors, Sam realized dimly. Ratchet would have fallen, possibly on Sam, if Optimus hadn't grabbed his arm and held him steady.
"Easy," Optimus said, his anger forgotten in the face of concern as he carefully lowered Ratchet to the ground.
"I'm fine," Ratchet said, irritably, jerking away from Optimus's gentle grip with a squeal of metal against metal. "Just a feedback loop. I was touching him when-"
He broke off, shaking his head a little and okay, Sam was out of it but he wasn't fucking stupid, thank you.
"What is going on?" Sam asked, his voice low.
Ratchet's holo flickered back into existence, reaching for Sam's arm. "It's nothing to concern yourself with at this moment," he began, frowning when Sam drew away from him.
"Screw that, you were just talking about me, I heard you."
"We were," Ratchet agreed, calmly, and he took Sam's arm in both hands, holding him firmly. "But right now my only concern is properly healing your arm so that there are no lingering aftereffects of your injury."
"Fuck my arm and fuck you! You were speaking another language and I-" That sharp sound rose again, whining feedback and Sam clutched his free hand over his ear, god, make it stop, make it stop!
It cut off as suddenly as it began, severed so sharply that Sam nearly felt it. "Don't do that!" Ratchet gasped and his fingers on Sam's arm trembled, "You shouldn't even be able to!"
"I'm not trying to!" Sam hissed and he could still feel it, trying to push through whatever was blocking it.
"I am trying to keep it from becoming agonizing but I can't control your receptors forever," Ratchet said tightly. "If you wouldn't mind taking a deep breath and calming yourself before you rupture both our audio receivers?"
Calm down. Right. Easy to do with anger bursting from his brain and a boner bursting through his pants. Only, Ratchet looked like he was in actual pain, the strain of whatever he was doing showing on both his faces so Sam did as he said, took a deep breath, another, and maybe it was helping, just relax a little before he gave Ratchet the Autobot equivalent of a stroke.
There. It was easing, he was sure of it, some of the tightness leaving Ratchet's face and Sam thought maybe he could control whatever this was, maybe he could...and the doors burst inward as Bumblebee's holo ran in, pale with concern, hair tousled and green, green eyes and he looked...God, he looked--
It was like a flash went off in Sam's brain, a brilliant pop!snap that had him on his feet, ignoring Ratchet's surprised protest as he followed the pull of it over to Bumblebee, pushed past his raised hands to covered that soft, startled mouth with his own. Tasted fear and arousal, the wet slick heat of it perfect, this, this was what he needed, fuck, yes, this.
"Sam, what are you--" Bumblebee managed, broke off when Sam pushed their mouths together again, biting hard at Bee's lower lip. No talking, no, not when he needed this so, so much, not when he tried to push Bumblebee to the floor and found that he could, the shocked resistance so easy to ignore and Bee felt so good straining against him. The line of his body was warm and the floor was cool against his knees as Sam straddled Bee, shifting enough to mouth hot bites along his jaw to his ear, nipped the soft lobe and relishing Bee's little gasps.
"Want you," Sam managed, thickly, already pushing against him, rocking their hips together. The white heat memory of pain from his arm was nothing like the one burning inside him, a tangled knot of pure desire burning through his guts. Couldn't help murmuring his pleasure as Bumblebee's protests slid away and melted into yielding.
Clothes were not a hindrance to be born and Sam tugged at them impatiently, grumbling into Bee's mouth and wondered why the hell Bee didn't just make them gone, he could do that, he could do anything, but he didn't need to ask, they opened anyway under his fumbling, stupid hand, his other hand was useless for some reason he couldn't quite remember and Bumblebee was holding it anyway, refused to let Sam try to use it.
Distantly, he thought he might hear voices, someone talking that wasn't Bumblebee, which meant they didn't matter at all. If he could just get this, if he could just get that connection everything would be all right, everything would be great, perfect, and all he needed was for Bumblebee to quit squirming and let him.
"Sam...stop..." Bee tried, his voice jagged with static, "Here, let me-" He managed to slip a hand in Sam's jeans, circled him with a firm grip that promised happy times and orgasms but...no. Sam tore his mouth away from Bee's.
"No!" he argued, frantically, trying to tug Bee's hand away and wriggle out of his jeans at the same time. "I need to be inside you. You inside me, I don't care I need...I...connection. Please!"
"Sam, you need control," Bumblebee gasped and it was dimly hilarious and totally unfair that he was so coherent.
"Please!"
Bumblebee pulled away enough to glare over Sam's shoulder and he spared an uncaring glance back, saw Ratchet and Optimus standing there, peering at them with equal amounts of interest and concern, respectively. It didn't matter to Sam, not to the growing ache inside him but Bumblebee didn't seem to share his disregard.
"Do you mind?" he hissed, breaking off on a moan when Sam bit his ear, demanding his attention. Come on, come on....
"Not particularly," Ratchet said, his gaze avid until Optimus gave him a rough shove in the direction of the door. "Oh, all right," he grumbled. "Watch that arm, I'm not finished with it."
The low vibration of their steps trembled through Sam like a caress that slowly faded as they stepped out of the infirmary.
Alone, finally, and the floor was cold, the room too-bright and full of bizarre tools and equipment but Bumblebee was finally, finally here and he wasn't fighting anymore. Nothing but hot, hard kisses, nothing like the wintry touch of Sunstreaker... Sam cut that thought off before it could fully form. There was no room for it here, not with Bumblebee beneath him, his fingers trembling, his lips kiss-swollen and hot.
Between the two of them, they managed to wriggle Sam's jeans down to tangle messily at his shoes, bare enough and Bumblebee's clothes were no obstacle at all, gone with a thought and there were no barriers anymore, nothing but bareness between them.
"Wait--" Bee tried, too late, Sam was already shifting, arching back and whimpering a little at the feel of it, finally, Bumblebee inside him and here was what he needed, connection, yes, hot flesh invading him in all the best ways. A faint ache of pain layered beneath it, a deep stretch but it didn't matter, nothing mattered but this connection.
Yes, Sam thought he said, yes, but there was no sound, only an echo from Bumblebee, purple/electric, that almost-taste that meant Bumblebee heavy in his mouth, inside his head, the pulse point of their bodies moving together and Sam was shuddering with it before he even fully realized what it was, collapsing against Bee in a damp, shivering wreck.
Shhh, it's all right, a faint little murmur, slim fingers threading tenderly through Sam's hair as he trembled, clutched at Bee with one hand like he was the only thing keeping him on the ground. I have you. I have you, it's all right....
Quieter and quieter until finally there was silence, a tiny severing click that Sam almost felt and he was alone in his head.
It was like a curtain dropped from over his eyes, one that had been there so long he'd forgotten it was there and suddenly everything that had happened today came flooding back to him and he saw it through new eyes. Ratchet, Sunstreaker, oh, god--
Sam carefully pushed himself up with his free hand, noting distantly he was sticky and starting to get cold, and he was also pretty damned sore just about everywhere, except for his injured arm that Bee was still holding, still encased in whatever sci-fi cast that Ratchet used.
Hesitantly, Sam tugged free of Bee's grip and Bee let him, eyes dark with concern. He'd heard Bee, Sam realized numbly, heard him inside his head.
Sam wet his lips, felt the dry catch of them against his tongue before he whispered, "What's wrong with me?"
He wondered if he could stand to hear the answer.
-fin
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By Keelywolfe
Fandom: Transformers
Bumblebee/Sam, Others
Rated R
Summary: A continuation of the ‘human’ series, which are in order:
Forms of Life
Too Human
Experiments in Human Nature
Public Education
Knee-Jerk Reaction
Nervous System Hypothesis
Different Applications of Moral Support
This Body Electric
The Unconscious Mind
Subliminal Messages
Greeks Bearing Gifts
In a Dark Ruby Stain
Interruptions in the Key of C
Half to Rise, Half to Fall
Moments of Forgiveness
Topics of Conversation
Also the AU Attention Getting Device
Note: Has it really been that long since I posted on this series? Yeesh. Well, for the two of you who are still waiting, here it is. More to come and certainly sooner than before. Now that I've seen the new movie, I ran out of excuses. ;)
~~*~~
It was bad enough to be sitting in the infirmary with an actual injury for a change. Worse to be trying not to remember what had brought him here, do not think of icy cold lips against his own, Sam told himself, not chilly fingers touching. Even worse to be sitting here getting a groove going for Ratchet even if Ratchet didn't seem to care much about it.
Add in one leader of the Autobots who was going to be asking for explanations and Sam figured he was going for worst day ever. At this point a Decepticon attack would be anti-climatic, the sour center to his shit-candy day.
But no one attacked in the moment it took Optimus to step towards them, his concern visible so Sam figured he was just going to have to roll with what he had. As in, lie.
"Optimus," Sam said with the bright enthusiasm of one under the influence of excellent pain medication. "Good to see you, man, good to see you."
Optimus nodded gravely in that way he had that never made Sam feel like he was a kid or stupid or...or anything. Optimus treated him like he was someone important, always had, and now he was going to sit here and lie to him, God, he was such an asshole.
Without waiting for Sam to get past his internal crisis, Optimus crouched next to them and surely he was already doing whatever the weird x-ray thing Autobots did. Sam kinda hoped it wasn't some kind of radiation. He really didn't want to add any mutations to the weirdness that was around him lately.
"How is he?" Optimus asked, his deep voice a quiet vibration that surrounded them and to Sam's growing, undying shame, the sound of it kindled the flame of his dying lust. His flagging hard-on perked back to life, straining against his jeans and of course if Ratchet had known it before, he probably damn well knew it now. Optimus probably knew it too, Christ, they both probably thought he had some freaky robotic kink, and geez, did he? Here he was with a broken arm and a boner, this wasn't right, this wasn't--
If Ratchet was worried about Sam's status as a possible Autobot pervert, he didn't show it. He didn't even look up as he spoke.
"Minor damage," Ratchet confirmed, still focused on Sam's arm. Only he could get away without looking at Prime when he wanted answers. "It's already healing."
"What happened?" Optimus demanded.
"He fell," Ratchet said succinctly. Sam tried to look as if that was exactly what had happened and there was no freakishness with the resident Autobot twins, not one bit. That was something he'd deal with later, preferably without Ratchet and Optimus present.
"Where?"
Sam blinked. "Huh?"
"Where?" Optimus repeated with slow patience. "Where did you fall?"
Okay, the plan, what little he'd had of one, wasn't working well. Ratchet obviously knew something was up even though he wasn't calling Sam on it, and Optimus was just staring at him, waiting for him, trusting him, and it wasn't a complicated question, he should have an answer.
"Getting out of bed," San blurted out and it was with resigned horror that he heard Ratchet say at the same moment, "In the shower."
Shit. Well, points to Ratchet for trying, anyway.
"I was getting out of bed to take a shower," Sam tried, weakly, and okay, there was no way Optimus would go for that, not a chance.
"I wish you would have told me that when you came in, Sam, I wouldn't have lectured you for attempting to shower alone," Ratchet said smoothly. "I do hope you will be more careful in the future. You are still recovering." And it was then that Sam forgave Ratchet for anything, everything, past and future because Sam might suck at lying to Optimus but luckily it seemed he was in the presence of a master.
"Sure. Yes. Absolutely," Sam said fervently. Ratchet glanced up and his stern expression made Sam snap his mouth shut so hard he bit his tongue. Don't overdo it, right, listen to the master.
And right now the master was still doing...things...to Sam's arm, his focus completely on that and that seemed like a great idea to Sam who started watching him intently. Easy enough, his head was still spinning, Look at the doc, not at the leader, look at the doc, not at the leader.
Soft sound of hydraulics whirring next to him and Sam couldn't help sneaking a glance up, watched as Optimus pressed his thumb and forefingers against his temples like his head ached. Could an Autobot get a headache? If so, he would have to bet that Optimus went through mega-sized bottles of Advil by the day because surely he and Bumblebee couldn't be the only headache-inducing trouble out there. He hoped.
"Let me see if I understand. You both want me to believe that you sustained a spiral arm fracture by falling?" Optimus looked kind of weird without his face plate, Sam decided, unsteadily. Not in a bad way, the lines of his face were cast in a soft blue glow from his optics, interesting really, almost attractive...Sam only realized he was listing to one side when large metal hand settled on his back, holding him upright and he offered both Ratchets a beaming smile. Oh, Optimus was still waiting.
"Yes?" Sam tried, echoed by Ratchet's, "Of course."
"Even though that type of injury is most likely caused by a grabbing or twisting motion?"
"Isn't that the weirdest thing? I always get the weirdest injuries, I bet my mom could tell you some stories, you should ask her. This scar right here, I got--"
"Sam," Optimus broke in, resignedly. "We brought you here to keep you safe. Thus far, you've sustained more physical and emotional trauma in our presence than anything the Decepticons have done to you."
"That's not true-" Sam started but whatever patience Optimus always had with him had finally seemed to reach its limit because Optimus interrupted him.
"Ratchet," Optimus began, sharply, and his tone made Sam wince, he'd never heard Optimus talk like that and it was worse, so much worse when he continued in Cybertronian and Ratchet answered him the same way, finally pulling his attention away from Sam's poor, abused arm and he sounded angry, he sounded--
It was weird, Sam thought, wavering a little even with Ratchet's support. The chair beneath him felt unsteady, the walls shimmering like looking through a fire. It was weird because he felt as though if he concentrated, he would know what they were saying, Optimus was demanding...he was...Ratchet didn't know what was happening, he'd told them before this was...this was...
No.
A sharp whine started low in his hearing, barely heard, flaring abruptly into the sharp scream of static feedback and Ratchet jerked away from him with a cry of pain, his holo form flickering abruptly out as his robotic one clutched at his head, at his audio receptors, Sam realized dimly. Ratchet would have fallen, possibly on Sam, if Optimus hadn't grabbed his arm and held him steady.
"Easy," Optimus said, his anger forgotten in the face of concern as he carefully lowered Ratchet to the ground.
"I'm fine," Ratchet said, irritably, jerking away from Optimus's gentle grip with a squeal of metal against metal. "Just a feedback loop. I was touching him when-"
He broke off, shaking his head a little and okay, Sam was out of it but he wasn't fucking stupid, thank you.
"What is going on?" Sam asked, his voice low.
Ratchet's holo flickered back into existence, reaching for Sam's arm. "It's nothing to concern yourself with at this moment," he began, frowning when Sam drew away from him.
"Screw that, you were just talking about me, I heard you."
"We were," Ratchet agreed, calmly, and he took Sam's arm in both hands, holding him firmly. "But right now my only concern is properly healing your arm so that there are no lingering aftereffects of your injury."
"Fuck my arm and fuck you! You were speaking another language and I-" That sharp sound rose again, whining feedback and Sam clutched his free hand over his ear, god, make it stop, make it stop!
It cut off as suddenly as it began, severed so sharply that Sam nearly felt it. "Don't do that!" Ratchet gasped and his fingers on Sam's arm trembled, "You shouldn't even be able to!"
"I'm not trying to!" Sam hissed and he could still feel it, trying to push through whatever was blocking it.
"I am trying to keep it from becoming agonizing but I can't control your receptors forever," Ratchet said tightly. "If you wouldn't mind taking a deep breath and calming yourself before you rupture both our audio receivers?"
Calm down. Right. Easy to do with anger bursting from his brain and a boner bursting through his pants. Only, Ratchet looked like he was in actual pain, the strain of whatever he was doing showing on both his faces so Sam did as he said, took a deep breath, another, and maybe it was helping, just relax a little before he gave Ratchet the Autobot equivalent of a stroke.
There. It was easing, he was sure of it, some of the tightness leaving Ratchet's face and Sam thought maybe he could control whatever this was, maybe he could...and the doors burst inward as Bumblebee's holo ran in, pale with concern, hair tousled and green, green eyes and he looked...God, he looked--
It was like a flash went off in Sam's brain, a brilliant pop!snap that had him on his feet, ignoring Ratchet's surprised protest as he followed the pull of it over to Bumblebee, pushed past his raised hands to covered that soft, startled mouth with his own. Tasted fear and arousal, the wet slick heat of it perfect, this, this was what he needed, fuck, yes, this.
"Sam, what are you--" Bumblebee managed, broke off when Sam pushed their mouths together again, biting hard at Bee's lower lip. No talking, no, not when he needed this so, so much, not when he tried to push Bumblebee to the floor and found that he could, the shocked resistance so easy to ignore and Bee felt so good straining against him. The line of his body was warm and the floor was cool against his knees as Sam straddled Bee, shifting enough to mouth hot bites along his jaw to his ear, nipped the soft lobe and relishing Bee's little gasps.
"Want you," Sam managed, thickly, already pushing against him, rocking their hips together. The white heat memory of pain from his arm was nothing like the one burning inside him, a tangled knot of pure desire burning through his guts. Couldn't help murmuring his pleasure as Bumblebee's protests slid away and melted into yielding.
Clothes were not a hindrance to be born and Sam tugged at them impatiently, grumbling into Bee's mouth and wondered why the hell Bee didn't just make them gone, he could do that, he could do anything, but he didn't need to ask, they opened anyway under his fumbling, stupid hand, his other hand was useless for some reason he couldn't quite remember and Bumblebee was holding it anyway, refused to let Sam try to use it.
Distantly, he thought he might hear voices, someone talking that wasn't Bumblebee, which meant they didn't matter at all. If he could just get this, if he could just get that connection everything would be all right, everything would be great, perfect, and all he needed was for Bumblebee to quit squirming and let him.
"Sam...stop..." Bee tried, his voice jagged with static, "Here, let me-" He managed to slip a hand in Sam's jeans, circled him with a firm grip that promised happy times and orgasms but...no. Sam tore his mouth away from Bee's.
"No!" he argued, frantically, trying to tug Bee's hand away and wriggle out of his jeans at the same time. "I need to be inside you. You inside me, I don't care I need...I...connection. Please!"
"Sam, you need control," Bumblebee gasped and it was dimly hilarious and totally unfair that he was so coherent.
"Please!"
Bumblebee pulled away enough to glare over Sam's shoulder and he spared an uncaring glance back, saw Ratchet and Optimus standing there, peering at them with equal amounts of interest and concern, respectively. It didn't matter to Sam, not to the growing ache inside him but Bumblebee didn't seem to share his disregard.
"Do you mind?" he hissed, breaking off on a moan when Sam bit his ear, demanding his attention. Come on, come on....
"Not particularly," Ratchet said, his gaze avid until Optimus gave him a rough shove in the direction of the door. "Oh, all right," he grumbled. "Watch that arm, I'm not finished with it."
The low vibration of their steps trembled through Sam like a caress that slowly faded as they stepped out of the infirmary.
Alone, finally, and the floor was cold, the room too-bright and full of bizarre tools and equipment but Bumblebee was finally, finally here and he wasn't fighting anymore. Nothing but hot, hard kisses, nothing like the wintry touch of Sunstreaker... Sam cut that thought off before it could fully form. There was no room for it here, not with Bumblebee beneath him, his fingers trembling, his lips kiss-swollen and hot.
Between the two of them, they managed to wriggle Sam's jeans down to tangle messily at his shoes, bare enough and Bumblebee's clothes were no obstacle at all, gone with a thought and there were no barriers anymore, nothing but bareness between them.
"Wait--" Bee tried, too late, Sam was already shifting, arching back and whimpering a little at the feel of it, finally, Bumblebee inside him and here was what he needed, connection, yes, hot flesh invading him in all the best ways. A faint ache of pain layered beneath it, a deep stretch but it didn't matter, nothing mattered but this connection.
Yes, Sam thought he said, yes, but there was no sound, only an echo from Bumblebee, purple/electric, that almost-taste that meant Bumblebee heavy in his mouth, inside his head, the pulse point of their bodies moving together and Sam was shuddering with it before he even fully realized what it was, collapsing against Bee in a damp, shivering wreck.
Shhh, it's all right, a faint little murmur, slim fingers threading tenderly through Sam's hair as he trembled, clutched at Bee with one hand like he was the only thing keeping him on the ground. I have you. I have you, it's all right....
Quieter and quieter until finally there was silence, a tiny severing click that Sam almost felt and he was alone in his head.
It was like a curtain dropped from over his eyes, one that had been there so long he'd forgotten it was there and suddenly everything that had happened today came flooding back to him and he saw it through new eyes. Ratchet, Sunstreaker, oh, god--
Sam carefully pushed himself up with his free hand, noting distantly he was sticky and starting to get cold, and he was also pretty damned sore just about everywhere, except for his injured arm that Bee was still holding, still encased in whatever sci-fi cast that Ratchet used.
Hesitantly, Sam tugged free of Bee's grip and Bee let him, eyes dark with concern. He'd heard Bee, Sam realized numbly, heard him inside his head.
Sam wet his lips, felt the dry catch of them against his tongue before he whispered, "What's wrong with me?"
He wondered if he could stand to hear the answer.
-fin
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