Smuttings for okami-myrrhibis!
I promised this over a month ago O.o Springer is hard for me to write... need to do somethnig about that. (And what's the only way to solve such a problem? ;)
So... I shall likely start reposting stuff from other places that aren't already up here, while I begin to seriously work on Star Crossed. (I am so ready for it). And drabbling. I've got a few I want to get down. More than likely I'll be switching to posting every two weeks rather than weekly as I have been doing, well except last week... kinda missed that deadline (Will you miss me? XD ;P What? What do you mean what deadline? My own, of course! Done pretty good these past couple months)
Hope the smuttings is hot enough for you, okami_myrrhibis!
Title Sweet Revenge
Verse Star Crossed (less the angsting over Sunny and Prowl/Sideswipe XD)
Pairing Springer/Arcee/Hot Rod (hubbed)
Summary After being teased over their bond by Arcee and Hot Rod, Springer has to catch them off guard. (Very PWP, don’t be deceived by the summary.)
Warning eh…pwp and threesome? Little bit of spanking?
Author’s Notes The hub theory is that a femme is the central bonding point for a group of mechs; an archaic technique used for reproduction that has since become defunct. The mechs are bonded to the femme, the hub, but not bonded to each other. Often, the mechs attached to the same hub will also be one another's lovers.
This is rather early in the Wrecker’s career, they haven’t quite earned a reputation yet, or even a real name... or any name really. This was the only way I could justify them being sent on such a mission. It's also relatively soon after bonding, and the longest that Springer has been away since.
My appreciation goes to tiamat1972 for giving this a go-over and catching some flubs. Any remaining are mine own.
“Twin Twist you're doing it wrong! You're supposed to let him fall, and then turn and throw him.” Springer swung his gaze from the brothers tussling to the much larger and imposing form of Broadside facing off against the smaller Whirl. The team commander opened his mouth to shout a suggestion at the helicopter when a touch ghosted down his leg. Or wait, was it a touch?
His sensors had certainly read it as a touch, but nobody stood anywhere near enough to have initiated that brief contact.
A light... something played back up his leg, splaying against his thigh in a sensual grip.
A shudder racked his frame as his ventilators kicked on. The clash of metal on metal hid the static-filled moan that hummed past Springer's clenched dental plates. Springer pressed against the wall, seeking support against the onslaught of sensation that swept through his circuits.
“Springer?”
Springer looked up to see Twin Twist staring at him, and he realized that he was baring his dental plates in a tight grimace. The triplechanger moved off the wall, straightening. “What are you slaggers doing? You don't need me monitoring your every move.”
::What the slag are you two doing??::
An answer came within the shivering contact of lips upon a spoiler (::Frag off! I don't have a spoiler, Arcee!::) It hissed in the sigh of a ventilator that wasn't his own.
::What does it feel like we're doing, Springer?:: The signal that pulsed through his spark could only be described as a purr, the grip on his shoulder plating; dental pates biting at the edges of a flame painted chestplate. ::This is the longest we've been separated since bonding.:: The signal vibrated like the rasp of two rough surfaces sliding against each other. ::Can't we show you how much we've missed you?::
Springer clenched his fists, tightening his joints against the urge to writhe at the feeling of the hand dipping into a pink seam.
“Carry on, I'll send R-” he choked at the his crew. “I'll send 'Buster to supervise.” Then he beat a hasty retreat from the presence of his team, throwing himself around the corner of the door and bracing his arm against the wall.
“Springer, are you sure you're all right?” Broadside asked, his voice filled with worry.
“I'm fine, S~ide-” Primus, did his voice just squeak? “Just carry on...” Air hissed between his dental plates as he tried to suppress another groan. A phantom mouth pressed against his lips, and two sets of hands stroked over his plating. The unreal sensation of fingers skimming over the edges of a spoiler that wasn't his nearly sent him into overload right then and there. ::I...was... a little busy... hrrr...at the time, you...two::
He could not appear in front of Roadbuster like this: panting, clenching his hands at the ones that ghosted under his plating and over his circuits.
::Do you want me to stop transmitting?::
Springer couldn't stop the garbled “No!” that spat out of his vocalizer. He staggered down the hall and slammed his hand onto a panel to open a storage space. The others would have to carry on without him until he could get a grip on himself. The door couldn't open fast enough for him to squeeze into the narrow space. The shelves shook as he brushed against them, the contents rattling noisily, vibrating the sensitive blades of his flight assembly within his chassis. It only served to excite him further.
Arcee's realization of his solitude pulsed over their bond, and he shivered with barely contained excitement.
::I'm not due at base for another two megacycles! This is cruel and unusual punishment.::
A double set of laughter filtered through, accompanied by the teasing tweak of his rotary nut. ::We're off for the next half a decacycle,:: Hot Rod's fainter signal vibrated with a chuckle, ::I'm sure you can use this time to think of plenty of ways to get back at us.::
Springer didn't know whether he should be furious at his bondmates for the overload that made him shatter some of the glass containers in the storage closet (thereby drenching him with their contents), or delighted in the sensations that he never thought he would feel.
The surprised look on Roadbuster's face that had quickly morphed into amusement guaranteed that Springer wouldn't be hearing the end of this until they got home.
~*~*~*~
After much deliberation, Springer decided the direct approach would work best. They expected him to be sneaky, well, slaggit, he wasn't about to do what they expected.
He didn't have to see them to know they waited just beyond the workers unloading the energon they had received in exchange for techonology with the D'lu. He could feel their presence as surely as the transmissions he received; he could pinpoint them within an astroinch.
His circuits crawled with their proximity; the entirety of the megacycle before the ship had come into port had been filled with light sensations, teasing pulses in his processor.
He was going to make them regret this.
Certainly these were thoughts he kept to himself, blocking them from his bond- and hubmate. He first had to see to the shipment and securing and deactivating the ship.
::You realize that this is going to take another megacycle?::
The distant echo of a knowing laugh filtered through.
::Thanks, Hot Rod.::
Still the teasing signals relented a little, spaced farther apart as a reminder, a promise of what was to come. Shivers clattered along his plates at each pulse, causing Ultra Magnus to narrow his optics at him.
The big blue mech didn't respond to a question Springer had asked, his head tilted as he regarded the newly-promoted Team Leader. His gaze drifted up to look past the triplechanger's shoulder. A frown twitched his lips for a brief astrosecond.
“Springer... why don't you save the report for later.” The commander narrowed his large optics. “I can see that your processor isn’t entirely on it. Shut down the shuttle.” Ultra Magnus paused before he turned back to the Team Leader his lips still twitching. “You have two megacycles. I'd recommend getting those two to help you shut the ship down.”
Springer didn't even try to look all innocent as he might have at one time. Ultra Magnus knew him better than that.
“Thank you, sir. I'll make sure you get that report on time.”
The Unit Commander's engine rumbled irritably, but he slapped Springer's shoulder in understanding.. Ultra Magnus moved away; Springer's comm buzzed with Ultra Magnus' shout at the mechs handling the pallets of energon.
Springer watched his commander go, before sparing his bond- and hubmate a brief glance. He walked past the two waiting for him without a word. He keyed the hangar doors locked, waiting for the tone that verified their status before walking past.
He could almost feel the look exchanged between them.
::Whatever happened to the direct approach, Springer?::
::When you know what I'm planning, Sparklet? You should know me better.::
Hot Rod laughed aloud as she conveyed Springer’s message to him, and metal clang as he playfully smacked Arcee. “He does know you too well, 'Cee.”
“I should hope so, Roddy, as long as we've been together, even before bonding.” Springer's smile took on a strained caste as he quickly firewalled the path those thoughts took him down. He turned to level a glare at the two behind him. “I was in the middle of a sparring session with the guys you know. It's really hard to maintain discipline when certain femmes,” he leveled a glare on Arcee, “and mechs,” the glare turned to the still-laughing Hot Rod, “are distracting me in front of them.”
Arcee laughed, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, don't act like you're mad at us, Springer.”
Springer spun on his heel to storm over to them, optics flashing. “Are you saying I'm not?” On the final word he poked her chest with his forefinger.
She rocked back on her heels, rocking forward to meet his gaze. “I am saying that I know you're not!” She jabbed him back, shoving her finger hard against his chest plate.
He narrowed his optics, his mouth twisting as he watched her lean back, triumph clear on her face. Always the one to have the last word in any given situation-a fact that kept his crew in line, more often than not- Springer grabbed her and yanked her closer till their nasal ridges pressed together. Her optics flashed in surprise and she sought out his intent over their bond.
“If you know me so well, then why do I keep surprising you?” He released her just as abruptly as he had grabbed her and walked away from them. He couldn't resist sweeping his fingers over Hot Rod's spoiler as he passed, earning a heated look from the flame-painted mech.
Hot Rod grabbed for the hand, but Springer had been expecting it, moving quickly out of reach with a little assistance from his leg thrusters. He continued along his merry way, heading for the ship to begin manual shut down and post-trip maintenance procedures.
He opened a panel on the side of the ship, sticking the datapad in his mouth to free his hands, ensuring that everything was working properly before shutting it down. He turned when he saw he didn't have two shadows by his shoulders, and grinned, seeing that they were closing down the other engines of the ship.
He slipped away from them, heading into the interior of the ship, moving to retrieve the logs from the command center. He was nibbling on the edge of the pad between his lips when he detected their approach. He didn't turn toward them, remaining focused instead on the console and the datapad he was downloading the information onto.
Hot Rod pulled one of the stools closer, perching on it, his optics narrow. “What are you doing, Springer?”
Springer popped up, spinning away from Hot Rod's hand. “Can't you figure it out?” He yanked the cord out of the console and strode away.
“You're being a pain in our fuseboxes is what you're doing!” Hot Rod shouted after him.
Springer suddenly wheeled about on his toe joint and rushed Hot Rod to press his spoiler into the screen at the back of the console. “Don't you enjoy it?” The red and orange mech shivered at the soft breath vented over his cheek.
Hot Rod grabbed for Springer's shoulders, trying to capture his lips in a kiss, but Springer moved just out of reach of his hubmate. “It'd be better if you would follow through, instead of just teasing.” Hot Rod's words hissed out from between his dentalplates, his optics bright with his arousal.
Rubbing their chassis together, Springer hissed another puff of air onto his lover's cheek. “Would you like that?” His hand squealed up to grasp the back of Hot Rod's neck.
Arcee suddenly pressed herself against his back, her hands sliding over his shoulder plating. His optics dimmed, and he gasped at the bump of her frame against his.
His engine growled eagerly, and he reached back, caressing whatever piece of her he could touch. Her moan vibrated through his frame, her fingers reaching under his kibble to stroke at circuits, yet it was Hot Rod's lips he sought out, digging into the seams of his torso . Hot Rod returned the caresses eagerly, his lips playing over Springer's cheekguard, puffing air into the vent at the top of his helm.
Springer nipped at the flame-colored mech's jaw, shoving him harder against the console. He pulled his hand from behind his back, foregoing stroking Arcee in order to both brace himself against the screen, and trace the flame painted on the red chestplate. He kissed down his lover's neck, shuddering at the soft ventilations against his helm.
“You two,” he growled into Hot Rod's neck cables, “are incorrigible.”
Arcee propped her chin on the curves of her knuckles, her fingers curled around his shoulder plating. “It's not like you're much better. Remember how you used to flaunt us in front of Magnus.” Her other hand ghosted up the seam of his back, an echo crossing their bond as Hot Rod added his own hands to the mix.
“Flaunting? …oh Primus, that’s the spot ther-ngh…” Springer couldn’t speak for nearly a breem, shuddering under their touch; the feel of fingers stroking just the right seams, or digging under transformation plating to find circuits and wire bundles, none of which had not seen attention in far too long. He grabbed at those hands, or returned the favor, probing seams that he had not felt for far too long. Need burned in his circuits, the desire for more than this tactile pleasure.
“Flaunting?” He tried again.
Arcee slid down his back, trailing kisses and delicious caresses down his thighs to his thrusters.
His vocalizer glitched, and he reciprocated; reaching out to Hot Rod through her, the fingers of his signal caressing through her spark seeking out sensitive circuits. Her fingers stalled on his ankles, her ventilations harsh with excitement.
“It's one thing to 'flaunt' you in front of Magnus,” he murmured, knowing Arcee and Hot Rod both heard him no matter how softly he spoke, “and another to be a quivering heap in front of my team.” He pulled away from Hot Rod to glare at them both. “Which by the way, I didn’t hear the end of for the rest of the trip. Thank you two very much.”
The soft snickers he received in response, (not to mention the double-amusement that filtered through his spark) expressed just how ‘sorry’ they were for his discomfort and resulting embarrassment.
Unwilling to let it go at that, he kept Hot Rod firmly in place with his thighs as he reached down to draw Arcee up and next to the red mech. Though their color schemes clashed horribly, the matching mischief and self-pleased grins on their faces counterpointed each other perfectly.
He pressed her against the console screen next to Hot Rod. His lips traced over one of her circular audio receptor, his other hand attending to a particularly sensitive panel just beneath Hot Rod's chest plate.
He looked down at his two lovers, and frowned in a stern leaderly way (which elicited another pair of snickers). “It's really hard to maintain discipline when my team is too busy laughing at me to hear my orders.” He cupped a hand around on of their cheeks, rubbing a thumb over their cheek seam. “I need to be able to depend on you two to help me not make a fool of myself. No one really expects much of my team, if anything at all. This isn't going to be the last time I'll be gone for an extended period of time. You promised that it wouldn't be a big deal. You're making it one.”
Still playful, Hot Rod grinned up at Springer. “What exactly are you going to do about it?”
Springer pulled his lips into a thin line, staring at Hot Rod and wondering why his hubmate had just asked him that.
He suddenly rolled the red and orange mech over, drawing a surprised 'what are you doing?' from Hot Rod's vocalizer. The flat of his palm landed on the mech's aft once, twice, three times. The metal clanged together, muffling the surprised glitches from the other mech.
Springer released Hot Rod and turned to Arcee, palm raised.
Her optics bugged wide open, and she squeaked a protesting 'I didn't say anything!'. When Springer went for her, she sprang off the console with far more agility than he ever thought possible. He whirled after her, but she was already halfway across the bridge.
“Oh, not now you didn't, but before when you were transmitting, you had plenty to say then.”
::You can't be serious!::
He bared his dental plates in a grin, stalking toward her. ::Completely.:: He felt more than comprehended Hot Rod's grumbled assent to his seriousness.
Springer lunged for the femme, turning in midair with the aid of his thrusters to capture her wrist as she tried to dodge to one side. He drew her close, wicked grin on his face as he turned her over his knee and landed a good five slaps on her derrière before she managed to squirm out of his grasp.
And oooh! Could she squirm!
Her optics flashed at him as she put the commander's console between them, one hand covering her rear. “What the slag was that about?”
Springer laughed. He reached out, accessing his memory files to share with Arcee, and by extension Hot Rod. He transferred a short clip of a pair of D'lu flirting with each other. ::They call it 'spanking'.::
Arcee pursed her lips, her fingers squeaking over the curve of her aft. ::Organics have the oddest customs.::
Her signal pulsed back at him as she came around the console. “Are you happy now?” She dipped her fingers into the vents on his chestplate.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her snug against him. Tenderly, he kissed her lips.
Clang!
“Now, I'm happy.”
She shoved him away, sputtering at his audacity even as he laughed, unable to halt himself from staggering back. He still had hold of her wrist and he swung her back into his embrace, finally indulging in the kiss that had been his intent from the beginning. She wriggled, all too delightfully, in his arms, still indignant at him for that final slap, but he refused to release her.
The driving need to be one with her coursed through his circuits, no longer distracted by games and the need to return a 'favor.'
“Are you ignoring me, now?”
Hot Rod's words thrummed through Springer's helm where the red mech trailed kisses down to the back of the triplechanger's neck. Springer turned, and Hot Rod lifted his head to meet in a kiss, lips molding together in a way that made Springer's circuits heat.
“Didn't I give you enough attention already?” Springer panted, his hands re-familiarizing themselves with the curve and angles of Arcee's frame.
Hot Rod's engine rumbled and he nipped at Springer's cockpit, digging into sensitive seams with his fingers.
They caressed one another, eager to renew their memory of one another's shape. Hands dipped into seams, and caressed sensitive panels. They pawed at each other, not caring which of their lovers they touched, even though Hot Rod and Arcee sought out Springer's frame, more often than not. Springer, in turn, alternated his loving bites and kisses between the two of them, reveling in their nearness, in the pulses he received over their bond; the delight of his own touches on their paneling.
They had no need of words, everything filtered through their bond; their joy in being home/having him home, their love for one another, perturb over what the three of them did to each other, and at the same time amusement at those same antics.
The way the other two played their hands over his plating, and into his circuitry left Springer weak-kneed. He ran his fingers lovingly over the sharp angle of Arcee's chestplate, pressing a kiss just above where he knew her spark chamber lay.
Her grip flexed on him, and her anticipation raced through him, echoed by Hot Rod and the racing of three engines. The feel of them pressed against him made him groan in need, and their lips drew the most delighted sounds from his vocalizer.
A sudden energy surge shocked his systems. He felt, more than anything, the smirk that played over Hot Rod's lips. Arcee laughed, conveying the flame-painted mech's smug satisfaction at getting the triplechanger back for ignoring him.
Springer arched into his lover's intangible touch. Arcee rubbed against his front, the tingling of her own field resonating through him. His vocalizer glitched, clutching at Arcee even as his legs failed and he pulled them both to the floor.
He embraced his mates, kissing their jaws, and nipping at their neck cables. He traced a finger over their backs, drawing along their energy fields and winding it about his own.
They writhed over him, their hands digging into his plating to make him buck at their touch. Three glitching cries filled the bridge as the two above him played their energy fields over his, rippling through his circuitry.
After being so long from them, Springer ran eager hands over access panels, murmuring a request for them to move aside.
Arcee's optics flashed in surprise, and that echoed over their bond.
Even though Hot Rod and Springer still indulged in it with each other, since bonding it had seemed redundant to plug into Arcee when they received those same benefits through the bond. He just wanted the reassurance that this wasn't some illusion from being apart too long, that the frames under his hands weren't going to dissolve into bits of intangible data.
Two pairs of hands soothed over Springer's plating, assuring him with their touch, with the soft whisper of two signals through his spark. Amusement filtered through their bond as Springer took it upon himself to plug them in; Arcee to Hot Rod, Hot Rod to himself, and then his own cord into Arcee. Programs initialized in his HUD, and their systems synched for data exchange. Fully installed, Hot Rod crawled through Springer, lighting every sensor, and resetting systems as he passed. In turn Springer sorted through Arcee’s systems, running his ethereal fingers through her databanks.
Her optics flashed, a spark of data that pulsed through his own circuits, a fire of information. There were, he admitted, some things one simply could not do over a bond without eating so much memory and processing power that doing anything else at the same time became a moot point. He could even feel the echo of Arcee threading through Hot Rod's circuits, as distant as Hot Rod usually seemed over their bond.
It was excitingly disconcerting.
Hot Rod dug his fingers into Springer's side, sending a silent demand for attention over the interface. The green mech lay kisses and bites upon Hot Rod's neck, still threading his invisible fingers through Arcee, seeking out one particular program. Extending beyond her, through her interface, to reach Hot Rod for that same line of code.
He found it, a container holding energon goodies just waiting to be broken open.
Their optics flashed with the realization of what he had just accessed, and suddenly they were scrabbling to sit up, to drag him up with them. Hydraulics hissed without their bidding, plates of metal moving and shifting to the side, exposing sensitive parts of themselves.
Springer pulled Arcee onto his lap, drawing Hot Rod closer by virtue of the cord that still attached them. Green fingers touched the spiral casing within the femme's chest, tracing the lines that curled protectively over her being, the metal burning hot with the energy contained within.
His systems thrummed with eager anticipation, and pain flashed through his chest as the seal around his spark chamber was released. It pulsed at him from his two mates as well, a sharp smack from Hot Rod as his casing opened with a wave of fingers of energy and light. It came from Arcee, a deep pressure, and need that must be filled.
Three sparks gravitated from their shells, shining their light everywhere. Drawn together by the inexorable force of their bond to each other. The lights mingled, varied in color, washing all that it touched in a glow that couldn't be seen by optics, or any other form of scanner.
They pressed their frames together, reveling in the feel of metal bending under their fingers, and shoulders sliding against one another. Ventilators worked double time to compensate for the press of their bodies.
Arcee's spark pulsed; a playful thrum answered by the other two with a vibrating ring. A sound unheard by audio receptors.
The keen of three vocalizers filled the room, synchronized as with the twitch of their fingers, the rasp of their ventilators, the flash of their optics.
They merged.
Warnings flashed across their HUDs, the danger of separation very real, yet such a small concern in the face of being together like this. Springer brought forth intimate memories of their time together. Simple things that had made any one of them smile or laugh. His spark pulsed in perfect time with theirs, a ragged moan that never touched his vocalizer echoed between them.
Pain was a distant memory, the feel of their shell losing power as their sparks remained outside and connected seemed like such a distant concern. Hot Rod and Springer buried themselves in their own little niches with Arcee's spark. Their own fields flaring against one another, synchronizing so that they could communicate with each other directly for this brief period of time.
And it was all too brief.
Soon, Arcee pushed them away, her awareness of her failing shell, as well as their own, sparking along their being. As soon as they hit their shells their systems overloaded from the sudden input of their sparks, freezing them and knocking them off line.
Springer came online, his head nestled on Hot Rod's thigh. They lay in a twisted tangle of limbs and torso, their cords somehow twisted about their arms. Springer did not remember that happening. He quested along their interface for any sign of consciousness. Satisfied with the results, he accessed their processors long enough to be sure that they wouldn't come online anytime soon.
~*~*~*~
They pulsed in his spark, a signal that he kept muted, despite the few bytes that managed to break through his firewall. He idly conversed with Roadbuster about arranging another training session, and areas of improvement.
He had barely gotten the report to Ultra Magnus to meet with the two megacycle deadline. The overload had apparently knocked the three of them out for a good five cycles, and he had to rush to get the rest of the ship shut down. Then he had to get the report written.
He considered sacrificing his lovers' help quite worth it.
“Hey, Springer!”
Springer barely had time to turn his head before a blue mech swept up around him. He didn't have time to even open his mouth before Blurr was speeding through a question about Hot Rod's whereabouts.
“We're supposed to meet for a round of pelterskelter, but we can't play if he's not there! Do ya know where he went? Do ya, do ya do ya do ya?”
The triplechanger had to compose himself for a moment, ignoring the indignant screech that broke past the firewall. He sent a soothing signal back, unable to suppress the smirk at the blistering pulse he received in response.
“No, Blurr, I haven't seen them since I finished with the ship.”
Well, technically a lie. He had access to the ship's security camera, and could see them quite clearly.
::When we get out of here, Springer, they'll be picking up your pieces all over the Wastes.::
::But you two were so eager to be together earlier, I'm just helping you out.::
No words could convey the scathing snarl that he received in answer.
::I think I'll just let you two cuddle. You look comfortable. I don't want to disturb you.::
He could see the flash of Arcee's optics, and the snarl of Hot Rod's lips as they twisted about to glare at the camera.
Energon cubes needed to be securely tied to avoid being jostled. Those cords were extremely strong.
And worked wonders on binding two 'bots together.
~*~*~Fin~*~*~