“Oh, Wheeljack, right there. Fuck. Yes, yes, right there.” Starscream rocks his hips into the pressure on his node, throwing his head back with a sigh. “Yes, yes, Jackie.”
He’s sprawled out on his berth, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other between his legs, rubbing his anterior node in firm, slow circles. His pedes are planted flat on the berth and he rocks his hips into his own touch. The sound of his vents is distant in his audials, overpowered by the music he’s playing on his internal sound system. It’s been a long time since he bothered with all this just to masturbate alone in his room. He deserves it, he thinks, and shifts his hips to hit another good spot just to the left of his node.
A few weeks ago, he would have taken care of this sort of thing quickly and quietly in the dark, or maybe in the shower, ashamed and resolutely avoiding thoughts of Wheeljack. Since last week’s interface and subsequent agreement to become what Wheeljack called “friends with benefits,” he’s been significantly less conflicted about some of his baser feelings regarding Wheeljack. With that change of heart in mind, he’d set aside this particular weekend evening (and a good deal of engex) for his own enjoyment, and enjoying it he is. It’s only been twenty minutes and he hasn’t even taken out any of his toys, but already his wings are trembling. As he starts working two fingers into his valve, he offlines his optics and lets himself fall into a fantasy.
His wrists are cuffed to the headboard. No, wait. He wants to be able to touch him. His hands are on Wheeljack’s helm, one on the back and the other around a finial. Wheeljack’s battlemask is retracted and that gorgeous mouth is on Starscream’s valve. He’s got two fingers in him, rubbing a cluster of sensors right at the front of his valve, and Starscream can’t help but clench around him as Wheeljack sucks on his node. His finials pulse a slow, gentle pink.
“Oh, Primus,” Starscream gasps. He throws a leg over Wheeljack’s back and tries futilely to drag him closer. “Frag, you feel so good.” Wheeljack hums a laughing agreement and Starscream’s valve throbs in time with the sound.
Starscream fits a third finger in his valve and the stretch has him gasping and arching off the berth, frame crackling with building charge. He’s thankful for his foresight in putting a towel down, because he’s already soaked it in lubricant and he has a feeling he’s not going to want to clean up when he’s finished.
A new song comes on, and with a desperate, raw flare of something between arousal and love he realizes it’s the song that had been playing that night at the club, when Wheeljack first kissed him. As the opening verse plays, he inhales the remembered scent of Wheeljack’s polish, sees the desire in his optics, feels the burning neediness ignited in him by Wheeljack’s frame pressing his against the wall. The bolt of charge brought by the memory is so strong that for a moment, all he can do is press the flat of his palm against his node and grind into his hand. For a moment, overload looms so close he can feel it in his spark. He almost wishes he’d let his spike out, but in the long run, this will be more satisfying.
“Mm, ah, not yet,” he pants. He turns his focus back to his fingers in his valve and a new fantasy, this one a bit more indulgent than the last.
At first, Wheeljack had been a bit shy about kissing. Not only would Starscream see his mouth, he’d feel it, scars and all. Starscream had thoroughly rid him of his insecurity their second night together, kissing him for an hour straight before they’d even gotten their panels open. Since then, Starscream’s been a bit addicted to his mouth, wherever it might touch his frame.
The thing is, Wheeljack isn’t technically the best kisser Starscream’s ever met. Having known Skywarp and Thundercracker for four million years by the end of the war, they were undoubtedly better kissers, and more acquainted with his desires. He and Wheeljack are still getting to know each other and there’s still some awkwardness there, but even so, Starscream wants to kiss Wheeljack in a way he’s never wanted to kiss anyone else. What he lacks in technical skill he more than makes up for in affection and enthusiasm. The loving desire in his EM field bleeds through his lips until Starscream can practically taste it, feel it in the charge jumping between their frames. It’s more natural than anything he’s ever known. It’s just right.
Starscream catches his bottom lip with one sharp tooth and bites down just enough to taste blood.
Right now, Wheeljack’s grinding his spike slowly, reverently into Starscream. Every sensor in his valve throbs in time with Wheeljack’s thrusts. It’s such a perfect stretch, rivaled in bliss only by the feeling of Wheeljack’s lips on his. Starscream’s clinging to him, hands on his finials and legs around his waist, unwilling to lose his touch for even a moment. He nips at Starscream’s lip and draws energon. Starscream gasps, and Wheeljack takes that as an invitation to lick further into his mouth, teasing at the tips of Starscream’s fangs with his tongue until their energon mingles together in—
No. Too far. He’d set limits, and he’d stay within them regardless of how his valve throbs and his mouth aches.
Wheeljack kisses him deep and slow and fucks him even deeper and slower. Starscream’s hardly even kissing him back now, just gasping and whining into his mouth. Wheeljack grabs him by the backs of the thighs and bends him even further in half. His spike slips just a bit deeper and Starscream cries out. “Wheeljack!”
“That’s it, baby,” Wheeljack pants into Starscream’s mouth. “Let me hear you. You make the prettiest, slag, the prettiest noises.”
Starscream tries to say something in reply, but his processor’s quickly being reduced to nothing but the staticky pleasure of Wheeljack’s spike filling him completely.
“Nggh, Wheeljack, please,” Starscream begs. He’s almost there, but getting over that final edge is always difficult. He would get his vibrator, but he thinks if he stops now he might deactivate for good.
“Ah, hhh, harder, please, I’m so close.” He takes one hand off of Wheeljack’s finial and shoves it between them, rubbing frantic circles against his node as Wheeljack presses forward, pulling Starscream’s legs up with him. He’s laid completely open for Wheeljack, trembling and desperate for his touch. He can hardly think through the haze of lovesick arousal, and there’s no
turning back now, no stopping what’s
coming so fast he can hardly breathe.
Fuck the limits.
Optic fluid pours down his cheeks as Wheeljack thrusts into him. “Come on, Star,” he murmurs against Starscream’s mouth. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
“Wheeljack,
Jackie, I
need you, need it, love you—”
Wheeljack hits something deep and sensitive in Starscream’s valve just as he finds a particularly good spot on his node. Starscream tenses, Wheeljack swears and says, “I love you,” and Starscream shouts as he
overloads. It seems to go on for whole minutes, charge snapping across his frame as he sobs Wheeljack’s name. Every time he thinks it’s over, a new wave hits him and he’s lost again, hips jerking helplessly as he fucks himself on his hand.
When the last aftershocks fade and overstimulation begins, he pulls his fingers out and collapses on the berth, exhausted and shaking all over. He was right, he wasn’t in any sort of mood to clean up. Clumsily, he rolls off the towel and throws it off the berth. He sits up just enough to take another swig of engex, then switches the music to something softer and slower and curls up on his side. He pulls a pillow close, burying his face in it and breathing deep. As he drifts off into recharge, his last thoughts are of holding Wheeljack like this, as if they were lovers and not just friends.