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Bumblebee felt it. In his EM field, or better said, in the electrifying invisible point where his field met Optimus’, he felt him challenging Bee to talk back, a dare, clear as day, one that Bumblebee has learnt to take and come out semi-successful out of. But he also felt the edge of desire, a slight ripple that Optimus must be projecting straight from his heated codpiece, a challenge of its own that Bumblebee isn’t so sure he can succeed at.
He doesn’t know why he followed Optimus somewhere dark and quiet, or maybe he does know, but can’t admit it to himself, that his body might want– need things to be the same again, with him submitting to Optimus once more. His soldier, his scout, his–
Conflicting feelings arise having to watch on as his rational desire for authority over his team fights against the natural need to lift up his hips and offer himself to Optimus Prime. Optimus just wasn’t a mech to be denied, or challenged, and something in Bumblebee’s body knew that.
He knew it in his back struts, spine arching downwards immediately, and he knew it in his knee-caps, which were impatiently digging into the soft dirt as he squirmed, and he knew it in his processor, forehelm pressed into the ground.
„Optimus”– Bee gasped, shocked and elated and scared at the same time, because it's been a while since he and Optimus– since they’ve done this, and he’d never been this pushy before.
„Forgive me, Bumblebee,” Optimus purred behind him, squatting so that his codpiece aligns with Bee’s quivering aft, broad chest and shoulders shadowing the smaller bot. Bumblebee watched a little dazed as Optimus stationed his large hands near each side of his helm for balance, thick fingers flexing impatiently against earth „I cannot just idly accept your resistance,”
„It’s”– Bumblebee’s thighs tense when Optimus’ spike cover, hot and throbbing, presses insistently against his valve panel „It’s my team, I”–
„You are a good leader, Bumblebee. But there are times where you shall stand back, and accept my authority,” Optimus spoke slowly and carefully, the words didn't even hurt, because Bumblebee can’t sense any malice or disingenuity in them.
Optimus’ panel opened with an echoing schick sound, hard spike springing out and smacking against Bumblebee’s aft insistently.
Bee’s modesty panels slipped back laughably quick in response. He grumbles, embarrassed by the length of Optimus' oversized spike rubbing up against the underside of his comparably small one, those pulsing biolights of his knocking charge straight into Bumblebee’s array.
„Fuck,” Bumblebee breaths out eloquently, valve giving a needy throb as Optimus’ spike pokes at his belly, wetting it with pre-cum „Oh Primus, Optimus”– the spike pulls back and the tip pushes up against his valve lips, Optimus’ back bowed as he watches his spike align with Bee’s port. Not knowing why, he blurts out: „I’m sorry,”
„There is nothing to apologize for,” Optimus presses in slowly, engine rumbling, covering the sound of Bumblebee’s desperate cries „Enjoy yourself. Enjoy this. Let me have you,”
Bumblebee lets out one long, deep groan that lasts as long as it takes Optimus to bottom out– which didn’t take nearly as long as it should considering their size disparity, but still felt like forever in Bumblebee’s quickly overwhelmed processor.
„Oh Primus,” he’d forgotten how big Optimus is, and how much bigger he'd gotten. His aching, burning valve could barely clench, stretched to its limit the calipers would risk tearing if he attempted to squeeze Optimus out now. All he can do is lie there and take it.
His fuel tank flips hotly, the part of him that feels safe and protected in the cage of Optimus’ arms causes his valve to lubricate profusely at the thought.
Helpless, in Optimus’ arms.
And who is better suited to take care of him, if not Optimus?
„Hhn– ha ah , Optimus, I can’t”– Bumblebee squeezes his optics shut. His internal nodes were pulsing, EM field in disarray, replaced by the Prime’s reassuring presence.
„It is good to submit, Bumblebee. It’s easy on the mind,” Optimus talks, his voice floating. His hips slowly swing back and forth, knees bent so far towards the ground he might as well have kneeled, but he likes the uncertain leverage this gives him. He has an excellent sense of balance, but the possibility that he might push in hard and gravity will bring him down excited him „And it can calm the spark. Let me take the lead,”
Bumblebee shakes his helm, wheezing out awkwardly in between moans: „But it’s– hgh, my team, I– I”–
„I understand, but this is not about them. No need to be so… stubborn,” Optimus’ voice staggers, spike twitching inside of Bumblebee „I needed you under me again,”
„Oh,” Bumblebee moans out, far more high-pitched than he hoped, and his valve flutters involuntarily. The feeling of cable walls moving as he forcibly kept them relaxed was warm and intoxicating.
„Yes, this will be good for us both,” Optimus admitted idly, settling more weight onto his arms for leverage, the speed of his thrusts suddenly quickening.
Bumblebee’s legs squirmed and kicked out as he struggled to meet Optimus’ movements, the pace unfamiliar and intense. With every thrust, Bee’s spike smacked against the protruding proto-mesh of his belly, his internal components pushed out to make space for Optimus Prime. If he hadn’t gotten used to the feeling and the grotesque sight already, he’d be worried. But his body seems well adjusted to Optimus’ spike, even after many years apart.
The heat in his abdomen was familiar. He hates it as much as he loves it. Optimus would always shock his frame with far too much charge, the burning feeling of his neural circuits frying in preparation for an overload is always overwhelming and powerful. Bumblebee’s insides get so hot that his fans skip, and Optimus radiates heat above him, around him, large frame spitting steam that condenses on Bumblebee’s sweaty plating.
Bee moans pitifully with every thrust against his ceiling node. He wanted to touch his anterior node and rub himself to quick completion but his hands were covered in dirt and he couldn’t– he couldn’t think right, he couldn’t do anything but squirm and clench, hoping to bring Optimus to climax as well.
„Your body is so warm,” Optimus gasped out, his head hung low and jaw tight. He makes a risky move, and takes his hands off of the ground to grab Bumblebee by the waist. He’d lost his leverage, but he can maneuver Bumblebee to meet his thrusts now, helping the poor bot sink against his lap in a timely manner „I might have to… overload inside,”
Such a silly thought, a terrible idea, but it made Optimus shudder.
Bumblebee makes a hiccup-y sound, voice box shorting out „N– no, wait,”
„I desire to flood your insides. To make you heavy. You’d never forget your place again,”
„Hah, what are you”– Bumblebee’s hips jerked, and he clenched his hands. Your place, Bumblebee’s processor rings out. Like he’s his subordinate again, like he belongs to him, a Prime and that who worships him. Old habits die hard, even for Optimus, it seems „Hngh, Optimus, you, you,”–
And Optimus rarely spoke like that during interfacing, but it always made Bumblebee hot under the plating when he did, usually at his request. But he sounded serious this time. Optimus’ transfluid could probably easily barge through any and all precautions nestled in his gestation tank, strong nanites finding their home in the fertile young forge… Then Bumblebee would be heavy.
And everyone would see it.
Face flushed an energon blue, Bumblebee overloaded suddenly, valve rippling and bloating with lubricants, gushing wetly around Optimus’ spike. It took him by surprise, all he knew was that he heard someone crying out and squealing and that it could only be him, his voice breaking and scattering on half-spat syllables of please and Optimus.
Optimus groaned loudly enough to rattle his plating. His spike was pulsing down the length, he could feel himself approaching his overload steadily, the feeling of Bee’s charge surging up into him only confirmed what he already knew. He’ll have to finish inside „Bumblebee, forgive me,”
Bee choked on a sob when Optimus bore down and slammed in, knees hitting the ground. If Bee’s insides weren’t boiling before, they were now, as he was flooded with thick transfluid, the shot breaching the duct of his forge as if there was never any resistance there at all, and his body gulped it down.
„I can’t– I can’t, it’s too hot,”– he faintly heard himself beg through the rumbling in his audials, voice heavy with static „Please, Optimus, please, please, I’ll be good”–
Something inside of him twitched again, a painful but pleasurable feeling, a pinch in his transfluid tank.
„I– I think– I think”– I think I’m going to overload again, was at the tip of his glossa. It was too soon, but his body was too strung up, and charge exploded inside of his valve in sputtering sparks, knees lifting off the ground as he bore his pedes into the dirt and trembled, tense and exhausted, with a second overload. Then he fell again.
Optimus slid in and out of him until his spike finally, blessedly softened, popping out with a one last squelch. Bee’s port winked at him, struggling to close up after the punishment delivered.
„Bumblebee,” Optimus breathed out the designation, collapsing at once with his chest against Bee’s back „How good you are below me,”
Finding what’s left of his cognitive abilities, Bee awkwardly attempted to haul himself up onto his elbows before finding that he truly might be better off below him. He slumps again „Don’t… don’t get used to it,”
„I already have,” Optimus grinds his spike sheath against Bumblebee’s bruised valve, hoping to plug the transfluid inside. They never wished to risk the possibility of a carriage before, but Optimus must have gotten selfish now that the war is over, because he wishes for nothing more „Oh, Bumblebee, I have missed this,”
Thick fingers run over the slight bulge of Bumblebee’s midsection, pressing in slightly to feel his transfluid sloshing around.
Bumblebee winces, gulping „Got it all out of your system?”
Feeling up to the challenge, Optimus chuckled fondly „We’ll see,”
Bee realizes that he had no chance trifling with a Prime’s stubborn ego.