Work Text:
Optimus hummed, surveying her work. She stroked a thumb over the smooth, thick expanse of Blitzwing’s thigh, enjoying the sight before her. She liked to think she had delivered what he’d begged for from her.
She’d wrapped her grapplers around their wrists, tying their servos up and keeping them held above their helm. Their pedes had been secured by her grapplers as well, keeping their legs spread for her. She’d even made it so that not once did the grapplers disconnect, instead looping all around their body. Optimus had made some pretty patterns around Blitzwing’s chassis and cockpit— it framed their figure quite attractively. Not for the first time, Optimus felt some amusement about how her past experience in constructing towers for the Autobots kept coming back up. It never hurts to know the many ways on how to tie a knot. She was certain Blackarachnia didn’t expect the modifications she’d given to Optimus to be used like this.
“Is that good?” She asked, pleased at Blitz’s hurried nod. Humming, she pressurized her spike, already half-hard and leaking pre-fluid. It wiggled, the tentacle-like decorated with ridges and bumps, the latter of which ran on the surface and underside of her spike. It was useful for stimulating a valve— though Optimus was certain Blitzwing already had that taken care of.
It was obvious what Blitzwing wanted, even as he desperately tried to minimize his request into something more quick for Optimus. Just a short and quick round while they were still both mildly buzzed from oil. Optimus did not do things half-heartedly, however. If Blitzwing wanted her, wanted her to dominate and please him, then she would do so. It could even be considered a favor for an old friend. (Even if Optimus and Blitzwing hadn’t spoken for stellar cycles until his surgery.) Optimus couldn’t help but wonder if he’d harbored these feelings for her in the past, when it was just him.
That didn’t matter. There was no use dwelling on the past.
Blitz panted as Optimus pressed the arrowhead-shaped tip of her spike against his valve. He tried to wiggle his hips to catch her inside, but Optimus pulled back.
“That’s not what we agreed on,” Optimus said, flicking his node with her claws. She kept a neutral face even as she wanted to smile at Blitz’s yelp, his valve getting even more wet. “You’re going to accept what I give you and nothing else. Do you understand, Blitz?”
She kept her tone calm and low, knowing the effect it had on Blitzwing. True to form, they shuddered, biting their glossa to keep from moaning.
“Yes,” Blitz bit out, cheeks flushed from furious humiliation. This time, Optimus did smile.
“Good boy,” she said. Blitz threw their helm back, biting their glossa as their spike immediately pressurized. Optimus watched in bemused shock, but then just chuckled and shook her head.
Optimus’ spike wiggled inside, pushing open Blitzwing’s callipers like it belonged there. Blitzwing gasped, his servos tugging against her grapplers, but they remained taut. Her spike explored their valve like a glossa, pressing against individual nodes. Blitz was an inferno, making Optimus grunt and furrow her optic ridges as she shoved more of her spike inside their sweltering valve. They clenched around Optimus desperately, so tight she wouldn’t be able to move if they weren’t so wet. It was different from what Optimus was used to. She’d only fragged two other mechs in her entire life (three if she now counted Blitzwing) and she was fascinated by the differences. She grabbed Blitzwing’s waist, watching him main and squirm, drool slipping from his intake as Optimus just barely managed to shove all but a quarter of her spike in. The closer to the base of her spike, the thicker it got. Megatron had certainly spoiled her when it came to having a partner who could take all of her spike, she supposed.
“Frag you—!” Blitz spat, bucking his hips forward to try and take more of her. “Put the rest of it in! Quit being a tease!”
“I don’t think you can handle that,” Optimus said honestly, though she was pleased at how Blitz’s face flushed in outrage. It was so fun to rile them up, to watch them spit and bite out insults. It awakened the sadist in her, she supposed. “Your valve can barely handle all I’m giving it right now, Blitzwing.”
“I don’t care!”
“Well, I do,” Optimus said, stroking his anterior node with a few digits to watch his fury die on his glossa as he moaned instead. “You’re a very useful lieutenant, Blitzwing. I don’t think Megatron will be pleased if I have to take you to the medic for ripping your valve in half.” He probably wouldn’t be pleased that Optimus was inside another mech at all, but whatever she did with her free time was none of his business. He could be possessive somewhere else— besides, she could’ve chosen to frag Starscream instead to really piss him off.
Optimus began to move, using his hips for leverage as he fragged him like he was a spikesleeve, moving him up and down her spike while he moaned and jerked against his restraints. She still wasn’t able to fit the entirety of her spike inside his valve, but it didn’t seem to matter much to Blitzwing either way. He was so wet and tight around her that Optimus had to fight to push back in, feeling him twitch and gush around her spike.
“You’re close,” Optimus observed, hearing Blitz moan his confirmation. She didn’t need it, through— the way his valve clenched and twitched around her told her everything she needed to know. “You can overload, Blitzwing. I won’t stop you.” To prove her point, she reached over and pinched his node, rubbing it between her two digits.
Blitzwing moaned, overloading as their heat suddenly spiked into nearly unbearable temperatures, their valve tightening and squirting desperately around her spike. Their own spike spilled all over their torso, staining their chassis and cockpit with thick pink ropes of transfluid. Some of their fluid even dripped down her spike and onto her pelvic armor, leaving their mess stained on her plating. Optimus collected their fluid on a digit and licked it, humming at the taste. It was strange, not sweet or sour, but still not bad. Optimus felt something lock around her spike when she tried to pull out.
“Oh,” Blitz grunted at the reminder. “Forgot about that.”
Optimus snorted, her domineering persona melting away. “Clinging, Blitzwing?”
Blitz growled and looked away, their body heating up at the embarrassment. Optimus patted their thigh reassuringly. She’d really only seen one type of knot on a spike before, but now that she took the time to stare she noticed the small barbs on the tip of Blitzwing’s spike, meant to keep them hooked into a valve. It was different from Megatron’s, whose knot was at the base of his spike and swelled as he approached his overload.
“How long does it last?” She asked.
“Don’t know,” Blitzwing said, shifting to make their position more comfortable. “Shouldn’t be more than five or ten cycles.”
“In that case, I’ll get you down,” Optimus reached forward, slowly undoing the art she’d tied around Blitzwing’s body. They grunted as their back hit the berth they’d been hung over, and their pedes were allowed to rest and close around her hips. “Anything aching?”
“No,” Blitzwing shook their helm. Optimus nodded, satisfied. They waited in mildly awkward silence for their valve to let her go, and once Optimus felt the pressure around her spike disengage she took that as a sign to safely pull out. She disengaged her spike, letting her modesty paneling snap back over it. “Wait!”
Optimus cycled her optics, already in the process of walking out. “Is there something else you need, Blitzwing?”
“You didn’t overload,” Blitz said, as though that mattered.
“I still enjoyed myself,” Optimus assured. “It takes a while for me to overload anyway.” Not every mech enjoyed the long game of teasing and purring Optimus into an overload, whether it be for her valve or spike. Megatron was just a sadist, really— not that Optimus had the ground to judge on that front.
Blitz didn’t seem appeased by that, however. Their face was curled into a sneer, and their servo wrapped around her wrist. They must really want her transfluid if they were feeling bold enough to tug her around like that.
Blitz switched their positions so Optimus was leaning against the berth, one servo propped on it for support. She watched with mild curiosity as they kissed a trail from her chassis to her modesty paneling, her interest sparking as they slowly sank to their knees and licked their cleft glossa over where her spike was tucked.
“Sorry, Blitzwing,” she said, grabbing the back of their helm and withholding a grin as they gave her an incensed look, “but I do have other duties I have to attend to. I have a meeting with Shockwave in twenty cycles.”
Blitzwing scoffed. “That’s plenty of time!”
Optimus thought about Blitzwing’s derma wrapped around her spike, sucking and moaning as they had to force the entirety of her length down their throat, their neck bulging from the effort, and quickly deduced that she would not be satisfied with a quick blowjob in that scenario. “Considering what I’d want to do to you after, no it’s not.” She helped them to their pedes, only feeling a little bad at their disappointed expression.
“Comm me in twenty megacycles,” at their confused look, she elaborated, “I’ll be free for at least five megacycles by then.”
She watched Blitzwing visibly perk up, and this time she allowed herself a smile. She pressed a kiss to their derma, hearing their vents stutter and their faceplate light up with bright pink. Chuckling, Optimus bid them goodbye one last time and slinked back to her own habsuite, satisfied.