Brigtime
Content rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rough sex, injury during sex.
Summary: Vortex is stuck in the brig, but finds some willing entertainment.
Notes:
This was intended to just be hot plug n’ play porn but then towards the end wanted to grow feelings I guess? Hopefully the tonal change works in its favour.
Being in the brig was not an uncommon occurrence for Vortex. But seeing this mech in the brig? That was different. He liked new toys to play with.
Vortex lent causally against the wall and looked in the cell opposite him. “So. What are you in here for?”
“Fuck off,” Motormaster grunted. He was doing push ups with one servo. Show off.
It wasn’t a bad view though. Vortex’s type was usually smaller and cuter. Little innocent Autobot medics for example or jeeps with big purple optics. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying the show.
Motormaster stopped doing press ups and switched to squats. His thick thighs flexing as he moved. Vortex leaned forward appreciatively. “I’m in here for slagging off those prissy seekers. You prick a mech everyone acts like you’ve stabbed them.”
“But you actually stabbed Ramjet in the optic,” Motormaster said. He’d stopped squatting and his plating was beaded with condensation. Vortex licked his lips.
“With a stylus! Wasn’t like I used a knife,” Vortex reassured him. Flirting was hard and he wasn’t used to it. Onslaught usually felt Vortex being horny through the bond, gagged him and shoved him against the nearest available surface or ordered Brawl to. Without Vortex having to work for any of it.
“What the fuck do you want?” Motormaster growled. “Your your loose vocaliser is interrupting my routine.”
“What a routine it is. I can stop talking so long as you keep going. I think.” Vortex’s rotors were spread wide to try to cool him down. His fans were already spinning.
Motormaster laughed. “That’s what you want is it? to be screwed by me. You’re so desperate for a fuck you haven’t even noticed you can’t get out of that cell?”
Oh. Right. The glowing stasis field covering the entrance to his cell. In Vortex’s defence he’d been distracted by boredom and then several tons of hot smoking truck.
Motormaster stepped towards the stasis field in his own cell.
“Those hurt. I’ve thrown myself on them a few times and—” Vortex stopped unable to speak.
Because Motormaster had just shoved himself against the field. It began to distort and fizzle. Then he stumbled out the other side smoking slightly his force field humming.
“I’m in here for ‘public indecency’. That’s what Starscream calls fucking your team in the corridors, but I don’t care what he thinks,” Motormaster said.
He walked towards Vortex’s cell and to the door controls. Vortex had hacked a few cell control panels in his time, how would the Stunticon handle it?
Motormaster looked at the control panel and punched it, his hand sinking into the wall. He yanked out wires and circuits until the stasis field fell with a flash of light. Primus. That was one way to do it.
“I’m going to fuck you hard,” Motormaster growled.
Vortex decided this was the best day ever. His panel opened so fast he was lucky it didn’t fly off somewhere. His port was already sparking and his cable flopped out obscenely.
Motormaster strode forwards and pushed Vortex to the ground. He opened his own panel revealing a thick cable. “…you gonna be able to take this?”
It took a moment for Vortex's glyph processing to come online. “Yes. Definitely. I want that chunky thick thing inside. Now.”
Motormaster snorted. “Perhaps I’ll prepare you just to be sure...”
You didn’t need to ‘prepare’ a port So what weird kinky slag was this? Vortex didn’t have long to wonder as Motormaster shoved his thick finger inside the port. Then, Motormaster began to move the digit. His force field buzzed deliciously against Vortex’s port as he pumped his finger in and out.
“Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes! Fuck me like a traffic pile up!” Vortex screamed. You needed to prepare ports he decided, it was very important. He arched his back and his rotors clattered against the floor.
Then Motormaster withdrew his finger.
“No! No no no put it back!” Vortex whined at the loss of sensation. Then he saw the thick sparking plug in Motormaster’s hand. “Put it put it in put it in!” He chanted.
“…I think I know why I hear that Onslaught gags you,” Motormaster muttered. Then he pulled off Vortex’s battle mask in one quick movement.
“Oh.”
“If you tell me this is turning you off I’ll bite you,” Vortex said sweetly. The claw scars on his cheek weren’t something he wanted to be pitied for. Not by Motormaster or anyone else.
Motomaster put his hand to Vortex’s cheek and ran it down the scarred metal. “Nah. So long as shoving my fingers in there won’t hurt—what you’re saying is turning me off, not your face.“
At least he was honest. Vortex opened his mouth and Motormaster’s fingers were shoved in. “Gepth oh withph it!” Vortex mumbled.
Motormaster huffed then put his plug into Vortex’s socket. The connection was quickly established and a surge of energy pulsed into Vortex. It was like flying in a thunderstorm and getting hit by a bolt of lightning. He returned the favour sending a series of small sharp pulses.
Motormaster groaned and his engine rumbled like an earthquake. The vibrations were tantalising and Vortex squirmed nearing his overload.
Then Motormaster sent out another large pulse of energy and Vortex howled in overload. He dimly thought that the interface could use some finesse, not that he was complaining about having his circuits blown out. He barely noticed the fingers removed from his sore mouth.
Vortex lay on the cell floor panting from his vents. Motormaster above him smelt like asphalt and hot metal. “Give me your cable I’m going to show you something,” Vortex purred.
Motormaster frowned but clearly wanted an overload of his own. He unplugged his cable and Vortex took it in his hand. Then he put it in his mouth.
Motormaster’s optics went wide then narrowed. “If you bite like you were with my fingers--fuck!” He yelled when Vortex began to suck, lick and mouth the cable.
Vortex grinned and continued lapping with his tongue. Motormaster’s engines roared and energy crackled through the cable burning Vortex’s tongue. It was worth it to watch the huge truck caught in the throes of pleasure.
Then there was one final surge of energy and Motormaster’s optics flickered. He had the decency not to fall on top of Vortex and lowered himself on his side. Motormaster put one strong arm around him.
“Glad you’re not one of those ‘cuddling is for Autobots’’ ‘Cons,” Vortex mumbled.
Motormaster frowned. “… Some ‘Cons are like that?”
“Eh. I hate it when they run off before my emotional cortex’s recalibrate,” Vortex said.
“Does Onslaught do that?”
Vortex’s rotors clattered. “That’s too personal for the first screw truck boy.”
“…So there’s gonna be a second time?“ Motormaster asked hopefully.
Vortex couldn’t say no to that face. Or someone who is quite that enthusiastic about fragging him while not acting like it was a chore. “So long as it’s in a berth.”
Because his rotors were starting to complain about being bent. Not that that was going to be Vortex’s biggest problem today.
“You’re in here for another week. Do you have any regrets?” Onslaught asked. He was tinted pink by the repaired stasis field.
“Ramjet shouldn’t have said what he did. He was lucky I didn’t stab any deeper. Also you and Brawl are terrible at fragging.“
“And a delinquent newbuild who only walks free because of Megatron’s fickle favour is better?“ Onslaught replied.
Vortex remembered the touch to his face and the finger in his port. Under his mask he smiled. “Yes. Yes he is.”