Best Kept Confidential

nsfw sideblog to best-first // 21+ only please

[fusion-cannon-advertisement]

When Megatron finally picks up and their comm. lines connect, Optimus genuinely whines in relief. He doesn’t wait for a response.

:: Where are you? I miss you. I need you. Where did you go? I can’t find you. ::

::I'm here, I'm here-:: Optimus was in a state. Megatron shoved the last bit of dumpling into his mouth, placing the bowl in the sink as he made his way towards the berthroom.

He'd only been away for a little while, but he should've just brought the fuel back. Poor Optimus.

::I'm coming, I'm just down the hall-::

[best-for-last]

He would know the sound of his tread anywhere. Can’t forget it. Centuries of friendship, warfare, and reunification have driven the shape of Megatron deep into Optimus, never to be pried free.

The reasonable thing to do would be to get up and go to the doorway to greet him.

Optimus instead knocks the berthroom door off the sliding track (again) and barrels directly into Megatron like it was a trench skirmish and Optimus needed to subdue his nemesis as quickly as possible.

By knocking him into the fdplaster-white wall and shoving his glossa into Megatron’s mouth. All the pictures hung on the wall rattle in their frames with the impact, but nothing broke.

Yet.

[amphibianshaped]

apparatus

[best-for-last]

{ @springingfromnothing }

" Not allowed to what?"

Convoy hunches over further, every inch a scolded hound with his ears low and his tail tucked.

“M’not allowed to overload ‘cos I ruined Megatron’s support pillow.”

[springingfromnothing]

" Did...did you hump his pillow? Or else you chew on it?" Both cause an odd pruckle through his frame and in his servos. That pathetic face makes a springer want to bite him.

But also- What would it feel like to have that much mindless attention?

[best-for-last]

This is more embarrassing than he thought. Normally, Optimus owns up to his failures with all the grace of a composed martyr, but normally his failures are battlefield mishaps and plans going awry, not misbehavior.

And Rung scolding him felt terrible.

He shifts his weight where he’s kneeling, glancing up at Springer and then away again. “I couldn’t help it. It smelled good…”

[springingfromnothing]

" So both then." Murmured more to himself than aimed at Optimus. He does grin a little at his plight," Rung caught you. Gave you a scolding I take it? So no overloading for Convoy...for how long?"

Why is he moving closer? Well. He can't resist. Optimus is in perfect reach. Allowing Springer to rub one finial slow and careful.

[best-for-last]

“Rung caught me trying to put it in the washing machine,” the big rig admits. “It wasn’t going to work like that, he said. ‘Cos the pillow’s mostly some sort of memory foam? The washer would just make it worse.”

Optimus looks back over as Springer moves closer, warily eying his reaching servo but allowing him to come close. Only to butt his helm into the hand petting over his finial, optics shuttering.

…Oh, right, Springer asked a question.

“Until Megatron’s new pillow that he ordered gets delivered. I was not told when that would be.”

[springingfromnothing]

" Damn. Well that sinks that idea I suppose. I'd hate to break Rungs rules." Massaging at the base of his finial. Watching the big rig, feeling a spark of fondness in the low simmering thoughts.

Never thought he'd feel that way either. Desire a warm curl in his tanks. Optimus smells like warmth. Like dirt and labor and coolant. His rotors twitch.

Palm sliding to cup his cheek," Good mech." Stated absently.

[best-for-last]

He’s not wearing his mask or muzzle, leaving the flash-bang web of scarring over the side of his mouth and jaw exposed for Springer’s inspection. The texture of the strange gold-and-platinum spill that makes up for the missing protoform and denta is strangely whorled, and pulls the mesh around it when Optimus speaks or tries to smile, but it’s better than just having half of a mouth, he supposes.

He nudges himself more firmly into Springer’s hold, but the praise has his engine rumble on as he shuffles around a little more and ends up dropping his chin on Springer’s knee instead.

Sapphire blue optics fall half-shuttered. “I could still be of service to you, if you wanted. I can show you that I am a very good mech.”

[best-for-last]

{ @springingfromnothing }

" Not allowed to what?"

Convoy hunches over further, every inch a scolded hound with his ears low and his tail tucked.

“M’not allowed to overload ‘cos I ruined Megatron’s support pillow.”

[springingfromnothing]

" Did...did you hump his pillow? Or else you chew on it?" Both cause an odd pruckle through his frame and in his servos. That pathetic face makes a springer want to bite him.

But also- What would it feel like to have that much mindless attention?

[best-for-last]

This is more embarrassing than he thought. Normally, Optimus owns up to his failures with all the grace of a composed martyr, but normally his failures are battlefield mishaps and plans going awry, not misbehavior.

And Rung scolding him felt terrible.

He shifts his weight where he’s kneeling, glancing up at Springer and then away again. “I couldn’t help it. It smelled good…”

[springingfromnothing]

" So both then." Murmured more to himself than aimed at Optimus. He does grin a little at his plight," Rung caught you. Gave you a scolding I take it? So no overloading for Convoy...for how long?"

Why is he moving closer? Well. He can't resist. Optimus is in perfect reach. Allowing Springer to rub one finial slow and careful.

[best-for-last]

“Rung caught me trying to put it in the washing machine,” the big rig admits. “It wasn’t going to work like that, he said. ‘Cos the pillow’s mostly some sort of memory foam? The washer would just make it worse.”

Optimus looks back over as Springer moves closer, warily eying his reaching servo but allowing him to come close. Only to butt his helm into the hand petting over his finial, optics shuttering.

…Oh, right, Springer asked a question.

“Until Megatron’s new pillow that he ordered gets delivered. I was not told when that would be.”

[best-for-last]

{ @springingfromnothing }

" Not allowed to what?"

Convoy hunches over further, every inch a scolded hound with his ears low and his tail tucked.

“M’not allowed to overload ‘cos I ruined Megatron’s support pillow.”

[springingfromnothing]

" Did...did you hump his pillow? Or else you chew on it?" Both cause an odd pruckle through his frame and in his servos. That pathetic face makes a springer want to bite him.

But also- What would it feel like to have that much mindless attention?

[best-for-last]

This is more embarrassing than he thought. Normally, Optimus owns up to his failures with all the grace of a composed martyr, but normally his failures are battlefield mishaps and plans going awry, not misbehavior.

And Rung scolding him felt terrible.

He shifts his weight where he’s kneeling, glancing up at Springer and then away again. “I couldn’t help it. It smelled good…”

[best-for-last]

{ @springingfromnothing }

" Not allowed to what?"

Convoy hunches over further, every inch a scolded hound with his ears low and his tail tucked.

“M’not allowed to overload ‘cos I ruined Megatron’s support pillow.”

[best-for-last]

Tucked into himself like that might make the sheer mass of him any less… enormous, Optimus rests his fists on his upper thighs and stares somewhere off to the side as he mumbles.

“Rung said I’m not allowed.”

[pnglove]

[k1ntsug1-r0b0t-g1rl]

i think being dominant and wearing the muzzle is way hotter actually

[k1ntsug1-r0b0t-g1rl]

think of it as an added layer of protection until i know you won't break

[k1ntsug1-r0b0t-g1rl]

Exactly! Wearing a muzzle is power, i could kill you in a second but i choose to wear this, for your protection

[best-for-last]

“Dee,” Optimus whimpers, his optics scrunched shut, his face buried in Megatron’s favorite pillow. “Dee, please…”

His knees brace against the berth, one servo clutching the pillow closer as if he might memorize the feel of it by nuzzling and mouthing at it alone. Optimus’ other servo, slick with his own spit, flexes around the shaft of his spike as he self-services in slow, stuttering thrusts into his fist.

A particularly nice buck has him whining high in his throat like the needy mess he is. He’s going to ruin the sheets and Megatron’s pillow both at this rate.

[limoncakee]

Orion Pax Tramp stamp. Megatron got a lil possessive sorry guys

[best-for-last]

@fusion-cannon-advertisement

[deathgasmic]

i always feel a little like a begging dog but i will not elaborate on that

[best-for-last]

His leash has been looped around and locked to the very sturdy anchor. So long as Optimus doesn’t get overexcited and rip the anchor free accidentally, he’s got about two arms-lengths of slack in the heavy chain.

More than enough to get real cozy on the big shock absorber pad he’s chewed up the corners on.

[best-for-last]

…….He absolutely cannot let Megatron find out about this. Not even in the vaguest, most obscure sense.

[best-for-last]

Sunstreaker is watching Optimus with a very... hungry look.

Don't mind him.

He may try to take a piece out of the big rig.

Optimus, meanwhile, is trying to come to terms with the fact that somebody can just come up to him and turn his dick off. Is that allowed? Is any of this allowed?

He’s… also struggling not to sit with his legs crossed. Or do anything. Moving around too much sounds like it might be a recipe for disaster, actually—

Belatedly, he blinks at Sunstreaker, optics refreshing on a slight delay from all this thinking. “Yes, Sunstreaker?”

[best-for-last]

“I have a cleaning cloth, somewhere. Thank you for letting me know…”

Sunstreaker advances, and Optimus is too caught up in trying to find a spare rag in his subspace to fix his mess to notice until the goldenrod mech slips right up against him and dares to touch.

His vents seize as Sunstreaker pets at him, stroking over hot, slick petals and the dull pulse in the base of Optimus’ node intensifies to a electrifying hunger that has his hips twitching forward into the frontliner’s palm. Their optics meet, the Prime’s darker sapphire blue blown wide and bright.

He whines.

“We shouldn’t, this, it wouldn’t be— I don’t want to take advantage of you!”

[best-for-last]

The Matrix throbs.

As does his cunt.

This is ridiculous.

[best-for-last]

Sunstreaker is watching Optimus with a very... hungry look.

Don't mind him.

He may try to take a piece out of the big rig.

Optimus, meanwhile, is trying to come to terms with the fact that somebody can just come up to him and turn his dick off. Is that allowed? Is any of this allowed?

He’s… also struggling not to sit with his legs crossed. Or do anything. Moving around too much sounds like it might be a recipe for disaster, actually—

Belatedly, he blinks at Sunstreaker, optics refreshing on a slight delay from all this thinking. “Yes, Sunstreaker?”

[circuitry-and-chaos]

For the most part, for the majority of mechs, Sunstreaker could be blunt, or downright mean. Snappish, full of himself, angry. The list of things mechs considered him was endless.

There were few he... wasnt as mean or snappish to, at least to a degree.

Servos flex as he watches Optimus before he speaks.

"You uhm... you're leaking. Someone not finnish the job?"

[best-for-last]

Ah.

The disaster he was worried about.

Optimus shoves a servo between his legs in alarm to check for himself. Not that visual confirmation was necessary.

Beside his fingers coming back tacky and smeared with translucent pink lubricant that had seeped out from behind his modesty plating, he could— mortifyingly— smell it, like this, this slow ooze of the betrayal of his self-control.

“I believe I am experiencing a slight malfunction,” Optimus excuses faintly, “Pardon me,” and then his panel gives up entirely, splattering everywhere as it folds back into his pelvic armor to make space for his visibly swollen slot.

Shit.

“I- I will clean it up—”