some nights at swerve's, rodimus likes to prance around flirting with everybody and very obviously posing at the bar with his aft out, glancing over his shoulder with lidded optics, wiggling his hips like he's daring people to touch. everybody gets the idea; some mechs buy him a drink while he's pushing his aft into their free hand and then they take him back to their chosen booth to seat him in their lap or push him to his knees under the table... rodimus spends these nights getting passed around by his crew and enjoying free drinks. even if he weren't being bought drinks, swerve would give him freebies just for all the business he's bringing to the bar. he's the entertainment for the night, and everybody stares at their captain with open lust, waiting their turn, as he's fucked over a table or bounced in someone's lap or kneeling between a mech's legs.
one night something changes, though. rodimus isn't sure what, as he surveys the bar and makes sure his spoiler is catching the light attractively. everybody's staring a little more greedily. he shudders under the attention and waits for the first mech to come up to him. and he doesn't have to wait long at all; it feels like everybody's clamoring for his attention tonight, but eventually he's led back to a booth occupied by skids and brainstorm, hanging onto skids' arm and leaning into his touch. everything seems normal. rodimus moans when skids kisses him deeply, grinding down on his lap, while brainstorm plays with his spoiler. then what they're saying registers to rodimus over the arousal pulsing through his lines. they're murmuring things like "you're so pretty tonight, captain" and "you feel so good against me" and "i love how you sound". and that's not too unusual to hear sometimes, but suddenly rodimus feels hot and embarrassed under their undivided attention. usually his crew would be chatting with each other while the lucky mech has their way with him, but it feels like everybody in the bar is watching, and both skids and brainstorm are calling him beautiful and hot with single-minded focus.
he can't keep a good rhythm when he's riding skids when he's being kissed and petted and told how good he's being. his back pressed to skids' chest, brainstorm in front of him and watching, clearly, as he strokes his own spike at the view. "does he feel good?" brainstorm is asking, when rodimus tries to refocus. and skids laughs breathlessly in his ear and goes "he feels amazing, he's so good at riding me," and rodimus feels his face burning. dozens of little comments made at him or above him about how tight and hot his valve is and how cute he looks when he's staving off an overload. one more comment from brainstorm about how badly he wants to see rodimus cum sends him over the edge, clenching down hard on skids' spike and clinging to the arms wrapped around him. he feels dazed and fuzzy as the two mechs kiss him and tell him how much they liked him, how good he was at pleasing them.
for the rest of the night rodimus feels like he's on the back foot. he's stuttering and acting like an inexperienced virgin because everybody's complimenting him. he blew his load spread out on a table because mainframe stroked his facial crest and murmured "pretty." he finds himself dripping onto the floor between his legs as he sucks blaster's spike because he looked up and saw everybody watching him, heard the way blaster groaned in pleasure and said his mouth felt so good. everybody is telling him just how cute they find him as they fuck him; "just like that, you're doing perfect, captain" and "fuck, you look so pretty spread out like that, rodimus" and "your valve feels so good, i can't help but cum inside." by the end of the night, rodimus is whimpering, overwhelmed, as people pet his frame and stroke his array and praise him for how pretty he is and how good he feels. his valve is pleasantly sore; everybody was extra enthusiastic tonight and he's had probably twice the number of overloads he usually does.
drift takes him home, supporting him as he walks on trembling legs. "everybody acted so weird tonight," rodimus whines shakily. his vocalizer is fuzzy from how much he was moaning. drift just strokes his back and snorts when rodimus shudders at the touch. "they kept... complimenting me," rodimus continues. he still feels overly warm just thinking about all those nice comments about his frame, his valve, his noises.
when they get back to rodimus' habsuite, drift pushes him onto his bed, heedless of his surprised squeak. when drift leans over him and says, simply, "good boy," rodimus flounders. his face is hot and despite how tired he is he can feel his valve clench. drift grins down at him and trails a hand down his abdomen, watching him shiver. "rodimus, you've got the most obvious praise kink in the world. someone must've figured it out, word spread around, and, well..."
rodimus moans hoarsely when drift takes his spike in hand and starts stroking it firmly. "it's hard not to compliment you," drift murmurs. rodimus squirms under his intense gaze, panting up at him and trying not to whimper. "you look so pretty when you're like this, feeling so good under me, captain." a hot bolt of arousal shoots through rodimus; the same thing he's felt all night every time someone pet his helm and called him good. "good boy," drift repeats in a purr. "just like that. one more overload. you deserve it."
rodimus groans and jerks his hips as he cums, transfluid spurting over his tummy. his spike twitches tiredly. his whole frame feels buzzy and hot and overwhelmed, and his head is spinning from all the attention and praise tonight. he looks up at drift and just the satisfied, fond look in drift's optics makes him feel embarrassed and good...
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