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“You’re fragging Drift, then?”
Riptide glanced to the side as he asked. Unable to maintain optic contact.
He heard the steady exhale of Rodimus’ vents. Like the mech was deflating next to him.
“I mean, yeah. For way longer than you.” Rodimus inhaled the smoke they were sharing. It wasn’t like personal, personal with him and Drift. Plus the arrangement had some real benefits.
“I get along better with people if we frag. You think I just really enjoy having ex-cons in the command team or something?”
Riptide shrugged.
“So you’ll make me third in command for spiking you?”
“Primus, no.” Rodimus answered too quickly. He passed the smoke over.
They were laid out side by side on Riptide’s berth. Enjoying the swirl of lights on the ceiling and cooler temperatures kept up by the fans.
“I never said this was like - an us ‘thing’.” Rodimus tried to pad out the awkward topic. Riptide was too silent. He ripped the smoke absently.
“I know that.”
“So why ask? About Drift?” Rodimus probed.
Riptide shrugged again. Optics perpetually lost somewhere on the far wall.
“Overheard some break room chatter. People think you’re getting serious with him.”
Rodimus chewed the inside of his cheek.
“I don’t think thats-“
“I’d miss you.” Riptide cut in. “A lot.”
Rodimus rolled to his side, trying to make out the boat’s features.
“If you got with him or anyone - in the proper sense. I’d miss you.”
Riptide spoke easily. His earnest tone so refreshing after a day spent in the snake pit with the likes of Megatron.
“I would miss you too.” Rodimus replied without thinking, only realising after he spoke that it would be true.
Riptide took another draw. Exhaling slowly and letting his optics shutter. He didn’t like the idea of Rodimus being with Drift but his captain was, and always should be a free spirit. It wasn’t the speedsters fault it had become anything more than that to Riptide.
Saying anything too abrasive now would only serve to push him away.
“I bet he can’t frag you like do.” Riptide bit out. The words came faster than he could stop them. It was instinctual.
Nevermind.
Rodimus stared at him, optics wide with a sort of sticky curiosity. Such talk was rare from Riptide. He was not regularly jealous, nor was he spiteful.
The tone sent a hot bolt straight to Rodimus’ array.
“Woah. Where’s that come from?” The speedster asked airly, trying to keep things light.
Riptide sat up. Flicking ash from the end of the smoke.
“Well?” He bristled. Servo reaching to tip Rodimus’ chin upwards. Cupping his jaw. Pulling him close. He put out the smoke on the berthside table and rolled onto Rodimus frame.
“Let me remind you. Captain.” The threatening undertone of Riptides voice made a rodimus shiver. He was a heavy weight over him, the promise of a good ride.
“Scrap, alright-“ Rodimus’ uneasy laughing agreement was cut off by a hot and heavy kiss. Riptide pushed in with tongue. Servos already squeezing tight around his waist. Pawing at his aft.
Rodimus tried to ease into it, letting his frame go lax beneath the larger mechs needy touch. Servos bullied their way between his thighs and stroked over his already heated valve plating.
Seeing little need for resistance, Rodimus let the metal slide back. Riptide groaned above him as digits swept up lubricant over warm mesh. The mech was breathing heavily in his audial. Sheer need emanating from his field. They were moving too quickly. Every move was deft and hungry.
“Oh, Primus-‘Tide-“ Rodimus gasped as thick digits entered him and curled. Rubbing against node clusters and lighting up internals. Riptide was at his neck, kissing and biting at delicate cabling. They groaned in unison.
Riptide was taking advantage of every weak, sensitive point on Rodimus’ frame. He’d been keeping track of tension points. Noting what made the mech scream for his creator.
Riptide pumped his digits deeper. Engines revving with each jolt of his arm.
“‘Tide- it’s not enough. Come on-“ Rodimus bit out the words between gasps. Valve clenching around digits that did not give him the stretch he needed.
Riptide surged up. Pulling his digits free with a wet noise and unclasping his codpiece. His spikes extended hot and heavy into his palm. Steam drifted up from his frame. He took both in his servo, pumping them at once.
Drift must think he’s almost loose, he takes this so much. Riptide thought. That mech can’t satisfy him. It’s not possible.
“Here. Stop squirming.” Riptide grabbed at the speedsters ankles. Pulling Rodimus’ legs over his broad shoulders.
“Look at me.” Riptide demanded. The sharp tone pulled Rodimus from his blissful stupor. He gazed up, optics glassy from the smoke and lidded as his frame readied itself for pleasure.
Rodimus watched as he was breached with Riptide’s bottom spike fist. Leaving the top one to rub luridly against his anterior node with every inward thrust. He groaned, undulating his hips upwards. Charge moved between them as Riptide seated himself. Using Rodimus’ legs against him as leverage.
Rodimus whined a litany of curses, keeping his optics trained on where they joined. Prefluid leaked from Riptide’s unused spike. The speedster clenched down, making Riptide inhaled sharply as he thrust in.
“I want both,” Rodimus ground out, hoping maintained optic contact would be enough to melt Riptide’s resolve. But the mech had been relying on his greed.
“Most only have the one.” Riptide responded cooly. He moved Rodimus’ legs, pressing his ankles together and began fucking into him brutally. Pressing down upon him, folding him in half.
Rodimus yelped. The fresh angle touching multiple nodes. This was new for Riptide. Rodimus had often wondered if the mech even had this side to him. And now he knew.
By ‘Most’ he meant Drift. Riptide was jealous. And jealousy was very sexy on him.
“But you want both.” Riptide cut through his thoughts. Pulling out. Rodimus whined at the loss.
“Listen to yourself, Captain. So hungry.”
Riptide brought his servo down across the speedster’s dripping valve with a sharp slap. Rodimus arched in the middle.
“Riptide!” Rodimus tried to sound authoritative but his voice was laced with the heaviness of engine revs. The slap had gone straight to his node. His valve was gushing lubricant.
Riptide’s features were tight. His optics a blazing yellow while his mouth was barely open, taking short even breaths as he concentrated.
“You need both?” Riptide asked again as he drove home again with just one, spike head hitting the entrance to Rodimus’ forge. Want had changed to need in a matter of seconds.
The speedster curled under him. Servos coming up to hide his faceplates as he sucked in a breath to cover his moan.
“Do you?”
Riptide was being mean. Holding deep. Not moving, not giving an inch of friction. Prefluid from his top spike was creating a pool over Rodimus’ lower belly armour.
The speedster chewed at his bottom lip, never having expected to be taken to this point by Riptide of all mechs.
“Yes.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I need both. I need to overload.”
Riptide grinned, wide and sharp. Did Rodimus need both to overload now? How could other mechs possibly do it for him?
“You get what you ask for. My Captain.”
He rubbed the dual tips of his spikes over Rodimus’ node before lining up. Pushing Rodimus’ legs wide and flat against his torso.
The mech panted beneath him, bracing his frame for what was to come. Both spikes pushing in at once. The searing hot pain of the stretch and the pop of mesh as both pushed past the rim of his valve.
“Breathe. Rodimus, Breathe.” Riptide cooed above him. Using a servo to massage the protometal of his stomach. Feeling himself fill the speedster up from the inside as he thrust in.
Rodimus jerked, frame undulating and trying to escape the intense pressure as he whined. Riptide was always too much to begin with.
He fucked into Rodimus with relish. Leaving little time for Rodimus to adjust. Taking him. Driving in deep and putting every part of his weight behind each thrust.
Rodimus overloaded too quickly. The shock of it was followed by a flood of pleasure and then the realisation of embarrassment. Charge arcing from his spent frame. Above him, Riptide moved like a cyberbeast. Vigorously chasing his own relief.
He overloaded hard, grunting out the broken syllables of Rodimus’ designation. He held deep. Rocking his hips slowly as he overloaded, spurts of silvery transfluid from both spikes painting the speedsters internals. Without acess to his forge the excess leaked out the sides of Rodimus’ taut valve and stained Riptide’s sheets.
It was a pity. A waste.
Rodimus heaved, his frame pinging with heat. His frame felt exhausted and stretched. Riptide finally let go of his legs. Allowing him to unfurl into a graceless sticky mess on his side.
Riptide collapsed next to him. A sheepish but satisfied look painting his faceplates.
“Admit I do it better.” He spoke into the air after a few moments of recollection passed. Rodimus made a noncommittal hum next to him.
Riptide revved his engines. They were loud and deep. Powerful, for cutting through water and hauling heavy weight.
“There is only one of you, ‘Tide.” Rodimus rolled over, pressing a kiss to the sensitive wiring of his neck.
Riptide supposed he could settle on that for now.