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cozzzynook · 6 months

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bumblebee was born with door wings.

It was known throughout Autobot territory that having anything relative to something deemed decepticon labeled you an automatic target. Sparkling or not, Autobots were not as kind as the history archives liked to preach and Bumblebee knew this first hand. Discrimination was a factor Bumblebee was far too familiar with seeing as he was born with door wings though he could not fly and had a ground alt mode. His alt mode was that of a car built for speed, he was no Blurr but he could rival him with how fast he could go. His driving was practically like flying once his wheels hit the pavement.

Not to mention his slender frame rivaled that of a seeker, he wasn’t bulky like a grounder something that put him at a disadvantage. He was not tall either, making him a prime target for bullying inside sparkling centers where all the other bitlets were not only bigger but stronger.

The overseers of the center always turned a blind optic to his bruises and dents. Not sparing him much energon since they didn’t like looking at his bright yellow painting even when his black paint came in albeit late since his frame was never given the proper nutrients to grow.

Bumblebee spent his early protoform days in a sparkling center since his creators were offlined when he was only days old after his emergence. His creators were not lucky. It was a high act of treason for an autobot or grounder to bond with a decepticon and seeker even if the war had ended, Autobots did not take lightly to such unions.

They were hurrying to get to neutral territory when they were caught and offlined. He was left to rust in his carriers gray arms before being found by a traveling bot who dumped him into a sparkling center out of pity for his fresh young spark.

Sometimes, on the nights his stomach rumbled and his door wings were once again scratched and painfully bent he wished the traveler had left him to gray. His young processor saw things weren’t going to get better at the sparkling center what with how all the others were adopted and he was sneered at.

So one night he snuck into the energon storage with a pouch and grabbed as much as he could before leaving. Life on the streets weren’t truly different for him save he was beaten less but he did have to hide more. Many bots gave him looks that made his tanks turn and he did his best to steer clear of them.

He knew to be weary of decepticons and autobots alike seeing first hand how cruel autobots could be all because he was born wrong and he knew from listening to the overseers how cruel decepticons could be. He wasn’t one to care for reading history or reading much in general but he did put it to use after teaching himself to read that decepticons had a point in their early cause. Even his young processor knew the counsel should’ve listened to their demands and reached an agreement. That could’ve spared so many pointless deaths including his creators.

He knew never to speak on his thoughts of course because Autobots spoke of being the side dedicated to peace while showing they had a pretty messed up definition of what peace actually was.

“Hey! Get lost!”

Scurrying without looking back Bumblebee was off.

His time running from bullies showed him he was fast and life on the streets taught him he could be even faster. Taking energon when absolutely necessary, speeding off with anti virus medicine that no bot would waste on him, dodging Elite guards who tried to take him into custody so he could be placed in a sparkling center. Yes, Bumblebee learned he was fast and he was good at utilizing it well into early adulthood when he would dodge servo happy mechs who wanted to touch him.

He wasn’t blind he knew his frame was desirable. He was small, lithe, and curvy in all the right places that left mechs and even a few femme’s glancing his way. At first it annoyed him. Being looked at meant trouble and as much as he wanted the attention, any attention when the days were crushingly lonely, he didn’t want to be damaged because someone thought they’d be doing him a favor ripping his door wings off again.

The first time it happened he was still a sparkling in the center. An overseer thought they’d be helping both of them by removing the ugly nuisance from his back. His memory file painfully kept the scene of him screaming energon murder as he laid in a puddle leaking his life away. The looks other overseers gave him after they were reattached made his circuits and mesh quiver even to this day.

“Look out!”

He turned his helm away from the mech sizing him up like a fresh cup of energon in the sunrise with his arms covering his chest plates when his optics met sight of large ship hovering in the sky before missile fire rained down on them.

He’d never run so fast in his life, transforming mid jump over a graying frame that laid on the ground before high tailing it. There was no stopping, no corner unfazed by the many mechs and femme’s running to safety and no where to go where the screams of innocent mechs and femmes alike were cut off only to be replaced as the process repeated over and over.

He was exhausted by the time the ship left. The autobot insignia was hidden but word later got out that it was an Autobot elite guard ship hunting down two notorious decepticons who were hiding in their area. They hadn’t managed to capture them so the group decided to take them by surprise and ambush them.

No apologies were given to the mechs and femmes permanently disabled by the elite guards reckless decision. Those that died were labeled a “tragic loss” and were used to encourage bots across Cybertron to join the Autobot forces to help snuff out any more decepticons so another incident like this would not be repeated.

Bumblebee remembers feeling an array of emotions when he heard the broadcast. He remembers seeing the poster with Ultra Magnus not long after covering the area and bots believing the nonsense. He seemed to be one of the only few bots who saw something wrong with all this besides those permanently disabled. Neither he nor they said anything though. It would be disastrous for them, the outcasts and undesirables, to speak out against it. They were already hated by their people for being different Bumblebee knew the mechs and femmes who were permanently damaged would no longer live the same life. They’d be just like him.

Tossed to the side.

Bumblebee suddenly felt like his body was covered in the life energon that splattered on him as he raced to survive the onslaught. He felt his optics sting and the late night break in to a “communal” cleaner did little to wash away the long gone life energon.

‘How can they live with themselves?’

Bumblebee asked himself this question countless times as he took what energon he could find before leaving the half destroyed town. It wouldn’t do him any good staying there not when bots were looking for another to take their anger out on. Many of those bots were joining the military and hoping to become Elite guards themselves. Bee figured it was misplaced hope and a need for safety.

He got it, he really did.

If he could blend in he would but sadly he can’t. He never could. Not with his yellow paint, door wings and femme like frame. He wasn’t proud of the way he learned to use these things to his advantage. It wasn’t always a guarantee he could scrounge up some energon without getting caught and since he was no longer a sparkling but a young grown mech, he needed to be careful not to get caught. He didn’t want to end up in a detention center.

It was hard at first. Truth be told it was still hard. Going to half decent but mostly seedy bars working for his keep to have a place to rest his head and keep energon in his tank. He wasn’t stupid. He knew this arrangement was not only dangerous but temporary. Eventually his luck would run out within twelve cycles and he’d be asked to accompany the bar owner to a more..private room. He always left immediately after saying he would meet them down there.

It led to him traveling a lot more than he originally planned but he eventually found some semblance of settling when he entered a camp full of seekers. There were a few grounders like himself, most likely mated to some of the seekers. He stayed clear of them seeing them just made him think of his creators and his processor just wandered to trying to remember what they looked like. So he tried to keep to himself no matter how lonely he was. He wanted to chat and get close with others, by nature he was a friendly mech and loved talking but he couldn’t risk doing so. Not here.

Not when he was always at risk of being hurt or…used.

“You know you don’t have to be so distant. It’s different here,” a grounder spoke, “a lot of seekers here just want to online peacefully and us grounders just want our sparklings and mates safe.”

The mech tried to put a servo on his shoulder but he flinched away, standing straight a moment later he looked anywhere but the mech and scurried off. His circuits were nervous for cycles after that encounter. Other grounders started coming to him trying to talk and soothe him as if he was a sparkling in distress and not a grown mech himself.

He didn’t need them trying to creator him, he was fine on his own and had been all his life cycle. They could frag off snd creator their own sparklings. It made him so irrationally angry every time they tried to take care of him he wasn’t some bitlet that needed consoling he was a grown mech that entered carrier heats alone when he was just a youngling living in a back alley. He was mech who survived the acid rains in the dumpsters or bots back garages in corners to not he seen. He’d kept himself from being interfaced by older bots all on his own.

He didn’t need them! He never needed a creator before when he was a lone sparkling and he doesn’t need one now as a grown mech.

“Aren’t jou a little young to be drinking jour sorrows away?”

“Aren’t you a little fragger for bothering someone in a corner who wants to be left alone?”

Okay so maybe he had a foul intake but he was justified, he wanted some peace to wallow in a bar he wouldn’t be asked to interface for shelter in for once he wanted to relax not this.

“Quite ze mouth on jou little one. Careful. Jou don’t seem ze type to be good in a mech on mech brawl,” the mech laughed in his foreign accent. He blamed the high grade in his systems for making him think it was attractive as well as warming his pleasure sensors.

“Yeah well you don’t know what kind of mech I am so frag off and leave me alone,” okay maybe he sounded bratty but he just wanted the mech to go away.

“Suite jourself,” the mech said with a slag eating grin in his vox. It made Bumblebee look up from his glass he was going to give this mech a piece of his processor until he looked at the mech. He was tall, really tall. Arms thicker than Bumblebee’s frame with a beautiful jawline that could offline. His face plate was a shade of blue he could never grow tired of seeing with the most beautiful red optics he’s ever seen. In the back of his processor he knew that meant this was a decepticon mech former or not he wasn’t sure. All he knew in that moment looking at the beige and purple painted mech was that he was beautiful, stunning, a sight he was truly gifted to behold.

His intake was left partially open as he swayed on unstable pedes before grabbing the counter to balance himself. His high grade filled helm was hard at work rushing energon south as his private plating grew hot. He could feel his valve growing wet with sticky energon slick and he knew he had to get out of there.

His seal was still in tact thankfully but with how attractive the mech before him was he wasn’t sure how much longer that would be the case.

“Oooh? Nothing to say hummel?”

Bumblebee made a face at the name worry tinting his blurred optics as he gazed at the mech but the small part of his processor that was logic won out and he stumbled away from the mech. Forcing himself to be silent as he left the bar. He didn’t have a place to call his yet but the archive building always had a room they let mechs and femmes stay in who had no hab suite. Here in the camps shanix wasn’t as big a need like in the capital and their surrounding cities and towns. He still had less than the average bot but he had enough for fuel and thats all he really cared about.

He was just at the archive back-way when he stumbled and lost his peding. The rush of cold air didn’t turn to concrete and vaguely he could feel two warm servo’s on his hips before being lifted into cool arms. The bot that helped him was a mech and a muscular yet lean one at that. They were quite large with how far from the he was but he didn’t feel in danger. He couldn’t identify what he felt if he was honest.

Warmth. Comfort. Soft. His body wasn’t on edge for the first time he knew of. He almost missed the word he’d been unfortunate to experience until now.

Safe.

The mech holding him managed to make him feel safe when he didn’t even know them.

“Jou shouldn’t get so full on high grade especially since jou aren’t a regular size for that kind of high grade.”

‘Oh great, this mech again,’ he would’ve rolled his optics if he didn’t have such a helm ache.

“Put me down,” his vox was half static as he tried to get feeling into his frame. His servo’s wouldn’t listen to his circuits telling them to move and his digits just hung limp against the mech’s chest plates. They were thick, made for flight and battle. Oh how his private plating pulsed with life at the mere thought.

‘Why did I have to like em big?’

“And vhere vould jou go hmm? Do jou live here? In this little hole?”

Bumblebee had enough energy to get upset at the incredulous tone but not much else. He wanted to helm butt the nosey mech but he didn’t have the energy to.

“Not your business, put me down,” his venting wasn’t even and his frame was getting hot from all the high grade and his valve’s pulsing. He hoped the bot couldn’t smell his arousal, he really wanted to frag the mech but at the same time he didn’t want to risk getting sparked or a virus.

“Are jou sure jou want me to put jou down? Jou could barely stand on those little stabilizers just a moment ago. Jou think jou can make it inside?”

“Why do you care? Just let me figure it out on my own and go away!”

He was starting to lose his temper and his valve was starting to leak with every passing word from that thick accent. He wanted the mech and he wanted to feel his spike breaching his valve and breaking his seal but there would be consequences to that and the mech was most likely a decepticon. He didn’t get a good look at his chassis to see the insignia but Bumblebee knew he had one.

“Feisty little mech hmm?”

“I’m not that little,” with a sudden burst of energy Bumblebee managed to catch the mech off guard as he twisted in his arms. Lifting a servo to try pushing the mech away he was restrained faster than he knew possible.

“Interesting, jou have quite ze speed I’ll give jou that hummel,” the mech smirked unfazed, “but i’m faster,” he said leaning in face plate to face plate.

“What do you want from me?”

“Jou are interesting.”

“I’m not a pleasurebot,” Bumblebee glared, servo transforming to a stinger canon. He has never offlined another bot in his life cycle but he was willing to blue screen one on their aft if he needed to.

“I never saw jou that way little one. I simply think jour interesting. I’ve never seen a bot with yellow paint or wings as beautiful as jours especially since jour a grounder.”

That made Bumblebee freeze.

No bot had ever called him interesting, let alone beautiful. And his door wings? Well, they were betraying his vulnerability full throttle as they flicked and postured nervously. A tint of eagerness in how they didn’t pull away from the mech’s direction. Vents stalling for a nanoclick as his optics focus on honesty and want in the red optics bewitching him.

“you..you think i’m…”

He couldn’t get the words out his vox couldn’t form a single sentence and his optics betrayed him by blurring with leaking fluid.

“i..don’t..,” that ache in his spark coiled something fierce vice grip holding him immobile in the mech’s arms. Those red optics didn’t pity him, didn’t judge him, understood him.

“I vant to, hummel,” the soft blow of air from his derma’s cooled the heat clouding Bumblebee’s fave plate, he wanted more, so much more. “I vant to touch jou, show jou just how beautiful jou are, hummel.”

His derma’s wisp the tip of his audial and brush against the mesh under his optic. Bumblebee could feel his horns flicking with excitement, with need, reacting to the mech’s touch. He wanted more. Needed more.

His own dermas inched forward, soft vent brushing blue mesh as his optic lids fluttered, chest plates pushing out slightly to touch the mech more. He could feel his breast mesh beneath his plating grow aroused perking to rub uncomfortably, begging to be set free. He wanted this mech to touch him, caress him, feel him.

He needed him.

Needed to be more than just a no bot fading to the background for safety. Hiding away from bots who wanted to lend him a helping servo, never staying in one place for long out of fear. His overseers still had him listed as a criminal for running away with a lot of energon and the seedy bar owners and patrons he served high grade to wanted his valve and seal for their own disgusting servos. He dodged plenty elite guards who identified him as a survivor to the raid on the small town he once inhabited.

Turns out they not only used it to make the towns people enlist and join the autobot ranks, they down played the damage truly dealt. Hid how many sparks were snuffed out and how many bots were permanently damaged because of their horrible decision. He had an idea of what they would do to convince him to keep it under wraps and he wanted no parts in that.

All the running, always watching his back, never able to trust another bot or simply talk the way he wished he could. He wanted nothing more than to be a normal bot.

His derma’s touch the beige helm before he realizes, thats all it takes for the mech holding him. He’s being carried somewhere, their entering the deepest parts of the seeker district where some of the more dangerous mechs cohabit. They come to a building he recognizes as a seekers home. Its built for a lone mech instead of a trine and Bumblebee feels his nerves jumble as they enter inside.

His optics wander the room as he notes paintings hanging from the walls beautiful and perfection in every sense of the word. Molding clay in a corner with stone and hammers opposite of them. Paint lies in a cupboard far too high for him to reach but perfect for the mech that shifts to cradle him.

A servo brushes so gently across the side of his helm holding his jaw to tilt making him look up. Red optics are warm to him now. A color he thinks he’ll forever find comfort in so long as its this bot before him.

He’s shy now, blue coating his cheeks as he feels the heavy thrum of the mechs spark pulsing through his thick armor. He’s a war build seeker that much he’s sure of, his gaze wanders to purple wings and his own flutter at the sight. He can’t help it. They’re so big, much bigger than his own and they could fly. He wished his could fly.

“Jour wings are beautiful,” the mech whispers, olfactory sensor rubbing his, asking for permission that Bumblebee grants him.

The kiss is slow, searching, fluid, curious.

They both want to get a feel on one another, servos tightening around his waist, his arms hooking behind the beige helm, stabilizers hooking beneath the large chassis. Digits digging into the armor when he feels dermas press harder onto his own. The mesh is soft, so soft he almost thinks the mech freshly glossed them just for him. He feels the cool shift in the mechs frame grow warmer, the shift in metallic wings fluttering. He’s vaguely aware of the bot taking him to the berth. High grade heightening his sensor nets while lowering his fire walls and the logic in his processor.

He feels his private plating heat unbearably, his vavle spasming as his back hits the soft sheets. His wings fan out in a desirable display and his hips rut against the mechs strong upper thigh that rests between his legs sinking into the berth. Their dermas part and Bumblebee flicks his optics open their hazy drunk on pleasure he knows will only grow. He’s faintly aware of the room growing in heat from their warming frames, the windows begin to fog and his olfactory senses pick up the scent of energon slick and transfluid, it makes him look down.

The mech on top of him has his private plating retracted he has no valve that much Bumblebee realizes as he feels his own private plating tremble in anticipation. But the sheer size of the mechs pink and blue energon transfluid dripping from his engorged black spike with bioluminescent purple and blue lines in an attractive pattern he wants has glossa to lick and trace, has Bumblebees private plating snap open.

He looks away in shame as his pathetic spike shows itself. It was small even for someone his size he wouldn’t dare compare it to the large spike about to penetrate him. He’s sniffling upset already thinking he’ll bd mocked, wings insecure as they shift awkwardly. But the beige and purple mech doesn’t allow him to wallow. Those purple wings flare to capture his attention and the icy digit lifts his head to look at him. Warmth enraptures those beautiful red optics and he’s left starstruck.

Subconsciously he’s aware of his servos lowering to hold both sides of the mechs face plate, feeling the seductive jawline move as the mech spoke. Words uncharacteristically gentle aimed his way has his chassis quivering and his optics warming in leaking fluid as he whimpers a pitiful whine at the mechs words.

“You’re a carrier,” the words are understanding, careful, sweet even, “I’m a sire mech, hummel,” Bumblebee didn’t really know much about sire mechs he only knew they couldn’t carry like he couldn’t sire. He had to know all that being a carrier entailed since he was one but he never bothered to learn much on sire mechs. He knew regular bots could spark bond and have a piece of their sparks enter-twine before going into a protoform. That was the norm of how their species reproduced.

And then there was mechs like him and the mech above him, the rarities who carry in tanks and sired through transfluid and spark energy. A carrier mech could end up sparked through either just like a sire mech could spark a mech using their chamber or transfluid. Usually the two types only stuck to each other simply because they were not only made for each other but because it was easier that way since a regular bot would have complications with either types and regular bots didn’t like their types.

“I’m sorry,” it felt right to say for some reason. He didn’t live a life he wished for others to experience and so he assumed the other mech may not have as well.

“No need to apologize hummel, jou did nothing vrong. Especially since i get to have jou here,” the mech said lowering himself. That thick spike dragging up his thigh plate made his hips rut and a smirk pulled at blue dermas that leaned back down to kiss him. His servo’s moved on their own, holding the mech’s chassis and shoulder optics fluttering as his neck moved back, wings spread out in invitation across the sheets. Hips lifting to rub his vavle along the thick pulsing spike that dripped transfluid onto his seal. He felt his valve squeeze on nothing and his grip tightened as he whimpered. He wanted the mech, this mech right here who showed him kindness he often ran from and rejected.

With him it felt different.

Maybe it was the high grade working in his systems, maybe it was the unparalleled beauty he saw in the mech that left him wanting more or maybe it was the growing heat that curled and coiled in his tanks with each touch the mech provided him. He didn’t know and he didn’t bother to care.

He just knew one thing.

“Spike..please,” he moaned as their dermas disconnected with a trail of liquid connecting them. His shinning optics took in the purple tint of the mechs cheeks and he felt his cheeks warm. This large mech was blushing at the sight of him, spike pulsing and hard because of him. Dripping the most delicious smelling transfluid onto his valve, all because of him.

“Hummel, are jou sure?”

“Yes, please,” Bumblebee pleaded, “break my seal, claim me as yours, mecha.”

There was a softness, a vulnerability that was partially guarded as the mechs red optics glossed slightly. A cool vent that left Bumblebee reaching up to pull the other closer as his wings lowered to stretch then spread in invitation. A shy invitation with shy confidence on Bumblebee’s part as he initiated a soft tender shaky kiss. Feeling the mech return it, servo holding the space between his door wings as he tightened his stabilizers around the mechs waist.

Digits slide to his valve and wait, he pushes his valve closer to them and the mech answers his welcoming. Sliding the first clawed digit inside breaking his seal. He gasps in pure pleasure, the mech inhaling his air sliding another inside. Twirling his digits slowly, working the fresh folds open careful to stretch them as slick pink fluid coated black clawed servos.

The dermas kissing his neck cables nipped at them, those sharp denta sent a shiver down his spine. Oh how he wanted the mech to open his chassis and bite his teat glands. He knew he couldn’t lactate but he wanted the mech to have the fun of trying.

‘Maybe I really do have carrier protocols that can be activated.’ That in itself was a surprise since he swore to himself he would never have a sparkling let alone take care of one.

The sudden pulse from his valve had his optics clouding for a nanoclick. The mech holding him had slipped two more digits inside him, he was impossibly tender and completely thorough in his stroking. He felt that sudden spike in heat wracking his frame his vents were starting to have trouble cooling him down and the mech bit a little harder when he felt the small bot in his arms gasp in pleasure.

“Jou like that? Hmm? Have I found jour bundle of nerves?”

Those skilled claws lightly rubbed the bundle of nerves and he felt his interior node spasm at the soft touch. His helm fell back at the sudden rush of slick fluid that spilled into the mechs servo. He felt his legs lock tighter and his hips rutting in tune with the mechs digits his own digits dug deep into the mechs shoulders scrapping his paint. And before Bumblebee could apologize he saw the mechs wings twitch in appreciation.

“M..mecha..your wings..so..ahhhh so beautiful,” he moaned. He wanted to touch them but he knew he didn’t like others touching his door wings so he was sure a full seeker wouldn’t want a mixed bot touching his own and Bumblebee didn’t think he’d be granted permission.

“Blitzwing.”

“H-huh?”

“My name, mein designation is Blitzwing,” the mech now known as Blitzwing, soothed to him pressing his helm against Bumblebees.

“Blitzwing,” the name felt like honey and riches on his tongue. He found himself repeating the designation over and over again as his valve pumped out slick fluid into the mechs servo. He felt so good all over, his frame may be hot and his tank felt like it would burst at any moment spilling out of his valve but he could care less. He chased that feeling, the unwinding bundle that threatened to swallow him whole as he bucked his hips keeping pace with the beautiful mech before him.

With the beautiful mech named Blitzwing that his optics just couldn’t get enough of.

“Hummel,” his groan was delicious to his audials but when Blitzwing pulled his servo back he whined like he was struck with pain.

“I vant to be inside jou, mein hummel, please,” Blitzwing moaned lining his spike to Bumblebee’s valve, “can I?”

When Bumblebee didn’t say anything Blitzwing pulled back ready to comfort him but Bumblebee’s stabilizers pushing him forward so the head of his spike could slip inside him, well it made them both groan.

Bumblebee’s valve was hot and soft to the touch, sucking Blitzwings spike in like a bot starved of the most delectable energon known in bot history. Blitzwing almost overloaded from just being inside the yellow minibot alone. He tried inching in slowly, allow the yellow mini time to adjust to his impressive thick spike but the yellow bug kept squirming and wiggling trying to lower himself onto his spike that he bit his lower derma to keep from thrusting in all the way.

“Careful zere hummel. Jou may rip something,” Blitzwing groaned as he almost bottomed out, servo curling around the yellow mini’s curvy mesh waist while the other held the back of his helm, Blitzwing watched the curve of his spike imprint the mechs tank. He felt his spike twitch spurting hot transfluid inside the soft meshy organ. Oh it felt so good to be fully sheathed inside the mech nestled in his arms.

His beautiful face plate was overwhelmed with pleasure, chassis heaving heavy vent after heavy vent in an attempt to cool his frame. His hips were twitching on his spike, he could see how full the mech was, so full of him that he almost slipped and overloaded inside him.

He didn’t want to hurt the neutral bot especially since he just broke his seal but he did want to make this experience last as long as possible. He wanted the mech in his servo’s to be ruined for anybot else. He didn’t want the yellow beauty to find comfort or solace in another mech or femme like this that wasn’t him.

He carefully cradled the mech closer pressing them chassis to chassis, covered spark plating to covered spark plating. Sucking what little air the mech had blowing cool air into his intake as he slid his glossa inside. Roaming every inch of the mechs intake when he felt servo’s hold his wings.

The sensation made him jolt in surprise.

This mechs touch, his small servo’s, his tiny digits, feeling along the expanse of his purple wings, feeling along the groves and long healed dents was the best feeling he’s ever had in his entire life cycle.

Blitzwing was so embarrassed his cheeks shaded complete purple as he moaned loudly, overloading inside the little mech who arched his back strut with impossible flexibility. Overloading slick fluid that sloshed and poured free from his valve mixing with the transfluid that dripped onto the sheets and down Blitzwings thigh plating and knee guards.

Blitzwing felt his wings fan out and stand at attention the same as the mech in his servo’s. He felt his processor crash for a moment, frame shaking making him thrust into the yellow mini’s interior node pushing him to overload once more. The sweet cries and moans coming from the bots leaking intake had his spike pulsing at attention and he couldn’t help himself.

Half crashed with his processor fritzing from overheat and excessive pleasure he kept thrusting. Their spark chambers thrumming at racing pace as they tried to connect through both the bots armor. Blitzwing had never been very vocal when interfacing save for some dirty talk but he couldn’t stop the moans and pleasurable grunts and growls as he soaked up all the attention his hummel was giving not just him but his wings as they interfaced.

He hadn’t touched the bots wings since one did not touch a carriers wings without permission. One didn’t touch a sire’s wings either but for this mini without question he made an exception.

“Ah, Hummel,” he felt his vox growl dangerously as another overload was building in his tank and circuits. Even with his ice powers blowing cool air on the air from his pistons it wasn’t enough. The windows were steaming, the berth was creaking as the metal frame slammed the wall making an ignored crack. The bot in his servo’s was trying to meet the rhythm of his thrusts his valve puffy and stretched out. Pink and blue energon surrounding it as their fluids mixed.

Blitzwing tried to stifle a particularly loud roar by biting so hard into his derma he spilled energon. His spike impaled the yellow mini’s interior node over and over until his little hummel overloaded with a loud cry of static before dragging his digits down Blitzwings wing plating then frizzing out into recharge. His frame spasmed in reaction to Blitzwing overloading inside him completely unaware of the large mech falling to his side and crashing into recharge after roaring loudly accidentally turning his thrusters on and firing his pistons. The last thing Blitzwing saw flashing across his hud before completely falling into recharge was that his processor had activated the protocol every seeker dreamed of.

His conjunx programming.

Neither mechs were in a rush to online their optics. Blitzwing was heading back into recharge when he felt his frame being moved and his arms lose the small warmth he’d held throughout the night cycle. His processor immediately took that as a threat making his optics shoot open and his pistons blare to life ready to shoot when a startled yelp rung in his processor and a flash of yellow dropped down.

He was quick to catch the little mech before he hit the floor boards, yanking him back into his arms as his optics searched for the threat. When he saw the berth room was empty save for the two of them he tilted his helm confused.

“Hummel, are jou okay?”

The mech in his arms was shocked and looked pretty shaken up though Blitzwing noted how he leaned into his touch instead of scurrying off.

“Hummel?”

“Stop calling me hummel. Thats not my designation.”

“Then what is jour designation? Jou never did tell me.”

“…”

The yellow mini looked down, face plate shifting to a hurt expression. His optics weren’t entirely clear but it couldn’t have been from the high grade. His scans showed the two worked it from his system during their first shared overload. His protocols were buzzing with worry something that didn’t show on his face plate but it did in his optics and closed off em field.

Deciding he would wait for an answer Blitzwing pulled the mech back onto the berth careful of sore stabilizers and his exposed puffy valve coated in dry transfluid and energon slick. He laid his back strut and wings comfortably against his pillows making sure the mech was comfortable against his frame. He could see the paint transfer on his thigh platings and he couldn’t stop the grin on his dermas. Em field motioning towards the mini he felt him jump slightly at the outside emotions.

“..b-127.”

His vox was low, it didn’t feel right to Blitzwing. The mech before him seemed so closed off, so closed in on himself Blitzwing was surprised he hadn’t split a circuit open. He knew the little mech had fire in him, that much was proven when he told him off at the bar. Sure he could be shy but that felt right. This. This didn’t feel right. And a designation like B-127? Thats not a real designation but he knows the yellow mech isn’t lying to him. So why was that his designation?

“B-127? Thats quite an odd designation for jour creators to give jou little one.”

“My creators offlined when I was few cycles old. Thats why I never got more than a sparkling center entrance number.”

The little mechs voice was cold and wavering as he spoke no matter how much he tried to stifle it Blitzwing could feel his em field howl with distrust, pain, longing, loneliness and sorrow at such a deep spark clenching grief. He was sure he could guess the type of life cycle the younger mech was tormented with. He knew well what the door wings on his back meant. The moved acted as wings a seeker would emerge with. He didn’t have the build of a grounder yet he knew the mech couldn’t fly. Sure he had a chassis like a grounder with no cockpit but that was it.

His plating was not build like that of a battling autobot but that of a civilian. He thankfully wasn’t framed like a pleasure bot but his natural frame was close. The yellow plating on his stabilizers went just above his mid thigh. His pedes had a small sharp strut to them and his hip plating wasn’t protective in the slightest. His tanks had no protective save for his back strut, the black plating blended well accentuating his curves that led to his yellow door wings with black opening handles just below the low window. His neck cables and upper chassis were exposed but his spark casing and tit glands were covered thankfully. His helm covering was yellow with black covering his audials, he had a strip of black on his forehead. That made Blitzwing get a good look at the antenna that drooped with his bots sad expression.

One he didn’t like.

“Jou didn’t vant to designste jourself?”

“Why should i? Not like anybots gonna call me by it.”

“It can be for jou, yellow one.”

“Yeah? And what if I don’t care about having a designation?”

‘Stubborn,’ Blitzwing smirked shaking his helm, “i think jou do but if jou prefer to be stubborn about ze subject.” Suddenly Bumblebee was pressed against the sheets. Blitzwing spike impaling him making the lingering transfluids sloshing inside of him slide back into his tank. His optics automatically began to haze as he felt some of the large mechs weight pressing him down. He never knew he would have a pleasure pressing kink, it was something he hoped the mech wouldn’t realize.

“Vhat if I told jou I wanted something to call jou other than the assigned numbers ze center gave jou. Hm?? Vhat if I vanted something better to moan during our bouts of interfacing? Hm? Ve seekers like spoiling our mates. Especially by calling their designations so every bot who hears us vill know who ve belong to.”

Blitzwing said the words as smooth as an icicle. They chilled him to his core in a way he felt heating his tanks just like the previous night cycle.

Bumblebee couldn’t stop his back strut from arching into Blitzwings middle plating. His valve slicking hot energon makes it so much easier for Blitzwing to pull his hips back, the tip of his spike keeping Bumblebee’s valve stretched as he made some excess transfluid and energon slick that was mixed together squelch out before it was roughly shoved back inside with a powerful thrust.

“Jou deserve a beautiful designation to be moaned in jour ear, hummel.”

Bumblebee felt his tank lurch and his gestation pouch pulse. His optics blew wide open at the assault on his interior node, lifting his helm to open his intake and defy the mech laying so comfortably on top of him. Ready to argue his words and the use of his magnificent spike that cured a loneliness he’d never known could be filled until Blitzwing slammed into his interior node again knocking his processor and vox off from their regulatory.

The mech was stroking him so deep with every pump of his spike he was sure that Blitzwing intended to hit the bundle of nerves on his interior node and even try slamming into his gestation pouch. The realization made his valve pour and he couldn’t stop his digits from digging into the sheets and as he arched perfectly into Blitzwings frame.

Blitzwing glued his frame to the mech below him and he decided his mating code picked a perfect mech to match him with. Sure he wished he could’ve gotten to know the mech better and know him for longer but if his sweet expressions were anything to go by. The parting of his dermas as static slipped free, his seductive arch, his tight little valve that went from relaxed to squeezing his spike like his spark depended on it. Every hum and whine and mewl the mech let out was far too great for Blitzwing not to bend down and steal for himself like the selfish decepticon he is.

“Nnnnnghhhhh,” those noises were music to his audial’s. He couldn’t help but open his optics as he kissed the yellow mech depely. Seeing up close for the first time just how beautiful the mech truly was. Smooth faceplate, glossy painted frame streaked with his colors with an incredible curvy femme like frame to pede. Not to mention his door wings.

Blitzwing wouldn’t ever admit it to any other mech besides himself and maybe his hummel but those wings. He watched those wings twitch with sad expression for literal joors as the yellow mini sat at the bar drinking high grade too high for his frame. He wouldn’t have really cared if it were another mech about to be taken advantage of. He knew what the bar tender wanted by giving the mech such expensive and tasteful energon. He hadn’t really cared until he saw just who the mech was.

He didn’t really know the yellow mini outside of seeing him in passing since the day he wandered into town. Expression blank in a way all too familiar to his own when he used to live in the slums of Vos and Kaon. He didn’t have a place to call his habsuite or home after his creators offlined. Surviving the cruel streets taught him to look as reserved and untouchable as possible. The same look he once adorned on his face plates was the same look the yellow mini possessed as he went about in town.

Many tried to chat with him and each bot was either rudely turned down or he shut them down before walking off. He intrigued Blitzwing at first, his first time seeing the mech up close he was in his alt mode. Seeming to be cruising to himself far from the other grounders who drove and raced together. Blitzwing admired the sleek form of his alt mode as he watched him from afar, vox stolen along with his helm and processor as he watched the yellow mini transformer into root mode and walk into the archive halls. Those wings were pressed flat on his backside, one that Blitzwing admired in its entirety as he took in the shapely aft and slender stabilizers that had small heel struts holding casual grace as they moved.

He was star speckled when he first saw the mini and ever since he kept his optic out for him. Engine almost purring at every chance he got to see his cute little aft bent over as his door wings bobbed in natural response. He never saw himself having a thing for grounders but seeing as the mech was half grounder half seeker he was more than happy to make an exception.

So seeing the little mech all alone at the bar with a cup of high grade had been a gift he was not willing to pass up. No he wasn’t intending to berth him but it had been a welcome surprise. One he wasn’t planning on letting him escape from. He was more than happy to show his hummel all the ways in which they were perfect together and if it meant starting in the berth room, well.

He was more than happy to get their odd courtship started.

“Ah! Ah! Bli-bLitzWing!”

“Go ahead, hummel,” Blitzwing moaned into his intake, glossa sliding inside for a quick taste before slipping out, “I vant to hear all of jou. Every whimper, every gasp, every whine. Go ahead. Don’t hold back on me. Mein hummel,” Blitzwing uttered against his derma, ever the secret romance bot, “Let me feel jour body tremble.”

With a loud optic leaking static cry Bumblebee felt Blitzwing intwine their digits together digging them further into the sheets. Spilling energon transfluid into his valve and gestation pouch as it burst from the round tip of his spike. Filling his tank quite noticeably as it swelled from not only his humungous spike imprint but the sparkling fluid drenching him with pure creation.

He couldn’t focus his helm circuits long enough to know the difference between opening his intake or his valve that greedily drank as if his life energon was at stake. His vox wouldn’t shut off no matter how many times he tried to shut his dermas and even the sheets he bit down onto wasn’t enough to stop the pleasured cry as he felt his spark chamber crack open.

The loud rumbling hum of a spark too big to be his own roared behind him. The life wisping energy of his untouched passionate bright orange spark began to mix in perfect harmony with Blitzwing’s mixed hues of orange and red life spark energy.

The two were in awe and amazed by the colors of each other’s spark. Blitzwing would never have guessed the yellow mini had orange in his spark or that a spark could even be pure white. Sure he’s heard rumors but thats all he thought they were rumors. He never believed they were real for a second but oh how wrong he was.

‘Orange and red? I’ve read about them but I never thought I’d see a bot with one! I never thought I’d see another bots spark at all to be fair…’

While Bumblebee and Blitzwing were awed at the sight of the other mechs spark and the beauty of the others essence, they completely forgot one important detail.

Their sparks were merging, becoming one, permanently.

The two mechs had just permanently sparkbonded becoming conjunx and hadn’t even realized until their energies permanently sat mixed within one another and their chassis closed.

Lingering specks of energy littered the air around them. Their digits were seemingly glued as their frames melted to each others. Bumblebee could feel a wave of warmth, confusion, anxiety and the ache of an overthinking helm in the pit of his tank and in the center of his spark. He reached his em field to touch it and the feelings burst to life with a static screech of his vox as he felt electricity burst from within.

His valve clenched tight around Blitzwing’s spike making the mech shake. The larger had been caught off guard by the sudden pleasure and discomfort around his spike after such an optic stopping moment as seeing a spark as ethereal as this. By Primus his spark put the stars in their galaxy to shame. He felt the symphony of the arts floating around his helm and the urge to paint his now bondeds spark on canvas to capture its immortal flawless core.

He needed to build. To craft such perfection and magnificence for him to behold in and out of the mechs presence. No not the mech presence, his mechs presence.

The yellow mini was not just a random bot anymore. This yellow mini who captured his attention without lifting a digit or batting an optic his way, was his.

And oh how he feared the clicks passing by as his affections and fascination grew.

“Hummel,” the mech groaned, digits clasping the mini’s tighter as he felt jolts of electricity stinging the core of his spark with fear and a warmth he’s never been granted past his creators.

“We bonded, oh frag we bonded!”

The panic settled in the form of his vox and vision glitching with fuzz and discolored sights in leaking optics that burned to his over working vents. He could not bring himself to release Blitzwing but he couldn’t bring himself to stop panicking.

“I just bonded with a mech I don’t even know! Oh frag I’m bonded to another mech! Frag, frag, frag!”

“Are jou telling me jou think jour on the femme attraction hummel?”

The raised taunting mesh above red optics annoyed Bumblebee especially when he could see the smugness in Blitzwing’s expression, though he refused to acknowledge his wanting to comfort the hidden fear in the mech he grasped tighter. Not because he cared and felt grounded by something as simple as touch but because he was running on high energy. He could delude himself for the moment he’s earned it.

“Shut up,” his cheek curves were blue with energon as he avoided that stiff smile, “its not that! I just don’t know you.”

“Vell ve are bonded now. Ve have all eternity to get to know ze other,” Blitzwing said accepting this a bit easier. Sure he was freaking out on the inside but the use of slightly taunting humor and the pretty mech still beneath him helped soothe him. That and he was still pumping transfluid inside the little mini and he was becoming fascinated with just how vast their size difference was. He was aware of his war frame being bigger than most bots but he was so used to being around other war frames and average sized bots, even heavy weight bots, that he forgot about mini bots.

Though now that he looks at the mech he didn’t exactly fit the form type of a mini bot. His protoform was far too…curvy and slim in all the right places to be a mini. They tended to be more round and husky, stout really. They were perfectly balanced in being heavy weight to make up for their short stature. But this mech didn’t seem to be stout he wasn’t even chunky. He was just curvy and little too slim.

‘Kind of like…oh..’

It would be best not to ask.

‘It vould be best to wait until ve’re more familiar vith each other to talk on our pasts..though I’m sure I know ze answer..’

“This isn’t funny! Do you have any idea what we’ve done?!”

“Jes.”

“And you’re just okay with that?!”

“Jes.”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough. I can spot a good bot from a bad bot and jou hummel are a good bot.”

That seemed to catch his hummel’s attention. He was glad for it, he could feel a warmth grow within their new bond. A pulse of something thready beginning to form and a piece of his spark broke as he pin pointed the emotion.

Praise.

His hummel had never received praise or appreciation before.

‘Just how lonely a mech are jou?’

His mating protocols were kicking into gear. His instincts spurred him to drown his bonded in the affection he so desperately craved and needed. There was an abundance of emotions and needs both physical and mental that his hummel had never received. So many things were empty inside his hummels spark and the memories he barely touched were only of pain and basic mecha comforts. The care and affection he sent out through their bond was unrecognizable to the mini and as he heard sniffling and felt shoulder struts shake at the rush of overwhelm and confusion from below, he did his best to guide and comfort him through the torrent of unfamiliarity.

It took two joors to get his hummel to calm and by then the lunar and solar cycles events and lack of fuel had caught up to them. He wanted to get his hummel and himself fuel but the tiny servo resting on his spinal column had stopped him. He knew then he was weak for the pretty mecha as he curled around him drifting into recharge. Though the nights recharge was not helpful.

After bonding bots will share certain memories through the conjunx endurea bonding and it will be completely solidified. There would be no surgery or repairs capable of undoing their bond. Blitzwing had felt it necessary to share this information with his hummel who responded by loosely holding his larger servo between their chassis. He didn’t meet his optics but closing them and leaning close did more than words could.

Currently he was shifting an optic back at his hummel, he was sitting at the large table watching nothing but that was to he expected. Blitzwing knew a lot of memories of his life cycle were not at all pleasant. Sure he had moments where things were good but the horrors he committed in the great war. The painful experiment he went through granting him the ability and title Triple changer along with his long held curiosity and attraction to his hummel before meeting faceplate to faceplate.

Well, he was surprised his hummel was still sitting at the table let alone being in the same home as him.

Blitzwing attributed that to shock and his hummels own personal history of horrid memories one would like to leave behind. The care center, the casualties autobots often caused, the discrimination and hatred he faced on cycle to cycle basis. Coupled with having to survive on the streets while hiding carrier status at such a young age. Blitzwing stood no chance in shutting down his protective protocols the moment they onlined from recharge.

The yellow mech was finally able to escape his arms because his tank rumbled for fuel which is why they were in the fuel room. If his protocols deemed it safe Blitzwing would be carrying his mini mech around as he prepared them an early cycle fuel. He learned from the mini’s memories he never received a home fueling. Blitzwing was determined to change that no matter how much it tugged at his spark to think he could still taste his carriers home fueling while his mini mech has not.

“Here, jou need fuel and zis vill help jou feel better.”

“Thanks,” his vox was tired, empty, overwhelmed with his past and Blitzwings important memories through the ages he’s been functioning. They both were having a tough time seeing what the other had been put through. Neither were having any luck being separate for more than a nanoclick—another side effect of their newly formed bond.

Blitzwing hadn’t been making their morning fuel for a full eight clicks before both their frames grew cold from lack of touching the other. He was sitting beside his hummel before he’d realized he still needed to make his own morning fuel.

“Here,” he felt something warm press against his dermas, smooth liquid tickles the sensitive mesh filling his olfactory senses making his tanks growl. He opened his dermas allowing the energon blend to slide down his pharynx with a soft groan.

“No, jou must fuel,” Blitzwing took his own energon and held it to the smaller mechs dermas, “drink.”

The flush of blue to the minibots cheek plating was adorable. Blitzwing accidentally activated his internal cams taking in the slow rise and fall of his chassis watching his intake curl around the cup as he finished the last of his energon.

“Jou’re beautiful.” Blitzwing spoke without conscious, his words deepened the blue along his hummels cheeks to color his entire face plate. “I vill imagine this face in the midst of every battle, I vill gaze at jou every lunar cycle and every solar break. For I vant jou to be the ethereal that greets me every dawn und every dark that guide me through every trouble that aggrieves me.”

“You-you liquid tongued mecha! Stop it,” his hummel exclaimed covering his optics with black and yellow digits. “We aren’t in the heat of interfacing you don’t have to play smooth with your vox. I’ll frag with you again just not until I can walk properly on my stabilizers.”

Slowly inching his hummels digits away, Blitzwing locked optics with him, “I mean every word I say, whether in ze berth or not. Jou are mine now mini one und I make it a goal of mein to spoil that which is in mein possession.”

“Oh yeah? Well last I checked I’m my own bot conjunx or not so stop trying to velvet vox me,” the yellow mini spoke with fire that ignited Blitzwings spark.

“I hope to see jour fiery spirit more often, hummel.”

The curl of blue derma was enough for Bumblebee to try frowning at the larger mecha but the sound of their tanks growling made him look away with a huff.

“Let us properly fuel then ve can talk more, hm?”

“Fine,” his hummel said with defiance that turned liquid when Blitzwing pressed his dermas to soft grey mesh on his hummels forehelm.

The cute static and beep was much appreciated on Blitzwings part, though not so much on his hummels part who swatted him.

Halfway through the solar cycle and the freshly bonded conjunx were relaxing in each other’s arms. Content to feel the others spark thrum while talking things through.

It was obvious between the two Blitzwings home would be shared and the room Bumblebee was staying at would be given back. They spoke on Blitzwings status as a decepticon and what that meant for Bumblebee.

“Jou von’t be forced to join the ranks but jou vill be vith me if I am ever called for battle, should there be a battle. Jou von’t ever have to fight if jou don’t join but I vould feel better if I could train jou to defend jourself. Neutral or not, being vith me brings danger that I vill do anything to keep jou from.”

Bumblebee felt assured oddly enough. Sincerity flowed through their bond and he reached out in acceptance. He knew Blitzwing was high ranking from his shared memories and learning he’d been living in small towns like this for almost three million stellar cycles. After Megatron gave the call to hide Blitzwing did just that as he awaited for Megatron to call upon him once more.

“Truthfully I am not so sure I vant him to call me. I rather like living in peace especially since I have jou now, hummel.”

“What does that mean?”

A raised brow and Bumblebee specifies.

“Hummel. What does it mean? You keep calling me that so it has to mean something.”

“It is ze german vord for bumblebee. An insect found on certain planets. I once ventured on an insecticon ruled planet. Jou remind me of the few I witnessed fluttering about. Especially when jou bob jour wings.”

That made Bumblebee blush and as his optics grew wide. His intake fell when he felt the form of a memory tug at the back of his processor. He was confused on what it was until he felt Blitzwing smooth a digit over his servo and he looked into the large mechs optics.

He felt himself lean in and his processor opened allowing the image of a large insectibot with his colors bob and flutter around a gigantic organic planet before landing. He had to admit Blitzwing was correct in the resemblance, though he didn’t have any fuzz or fur on himself he did have similar antenna save for the sharp quality.

“Jou remind me of them. Though zey aren’t anyvhere near as beautiful as jou mein hummel.”

There was silence for a long time as Bumblebee replayed the memory on a steady loop in his brain module. Blitzwing sat patiently enjoying the awe on his hummels face plate until the silence was broken.

“Bumblebee.”

“Hm?”

“My designation,” Bumblebee uttered with some hesitant but budding confidence, “my designation is Bumblebee. I want that one. I want that to be mine.”

His vox was small, personal, mystified.

Blitzwing felt a warmth in his spark grow that he didn’t know possible. The care he held towards his hummel grew and he knew then he this was truly it.

His hummel. Bumblebee.

‘This is the mech I vant for the rest of my life cycle und the next.’

He was never one for smiling but for Bumblebee he knows it will be easy.

“A beautiful designation, mein Bumblebee.”

It felt like cyberhoney on his glossa and he knew then he was sparked further.

“I guess being with you won’t he so bad, Blitzwing.”

The delicate kiss on his dermas further cemented his revelation and Blitzwing rested a servo on the back of Bumblebee’s helmet pulling him closer to deepen it.

He did not want to interface with his hummel. He just wanted to feel him and his em field reflected as much and so did their bond.

Blitzwing was more than happy to feel the sentiment returned.

First & foremost Free Palestine & Free Sudan & the Congo. Please share their stories & protest so that the cruelty they face may be stopped.

Second - I did not expect to make this story so long in the beginning. I hope all who read it enjoy.