rosieknight (
rosieknight) wrote2009-08-31 12:05 pm
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Entry tags:
Feme Fatal (Part Four)
Title: Femme Fatal (Part 4)
Author: RosieKnight
Rating: High PG-13 or low R
Characters: Megatron, Optimus
Universe: G1 cartoon, with elements of IDW for Megatron's past and headcrest.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: The shower scene and enter Bluestreak!
Megatron moaned in bliss as hot water cascaded down her silver form. "Mmm.... I've offlined and gone to Primus...."
She grabbed the polishing chamois and some cleanser from the pile she'd left beside the washrack door. "No telling how long the hot water will last," murmured Megatron. "I'd better get started..."
Working quickly, the faux femme washed the majority of dirt from her frame and seams. "Much better," she mumbled, reaching into a subspace pocket. "Now for the crest." A frown graced Megatron's face as her hand scrambled across the strange metal filling the pocket. "What? Where is that cleaning drone? And why the frag do I have metal in this subspace?" Rapidly searching the other pockets, her optics widened with horrified shock as black fingers encountered more of the metal. "No," she breathed, sinking to the floor. "Not all my supplies and extra weapons. They can't be gone. It's probably just a thin layer over my supplies. They haven't been destroyed." When the metal refused to yield to her attempts to shatter it, Megatron exploded, hurling the foulest, most vulgar expressions from the worst of her miner and gladiator orns.
A loud bang on the door to the washracks startled her from her creative and physically impossible stream of invectives. "Megatron!" called Optimus through the door. "Are you all right?"
The Decepticon Lord growled low in her throat, "No! All my fragging supplies are gone!"
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Megatron's bitter, hollow laugh echoed around the refresher. "Only if you want to wash my crest and head for me!"
Silence filled the room, broken only by the sounds of the water pouring from the washrack nozzle.
"Alright," Optimus agreed. "If you let me in, Megatron, I will."
Gaping in astonishment, the silver femme opened the washrack door. "No one," she mumbled in a daze, "has ever so much as offered to wash it since my creators deactivated." Her gaze flicked up to Prime's optics. "Are you sure you want to?"
Grabbing the cleaner and a cloth, Optimus smiled brightly as he steered her back under the spray. "Very sure. Now, let me work."
Whatever response Megatron planned to say vanished under the firm strokes of Optimus' hands across her crest as he gently scrubbed the dirt and grime away. She moaned, leaning heavily against Prime's broad, red chest. Each touch pulled new sounds from her vocalizer: gasps, mewls, moans, whimpers, and a near scream. Feeling her legs wobble, Megatron fumbled blindly for Optimus' unwavering support. The blissful torment continued endlessly and ended too quickly. Her circuits buzzing and aching for the release of overload, the fake femme turned to face Optimus and pulled him into a searing kiss that sets off brilliant explosions of pleasure within her CPU.
Megatron awoke in an almost decadently comfortable berth. She stretched and rolled to her feet in one fluid motion. Slipping into the main room, the silver femme smirked as she spotted the one responsible for how deliciously happy she felt. Smirking, she glided over to him. "So, Prime," Megatron purred, draping herself over the back of the chair and its occupant, "what are we going to do now?"
Optimus' optics briefly flicked her way before returning to the report on his console display screen, apparently absorbed in his administrative work.
Frowning at the lack of reaction to her voice in his audio, the Decepticon let her tone return to normal. "Well?"
"We are not doing anything together." Optimus calmly met Megatron's gaze. "I'll be catching up on my work, while you go on a tour of the public areas of the Ark with Bluestreak."
"Bluesteak?" Megatron echoed, doubtfully. "Not that sniper of yours?"
Optimus nodded.
"For the love of Primus, why him!?"
"I admit I have some ulterior motives in assigning him to you," admitted the smiling Prime. "The main being that your presence should act as a deterrent if Sideswipe tries to drag him into helping prank people again."
Before Megatron could reply, a chime filled the cabin.
"Ah! Here he is now!"
Megatron stared at Optimus, wondering why his tone hovered near sadistic glee.
With a shake, Megatron pulled herself from her thoughts in time to hear Optimus introduce her.
"Bluestreak, this is... Caliber. Caliber, Bluestreak. I want you to escort her around the public areas of the Ark and make sure no one harasses her," ordered Optimus as he guided the pair out of his quarters. "Have fun!"
The newly dubbed Caliber frowned at the door and turned to her tour guide. "Well?"
Said mech yelped at her tone before launching into the longest, most rambling stream of words she'd ever heard come from anyone's mouth. "Oh sorry! It's just I've never really been around a femme before. Well, excluding Elita and her soldiers, but I'm not sure they count. They're all either dating someone already, in a serious relationship, or bonded. Sometimes, they're all three at the same time. Which is really confusing, but who am I to judge if it makes them happy?"
Megatron pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, "Primus, this is going to be a long day."
Author: RosieKnight
Rating: High PG-13 or low R
Characters: Megatron, Optimus
Universe: G1 cartoon, with elements of IDW for Megatron's past and headcrest.
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Summary: The shower scene and enter Bluestreak!
Megatron moaned in bliss as hot water cascaded down her silver form. "Mmm.... I've offlined and gone to Primus...."
She grabbed the polishing chamois and some cleanser from the pile she'd left beside the washrack door. "No telling how long the hot water will last," murmured Megatron. "I'd better get started..."
Working quickly, the faux femme washed the majority of dirt from her frame and seams. "Much better," she mumbled, reaching into a subspace pocket. "Now for the crest." A frown graced Megatron's face as her hand scrambled across the strange metal filling the pocket. "What? Where is that cleaning drone? And why the frag do I have metal in this subspace?" Rapidly searching the other pockets, her optics widened with horrified shock as black fingers encountered more of the metal. "No," she breathed, sinking to the floor. "Not all my supplies and extra weapons. They can't be gone. It's probably just a thin layer over my supplies. They haven't been destroyed." When the metal refused to yield to her attempts to shatter it, Megatron exploded, hurling the foulest, most vulgar expressions from the worst of her miner and gladiator orns.
A loud bang on the door to the washracks startled her from her creative and physically impossible stream of invectives. "Megatron!" called Optimus through the door. "Are you all right?"
The Decepticon Lord growled low in her throat, "No! All my fragging supplies are gone!"
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Megatron's bitter, hollow laugh echoed around the refresher. "Only if you want to wash my crest and head for me!"
Silence filled the room, broken only by the sounds of the water pouring from the washrack nozzle.
"Alright," Optimus agreed. "If you let me in, Megatron, I will."
Gaping in astonishment, the silver femme opened the washrack door. "No one," she mumbled in a daze, "has ever so much as offered to wash it since my creators deactivated." Her gaze flicked up to Prime's optics. "Are you sure you want to?"
Grabbing the cleaner and a cloth, Optimus smiled brightly as he steered her back under the spray. "Very sure. Now, let me work."
Whatever response Megatron planned to say vanished under the firm strokes of Optimus' hands across her crest as he gently scrubbed the dirt and grime away. She moaned, leaning heavily against Prime's broad, red chest. Each touch pulled new sounds from her vocalizer: gasps, mewls, moans, whimpers, and a near scream. Feeling her legs wobble, Megatron fumbled blindly for Optimus' unwavering support. The blissful torment continued endlessly and ended too quickly. Her circuits buzzing and aching for the release of overload, the fake femme turned to face Optimus and pulled him into a searing kiss that sets off brilliant explosions of pleasure within her CPU.
Megatron awoke in an almost decadently comfortable berth. She stretched and rolled to her feet in one fluid motion. Slipping into the main room, the silver femme smirked as she spotted the one responsible for how deliciously happy she felt. Smirking, she glided over to him. "So, Prime," Megatron purred, draping herself over the back of the chair and its occupant, "what are we going to do now?"
Optimus' optics briefly flicked her way before returning to the report on his console display screen, apparently absorbed in his administrative work.
Frowning at the lack of reaction to her voice in his audio, the Decepticon let her tone return to normal. "Well?"
"We are not doing anything together." Optimus calmly met Megatron's gaze. "I'll be catching up on my work, while you go on a tour of the public areas of the Ark with Bluestreak."
"Bluesteak?" Megatron echoed, doubtfully. "Not that sniper of yours?"
Optimus nodded.
"For the love of Primus, why him!?"
"I admit I have some ulterior motives in assigning him to you," admitted the smiling Prime. "The main being that your presence should act as a deterrent if Sideswipe tries to drag him into helping prank people again."
Before Megatron could reply, a chime filled the cabin.
"Ah! Here he is now!"
Megatron stared at Optimus, wondering why his tone hovered near sadistic glee.
With a shake, Megatron pulled herself from her thoughts in time to hear Optimus introduce her.
"Bluestreak, this is... Caliber. Caliber, Bluestreak. I want you to escort her around the public areas of the Ark and make sure no one harasses her," ordered Optimus as he guided the pair out of his quarters. "Have fun!"
The newly dubbed Caliber frowned at the door and turned to her tour guide. "Well?"
Said mech yelped at her tone before launching into the longest, most rambling stream of words she'd ever heard come from anyone's mouth. "Oh sorry! It's just I've never really been around a femme before. Well, excluding Elita and her soldiers, but I'm not sure they count. They're all either dating someone already, in a serious relationship, or bonded. Sometimes, they're all three at the same time. Which is really confusing, but who am I to judge if it makes them happy?"
Megatron pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, "Primus, this is going to be a long day."