Posted originally on the

Archive of Our Own

at

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12680

.

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

Other

Fandom:

Transformers (Bayverse)

Relationship:

Sam Witwicky/Bumblebee

Character:

Sam Witwicky

,

Bumblebee

Additional Tags:

Plug and Play

,

human/mech

,

kink:bdsm

,

holo!Bee

,

Camaro!Bee

Stats:

Published: 2009-11-16 Words: 5593

Into the Fire

by

Piscaria

Summary

As the base's resident expert on human culture, Sam had fumbled his way through some

pretty awkward conversations, but even he didn't feel up to tackling the questions Bee

would have once he learned that his best friend had somehow developed a fetish for alien

robots.

Bee slowed to a stop and opened his door, letting Sam stumble out of the car. Flushed and breathless,

Sam leaned back against the Camaro, his knees too shaky to stand. Even after seven years of close

contact with the Autobot, Sam still forgot how fast Bee could drive when he put his mind to it.

Apparently, so had Sideswipe -- if the cloud of dust that he'd spitefully kicked off as he sped away

from the finish line was any indication, the red Lamborghini wouldn't be challenging Bumblebee to

another race any time soon.

"Damn," Sam gasped, resting a hand on Bee's sun-warmed hood to steady himself. "Bee, that was

incredible."

"Check on the rep, yep, second to none," Bee agreed through the radio, and Sam laughed shakily, still

stroking the hood. Sweat soaked his t-shirt, and his erection strained painfully against the front of his

jeans. Sam hoped Bee's sensors weren't as powerful as Ratchet's -- he thought even he could smell the

pheromones rise off him, lust radiating out from his body in hot waves. Maybe he could chalk it up to

the adrenaline.

Warm metal slid beneath Sam's hand as the hood moved, and Bumblebee backed a few feet away. The

Camaro unfolded, mechanical pieces whirling and clicking together in fluid, effortless precision. Sam

watched appreciatively as Bumblebee reverted back to his bipedal form. Car or robot, there was

something enthralling about Bumblebee. Sam didn't think he'd ever get tired of watching him.

Bumblebee offered a hand to him, and Sam swallowed, uncomfortably aware of his erection. It was

one thing to get a hard on racing in your robotic car -- come on, Bee was sexy when he moved so fast -

- but it was quite another to step into your robotic car's hand with a hard on. Sam wasn't sure he could

restrain himself from humping Bee's fingers, or something equally mortifying.

"Nah, I . . .I'm fine," Sam stammered. "I'd rather walk. Walking's good for me."

Bumblebee clicked at him, and crouched down so they were more-or-less face-to-face. Of course,

Bee's face was almost as big as Sam's body. The Autobot's optics glowed brighter than usual, and Sam

squirmed under their light. Bumblebee curled an enormous finger around Sam's shoulders, drawing him

a bit closer, and Sam shivered. His heart pounded in his chest.

"Sam," Bumblebee said hesitantly, "I wondered if you might like to watch a movie with me tonight."

For one hopeful moment, Sam wondered if Bumblebee were asking him out on a date. Then common

sense reasserted himself -- the base had a movie theater, with a screen as big as anything Sam had seen

outside of an IMAX. No doubt, Bee wanted to show him something he'd downloaded off the internet.

"I . . . " Sam swallowed, trying to focus on anything but the solid weight of Bumblebee's finger on his

shoulders and the Autobot's sweet metallic smell. "I think I'm busy," he stammered, as Bumblebee's

finger stroked his back. Heat coiled in the pit of Sam's stomach, and he swallowed, hoping the Autobot

hadn't noticed the sudden hitch in his breathing.

"Tomorrow, maybe?" Bumblebee asked hopefully.

"Sure," Sam said, squirming a little beneath Bumblebee's gaze. "I . . . I've got to go, Bee," he

stammered, pulling away from the Autobot's grip. "I just remembered that I've got to be somewhere."

"Sam," Bee started, but the human was already jogging away.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sam yelled over his shoulder.

* * *

Driving an alien robot had forever spoiled earth cars for him, Sam thought a few hours later, as he

parked the Ford Focus with the government plates that he kept for the rare occasions when Autobot

business called Bumblebee away from the base. Not that Bee left very often -- as ambassador to the

Autobots, Sam needed a bodyguard, and Bee had wasted no time getting himself officially appointed to

the position he'd occupied since he first met Sam. Bee would be pissed if he knew that Sam had left the

base without him, but as close as they were, some things, Sam just wasn't ready to share with his best

friend.

The night air chilled Sam as he walked towards the brick building a few blocks away. His college

sweater really wasn't warm enough for the desert night, but Sam had wanted to wear it. At 22, he could

still pull off the boyish look with the right clothes, and besides, the sweater, jeans, and sunglasses made

it a little harder for people to recognize Ambassador Witwicky, with his suits and his Autobot

companion. Tonight, Sam didn't want to be the Ambassador. He just wanted to be another boy at the

club.

He'd jacked off in the shower earlier, but it hadn't completely eased the heat coiling in his belly or the

memory of Bee's joyful tear through the desert. Beneath his towel, his dick stirred again at the memory,

and Sam shook his head, thanking his lucky stars that Bumblebee hadn't noticed his attraction yet. As

the base's resident expert on human culture, Sam had fumbled his way through some pretty awkward

conversations, but even he didn't feel up to tackling the questions Bee would have once he learned that

his best friend had somehow developed a fetish for alien robots. Sam hadn't finished working through

his own questions yet.

How could his body respond so strongly to one made of alien metal? Pure love Sam could have

handled. How could he not love Bee? But love alone couldn't explain why Sam's pulse raced at the

sound of Bee's engine, or why a simple race through the desert was enough to leave him weak-kneed

and desperately hard.

The finer points of Autobot sex were still a mystery to him -- Ratchet had tried to explain it once, but

the mechanic's long and sometimes contradictory descriptions of wires and interfacing and spark energy

had left Sam with no clearer insight into most vital thing he needed to know: could an Autobot have

sex with a human? Would an Autobot even want to? Bee probably could have cleared it up for him,

but Bee would have wanted to know why Sam was so curious. Sam had only figured that out himself a

few months ago.

He supposed he had Mikaela to thank. She'd dumped him a year ago, not long after Sam had managed

to get the government's agreement to move the Autobot's base from Diego Rivera to California. He'd

never forget the day he came home from work to find her packing the last of her clothes into her

suitcase.

"I'm leaving you," she'd said, as though it weren't obvious.

Sam had protested, of course, but this time, it hadn't worked. Mikaela hadn't seemed angry when she

left -- just sad.

"I'm not sure what you want, Sam," she'd said, kissing his cheek before she swept out the door. "But it

isn't me. I'm tired of trying to convince myself that it is."

It had taken Sam three months to agree that she was right. A year after that, he'd finally worked up the

courage to admit to himself that his feelings for Bumblebee weren't quite as platonic as he'd once

believed. Coming to that realization hadn't simplified his life, though -- if anything, it made it more

complicated.

The bodyguard outside the club gave Sam's fake ID a cursory glance before letting him through the

door. A wave of heat enveloped Sam as he stepped into the crowded room, fogging his sunglasses.

Trusting the pulsing lights of the club to keep people from recognizing him, Sam tucked the glasses into

his pocket and made his way through the press of bodies to the bar. He ordered a shot of Jameson and

climbed onto a bar stool to watch the crowd. As Sam sipped the whiskey, he looked for a splash of

yellow, a bit of leather, a hard body to move against . . . Sam wasn't picky. Then he saw him.

Oh God. He was perfect: the lean, muscled body of a soldier, with sandy hair shorn in a military cut. A

thin, yellow t-shirt clung to the faint curves of his pecs, and a black leather jacket made his shoulders

look wide. Dark jeans emphasized the bulge at his crotch. As if feeling the weight of Sam's gaze on

him, the man turned. Blue eyes met brown, and Sam swallowed, feeling his heart stop in his throat. The

head cocked to the side, the lips quirked, appraising him. Something about his posture looked familiar,

and Sam wracked his brain, wondering if they'd met before. Was he at the base? That could complicate

things.

Sam swallowed, and turned around in his bar stool. Swirling the golden whiskey in his glass, he tried to

decide if the slight possibility that they might encounter each other again meant that Sam should look

for someone else tonight. The last thing Sam wanted was for one of his chance encounters to somehow

bleed into the rest of his life. But that jacket, that shirt, oh God, those eyes . . . heat curled in Sam's

belly, and the decision was made.

No sacrifice, no victory, Sam thought, and knocked back the whiskey. Squaring his shoulders, Sam

worked up the nerve to swing his barstool around and catch the man's eyes again. Absent-mindedly, he

set his shot glass on the counter -- and gasped as a large hand closed around his wrist. Whipping

around, Sam found himself staring up into the face of the man in the leather jacket.

"Um, hi," Sam stammered, his heart battering his chest.

The man was larger than he'd looked across the room, his muscles evident beneath his tight yellow t-

shirt. This close, Sam could see the ball chain around his neck, disappearing into his t-shirt, where the

familiar outline of dog tags were clearly visible beneath the thin fabric. He was a soldier then. The man

saw him looking, and smiled, an ironic quirk of his lips.

"Don't ask, don't tell," he said. His deep voice had a British accent, and that more than anything almost

did Sam in.

Sam searched for a witty response, but all of the flirtations he'd learned these last six months -- hell,

even his usual knack for nervous rambling -- seemed to have deserted him. He swallowed, trying to be

cool, trying to be suave, trying to be everything that Sam Witwicky from high school was not. But his

skin tingled where the man still held his wrist, as though the strong fingers were sending electrical

current into Sam's very bones. He lifted a trembling hand to rest against the man's forearm. The leather

jacket was soft and cool beneath Sam's hand.

For a second, the man's smile softened into something tender, and then it was gone, replaced by the

familiar, hungry look Sam had seen on so many men these past few months. Sam wondered if he'd

only imagined it. Leaning in closer to Sam, the man tugged on his wrist.

"Dance with me," he said.

Wondering if he'd died and gone to heaven, Sam slid off the bar stool and let the man lead him into the

crowded dance floor. Lady Gaga's "Disco Stick" was blaring from the speakers.

I'm on a mission and it involves some heavy touching, yeah

The man slid off his leather jacket, tossing it behind him, and Sam's protest fell short at the sight of the

wide, black tattoo encircling his forearm like a racing stripe. Muscular arms closed around Sam, pulling

him closer, and Sam brought his hands up to the broad chest. The man smelled like leather and motor

oil, two of Sam's favorite scents.

With his senses dulled from whiskey and caught up in the pulsing music, it was easy for Sam to forget

about everything but the strong arms around him, moving him in time to the beat. The man had great

rhythm. His hands skimmed over the small of Sam's back, then settled onto the curve of his ass, pulling

him closer. Sam gasped as the man's erection brushed his own.

Sliding up onto tiptoes, Sam pressed his face against the man's ear, so he could be heard over the

music. "Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked.

"My car is outside," the other man said. He caught Sam's hand, leading him away from the dance floor.

They'd no sooner stepped into the cold, night air than the man was pressing Sam up against the brick

wall of the building. Sam's eyes drifted shut as their mouths met, and he wrapped his arms around the

other man's neck, sinking into the kiss gratefully.

At first, the man's mouth was awkward against his own, a little clumsy. He drank down the kiss like he

was desperate for it, running his hands over Sam's chest and arms. Sam responded with equal fervor,

and gradually, the awkwardness faded, swept up by a fire that consumed them both. Sam's fingers had

gotten tangled in the man's sandy hair -- moving them lower, he brushed the soft skin on the back of his

neck.He found the ball chain around the man's neck, and slid his fingers along it, skirting over the rapid

pulse in his throat. Pulling the dag tags from the man's shirt, Sam used them to tug him down, rising up

on tiptoes to deepen the kiss.

"Where's your car?" Sam gasped, breaking away.

The man swallowed, and the confident expression he'd worn all evening flickered, replaced by a hint of

wariness.

"It's parked on the curb," he said softly.

Sam could have sworn the curb had been empty when they stepped outside, but as he looked over the

man's shoulder, he saw it: a 2009 yellow Camaro with custom racing stripes.

He had one breathless thought of, "Whoah, strange coincidence" but then common sense forced its

way through the jumble of lust and alcohol. The eyes, the accent, the clothing, the strange sense of

familiarity, and now the car.

Sam glanced down at the dog tags tangled in his hands -- one held an Autobot symbol, the other said

only "Bumblebee."

"Shit," Sam breathed.

He started to pull away, but the man caught him and slammed him against the Camaro's door.

"How do you think I feel," Bee's holoform growled, "to feel you riding in me, your pheremones rising

for me, to know that you get hot for me, and then go fuck someone else?" For the first time, Sam

recognized the voice. It wasn't just the accent that was familiar; this was Bee's voice, minus the

electronic edge. Sam shook his head to clear it.

"Bee! I --"

"No," Bee said, gripping Sam's hips so hard that he knew there would be bruises after. "I'm tired of

talking. All we ever do is talk. Tonight it's my turn, Sam. I'm going to give you what you deny

yourself."

"Bee, I can't!" Sam cried.

"You can't?" Bee growled, pulling away. His eyes flashed at Sam, who swallowed, dizzyingly aware

of the Camaro pressed beneath his ass, of the holoform grinding against his erection. Sam shuddered,

and drew in a breath. He wanted to cry.

"Very well," Bee said softly. He pulled away, and Sam sagged against the Camaro, positive that Bee

was going to drive away and leave him slumped in the street.

Instead, Bee's door flew open, and the holoform pressed back against Sam with inhuman strength,

pushing him inside. The front seat folded out of the way, and Sam landed in the back, dazed and

gasping. The holoform blinked out of existence, and re-appeared a fraction of a second later, straddling

Sam's hips. The door slammed closed behind him, rocking the Camaro.

The holoform caught both of Sam's wrists in one hand and lifted them above Sam's head, holding him

down on the leather seat. Sam shuddered, more terrified and turned on than he'd ever been.

The radio crackled to life. "Petunias," Bumblebee said.

"Wha - - what?"

"That's your safe word," the holoform said. Leaned over Sam, he ran a soft thumb down the inside of

his wrist. "If you really want me to stop, all you have to do is say it. I'll drive you home. We'll never

speak about this again."

Sam shuddered.

"Otherwise," he continued, "I am going to take you, Sam."

Sam swallowed. "Please, no," he whispered.

The hologram's eyes glowed, inhuman, and he leaned forward and captured Sam's mouth with his

own. For a dizzying, breathless moment, Sam resisted, his lips pressed tight together, but then Bee's

tongue was working into his mouth and Sam was opening up to him, helpless. His eyes drifted shut,

and he sank into the kiss, gratefully allowing the Autobot to take control. Bee explored his mouth with

almost mathematical precision, and Sam knew that the he was cataloging the tastes and textures. The

thought shouldn't have made Sam even hotter, but it did, and he groaned as his erection strained

painfully against his jeans. Sam's shirt had ridden up when Bee had lifted his arms above his head, and

the feeling of soft leather rubbing against his back was driving him mad. He bucked up, trying to find

some relief in the solid pressure of the holoform above him, but Bee shifted, his knees closing on either

side of Sam's hips to pin him to the seat.

"Do you want me to touch you, Sam?" Bumblebee asked through the radio. The holoform abandoned

Sam's mouth, and brushed his lips over the pulse in Sam's throat instead.

"N-no," Sam whimpered, gasping as sharp teeth nipped at his throat and a warm tongue slid over it a

moment later, washing away the sting.

The hand that wasn't gripping Sam's wrists came to rest at the waistband of his jeans, inches away from

his erection.

"Are you sure?" Bee asked, as his holoform toyed with the button of Sam's jeans. "Your body is saying

that it wants me to touch it, Sam. Your pheromones were never this high for Mikaela."

Sam shook his head, dizzy from shame and desire. "No," he whispered again, and Bee's hands

withdrew from his waistband, settling instead on the hem of his t-shirt.

"Very well," Bee said. His finger hooked under the hem of Sam's t-shirt, peeling it up. Sam shivered as

cool air touched the faint layer of sweat on his chest and his back pressed against the leather seat. Bee

slid the shirt up to Sam's armpits and stopped, drawing back slightly, and Sam opened his eyes to see

the holoform gazing down at him with wonder.

"Wh -- what is it?" Sam asked.

Bee shook his head. "You look different when we're the same size," he confessed, sounding almost shy

for a moment. "I hadn't expected that."

Sam opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but the tenderness in Bee's expression disappeared,

replaced by single-minded determination. The holoform lowered his head, fastening his mouth onto

Sam's nipple, and Sam gasped, the exchange forgotten.

Bee's fingers found his other nipple, pinching and tugging at it even as he nipped and sucked at its

twin, and Sam moaned, writhing on the leather seat. Again, he tried to close the distance between their

groins, and again the holoform's strong thighs held him in place.

"You want me," Bee said through the radio, as the holoform continued to torment Sam's nipples.

"You're desperate for me to touch you, aren't you, Sam?"

Sam shook his head, closing his eyes against the expression on the holoform's face.

"Please," he begged, trying again to buck up. The holoform drew away, and Sam gasped as the hand

that had been gripping his wrists loosened, replaced instead by the seatbelt, which moved of its own

accord to loop around them.

"Please what?" Bee asked, as his hands drifted down Sam's chest.

"T-touch me," Sam whimpered.

Bee smiled down at him, and kissed his forehead almost chastely. He unfastened Sam's jeans, sliding

them down his hips, and Sam gasped as warm fingers curled around him. One stroke, two, and Sam

was arching up, spilling into Bee's hand.

His cheeks blushed red as the orgasm faded, and he screwed his eyes shut, feeling utterly naked on the

backseat with his shirt shucked up and his jeans twisted around his hips. God, he hadn't come from a

single touch like that since he was a teenager. Tears of relief and shame burned his eyes, and he

shuddered. The leather seat warmed beneath him, and a strong hand curved around his cheek.

"It's all right Sam," Bee said. His voice had that staticky edge to it, so it had to be coming from the

radio, not the holoform. The engine rumbled to life with that throaty Camaro purr that Sam loved, and

he shuddered again, for a different reason, as the car pulled away from the curb.

Sam opened his eyes to see Bee's holoform gazing down at him with an expression that was equal parts

tenderness and concern. As Sam watched, Bee lifted a dripping finger to his lips and licked Sam's

semen off it.

"Fascinating," Bee whispered, and Sam trembled, his dick twitching, although he'd just come. Through

the car window behind the holoform's shoulder, Sam watched the landscape around them giving way

to open desert. Bee was picking up speed now, the purr of his engine reaching down to Sam's bones.

Sam inhaled shakily as his dick began to swell again. He'd always loved fast cars.

The holoform winked at him, and reached for Sam's shoes. He tugged them off, tossing them . With

careful gentleness, the holoform peeled Sam's jeans off his hips, his fingers grazing Sam's skin. Sam

swallowed as the holoform's large hands cupped his ass cheeks and angled Sam's hips up. He'd be

damned if the seat didn't tilt a little bit to make the job easier.

"Do you trust me?" Bee asked through the radio.

Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing. He was flat on his back inside an alien robot speeding God-

knows-where through the desert, his hands were still bound by the seatbelt, and the alien robot's

holoform was nibbling a line along the inside of Sam's thigh. If only the president could see him now; it

would open a new chapter in Autobot/human relations. But there could be only one answer to Bee's

question.

"I trust you," he choked out. More than I trust myself, he thought.

The holoform kissed his inner thigh, and caught Sam's ass cheeks, prying them apart. Sam gasped as a

warm finger slid along his crack and teasingly circled his hole. The finger dipped just inside,

experimentally, and the holoform lifted an eyebrow.

"You prepared yourself," Bee said.

Flushing, Sam nodded, biting his lip.

"When?" Bee asked.

Sam shook his head. The holoform moved so quickly that Sam barely registered the motion of his arm

until a sharp smack landed on his ass cheek. He gasped, straining against the seatbelt.

"When?" Bee asked again.

"This evening."

"You wanted to get fucked tonight," Bee said, his finger dancing over and around Sam's entrance.

Sam nodded, blushing hotly.

"Who did you want?" Bee asked.

Sam hesitated, and another smack descended on his ass.

"You!" he blurted out. "It was you, I always want you, oh shit -- Bee!" he cried, as the holoform's

finger pushed inside.

"You've made me so jealous," Bee said through the radio. His finger was moving inside of Sam, not so

much fucking him as exploring him. Sam groaned as Bee brushed over his prostate. The holoform

touched the sensitive spot again, as if confirming its presence, then, maddeningly, backed away from it,

despite Sam's frantic wriggling against him.

"You know I never let you out of sensor range, Sam," Bee said, sliding his finger out of Sam and

teasing the sensitive nerves around his asshole again. "I'm your guardian. You don't realize how much

danger you might have put yourself in, leaving the base alone."

"Oh God," Sam gasped, horrified, embarrassed, and more turned on than he'd ever been in his life. The

teasing finger thrust into him again, joined by a second, and Sam bucked helplessly against the

holoform's hand.

"I've been following you," Bee said, confirming his fears. "I watched them fuck you. All of them, Sam.

I've watched you open yourself for them. I've seen them take you."

His fingers were thrusting in and out of Sam now, fucking him in earnest, and rhythm of his wrist and

the rumble of his engine were the sweetest torture Sam had ever endeared in his life. Sam rocked back

against the invading fingers, desperate for more.

"At first I didn't mind," Bee said. "I knew you would need to mate after Mikaela left you. But then I

realized that you were choosing men who reminded you of me." He added a third finger, and Sam

groaned, the tight ring of muscles around his entrance quivering.

"I hated them," Bee said. "I hated knowing you were looking for a human substitute for me. I want to

please you, Sam," Bee said, curving his fingers up to find Sam's prostate again. "I want to make you

feel good."

"You do!" Sam gasped. "You are! Oh shit, Bee!" The Camaro sped over a hill, catching air for a

moment as he crested it, and Sam shuddered as the rough decent rocked Bee's fingers even deeper into

him.

"I . . . I've wanted you so much, Bee," Sam babbled. "I was so afraid you'd find out. I didn't think

you'd want me. I wasn't even sure that you could . . ."

"I want you," the hologram breathed into his ear, hot breath tickling. "I can."

Abruptly, the fingers withdrew, leaving him empty

"Sam," Bee said through the speaker, sounding shaken. "I want . . . "

He hesitated, sounding unsure. Realizing this was outside the limits of the game, Sam leaned forward

and kissed the leather seat.

"Anything," he promised.

The holoform hesitated only a second longer before he draped himself over Sam, leaning over his chest

to fumble with something on the floor of the Camaro. Sam stared as the holoform reached under the

driver's seat to depress a tiny button that Sam had never noticed before. A faint hiss of hydraulics, and a

panel on the floor about the size of Sam's hand was swinging up. Sam stared as the holoform pulled out

a thick cable capped by a long, thick, rubber plug.

"What . . . what is that?" Sam asked, straining against his bonds to peer at it.

Bumblebee trembled a bit beneath him, and the holoform actually blushed. "It's an interface cable," Bee

said. The holoform fingered the tip, looking a little uncomfortable, and suddenly Sam realized what

Bee was asking.

"God, yes," Sam breathed, laying back and spreading his legs wide.

Bee ducked down again, his body hiding his movement from Sam. When he straightened, the rubber

plug was coated in lubricant. Sam trembled as the holoform traced the plug along his belly and thighs,

drawing it along the length of Sam's erection and down over his balls. Sam couldn't suppress his

nervous shiver when the holoform finally pressed the plug against his entrance -- the rubber tip was

larger than most of the dicks he'd taken.

His adrenaline must have spiked or something, because the holoform smiled reassuringly at him, and

pressed his free hand against Sam's hip. "It's okay, Sam," Bee said through the radio. "I'll be gentle."

Sam groaned as Bee's holoform slowly pressed the plug into him. It seemed to take an eternity, even as

stretched as he was. The thick rubber eased inside him inch by inch. When it was finally encased in

him completely, Sam could only lay on the car seat, trembling in pain and pleasure. He waited for Bee

to move, both dreading and desiring the shifting length inside of him. Instead, the cable grew warm and

started to vibrate. Sam gasped as a spark of something hit him. It felt like the plug were releasing liquid

energy through his entire body -- Sam could feel it in his fingers and toes, and he swore his hair stood

on end.

"Bee!" he cried, arching up. The holoform caught his hips, holding him down. Sam moaned as the

sensation ebbed, shifting wantonly on the seat. This was like nothing he'd ever felt before. The

speeding Camaro shuddered around him.

"You feel so good Sam," Bee said through the speakers, his voice staticky and rough. "So good!"

Another surge of energy hit him, stronger than before, and Sam cried out again. This time, a garbled,

metallic noise sounded from the speakers, answering him. The holoform flickered and abruptly blinked

away, leaving Sam alone in the backseat.

"Sorry," Bee rasped. "I couldn't maintain it anymore." He moaned with a grating, metallic sound, as

another tide of energy surged through Sam, who arched up off the seat, digging his bare toes into the

leather.

When the sensation receded enough for him to speak, Sam managed, "It's okay." And it was. Without

the holoform, Sam was even more aware that this was Bee buried inside him, Bee making him feel so

good. He squirmed against the seat, trying to press every inch of his bare skin against the leather

upholstery.

Again and again, the energy surged into him, each time lasting just a little bit longer, driving him closer

to the brink. He'd never in his life felt pleasure like this -- it suffused his entire body, as if his very

atoms were vibrating with it.

He swore he could feel Bee's pleasure answering his own, Bee's processors singing with Sam's

excitement, creating a circuit between the two of them. The energy crested inside of them, and for a

long, terrifying, moment, it was almost too much to bear. Sam's heart tightened in his chest, and for a

second, he couldn't breathe. Then he was screaming, coming in long streams, and Bee was shaking

around Sam like he might fly apart, over and around and inside of him, still driving so fast that it felt

like they were flying.

Then the pleasure receded, and Bee drifted to a slow, shuddering stop. Sam sprawled limply on the

seat, his ass still clenching around the rubber plug. He didn't think he could ever move again. From the

series of clicking and the hissing of Bee's cooling system, he suspected the Autobot might feel the same

way.

Holy shit, I broke my car, Sam thought.

The seatbelts around his wrists loosened, freeing them. With trembling hands, Sam pulled the interface

cable out, wincing as the rubber plug slid free of his body. He squeezed the tip, and Bumblebee

shuddered, the engine making a series of exhausted clicks.

"That was incredible," Sam whispered, stroking the leather seat in front of him.

Bee made a low, electronic chirp of agreement, as if he were too tired to manage English words. His

engine quieted, and Sam heard the unmistakable hum of Bee's back-up sensors engaging as the

Autobot fell into recharge mode. Deciding that Bee had the right idea, Sam curled up in the backseat

and fell asleep.

* * *

When Sam woke a few hours later, it was still dark outside. Wondering if Bee was still in recharge

mode, Sam shifted on the leather seat. At the movement, the dashboard lights twinkled on, answering

his unspoken question.

"Hey," Sam said softly, rubbing his eyes. His clothes were still scattered all over the backseat, and Sam

blushed, acutely aware of his nakedness. At least Bee had adjusted his internal temperature to

compensate for Sam's lack of clothing. He felt perfectly comfortable, if a little exposed.

Bee chirped sleepily at him as Sam found his sweatshirt and spread it over his lap.

"So, um, what now?" Sam asked, leaning against the window. Idly, he traced a circle on the leather

upholstery of the backseat, amused when Bee trembled a little beneath his fingers.

"You require rest," Bee said. He hesitated a moment, then added, "You could sleep here. If you want

to."

"Okay," Sam said, a little too quickly. He blushed, studying the floorboards. "What happens after this,

though? With us?"

"Do you regret interfacing with me?" Bee asked. Beneath the careful neutrality of his voice, Sam

detected a note of hurt, and he hurried to ease it.

"No! Not at all." Sam hesitated a moment. "Do you?"

"No," Bee assured him. "I've wanted this for a long time, Sam."

"Me too," Sam confessed shyly. A pulse of warmth travelled through the seatback, almost as good as a

hand caressing him. When Bee spoke again, his voice was all business.

"Tomorrow you need to meet with Optimus Prime to prepare for the United Nations conference next

week," Bee said, no doubt accessing the calendar on Sam's blackberry. "During the meeting, I will be

helping Ironhide to configure our new weapons systems. However, I believe we have a date tomorrow

evening."

"A date?" Sam asked, feeling his eyebrows rise.

"You did say you would go to a movie with me," Bee pointed out.

Sam chuckled, leaning back against the window. "That's right, I did." He smiled, and pressed a soft

kiss against the glass. "I love you, Bee," he whispered.

Bee responded with a series of electronic coos. Sam's Cybertronian was still pretty basic, but even he

recognized that phrase. Smiling, he cuddled down into the leather seat.. He was nearly asleep when a

new thought occurred.

"Hey, Bee?"

The Autobot's engine rumbled at him.

"You put out before our first date," Sam said. "Does that mean Autobots are easy?"

The indignant sputtering from Bee's engine was entirely worth the blast of cold air that hit Sam a few

seconds later.

The End

Please

drop by the archive and comment

to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!