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It was a pity, Red Alert mused as he crawled over Inferno’s sleeping frame, that the only way that he ever felt safe enough to engage in any form of interfacing was when his partner was either completely tied down and unable to move… or when said partner was deep in recharge.
Red Alert could have blamed his glitch, and perhaps part of the problem indeed lied with it. His innate paranoid mood had always made it difficult for the red and white mech to build meaningful relationships and to find partners with whom to share a quick but needed frag. Just because he had trust issues didn’t meant Red Alert didn’t have needs, after all.
But even before the strain of the war and keeping an optic out for Decepticons, traitors and anyone or anything that might be a danger to his faction worsened the problem, the Security Director always had this… peculiarity, and it was unlikely it’d ever stop.
Red Alert had made his peace with it. Mostly. He just regretted it was so hard to find mechs who were even receptive to the idea of being touched while restrained or while they weren’t aware enough to know their frame was being fondled.
Inferno, Red Alert thought with no small among of fondness as he moved the bigger mech’s limbs, pushing his legs apart, was a rare find and one he particularly treasured.
“Hmm,” the big red mech mumbled in his recharge, frame twitching and making Red Alert pause, keeping utterly still as he waited to see if Inferno was going to wake. He waited for ten kliks, but the firetruck didn’t move or made any other noise, and Red Alert’s shoulders sagged.
That had been a close call, he inwardly sighed in frustration. Stupid. Inferno’s recharge was usually deep but they both had pulled shorted shifts than usual before they retired for the night cycle. Of course he’d be less tired than usual and more likely to wake if moved too roughly. Gentler, Red Alert repeated to himself. Gentler, he thought as he spread Inferno’s legs wider and went to lie flat on his front between them, face level with the other mech’s interface panel.
Inferno’s EM field washed over him, calm and steady, and Red Alert’s shoulders relaxed further. That was one of the things he really liked about his partner; even in his recharge, Inferno acted like a grounding beacon. Few things could rattle or upset him in general and he trusted Red Alert so completely that the moment he recognized Red Alert’s field in close range, even unconscious, his frame started to emit a soothing vibe. It had often helped Red Alert focus in the middle of his duties and in private, well…
In private, it helped Red Alert not to feel too guilty about touching him while he wasn’t conscious enough to back off or refuse.
Mind, they had gone over Red Alert’s kink together numerous times already. Each and every time, they had sat down together, discussing at length what was acceptable and what wasn’t, both for Inferno and himself. There had been a few rough spots, of course – trust or not, there were things neither of them were into and it needed to be plainly stated and reinforced from time to time – but still, they had forged on with their relationship, as unorthodox as it was.
Red Alert wasn’t big on displays of affection in public, but he could tolerate a grounding, careful hug or two or three when on duty, and a few quick kisses when on break. Inferno had no interest in pain-play, though he didn’t mind getting spanked or having his frame aching a bit when they were done with their lovemaking.
Both agreed that cuddling together until recharge was fine, but anything more than that was to be debated first between them as to not overstep boundaries. Considering the… the restrictions Red Alert put on their intimate life, he had no problem allowing Inferno to search for release elsewhere, provided he could vet the person before anything serious occurred between the firetruck and them. Inferno, however, wasn’t very interested in straying (unless the person offering a frag was Firestar, but the point was moot for now, given how far they were from Cybertron).
Red Alert could accept getting his spike sucked while his lover was free of moving, but he balked at getting restrained or blindfolded himself. Inferno had little love for restrains himself, but he had strangely little compulsion about getting fragged in his recharge.
His only request when Red Alert did so was for a mean to watch how it went at a later point.
Suffice to say, Red Alert’s expertise with cameras and surveillance feeds came in handy. Either he used small handheld models, or repurposed old general surveillance cameras he has readapted, or he recorded a feed with his own optical sensors which he later shared directly via uplink with Inferno (neither of them had anything into plugging into each other’s frame, though Red Alert always insisted on a long, extensive virus and malwares screening first) or transferred them on flashdrives for Inferno to watch at leisure at later points.
Ever since the beginning of their partnership, be it the professional or the private aspect, the two of them had really started to grow quite the collection of homemade porn vids.
It was a bit unusual, Red Alert supposed, but Inferno’s request was both perfectly understandable and acceptable in his opinion.
After all, Red Alert thought was he slowly worked his glossa and fingers over Inferno’s closed panel, searching for the seams and command triggering the manual release, it wasn’t that much different from recording everybody else’s actions. Prime had officially forbidden Red Alert to put cameras in private quarters or a few sensitive locations like the public washracks, but mechs were mechs and Red Alert had caught far too many having trysts on live feed, usually in supply closet or hallways they thought desert.
Jazz was, without surprise, a repeated offender (and one who knew there were cameras, too, which made it doubly offensive for Red Alert). If Red Alert ever revealed half of what he knew about the Ark’s dating and fragging scene…
No, the red and white mech thought. In Inferno’s position, he would probably have asked for the same, though not because of the same reasons. Red Alert would have wanted to see the images just to make sure nothing untoward or dangerous had been done to him at his most vulnerable.
Inferno wanted to see them because it gave him a kick. He tended to go have solo fun in their private washrack (a perk of being both an officer and a confirmed paranoid nut), watching the recording while loudly panting and groaning. It always made Red Alert feel both embarrassed and smug as he listened in, frame hot despite himself, knowing Inferno was touching himself over Red Alert and what Red Alert had done to him…
The firetruck’s panel was gently pried away, letting his interface array bare. He barely even twitched; Red Alert had made sure their quarters’ temperature was optimum as to reduce the shift of air on bare components after the one time he had miscalculated and opening up had woke Inferno prematurely. Without surprise, Red Alert noticed Inferno’s valve was already slick with lubricant, ready to be toyed with; sometimes, he thought Inferno was physically unable to go to recharge without leaving himself half-aroused. Wherever it was a side effect of his and Red Alert’s unusual relationship or something he did regardless, Red Alert had no idea, but he wasn’t going to complain. Not when he had such a tasty treat to enjoy whenever he really wanted.
Hmm, what should he do with it, this time? Should he just eat it, licking and sucking on the folds to gather every drop of sweet nectar they were hiding from him? Should he slide a finger inside and gradually work more until he could fit up to four and watch as Inferno overloaded in his sleep? Should he bury his spike in immediately and rut like a mechanimal into his lover, regardless of other considerations? All were excellent options, Red Alert thought, stroking his chin in contemplation.
But tonight, he thought he’d go for Inferno’s spike.
It had been a while since he had been able to properly enjoy it, after all. Hmm, yes, he internally purred, fans working hard; Inferno’s thick, hard spike, full of sweet ridges that pressed into him just right as it slide deep insides him, hitting all the right nodes as it went deeper and deeper, spreading Red Alert wide and nice…
Oh, yes, that’d be wonderful.
Slowly, a finger started to trail the spike housing, stroking the edges while Red Alert’s other hand pressed against Inferno’s thigh to push it further away. He needed room to work, especially if he wanted to be able to properly suck that thick, wonderful rod the firetruck was still hiding from him. But not for long, Red Alert vowed, grinning to himself.
He knew just where to press, he knew where to put his lips to coax it out, he knew all the little tricks that would make it harden and swell in no time. And when it’d be ready, waiting for tight, wet heat to engulf and squeeze it… Hmm, Red Alert was still undecided there; should he take it in his valve… or in his aft?
It’s been far too long since he had had Inferno in his exhaust port, that much was true, but was he truly in the mood for it tonight?
Oh, well, the Security Director mentally shrugged.
There was still plenty of time to decide, he thought as he went to work, mapping Inferno’s spike housing with his mouth, slipping his glossa inside to tease the tip of the shaft, feeling it quiver under each lick.
And worst of case? Both were good, and Inferno wouldn’t mind seeing it all on tape in the morning.