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A loud door slams behind Starscream as he storms out of the interrogation room, frustration palpable in his frame.
“Ugh! This is a waste of time. This lowly scout probably doesn’t even know anything! Maybe he’s just a glutton for punishment, or some… Whatever! Either way he’s useless! We might as well just snuff out his spark. The only good Autobot is a dead Autobot after all.”
Breakdown was just passing by, but the second in command’s emotional outburst caught his attention. He’s not sure if he’s on a commlink with anyone or if he’s just screeching to himself.
He leans on the corner of the wall, weight shifting to his left leg, “Hey, Screamer.”
The Seeker turned sharply to face the Stunticon, seemingly ready to lash out, “What!?”
“Whaddya talking about? Who’s the Autobot?”
His eyes lit up, almost as if he was itching to complain about how his latest failing was actually everyone’s fault except his.
“Just that— annoying little pest Bumblebee! I’d love to saw him in half and just retrieve the brain module but unfortunately , our resident neural expert seems to be taking an extended vacation on some irrelevant moon base fifteen thousand lightyears away from here. Though you wouldn’t know that of course, because you’re a Stunticon and barely loyal enough to this cause to even be called a Decepticon–”
Breakdown bangs his chassis and coughs out, “--You’re one to be talking about loyalty,” under his breath.
He stopped dramatically emoting his woe and snapped to face the Stunticon,“Excuse me?!” the Air Commander shrieked.
“Just some debris in my grills. Let me take a shot interrogating Bumblebee.” he wiped his chassis, as if brushing off dust.
Starscream groaned, by Primus did he hate Stunticons. They have no respect for hierarchy or respect.
“Be my guest, just don’t offline him. We may have use for him yet.”
Breakdown nods curtly, making his way to the interrogation room.
—
The room was dim, with a single light hanging above the prisoner’s head.
He was bound to a plain chair, arms behind his back and cuffed at the wrists, his waist and torso bound to the back of the chair, and his legs tied to the legs of the chair, leaving his legs uncomfortably spread.
He looked beaten up, a couple dents, scratches and incisions litter his frame. Any fresh energon long since clotted or dried into a dull magenta.
He’s staring at the ground and doesn’t even look up as Breakdown approaches, heavy metal feet clanking against the hard floor.
“I’m not going to talk. You can stop wasting your time here, Decepticon scum. Get scrapped.”
The Stunticon stops a foot or two away from him, “Not even for an old friend?”
His head snaps up, almost in disbelief that he’d be here, despite himself being the one out of place.
“Hey, Bee.”
“Breakdown?! What are you doing here?”
“Pretty sure you’re the one in a Decepticon base, Autobot.”
“Just– shut up. I’m so glad to see you. You– you have no idea.”
“I might have some idea. Seems Screamer did a number on you, huh?”
“Starscream? Pff. He couldn’t hurt me if I handed him the Star Saber.” he punctuated his sentence with a slight wince, still sore from some injuries.
They shared a small laugh. In a weird way, it’s like some things don’t change. Vague nostalgia from their time before the war permeates through the atmosphere.
“So, uh… Can you untie me? Not.. the most comfortable situation I’ve been in.”
“I’m ‘fraid not. They’d have my spark if I came in, let you go then left.”
“Huh. That’s reasonable.”
“But… if I interrogated you and then you escaped, I could get some slack.”
“You? Hah, you couldn’t get anything out of me.”
“Mm. Maybe not, but we could still make up for lost time and I could say that I tried. This room is soundproof.”
“That… doesn’t sound too bad.”
—
Breakdown kneels down between the scout’s legs as his gaze meets Bumblebee’s confused one.
“What are you—“
“Open up, will ya?”
He squinted at Breakdown as confusion filled his processor. Open up? Unless he meant… but here? Why would—
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Breakdown absent-mindedly running his servo up the inside of his thigh, dipping down into his hip joint— a gasp escapes his intake as his hips jerk instinctively towards the touch.
Primus, this is what he meant by “This room is soundproof”??
“You mean my interface panel?! Breakdown, have you fried your processors?!”
“Hey, you try being tasked with interrogatin’ such a handsome ‘bot, all tied up and helpless.”
Energon rushed to his faceplate, heating up his cheeks. He opens his mouth to reply, but closes it when he can’t think of a comeback.
“So, is that a yes?” A wandering servo brushes against the edge of his interface panel and teases the transformation seams in his thigh.
Bumblebee swallows a whimper,
“No. I mean– this is an interrogation, isn’t it? I don’t have to listen to you. I guess you’ll just have to be persuasive, hm?”
He untensed his chassis as he finished speaking. When did he become so tense? Was he that nervous? Primus, he hopes he doesn’t embarrass himself too much.
Breakdown’s servo leaves his thigh and a twinge of disappointment hits him. The mech between his legs shrugs almost imperceptibly, muttering “works for me.”
His servos find purchase on the sides of Bee’s pelvic plating, pressing soft kisses to his inner thighs, slowly moving his way up to his interface panel. As he plants a kiss on the seam between the panel and his pelvis, his warm tongue darts out to lick a stripe up the seam.
Bumblebee’s faceplate heats up– actually, most of him heats up. His fans start to run at an audible rate and he can feel his spike pressurizing. He manually overrides any automatic prompts to open his interface panel, not wanting to appear too eager.
“You’re so warm, Bee…” the mech below him pants, continuing to lick and kiss and even at one point bite his panel, trying to coax it to open.
Frag. The prompts are getting more frequent, and it’s starting to get uncomfortable for him. The pressure of his spike pressing against his locked panel made it hard to concentrate, especially mixed with Breakdown’s oral fixation and his lustful mutters.
“I wanna taste you so bad , Bee… please…” his voice was heavy with desperation, even cracking at the end of his plea.
Bumblebee pursed his lips, trying to ignore the throbbing in his spike. Frag it. He couldn’t take it anymore, he really did have a weak spot for this reckless, inconsiderate fool. “Okay. Just… back up.”
His interface panel pulled back with a click, revealing his fully pressurized spike, leaking with pre-fluid.
He could’ve sworn that Breakdown’s optics glowed brighter at the sight of it, but he avoids thinking about it– it’s embarrassing.
Breakdown licks his lips, either as a reaction to the sight or as a way to lubricate them. He sports a wolfish grin as he looks at the yellow mech, carrying an air of pride with him.
“Y’see how persuasive I can be?”
Bee rolled his optics, amusement evident on his face, “Yeah, you’re a real charmer.”
“Your frame is so much more genuine than you are.” As if to prove his point, he smears the pre-fluid on his spike with a thumb, lubricating the rest of his spike and eliciting a gasp from Bumblebee.
His deft servos work up and down on the Autobots spike, drawing out the occasional moan or whine when Bee fails to hold it back. Breakdown gets bored of this soon enough and dips his head down to plant a kiss on, then licks the tip of his spike. The smaller mech instinctively tried to close his legs, the sudden sensitivity setting off brief panic in his processor. Unfortunately, he was still restrained, so all he really did was twitch.
This reaction makes him bolder, taking the tip into his intake and using his tongue to lick the bottom seam. Pulling off, Breakdown goes down again, taking in most of the length this time.
The bot above him is shaking, trying his best to swallow down his embarrassing noises. He hasn’t had a proper frag in… however long. The familiarity Breakdown has with his frame doesn’t make this any easier for him, he keeps licking and paying extra attention to all of his sensitive areas, and it’s ruining his “stoic, unflinching scout” reputation.
Though no one really thinks of him like that. It’s just what he hopes his reputation is.
Being so far in his head, he doesn’t notice the overload until right before it happens, and it hits him like a semi truck. His head tilts up and back, voice gets choked in his throat, his voice module only producing high pitched cries— which would be horribly embarrassing if he had any mind to think of that right now.
Breakdown holds his hips still as he overloads, lips still wrapped around his spike. Transfluid spills into his intake, giving him a strange rush. It doesn’t really taste like anything, but something about the fact that it's Bumblebee’s and that he was the one to cause his overload, made it taste pleasant.
As the scout came down from his overload, he and Breakdown both realized that his spike had yet to depressurize. This… may be a long interrogation session.
—
“Let’s make a bet. Like our races, except you could actually have a chance—“
“I’m going to— hng —pretend you didn’t say that.”
“—I bet I can get you to spill whatever Screamer wanted from you so badly.”
“Hah, you wish. Megatron couldn’t even get me to talk, you think you can? You’re gonna lose, Breakdown.”
“Guess there’s a first time for everything. ”
Bumblebee’s voice drops into a deadpan. “Okay, one day you’re going to be in my position and I refuse to show you any mercy.”
“Who says I’m gonna show you any mercy?”
“Hah. Do your worst.”
—
“You’re— ah- so lucky that I— mnngh- like you so much,” Bumblebee breathed out, too preoccupied to hold back his noises.
“Luckiest ‘bot in the world.” He says, and Bee doesn’t even have to look up to see the smug smile on his stupid face.
Breakdown can tell Bee’s getting close to an overload again. His wings are straining against the backrest to flutter in that endearing way Breakdown’s seen time and time again, his moans and gasps are higher pitched (which really does make him sound like a femme, though only Breakdown could testify for it), and his optics are shut tight and his head is thrown back, baring his throat.
He almost forgets to pull himself off of Bee’s spike, too busy admiring his lover’s involuntary habits.
Breakdown spreads his knees a bit further apart to get good purchase on the chair and lifts himself off completely, grabbing the Autobot’s face and pressing his lips to Bee’s.
As much as Bumblebee’s enjoying this show of affection, he can’t help but lament the loss of his much anticipated overload, whining and whimpering into his Decepticon’s intake.
“Aft-hole.”
He pulls away and takes in the sight of the smaller ‘bot— intake slightly open and gasping for air, optics lidded, coolant pooling in the corners— he looked ruined, but it got Breakdown’s engine revving in pride.
He gently brought a servo to Bee’s teary optics, wiping away the unshed bead of coolant. Before he can pull away, Bee nudges his servos with his cheek, mumbling something into them.
“What’d you say?”
“Please.” He looks off to the side, avoiding eye contact.
The corners of his lips start to curl up in a smile, “Bee, you gotta speak up. I can’t hear you.”
He repeats himself, louder this time, “Please.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that. Use your words, what’s that pretty voice module for?” Breakdown tilts his chin up slightly, running kisses down his jaw to where his voice module would be.
Breakdown feels the vibrations of the ‘bot below him grumbling in annoyance, a grin blooms on his lips against the warm neck. From this close, he can hear the whirr of his internal fans running at max capacity.
“Please… don’t pull off… next time.” He says breathlessly through gritted dentas.
“I won’t.”
Bumblebee ex-vents a sigh of relief.
The taller mech sits back onto his spike, straddling his waist. Bee whimpers at the warm feeling, Breakdown’s internal mesh connecting them in this obscene way— it makes his head spin.
“...If you tell me what the Autobots are planning.”
He ex-vents slowly. Yeah. Of course it wouldn’t be this easy with Breakdown.
“You already know my answer.”
“Bee, come on. I don’t like doing..” he gestures vaguely around the interrogation room, “..this either. Let’s keep this short and sweet, I can “accidentally” untie one of your restraints and we can blow this joint and go drag racing across Iacon.”
He extends a servo to cup his cheek, and he melts into it.
A dry chuckle emanates from Bee’s voice module as he meets his gaze, “You’re so full of scrap, Breakdown.”
“Eh, worth a shot. What gave me away?”
“You love riling me up more than you love winning races. And you were going to do that last part anyway.”
“Damn. Think you can handle another?”
“You know I can. You’re not winning this easily.”
“We’ll see about that, Bug. ” he punctuated his sentence with a firm roll of his hips, getting a wonderful noise from the bot beneath him, who then glared daggers at him.
Breakdown knew that he was unfortunately right, that denying his overload wouldn’t be enough to get him to talk. He’ll have to switch his tactic.
——-
“Start talking and I’ll stop, alright?”
Bee nodded frantically. Frag, he could barely think straight. Just– anything for that stupid fool to slow down or stop or be gentler or—
He’s pulled out of his jumbled thoughts by Breakdown’s servo tapping his cheek.
“You in there, Bee? What are you ‘Bots planning?”
His eyes narrowed, trying to concentrate enough to reply and to please just stop this onslaught and primus his wings are sore and wait is he–?!
Breakdown leaned back slightly, watching his face change from slight panic to a beautiful look of pleasure— his engines revved at the sight,
He was close, his calipers tightening and releasing– his rhythm became erratic and desperate. He could feel the spike inside him twitching, then a sudden warmth as Bee’s transfluid fills him, pushing his charge over the edge.
He slumped forwards and rested his forehead on the Autobot’s shoulder, both of them limp and venting heavily.
Breakdown recovers first, shakily pulling himself off Bee’s spike. The transfluid dripping down his thighs is incredibly distracting and makes it his valve throb, but he has a mission and by Primus is he determined to win.
He settles down between Bumblebee’s legs again, leaning his elbows on his knees, looking up at him. “Ready to talk?”
“Not… not yet,” he muttered, a shred of determination in his voice.
“Y’know that you could end this now. Keep a bit more of both of our dignities.”
He chuckles dryly, “Make me.”
When their gazes meet, they both see a competitive glint in the other's optics.
—
Breakdown teases Bumblebee’s anterior node with his thumb, eliciting small whines from the teary scout. He’s been going at this irregular pace for a while now, going from roughly plunging his servos into his sensitive valve to slowing down his motions and lessening the harsh treatment to his node.
Somewhere between the 2nd and 4th overload, Bee changed his mind about disclosing the intel.
Breakdown slows down his pace just enough so that Bee isn’t a whiny, stupid mess, but not enough for his processor to fully stabilize. “Use your words, sweetspark.”
His optics are still fuzzy and unfocused (is it the coolant or his fried processor?), but the sweet familiarity of Breakdown’s voice fills his chassis with a pleasant warmth. He’s vaguely aware that he’s lost their bet. Again. He hesitates to start talking, the tiny part of his circuits that still retains rationality holding his tongue.
A particularly rough thrust from Breakdown offlines that part of him immediately.
“We’re– ah um look– looking for– hnng the-the Allss– frag — ! Allsp–ark.. And–” a choked sob cuts off his train of thought.
“That’s it, Bee. ‘And–’ what?”
“Ssspace… brid– mmhn– bridge… Rat-ratchet fixed–”
“Good, where’s Prime?”
“He’s– Wheeljack.. s-search–ing f– haah for the-the… the– thing…”
“What are you Autobots planning to do with the Allspark and a spacebridge?
Bee slightly cocks his head to the right, optics narrowing in a genuine expression of confusion. While his audials heard the words, his sluggish, overclocked processor struggled to parse and make sense of them. He parted his lips, trying to give him an answer, but he just… couldn’t think.
The Decepticon watched as Bumblebee tried his best to say something— anything, coming up blank. The whole display was horribly cute, Breakdown couldn’t bring himself to tease or punish him for not responding when he was trying so hard .
“It’s okay, I’ll slow down. Allspark. Spacebridge. Why?”
His processor seems to understand the simplified question, he mutters, “Ah– um.. I.. don’t know..”
Breakdown looks up at the yellow mech above him, suspicious. “..Really.”
He presses his thumb into his anterior node, drawing a surprised yelp out of Bee’s voice module, then choked whimpers as his sensitivity becomes apparent.
“It’s– nnngh- the-the truth! Pro– mmfgh - promise..! Pl– please..”
The taller mech continues with his now rougher pace, suspicion evident on his face. Bumblebee’s pitch rises higher and more panicked as his charge grows more and more unbearable. He couldn’t take another overload where he wouldn’t stop even when he begged and pleaded , not when it would hurt amazingly and and overclock his processor and fill his mind with nothing except the feeling and Breakdown and Primus, Breakdown! Why won’t he believe him he’s telling the truth and he wouldn’t lie not now not to him and he doesn’t even hear himself anymore with the static buzzing in his audials and frag Breakdown is just so.. so– so..!
The faux suspicion disappears on Breakdown’s face as it’s replaced by a kind smile (or as kind as it can look on Breakdown).
“I believe ya, Bug.” is the last thing his audials pick up before they fill with fuzzy static and his processor reroutes power to his somatic sensors.
Primus, it’s a miracle his processor hasn’t outright crashed already. His abdominal plating strains against the restraints as his back struts arch– his whole frame shaking and twitching from the overwhelming pleasure and sensitivity. He blinks up at the ceiling blearily, head tilted back. He becomes vaguely aware of the familiar dread of overstimulation, bracing himself as much as he can for it, but… it doesn’t come.
His fans begin to slow down as his venting regulates, his processor delegates much needed processing power to his critical thinking module, as well as every other neglected operation.
Breakdown already got what he wanted, and he wasn’t a mech that broke promises. His soaked servos brought Bee to a not-so-gentle overload (he couldn’t help himself, the noises he made were just so cute ), easing out before he became overstimulated. As he pulled out, a pitiful sob unconsciously escaped the scout’s intake at the sudden emptiness.
As Bumblebee returned to full cognitive processes, he became acutely aware of his current state. Sticky, tired, voice module hoarse, and a very smug Breakdown between his knees.
The Stunticon meets his gaze and with slow, deliberate motions, opens his intake and cleans his servos of Bee’s transfluid. A drop of the pink liquid drips onto his lips and his tongue darts out to clean it.
“Ugh, you’re gross,” his voice module is far too worn to convey any semblance of disgust, or that’s what he’d say if anyone brought it up. However, the transfluid leaking from his valve doesn’t go unnoticed by either party.
“What? It’s your fault for tasting like high-grade.” he winked at the yellow mech, earning him a small smile and an optic-roll. Bee couldn’t help but find it endearing, even if it was horribly silly.
“Stay here, I’ll get us cleaned up.”
“Not like I have any other choice, really.” he tested his restraints, and nothing.
A small chuckle came from Breakdown as he got up from his knees and closed his interface panel to leave the interrogation room.
As Bumblebee sat alone, he briefly contemplated every decision and event prior to this… situation that led him to break. Scrap, he just gave up important intel. He needs to warn Optimus and the others after this… Hopefully he’s already found the Allspark, otherwise it’ll be a race between the Autobots and the Decepticons to find it. At least Breakdown didn’t push him further for why they needed the Allspark and a spacebridge. Ugh, Breakdown is so–
The sound of the door opening snaps him out of his thoughts. The aforementioned ‘bot entered with a cloth in hand.
“Miss me?”
“I don’t even want to talk to you right now.”
Nearing Bumblebee, he kneeled down, cloth in hand, “Aw, don’t be a sore loser. It– this might be sensitive, so tell me if it’s too much– it was close! I was getting tired too, y’know. Having a handsome mech like you under me had my processor spinning, and your spike–”
As he spoke, he began gently wiping his interface array and his thighs clean.
Bee’s hips jerked forwards at the touch, “Okay– okay! You can stop talking now, I get it.”
He in-vents and tries to control the shaking in his legs as Breakdown works. When he’s clean, his interface panels snap shut and the other ‘bot wraps his arms around his neck and goes in for a kiss. Despite his reluctance (this reckless fool just interfaced with him in a Decepticon base , wrangled critical autobot intelligence out of him AND won another bet.), he returned the gesture.
In the back of his mind, he wonders how things got so complicated between them.
As Breakdown deepens the kiss, tilting his lover’s head further back, his wandering servos unlock the Autobot’s wrist restraints.
He pulls back from the kiss, a thin string of coolant connecting their lips for a second before it breaks. Before any of them can say anything, he moves forward as if to kiss him on the cheek, instead overshooting and whispering into his audial, “meet me on the track in 15 ?”
Bumblebee only nods, exchanging a knowing look with Breakdown.
The Stunticon stands up and leaves the room, lingering in the doorway with his back facing him.
He swallows, readying the words in his voice module.
“Disgusting Autobot scum.” he spits, head turned to the side.
—
Breakdown closes the door behind him just as Starscream rounds the corner.
His shrill, grating voice pierces the silence, “Ah, it seems you’re finally done with our Autobot prisoner. So, what was the outcome? No doubt it was fruitless, since that yellow pest would rather lose his voice than talk!”
Breakdown leans against a nearby wall, crosses his arms and waits for the Air Commander to finish his spiel. He never liked Screamer, too much talking and whining about things he couldn’t give a scraplet’s aft about.
“The Autobots are lookin’ for the Allspark, specifically Prime and Wheeljack. Oh, and the engineer fixed up a spacebridge.”
A strange progression of emotions passed over the second in command’s face– starting with surprise, then confusion, then anger.
His face contorted in a dramatic show of disbelief, “Wh– How did–?! How did a brutish Stunticon get Bumblebee to spill Autobot intelligence?!”
“Y’know I can hear ya, right.”
“Ugh! No matter. I’ll simply watch the video footage and find out your tactic sooner or later.” he waved away the taller ‘bot with a flick of his wrist.
“Video footage…? Wait–”