Chapter Text
“Why not?” Bumblebee grumbled, reluctantly walking as Prowl steered him forward with a hand pressed firmly against his back, guiding him in a direction Bumblebee clearly didn't want to go.
“Because it’s too casual, too public. Untouchable remember?” Prowl retorted, his voice edged with a dangerous undercurrent. I could just as easily pin you down right here and drag you out of the city. The urge is almost unbearable. You have no idea how much I want you.
“So what? They’re my friends. They already know me,” Bumblebee snapped back, nearly tripping over his own feet from Prowl's forceful guidance. The day had been exhausting, filled with conversations he barely managed, and an endless trek through the revitalized city. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like. All he wanted was a drink with his friends. Was that too much to ask? Where were they even going?
“Which makes it all the more unnecessary. You'll have your chance with them. Now, move,” Prowl insisted, applying more pressure. Bumblebee grumbled, quickening his pace slightly, his optics darting around as the vibrant streets gradually emptied, surrendering to the encroaching darkness of the night.
Prowl's hand twitched, instinctively reaching for the sensitive nape of Bumblebee's neck, but he swiftly retracted it. Not here, not in public, he reminded himself. But don't think that I've forgotten about your little slip-up, the one that could have jeopardized everything.
Looking at me with those lost, confused, puppy-dog optics. I didn't even have the scrambler on, and you still managed to sabotage your own obedience. Are you tempting me, Bumblebee? Do you crave a thorough disciplinary session?
“There’s something I want to show you. After that, we’ll head back home,” Prowl announced, his presence radiating an almost suffocating intensity as Bumblebee paused to admire a newly constructed or renovated section of the city.
“Fine. Fine,” Bumblebee huffed, irritation simmering beneath his exterior. He was happy to see the progress being made, but something felt amiss. Perhaps he'd simply been confined for too long. The silence was unnerving, a heavy blanket draping over the twilight cityscape.
Prowl’s lips curled into a calculating smile, unseen by Bumblebee, as he watched him with focused intent. You almost destroyed everything we've worked for, but…that just means I get to punish you. What to do, what to do. Such a monumental error demands a harsh…correction, wouldn't you agree?
I could disassemble you, carefully detaching each limb with surgical precision, leaving you helpless and utterly reliant on me. I could do anything I desire to you. Anything. My living plaything. My living, crying, begging, warm, moving pleasure point! But…that might be too extreme. I'll save that for another day, perhaps during a particularly stressful crunch time. If you're going to be that pathetic, I want to savor it, to relish every moment.
What else, what else…
“Over here,” Prowl directed, pointing around a corner. Bumblebee followed, his gaze fixed on a brightly lit storefront.
I could reprogram you, temporarily erasing the you that I claim to love, leaving your true consciousness to observe from a distance as I transform you into an actual, literal animal. A stupid little dog, perfectly executing commands like "sit" and "paw" without question. I bet you'd look adorable in a collar, kneeling before me, wagging your tail. But that would also take time, and where would I even find the ears and tail to fit? I'd have to build them myself, and I simply don't have the time for that.
“Guess this is it?” Bumblebee asked, turning to look up at Prowl, his gaze sweeping across the desolate landscape that stretched beyond the city's edge. The darkness was punctuated by the lurking forms of leftover alien creatures and the unseen presence of other mechs hidden in the shadows. He sighed heavily, the city's luminescence barely illuminating a few feet ahead. He…he didn't want to go "home". Not yet. Just let him…
He glanced up at the endless expanse of stars, idly wondering if Starscream could see him. He yearned to be free again, but he couldn't bear to let them down: Cybertron, Optimus, and Prowl. It's only temporary, he reminded himself, but a nagging doubt lingered. Was it really?
"Yes, don't get huffy, this will only take a minute." Prowl intended to show Bumblebee another inactive Titan, buried deep beneath the canyon's floor, already dealt with accordingly. A trivial problem for Bumblebee to pondere on when returning to the base. Busy work, all the same.
He transformed, his sleek form shifting into a powerful vehicle, and sped off, Bumblebee following close behind. But as the engine roared and the dust billowed, a wicked idea began to blossom.
Plans might change. He got an idea.
A bad idea.
The pair sped through the desolate landscape in near silence, the vast plains stretching endlessly. Occasionally, they passed other Cybertronians in the distance, flyers soaring overhead, homeward bound toward the glittering city. Bumblebee couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Where exactly were they going? The environment grew increasingly darker and more ominous, the moon and stars emerging as the sole source of illumination, casting long, dancing shadows across the alien terrain.
"We're here," Prowl announced, his voice almost too cheerful, a dangerous lilt to its tone. He transformed back into his bipedal form with unsettling speed. Bumblebee watched, confusion etched on his face, as he too shifted to his original form. He stood, arms spread wide, taking in the desolate scenery. Seemingly nothing but...
Immense, jagged mountains of rock and sand dominated the desert canyon. The distant cityscape twinkled far away, a tantalizing reminder of civilization.
"Okay...? Now what?!" Bumblebee's question died in his throat as he was viciously shoved against a towering, razor-edged rock formation. His cane clattered to the ground, rendered useless as Prowl's hand clamped around his vulnerable neck. His other hand snared his wrist by pure reflex.
He knew, immediately, what was happening. Shit! I thought he might have forgotten... He hadn't. The slip-up had been too obvious, too public, and Prowl... Prowl never forgot. Terror mixed with a surprising surge of anger as his spark pulsed erratically.
"What the hell was that? Stuttering like a glitch at your first public appearance in ages. They're going to think you're a joke now. A worthless coward hiding in rose gardens because he can't even get his words out!" Prowl snapped, his voice laced with fury.
Wheeljack is already getting suspicious, and your pathetic display did not do me any favors. You're so selfish at times, treating all our work like some kind of game.
His bared teeth, the barely concealed smile lurking beneath the surface. He was treating this so lightly, acting like a rotten mech. He would set him straight, one way or another.
"H-hey, don't blame me!" Bumblebee spat, clinging to the sudden eruption of rage. All of this was nonsense!
"Excuse me?" Prowl challenged, a intrigued glint in his optics. It had been a while since he'd drawn out Bumblebee's fighting spirit. This could be fun.
"You're excused," Bumblebee retorted, his voice dripping with harsh sarcasm. "I wouldn't have to rely on you so much if you didn't try to completely take over! I wanted to be active, not play pretend! And I'm starting to think those lessons of yours are worthl-"
Bumblebee's words were cut short. Prowl's fingers, his middle and index digits, brutally forced their way down his throat, numbing his ability to speak. His glossa was pressed down, his jaw forced open in a grotesque parody of a kiss. Prowl loomed close, his face inches away, the raw anger radiating from his optics.
I will not be silenced, Bumblebee thought fiercely, biting down with all his might, desperate to see some reaction. He was met with... nothing. A chilling emptiness resided within Prowl's gaze, and Bumblebee's spark sank with dread.
He wasn't a bruiser, he knew that, but surely that had to hurt at least a little, right? Confused and desperate, Bumblebee watched as Prowl tightened his grip on his jaw, his fingers slick with saliva as he choked and squirmed. Prowl released his hold on Bumblebee's neck, and his free hand began to drift elsewhere.
"You asked for this, remember?" Prowl spoke, his voice a low, dangerous bite, strong hostilely with violent intent, there was no yelling but it made Bee flitch either way. I disable the scrambler for one day, and you're already acting up? I can't trust you with anything.
He dug his digits in, his grip a vise threatening to wrench Bumblebee's jaw off. With a ruthless slam, he pinned Bumblebee's head against the wall, his face inches away, boxing him in.
"Don't you fucking forget it. Your poor decisions and inaction got Starscream and Metalhawk killed, ignited riots in the streets, and brought Decepticons trying to rise up every five fucking minutes! And just when we were making official progress, you wanted to back out? Give up because things got a little too difficult?" Prowl pressed closer, his frame a suffocating cage. Bumblebee struggled, desperately trying to pry Prowl's hands off while fighting back tears.
"What kind of leader does that? Give up when things get rough? What would your friends think? What would Optimus think?" Prowl eased his pressure only slightly, and Bumblebee stilled, the mention of Starscream and Optimus tearing at his insides, planting insidious seeds of doubt.
"No, you wanted to try. To give it your best shot. I know that's in you, Bee, but you still messed up, fumbling like a fool in your new Cybertron. And that cannot go unpunished." Prowl remained blank, and Bumblebee's optics widened, fear blooming in their depths, as his interface panel was popped off with a sharp click.
He couldn't suppress the answering smirk. Bumblebee's face was now a ridiculously endearing shade of royal blue. His valve, exposed and vulnerable, was immediately covered by his hand, never so exposed in public. Bumblebee locked with the hand holding his panel, as he lunged for it.
"Hey! Prowl, give it back!" He yelped, jumping, trying to snag the panel from Prowl, as he held it up. A tremor of panic vibrated through him. I didn't even know it could come off like that! Isn't it normally supposed to retract?!
"Careful, Bee. With all that noise, someone might come to investigate," Prowl teased, his optics glinting with cruel amusement, as Bumblebee desperately sought to reclaim his modesty. He was so fucking cute, caught between embarrassment and defiance. Legs slightly crossed, a blush of flustered anger painted across his face.
"I-!" Bumblebee glanced around, confirming they were alone for now. It might be late, but not late enough for everyone to be recharging. He ceased his struggling, stepping back, trying to project an air of nonchalance despite his sudden enforced "nudity." His valve twitched, sensitive to the cool night air nipping at it.
"What am I learning from this?" He growled, optics darting back and forth. He needed his panel back! This was agonizingly embarrassing. Sure, he'd showered with others before, but never stark naked like this.
“Oh, this isn’t a lesson," Prowl purred, his voice a silken thread. "Weren’t you listening? This is a punishment, but since you brought it up, I suppose we can make it a two-for-one.” He toyed with a piece of cover, turning it over in his hands as if contemplating a purchase, his expression unreadable. I should just break it in two, he thought, a shiver tracing its way down his spine. He has nothing to hide from me.
“No, I don’t–” Bumblebee clenched his teeth, optics fixed on the ground. He couldn’t fight like this, exposed, vulnerable. He just had to…be strong. Be strong. He drew in a deep breath, struggling to regain a semblance of composure. His valve felt agonizingly open to the elements, a raw invitation that made him want to curl up and disappear.
“What do I need to do?” Bumblebee asked, his voice tight, strained.
“Apologize.” An overly casual smile stretched across Prowl's face as he waved a panel in the air, a casual, dismissive gesture. Bumblebee raised his arms, a desperate impulse to reach out, but quickly aborted the motion.
“That-that doesn’t seem too bad,” he said, his voice laced with suspicion. It was never that easy.
“If you think so, get on your knees. Bow low, your head resting between your hands. It has to be sincere to atone for your transgression. Think of it as future practice for when you inevitably mess up again. The majority of alien species tend to react with hostility. This is how you show them how truly sincere you are.” As he spoke, Prowl's optics kept drifting downwards, lingering on Bumblebee's exposed valve. Dry, huh? This isn’t your thing? I’ll make it your thing.
“That’s…”
Prowl tilted his head, a silent dare. Try me.
“O…ok…” Slowly, shakily, Bumblebee obeyed. The unyielding stare, the mortification of being exposed in such a compromising position in public, sent jolts of pain through his inner workings and made his helm ache. Why did he feel so utterly ashamed? This was so embarrassing. He knew he was small, he didn't need this to feel even smaller.
He lowered himself onto his knees, the sharp edges of the rubble digging into his joints. He hesitated, optics fixed on Prowl's pedes, a sudden, overwhelming wave of regret washing over him. He just wanted to be a good leader. How did it end up like this?
“Want me to break it in half?” Prowl's voice was deceptively soft, laced with a dangerous edge. I can also kick your face into the dirt. You look so pretty at my feet. It’s where someone like you belongs.
“Ok. Ok. I’m going…” Bumblebee stammered, his hands trembling as he braced himself for what felt like an irreversible act. He pressed his hands together, bowing deeply, a surge of fear coursing through him as Prowl moved out of his line of sight, looming over him. What…what if he does something?
“I’m…I’m sorry," he mumbled, cringing at the weakness in his own voice, knowing it was barely audible.
“I can’t hear you. You must not want this back.” Prowl's systems were starting to overheat, his control fraying at the edges. He couldn’t wait until they were alone. They had to do it now. If someone saw, he’d just kill them later. No one was allowed to look at Bumblebee, covered or not. His beauty was his, and his alone. He would be so easy to crush. I want to see your insides! I want to see your insides!
“I’m sorry!” He yelled abruptly, the fear of Prowl's reaction overriding his shame. “I’m sorry for stuttering at my speech. For being unprofessional and reckless. Please forgive me, Prowl, sir.” He begged, feeling lower than the dirt beneath his knees. Having to do this, his valve now more exposed than ever, sent shivers down his chassis as the cold night air rushed into him.
“I forgive you. But it’s not enough. It’s time for another impromptu lesson. This lesson: Resilience.” Prowl’s smile widened, became something almost feral, as Bumblebee jerked his head up, the shadows of the night obscuring Prowl’s face, transforming him into nothing but a shadow.
“R-resilience?” Bumblebee stammered, his processor struggling to comprehend. What could he-
“You have five seconds.”
“Prowl, what-”
“5…”
Bee jolted, realizing the true intent behind Prowl's exercise. He wasn't just testing his speed, but his very resilience under physical and mental duress. He bolted, pushing his engines to their limit, but five seconds was a paltry head start. His internal vocalizer, fighting to suppress his stutter, robbed him of precious speed. He plunged into the jagged darkness of the creek bed, where treacherous rocks offered meager cover.
Bee scanned the landscape, instinctively sensing Prowl hadn't moved. He lowered his gaze, his spark chamber throbbing with uncomfortable intensity, his love-struck circuits short-circuiting in a mess of unwanted data. His valve lips rubbing against each other with very panicked step. Damnit! He needed to focus. A twig snapped in the distance, making him jump behind a short ledge.
He crouched low, processors scrambling. How could he possibly explain this if someone stumbled upon them? Even if he told the truth, would they believe it was just a training lesson? A chilling cold seeped into his chassis, his valve mainly. It was cold, so cold. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but there was a reason it had a cover on it! It keeps things ventilated and regulated, like the other parts of it. The sensitive and soft part of his biology was protected by that panel. Prowl. Just prowl. What has been done to-
"Found you."
Bee recoiled, diving behind a cluster of jagged rocks, offering scant concealment from Prowl and the city lights. He extinguished his own lights and squeezed his optics shut, but it was futile. A towering silhouette loomed above, illuminated by piercing blue optics. Gelid as glacial ice, the kind that smokes and burns when touched, leaving frostbite like fire.
He attempted to flee, to buy himself a few more precious moments, but Prowl anticipated his every move. It was almost insulting how easily he was outmaneuvered. Stealth and reconnaissance were skills best employed from a distance, with time and cover.
This close combat exposed his weaknesses. He lashed out, planting a kick against Prowl's chest, but the larger mech simply grabbed his leg, throwing it aside with casual force, sending Bee sprawling onto the arid ground. He slipped him on his stomach, a heavy hand slammed his face into the dirt. A guttural laugh echoed, a sound ripped from the depths of Cybertronian hell.
Panic clawed at Bee's circuits as his wrists were merciless hauled behind him, painfully clenching together.
"Prowl! Okay, I get it! You win! I'm sorry! I can't do this!" He pleaded, writhing against Prowl's iron grip, his knee digging cruelly into his lower back.
"You can, and you will. You are a leader, brave, strong, and perfect. If you can handle everything Earth threw at you, you can handle this." Prowl's voice was a low, resonant growl, each word imbued with a dangerous sincerity. He produced a set of cuffs from his subspace storage, the click of the locking mechanism a satisfying chime to him, but a sickening knell to Bee. He yanked Bee around to face him, wanting to drown in the depths of those wide, fearful, ocean-blue optics.
"Prowl, let me go. We're in the open. Anybody could see us." He begged, his voice a trembling whisper, his internal temperature spiking uncontrollably. Prowl's proximity was playing havoc with his systems, triggering a cascade of unwanted signals. And…had he called him perfect? Prowl considered him perfect? That should be comforting, right?
Instead, it stirred a deep unease, a glimpse of something he shouldn't be seeing.
"Who cares. I'll deal with it. I'll take care of you." Ah, the mask was slipping. "Now, you have one objective, try not to fuck it up. The lesson continues, and we must determine just how resilient you truly are." He yanked Bee up by the horns, dragging him across the grit-strewn ground toward the jagged wall of rock. The sound of metal scraping echoed with each pull.
With a sharp twist, he forced Bee into place. Still on his knees, Bee was guided between Prowl’s legs as Prowl leaned back against the stone, the cold rock pressing into his armor like teeth. Bee’s face, mere inches away from his own interface panel. Prowl looking down, his hungry gaze devouring every inch of Bee's roughed up frame.
"So, we can determine what needs fixing in the future." He breathed, his voice ragged with an almost feral intensity. He watched as Bee's face contorted in a mixture of shame and desperation, wrenching against the cuffs, his cheek pressed his metal cover, with a guttural sound of revulsion. Feel my heat. Feel the heat you caused. This is your fault. I used to be productive and sane, then you entered my life and ruined it all.
This is all your fucking fault.
"The faster you get this done, the faster we can go home. You’re not thinking straight, prioritize, Bee, prioritize." Prowl's voice, already strained, threatened to shatter completely, fueled by the enraged way Bee stared back at him, an obvious attempt to mask his fear. This was life! The emanation of this! His touch! This feeling! He had never felt so alive! Hahaha!
"I don't-" Bee started, but his words were cut off as Prowl's interfacing panel retracted. Prowl's grip on Bee's helm tightened, unyielding as he pressed Bee closer against the hot, throbbing spike that now rubbed against his cheek. The metallic, pungent scent of condensation filled his olfactory sensors, going straight to his head. A gasp escaped him as his cheek was wetted. His valve twitched, a vivid reminder of previous encounters.
"Come on, think. Think, before I make you think," Prowl growled, his hands now gripping both sides of Bee's head, his fingers laced around the base of Bee’s horns, giving him purchase. He was built for this! Even his horns offered the perfect leverage to hold on. He entertained the thought of simply shoving him, willing to accept the penalty of injury if it meant choking him around his spike.
"Prowl…" Bee whined, his own chassis overheating, adding to his confusion as Prowl continued to grind him against his face, an unspoken encouragement that bordered on a demand. He didn’t want this, but at the same time, he felt he deserved it. He had messed up, big time. And if he was going to learn, well…
Did it have to be this ?
"What, Bee?" Prowl asked sarcastically, fully aware of the true meaning behind Bee's tone. Prowl, please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please, just say it. Tell me to stop. It's fun when you struggle, the more you pretend you like it, the more determined you are to prove yourself. I love you. I love you. I love you, and your little valve-mouth.
Bee emitted a repressed groan as Prowl tightened his grip, begrudgingly turning Bee's face, his spike now pressed directly against the tip of his nose. How did that ever fit in his mouth? He tried to relax, his wrists burning from the tightness of the restraints. He calmed himself enough to part his mouth, his glossa emerging as an invitation, unable to move his head himself or use his words. He couldn't bring himself to say it aloud.
"Taking your training like a mech, finally. That's the bare minimum; I'm not impressed," Prowl said, his tone strict, but a cruel smile played on his lips. He tilted Bee's head back, watching with intense focus as he aligned the tip of his spike with Bee's waiting mouth.
The way Bee's optics flickered at contact undoubtedly overwhelmed his tastenuds. I love you, when you do that. I love that fear. Are you so scared? It’s just a little transfluid? No need to be so overdramatic. A breathy laugh escaped him as a pinched noise left Bee.
Just let him use you, and it will all be over, Bee thought, looking up, knowing Prowl all too well by now. He didn't even bother trying to keep his optics closed; it wasn’t worth the risk. He fought the urge to gag as more of Prowl's spike was forced into his mouth. His arms strained uncomfortably against the cuffs, writhing as he tried to brace himself. His mouth stretched wide, tasting more of Prowl, his valve beginning to lubricate as it anticipated what was to come.
Release.
"That's it; fill that mouth you don't know how to use," Prowl commented, thrusting deeper inside, feeling the warm, tight grip that was now different. Bee's chassis buzzed less with resistance, more with reflex, fueled by adrenaline-laced energy, and he wanted to bleed that energy out of him. So good for me, you're pretty when you cry. Tears suit you, like you were made to break just for me.
Prowl's breath hitched with a gravelly chuckle, hitting the back of Bee's throat, and he could hear Bee's ventilation tubes stutter at the unwanted blockage. The vocal vibrations of Bee choking and gagging stimulated his spike further, the movement of Bee's vocal tube and glossa pressed so firmly together that his CUP went numb with the sensation, nothing but pleasure.
"Just a little more, you can take it," Prowl rasped, his voice thick with a cruel encouragement. Bumblebee looked up at him, optics wide with pain, his arms straining against the restraints. His digits clenched and unclenched, grasping at the air, desperate for a gasp, a moment of relief. Prowl, however, was beyond thrilled, his blue optics darkening with a vile delight. He pressed Bee further down onto his spike, the tip of Bee's nose brushing against his protoflesh as he managed to force himself fully inside.
"That's it, little Bee, right there," Prowl purred, holding him captive. He reveled in the feeling of Bee's throat constricting around him, uncaring that Bee's denta scraped against his own as the smaller mech writhed in desperate discomfort. Bee's face flushed a darker shade, his systems screaming for air. His body bucked and jolted, even attempting to rise to one knee before Prowl backed him down with hard-hitting force.
"Oh, please, do struggle," he taunted, a sadistic edge to his voice. "It makes it all the more fun." Tears now streamed down Bee's face, muffled cries echoing around them. Wouldn't that be a fitting end, Prowl mused, choking on my spike as your systems fail? Tempting, so very tempting.
He couldn't breathe! Warning signals flashed in Bee's vision, his body writhing uncontrollably. He'd never been penetrated this deeply before; Prowl was all he could taste, all he could feel. Please, Prowl! Let me breathe! His valve overflowed, dripping with the bitter tang of transfluid that coated his throat.
You're so fucking cute like this. I love you. I love you. Too stupid to realize the truth. I'm totally fucking obsessed with you. This is your fault. I hate it. Hate what I've become, but I love you too much to stop. I just...
Anger surged, mingling with his all-consuming obsession. Without warning, he seized Bee's head, no preamble, no gentle introduction. Gripping Bee's horns, he began to use him, his arms bearing the brunt of the work. Gurgling and gagging sounds filled the air as Bee's lower jaw became drenched in transfluid and saliva.
Bee's optics rolled back in his head as his systems began to shut down, his fingers occasionally opening and closing with each jarring impact. He could feel his vocalizers being crushed against Prowl's plating. "Damage detected" flashed across his optics as his mind went numb, retreating into a dark corner, trying to convince himself it was all a bad dream.
This…this blows, he managed to joke bitterly to himself, before his informational streams fractured and blurred. The lack of air was causing internal lagging.
"Calm down, already? Go-good boy. You deserve a treat," Prowl grunted, his breath ragged. He leaned further back against the rock, pulling Bee with him, and began to relentlessly pound into his face. He wanted to break him. Break every little piece of him. His grip tightened as the first wave of overload washed over him, his movements growing frantic, plunging in and out. Those sweet little muffled moans and protests burned through his spark.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I'll tear out your voice box so you can't speak, then you won't have a choice but to stay with me. I'll use your face all day, no matter what. You'll be a good boy as I overload in your mouth every morning, night, and day. Would you like that? I see it. On your knees, right at the door, you wouldn't even have to do any of the work, just sitting there as I pump my code into you, thanking me every time. Would you like that? I know you would. It will be perfect. It will be your future. Future. I love you. I love you. I love you so much.
He shuddered, loud and panting, his voice becoming a rough growl as he held Bee's face firmly in place. He overloaded in Bee's tight throat, his body convulsing uncomfortably as he forced the mech to swallow the copious amount of fluid. Bee's muffled moans turned into drowning, gagging sounds. He looked up, pleading, but met only Prowl's gaze, a chilling mixture of murderous intent and unrelenting desire in his optics.
"Swallow. Drink it all," Prowl commanded, his voice a steel blade, leaving no room for argument.
Bee had little choice. He gagged, his optics widening with a raw, exposed panic as he desperately tried to comply. His command prompt remained stubbornly unresponsive.
*Click Click Click*
What was happening? Had he swallowed something he shouldn't have? Why wasn't it working? A chilling dread began to seep into his circuits as he fought against the mechanical treachery within his own body. Terror flooded his senses, energon tears welling as he became overwhelmed. Off! Get off! He had to fix this! It was too much! He struggled with increasing desperation, each attempt failing miserably.
*Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click Click*
Prowl grinned, a twisted, almost sickening expression that revealed a perverse pleasure. The rapid, faint clicking noises emanating from Bee's neck fueled his dark amusement. Sorry, Bee. Curiosity got the better of me. I merely disabled a few of your peripheral functions. You don’t mind, do you? It's rather magnificent, though, watching you struggle so futilely to be rid of me. You should know by now…
You're never getting rid of me. We're sparkmates, after all.
“Having problems? If you like that much.” Prowl withdrew, a slick trail of transfluid in the air. He was swift, faster than Bee could react, clamping his hand over Bee's mouth, slamming his head into the ground, pinning him. Bee thrashed, desperately trying to expel the unwanted break-in, but his systems were overheating, his struggles proving futile. His gaze darted around, seeking any witnesses, knowing the consequences would be dire if his humiliation were exposed.
“Stay still, you insufferable excuse for a leader; you’re paying your debt to society,” Prowl's voice was a glacial whisper, devoid of warmth. Yet, that same broken smile, that disturbing mask of obsession, remained plastered on his face.
He produced a stick-shaped gag from his storage compartment. Before Bee could even register what was happening, the object was shoved into his mouth, his denta clamping around it in panicked reflex as its straps were clipped behind his head.
He tried to speak, to shake his head in desperate protest, but Prowl merely snickered, as he yanked Bee forward by his chest plating, sending him toppling over, his helm collided against Prowl's chest. Bee felt the unmistakable pressure of Prowl's hardened spike against his valve.
"Next lesson: decision-making under extreme physical strain," Prowl announced, leaning back against the rock wall, his gaze fixed on Bee, who had managed to prop himself up on trembling arms. Prowl’s large, white hands splayed idolizing on Bee's upper thighs. He smiled, a chillingly serene expression directed at his angel, his god, the very being who had cursed him with this consuming, ruinous emotion called love.
The "god" looked utterly shattered. Energon dripped from his wrists, protoflesh torn and raw from the desperate struggle. His optics burned with a furious, agonizing mix of metal and physical torment, a chaotic blend of hatred, sorrow, and utter desperation, as if silently begging for it all to end, for some kind of understanding, for the torment to simply cease.
Oh, how I love you so. I love your voice. I love your skill and persistence. I love your color. I love your model build. I love your history. I love your flaws and imperfections. I love your face. I love your tics and quirks. I love your armor. I love your movements. I love your injuries. I love your smile. Your tears. Your Energon. Your Spark. I love you. I love you. I love you.
"I'll give you a choice. Make the right one." Prowl's tone was abruptly flat, devoid of emotion. "Move your head to the left if you want to ride me by yourself. Move your head to the right if you want my assistance. One is the right answer, do us all a favor, and choose it.” For a fleeting moment, he seemed to regain his usual composure, though his spike twitched betraying, a hungry, desperate movement against Bee's lower abdomen.
Inside, I want to be inside. But a lesson was still a lesson. These stupid, fucking game I started. I should have just taken him, faked his death, and kept him locked away. Wouldn’t have to bother with all these rules and altering realities. Have you all to myself.
"Which one?" he repeated, his gaze unwavering as he watched Bee's chest rise and fall with ragged breaths. Now that he was propped up, he was even more exposed, the fear of being seen in this state a palpable, suffocating weight. He didn't want to think about it.
He shook his head, optics swimming with a desperate denial. He couldn't think, not when his systems were clamoring, demanding he uptake the vital transfluid, while simultaneously struggling to swallow. Why was his throat refusing to cooperate? What cruel machination had Prowl enacted upon him? Was this his fate? An unforgiving punishment? For letting Starscream die, Metalhawk too? Did he...did he deserve this? All of this?
Crystalline tears began to stream down his faceplates, reflecting the distant city lights like shattered stars. Prowl merely tilted his head, his expression unreadable, unmoved by the sight of his lover's broken state.
"I require an answer, Bumblebee. Or else, you fail. I’m already giving you leeway by asking again. Do not disappoint me." Prowl's sharp fingertips dug into the limited expanse of exposed protoflesh, eliciting a shiver that wracked Bumblebee's frame. He trembled, paralyzed by the impossible choice. Do not keep me waiting, or
The cold steel of Prowl’s spike teased against Bumblebee's valve, a mere graze, yet agonizingly precise. Not full-on entry, just the very tip, sending tremors of unwanted arousal through his frame. He felt slick and primed. He rapidly cycled through options. He could try to endure it, use his superior speed to get it over with, but...
He jostled uselessly against the restraints binding his wrists behind him, a final, desperate attempt to break free. The gag muffled his strangled cries, forcing his denta apart, the cloying fluid marinating his throat, coating his mouth. His helm felt loose, hollow. All of his protective screws had been removed, leaving his essential components rattling uselessly within. He was running on fumes, low energy after a long day, and this was how it all ended?
He crumbled inwardly, the bleak reality crushing him. He was in no condition to resist, to do anything but allow Prowl to use him. He...he needed Prowl's assistance. He averted his gaze, the distant city lights. Cold and indifferent, a black void offering no solace. No help. No witnesses. He reluctantly glanced back at Prowl. His face was an impassive mask, further darkened by the shadows that clung to him.
Fuck him.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head to the right, feeling the immediate sting of sharp digits digging deeper in response.
"Good choice," Prowl purred, his tone laced with a disturbing fondness. He shifted his grip, both hands now firmly grasping Bumblebee's waist. He was strong, agile, and tall. His arms reached without him barely having to raise his lower back or stretch. So perfectly within his hands, he was just like a toy, a fake vale, or those things humans call onaholes? He didn't care for humans, but they did have some interesting exploits.
Toy. My toy. My toy. Toy. Toy. Toy. Toy. My toy is looking adorably furious right now, how utterly delectable.
Bee writhed as Prowl’s spike continued to tease his lower abdomen, the hard ridge drawing tantalizing circles against his sensitive protoflesh. He felt helplessly exposed, vulnerable as he was hoisted up, a humiliating weakness washing over him at the ease with which Prowl dominated.
His hips instinctively bucked as he was positioned directly above the glistening tip, his own lubricant already slick and dripping. Locking optics with Prowl, a flush of mortification ignited in Bee’s circuits, his body betraying him, reacting with a desperate hunger he couldn't control. He averted his gaze, faceplates burning, anticipating the cruel thoughts swirling within Prowl's processor.
"You can pretend to be mad all you want, but from what I’m seeing, it seems you’re enjoying these little lessons of ours." Prowl purred, his voice a low, vibrating caress. His spike throbbed, impatient to plunge inside.
“It’s admirable, however, one could say making the best out of a rough situation.” He finished, smiling cruelly as Bee looked down at him, clearly offended. The little mech attempted to speak, to mount a defense, before his vocalizer was cut off by choking, gurgling, and gagging behind the gag, momentarily forgetting it was even there.
Prowl chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. “You’re so cute. You try so hard.” He lowered Bee, not slowly, not swiftly, but with deliberate precision, savoring the anticipation, wanting to watch the moment when he would be completely taken. His spike breached the entrance, stretching the delicate folds, leaving a searing outline on Bee’s frame that Prowl craved to make permanent.
The spike plunged deep, forcing the reluctant entrance to accommodate its size, Bee's optics shut as he fought to adapt. His hips bucked and twisted in protest, his cuffed hands twitching with the desperate urge to pull away.
His inner walls yielded, encountering the sheer length and girth of Prowl’s spike; a searing, almost unbearable pressure, yet a sensation that, after the initial agony, he had come to crave. Internal cooling fans whirred into overdrive, sensory receptors overloaded with the forced intimacy.
“So tight for me,” Prowl growled, his gaze unwavering, worshipful. His spike was enveloped by Bee's resisting walls, an unyielding grip that didn’t need for modifications or enhancements. He let out a low, breathy laugh, intoxicated by the sensation. But then, a distant rumble reached his audio receptors; the unmistakable sound of approaching vehicles heading towards the city. Too far to identify, shrouded in the darkness...but...
He couldn’t help himself.
“Do you think they saw us?” Prowl said, his tone casual, almost conversational, as he turned his head. Bee convulsed on his spike, his own head whipping around in a frenzy of panic. Seizing the opportunity, Prowl slammed him down with a punishing force, impacting the deepest core of Bee's interior. The minibot's head snapped back with a muffled cry of agony.
“Probably not, they’re too far away," Prowl drawled, relishing the irony of his stoicism. His taunting words escalated the pleasure, as Bee’s interior pulsated and burned around him, his walls contracting, desperately trying to contain his overwhelming presence. Bee curled further inward, tears streaming down his faceplates as he locked his gaze on Prowl.
He looked like a kicked dog.
Let's kick him some more.
“What's with that look? After all, this is your fault, your choice, remember?” Prowl sneered before abandoning all restraint. He dug his fingertips deep into Bee's plating, his grip tight and hard enough to break protoflesh. He needed leverage. And he began to pump, hard and fast, seeking to break him, to inflict pain, and to revel in his suffering. Love: Pain and pleasure. Real love shows you everything.
He raised and struck Bee down repeatedly, the sickening thud of metal against metal and the wet squelch of fluids filling the small, desolate space. His spike tore relentlessly at Bee's insides, the outline of its shape expanding and contracting with each merciless descent. Seatbelts chafed against the sensitive, organic flesh, his only truly organic tissues.
Prowl's smile was a carnal, uncontrollable expression. Bee fought to maintain composure, to mask his torment, but failed miserably with each violent impact. His head jerked back and forth, optics flickering in and out of focus, his strained shoulder joints twisting and locking as he desperately tried to free himself from the restraints. Disgusting gurgling noises leaked past the gag as he struggled to stifle moans and cries, saliva and transfluid intermingling and trailing down his chin.
He was made for a canvas.
Too much! Too much! Fuck, Prowl, damn it. He shouldn’t have. Bee thought brokenly, the sounds of internal tubes being decompressed echoing around him. It hurt inside, rubbing him raw, due to Prowl ruthlessness penetration. His mouth clogged, making him feel like he's trapped in a compactor, compacted and crushed between two unmovable, unbreakable objects. His body unable to cope, reacting with an unbalanced mix of pain and pleasure. every hiccup and moan, causing a swallowing reaction just for it not to go down, spitting it up back in his own mouth, the gag focusing it to stay. He was getting lightheaded.
He…
He…just didn't know any more.
Another gagged noise of painful ecstasy, was strangled out of him, as Prowl absently barked his hips, almost breaking through that back wall.
“this is still a part of your punishment don't forget that. Even if you’re valve disagrees. It- fuck -it’s it's important that leaders know how to act without certain elements, anything can happen on the field, anything like this.” He pumped into him, pulling int back down int he his base, his whole length inside, just as he…
Bee’s spoke stopped as he lost his breath.
What?
What?!
He…
He couldn’t see!
Bee moved his head widely attempting to look around, but it was nothing, but staticy blankness, his usually bright blue optics, a dim shape of faded blue, like a computer screen on its last battery. His panic, his engines rumbling in his own version of hyperventilating. He couldn't see. He couldn't see. He couldn't see. repeat it over and over along with thoughts that this was permanent. He was exposed to any exposed enemies, and he was fully exposed to Prowl.
His panic twisted into raw, unbridled fear, his body desperate to escape, but Prowl, ever the unwavering anchor, held him captive. Bumblebee's struggles were met with Prowl's relentless rhythm and pace, a carnal symphony devoid of any mission objective. He embraced the exquisite terror of losing control, of his vision blurring at the whim of another.
Heh, Bumblebee is endlessly cute when he's scared. I took some liberties while you were sleeping, made a few adjustments. Don't spring a leak now, it's all just temporary.
Prowl reveled in the frantic dance of Bumblebee's head, optics darting wildly in a desperate attempt to pierce the darkness. His body coiled taut, a symphony of fizzing energy escalating within, locking up in a futile attempt to flee. Yet, beneath the terror, a flicker of sensation ignited, a spark of pure, forbidden bliss.
"Hey, is that a seeker I see?" Prowl's smug tone dripped with playful malice, sending a jolt through Bumblebee, he looked up, seeing nothing but black. He strained against his restraints, his mind fracturing under the overload. The spike distorting his inner workings was the final straw. Pain lanced through him, a drawn-out whine escaping past the gag. Too much, too overwhelming to process. He was going to die, helpless and blind, at Prowl's mercy. Please, stop, I can't-
"I’ll give you a choice." In one fluid motion, Prowl popped out, leaving a sticky trail of personal fluids connecting them. He removed his hands, letting Bee sit on his legs, finally still, though practically vibrating from the stress of it all.
"Left to stay, right to leave. Choose." Prowl's own chest heaved, anticipation thrumming through his circuits. He knew the answer he would choose, but that didn’t make the game any less fun to play. His spike throbbed, aching for re-entry, as he watched Bumblebee's optics struggle to focus, to weigh his options.
Bumblebee gazed downwards, or what he perceived as down. He...he couldn't leave. He was trapped, stripped of agency. He had to... it hurt ...His body shuddered, and with a spark-wrenching reluctance, he turned his head to the left. He had no choice. He was irrevocably bound.
"Good boy." Prowl plunged back in, his valve gaping in hungry welcome. He grunted, a huff of satisfaction at the renewed contact. "It is important for a leader to understand their limits, and make the right choice, even at their own physical expense. Most let their pain distract them." He increased the pace, yanking Bumblebee up and down, ignoring the desperate squirms. The praise was lost in the inferno of his fried circuits.
The...the right choice? The words barely registered, lost in the overwhelming tide of transfuild and the acrid stench of burning wires. Nausea clawed at him, and he surrendered, succumbing to raw, unadulterated emotion. Muffled sobs, whimpers, and cries escaped past the gag as Prowl relentlessly lifted and used him.
Prowl made a noise of annoyance at the emotional display. “Oh, stop crying. It’s hardly catastrophic,” he said, voice low and controlled. “If you fall apart this easily, what hope is there for you when the real pressures of combat hit? You’re being absurdly overdramatic. You’re supposed to be strong. If you can endure that, then dealing with this should be trivial.” Prowl grinned as Bee straightened, looking around once, confused, as he well...
He took his hearing.
How? What?! What had he done? Oh, Primus! Oh, God!
The world was suddenly swallowed by a low, oppressive white noise, a static hum that magnified the terror clawing at his circuits. With two of his senses extinguished, all concentration funneled into him, that monster inside him.
He choked out a startled cry, abruptly cut short as Prowl pressed a hand against his outer node, sending a jolt of raw electricity surging directly into his Neural Input Connector. Bee's mouth worked uselessly around the gag, the transfluid threatening to suffocate him. The relentless assault continued, threatening to extinguish his spark entirely as Prowl drove deeper, more intensely than ever before. There was no escape, no reprieve. He was irrevocably, inextricably bound to him.
He was forever intertwined.
His head lolled forward, only to be yanked back by Prowl's unforgiving grip. His optics, half-lidded. Lines of vibrant pink Energon leaking from his noseridge, The officer froze, momentarily entranced by the sight. The sheer stress of everything had triggered a nosebleed, the flesh fluid a stark testament to Bee's ravaged state.
That… that might have been the most exquisitely erotic thing he'd ever seen in his life cycle.
A wicked smile bloomed across his face, the expression of a mech consumed by twisted love, lovesick, a dangerous obsession bordering on insanity. And since Bee's audials were currently "out of order," he could indulge without restraint.
He released the tight reins he held on, embracing those forgotten, tucked-away, and straight-up abandoned emotions.
I fucking looooooooooooooove you!
He flipped himself up, toppling over Bee who was now beneath him, still deeply impaled. Sight was irrelevant; all that mattered was the feel of him, the crushing pressure of their bodies pressed together.
A stuttering, low manic laugh escaped him, teetering on the precipice of madness fueled by the overwhelming lust and infatuation affection that consumed him. His hips bucked instinctively, thrusting deeper, ignoring the muffled hiccups and gasps of pain that came from beneath him. He didn't care who saw, who heard. Bystanders, potential witnesses be damned.
"I love you so fucking much! I love you! I love you! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. But you won't say it back, will you? That's the problem, isn't it? To you, this is just a lesson. Primus, you're so naive, so stupid like a dumb dog begging for love. You're so cute! You love me back, you just haven't realized it yet. You'll say it. I'll make you say it. No one will stand in my way. They're just obstacles, distractions. You love me. You love me. You love me!" A raw, anguished sound tore from his throat as his movements grew more frantic, more punishing.
"You fucking ruined me! I was productive, sane, before you! I didn't have this problem, these worthless emotions holding me back. I lived to protect, but now you've stolen my spark, my processor, my very code! You've completely shattered me, broken me down into nothing but a worthless shell of a mech. You have to take fucking responsibility for that. It's only fair. I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you so much. From the bottom of my very spark, I love you."
Cementing his words, he delivered one final, devastating thrust, his fingertips digging into the sandy soil as his engine roared, a primal sound of hatred and unimaginable passion merging into one. He emptied himself into Bee, filling him to the brim as Bee's body convulsed, as he himself spiraled toward an unfathomable release.
He panted raggedly, a sliver of doubt piercing through the haze of his obsession. He might have gone too far. Bee hadn't moved, wasn’t moving. He carefully shifted his weight, sitting back up and pulling Bee up by the underarms, still inside. He surveyed his handiwork.
"You've certainly seen better days. I must admit, I much prefer you like this." Prowl cooed, a flicker of remorse warring with his love-crazed satisfaction. Bee's frame was completely totaled, still trembling uncontrollably. His fans sputtered weakly, his optics rolled back in his helm, heavy-lidded and unfocused. He was limp, unresponsive, his armor dented, his protoflesh scratched and marred, Energon still trickling from his nose. A long, weak groan escaped him, a sound of near-fatal distress. His tanks were overloaded, his systems running on fumes, and his tears flowed ceaselessly.
"You're so cute," Prowl murmured, pressing a kiss to his helm. "You're a disgusting, used-up mess. How could anyone possibly respect you after this?" He pulled Bee into a tight embrace, his digits deftly manipulating the small, magnetized dots hidden beneath Bee's helm, connected to his Central Sensory Processing Unit.
He popped them off one by one, establishing a temporary connection. He desperately craved a permanent link, but he didn’t have the time. After they sparkbond, he would have complete and utter control.
The red one: Hearing restored.
The blue one: Ability to swallow granted.
The yellow one: Optics online.
Bee closed his optics, a long, slow blink. He was barely sentient, barely aware of his surroundings. His body felt deformed, broken, consumed by pain. He couldn’t… couldn’t… couldn't…I don’t…I don’t…
"You can swallow now," Prowl spoke softly, reaching for the gag. Bee did just that, his glossa and mouth feeling numb. Prowl's hands gently removed the gag, and Bee gasped softly, on the last dregs of his energy.
"Po… Po… Po…" He tried to speak, voice pitched and wobbly, but the name wouldn't form, wouldn't solidify. Was he even real?
"Awww, you can't even say my name properly," Prowl smiled, letting Bee fall into his arms, cradling him in the crook of his neck. He placed a hand on the back of Bee's helm, his body limp, lifeless. He lovingly caressed him.
"You did wonderfully," Prowl purred, his voice a low thrum that vibrated against Bumblebee's chassis.
"You did great. You took your punishment and that impromptu lesson like a professional. While yes, I'm still mad about the speech blunder, I think overall your performance deserves a reward. You'd like that, wouldn’t you? A nice reward just for you?” He tilted his head, forcing Bumblebee to meet his gaze, a saccharine smile plastered on his face. Bee’s very self seemed distant, lost in some far-off place.
Good.
"Rest now, my Bee. I'll awaken you once your systems have settled," Prowl murmured, gently rearranging Bumblebee against the cool, rocky wall. A soft sigh escaped the yellow mech, fragile proof he was alive.
"You can even have your panel back, see?" Prowl he waved the yellow panel up before popping it back into place. Bumblebee was likely confused; Bee was probably confused. It was only supposed to retract, not pop off. Just a minor modification he’d made for easier access. The only one he had time for, really.
"You did well, Bee. Rest." He settled beside Bumblebee, allowing the smaller mech to lean against his shoulder. With a final, contented sigh, Bumblebee's optics shuttered closed, his fans slowing to a whisper as his engine hummed a bitter lullaby. Prowl smiled, poor little guy, had he pushed him too far?
The night was cool and quiet, the starry night sky glittered. Prowl allowed his own systems to settle. He savored the afterglow of victory, the sweet taste of dominance, success. After years and years, after the war dragged on for millennia, it felt nice for things to finally go well, for once.
Of course, there were always minor bumps in the road, but those were insignificant. Easily removable. He was winning. The Decepticons were decimated, the city functioned flawlessly under his order, and his commands were obeyed without question. And most importantly...
He had his love, entirely to himself.
"I love you, Bee," he whispered, leaning his head against Bumblebee's, relishing the warmth of their intertwined sparks. He savored the tranquility for a few precious minutes before an incoming message shattered the silence. It was from Arcee. Annoyed but knowing it was probably important, he opened it, his optics widening in genuine rare disbelief.
Arcee: Megatron is back.