Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1739210.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Transformers_Animated_(2007)
  Relationship:
      Blurr/Longarm_Prime_|_Shockwave
  Character:
      Blurr_(Transformers), Longarm_Prime_|_Shockwave, Hot_Rod_|_Rodimus_|
      Rodimus_Prime, Megatron_(Transformers), Optimus_Prime, Sentinel_Prime,
      Wasp_(Transformers), Blitzwing_(Transformers), Wreck-Gar, Wheeljack_
      (Transformers), Lugnut_(Transformers), Strika_(Transformers), Yoketron_
      (Transformers), Botanica_(Transformers)
  Additional Tags:
      Sticky_Sex, BDSM, Consent_Issues, High_School_AU, Lies, Kidnapping, Mind
      Games, Conspiracy, Bastardization_of_Traditional_Dom/Sub_Concepts,
      Masturbation, Toys, Unhealthy_Relationships, Humiliation, Pet_Play
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-06-04 Updated: 2015-06-17 Chapters: 9/? Words: 48794
****** Textbook Felony ******
by Hambone
Summary
     Every decision made at a young age can feel as though the
     consequences will be dire. Unfortunately, sometimes they are.
Notes
     Here we go! If you've been on my Tumblr, you probably already know
     what this is all about, and if not, I wish you luck. This was a lot
     of fun for me to work on and I want to give an extra special thanks
     to all the contributors, anon or not, who have helped shape this into
     what it is. Enjoy~!
See the end of the work for more notes
***** The Beginnings of a Compromise *****
It was the kind of thing you hear about in the newspapers but never really
expect to see happening in real life. Something neighbors and teachers alike
refused to speak of but students grabbed onto and held for years and years
after the fact, swapping muddled accounts taken from a friend of a friend of a
friend. Like getting into a wreck because you were texting while driving, it
was the sort of incident that everyone was convinced could never happen to
them.
Blurr walked into his AP Literature class, eight minutes early, and sat down
behind his desk as quietly as he could. Lunch was technically still running,
and while he was perfectly within his rights to be here, it was still just the
two of them in the room. Dr. Longarm was reading, as usual, behind his desk,
occasionally sipping from a black mug just to the left of his book. Blurr would
be loath to disturb him.
However, it did not appear to be up to him. Several seconds after he had seated
himself, not even bothering to look busy, Longarm set the book down, removed
his reading glasses, and smiled warmly across the room.
“You’re here early. Is the lunchroom not treating you well?”
The question was phrased mildly, a joke. Blurr tittered nervously, and then
realized he sounded like he was responding to the question and only managed to
laugh a little louder, until it broke off into the usual high pitched heaving
that everyone rightfully found so unattractive. Cutting himself off just as
suddenly, he straightened in his seat.
“No, sir. I mean, yes, I am here early, but not because I am in any kind of
trouble or under any kind of fear of bullying or suchlike I mean I’m not
exactly popular but nobody goes out of their way to bother me which I guess is
actually more normal than all those high school movies make it sound isn’t it
well I mean who knows if anything in those was ever the truth I guess you might
since you’re a little older I mean not to say you’re OLD or anything I just
think thatmaybeit’sabitmoreyourtimeorsomething?”
Oh, spark, oh Primus, he had really screwed up. That was genuinely the worst
outcome of any scenario that didn’t involve him vomiting or bursting a circuit.
Blurr wanted to slam his head into his desk but instead managed a shaky smile,
as if that could somehow cover the wreck of a conversation starter he’d just
spat fourth like bile.
Miraculously, Longarm did not instantly throw him from the room. Instead, he
folded his hands over his book, brow creasing in the way people’s did when they
didn’t quite understand him but wanted to.
“I…see. So you’re just here for the goodness of my company?”
Another jest, but it hit so close to home that it threw Blurr for a loop.
“Ah, uh, you could say that!”
The accompanying giggle was cringe-worthy, but Dr. Longarm simply laughed.
“You know you have always been on the straight and narrow, academically.
Regardless of your reasons, you may feel free to eat here if you please.”
As if his laugh wasn’t enough, the words cut straight to Blurr’s laser core. He
looked down at his notebook, afraid the shine of his swirling spark would be
obvious through his optics, in absolute wonderment that it couldn’t be heard
all the way to Kaon. He crossed his legs, tightly.
“Whu-well, that, that’s really nice of you, sir, I, I wouldn’t mind that at
all, I mean, if you wouldn’t.”
Of course he wouldn’t! He just offered it to you in the first place! Unless he
was just being kind, as teachers were supposed to be. Not that many of his
coworkers took that to spark. That stuttering too. Could he be any more
obvious?
“Of course I wouldn’t, Blurr!” He began to tuck his book away into his desk,
blissfully unaware of his student’s uncomfortable squirm at the utterance of
his name.
“Don’t let this get to your head, but you always have been one of my favorite-“
The door slammed open, Bumblebee pummeling a noogie into Bulkhead’s helm as he
rode his shoulders through the molding. There was probably something to be
commented on there, but before anyone else could speak a flood of students
poured inside, Bulkhead’s appearance the breaking of the dam. As the secondary
lunch bell shrieked, everyone settled in to their usual cackling, Dr. Longarm
moving to write the theme of today’s lesson on the board.
In the midst of it all, Blurr clenched his hands in his lap and vibrated with
mirth.
The lesson and his racing thoughts passed each other like ships in the night.
Since the beginning of the year, he had been praising the powers that be for
getting him into the accelerated learning program. It wasn’t’ because he had
been particularly worried for his grades in the first place; rather, he was
almost bored with the slowness of the school’s curriculum. Nothing moved at his
pace. It was a wonder the other students weren’t all contending for
valedictorian with how long each and every lesson gave them to prepare.
No, it was for the one reason everyone seemed to think impossible that he spent
every waking minute outside AP Lit wishing he was back in that desk.
Dr. Longarm.
The teacher no one else talked about. The kind, stout little bot who was only
considered notable for his backbreaking tests. The only teacher who smiled at
Blurr, allowed him the time to make his point when he spoke, who actually
allowed him to speak at all. Longarm understood his often crowded speech. He
made an effort to include him. He was interested in what he had to say.
And he may have just mentioned that Blurr was one of his favorite students.
The rest of the day was a whirl. Blurr had never been more thankful for track
practice in his life. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he rushed into the
shower room, stripping down from his hoodie and shoving it into his locker like
so much garbage. Everyone was pretty used to his forceful exuberance and kept a
safe distance as he tore his way up to the field, hopping from foot to foot
while the others straggled along through the gym.
Wheeljack, the old shop class teacher and new co-gym teacher after a variety of
complaints and hospital visits, laughed.
“If ya’ don’t slow down there every once and a while you’re gonna leave your
teammates behind.”
Grabbing his heel and stretching each calf backwards several times, Blurr
covered the slight jolt being dragged from his fantasies produced.
“Well it isn’t relay season sir so I don’t really think teamwork is the optimum
objective right now I mean maybe if we were running as a group but we’re
actually all competing with and against one another so isn’t my promptness a
sign of improvement and a strength on my part?”
Sighing, the coach shook his head good humoredly.
“It’s more about having good cooperative skills, or something, isn’t it?”
Wrapping his hands around his toe clips, Blurr arched his spine straight.
“I don’t know, I mean it doesn’t really seem that way right now does it?”
Whatever coach Wheeljack thought was lost to the wind as the rest of the class
finally caught up, moving in to mill about the starting points on the field.
Already stretched and ready, Blurr jogged in place, jaw set firmly. They lined
up. They hunched down. Wheeljack raised a hand, whistle to his lips.
Blurr shot off like a rocket, arms tight at his sides, fingers set. The first
few steps, while he gained momentum, always threw him, as if his mind had burst
from its physical casing. Then he broke the veil, white light highlighting the
world around him like cobwebs, and he was whole again, blasting through the
solid air around the course, outpacing and then overlapping his peers. For the
first time in hours, thoughts of his teacher gave way to pure, windswept bliss.
If only all problem could be shunted away with such efficiency and ease. The
warm up laps ceased, and the trial runs began. Blurr hardly had to focus on
winning. Wheeljack congratulated him on once again reaching his top times,
clapped a firm hand on his back and told him he’d go places if he could just
keep his helm out of the clouds.
Unfortunately, his helm was nowhere near the clouds. It was down here on
Cybertron, even lower down, if possible, nestled nice and neat between Dr.
Longarm’s thighs…
Practice being an after school event, he was spared returning to class with a
head full of berth sheets. With a quick chirp that he was going to shower at
home which went largely ignored, Blurr dashed out of the locker room and into
the open air. There was a late bus for practicing sports teams that wouldn’t be
there for at least fifteen more minutes. It mattered not; Blurr had a lot of
steam to burn off. Setting a brisk pace, he made his way down the block,
towards the student community housing.
Half way there, a car slowed as it passed him, at first he ignored it,
continuing to jog, but then the window rolled down and a brightly colored bot
with a distinctively popped collar leaned out.
“Hey, you alright?”
The air of obvious confidence mingling with clear and genuine concern would
have made the driver’s identity clear enough if Blurr didn’t already recognize
him. Technically, he recognized everyone; it was a small town and most of them
had been together since at least middle school. Regardless, he felt sudden
nerves strike, as though his classmate would somehow instantaneously know what
was sensuous thoughts were nipping at his heels.  Slowing his progress, just a
little, Blurr acknowledged him with a nod.
“Yes. That’s a nice ride, Rodimus.”
It was largely a pleasantry, but the other bot swelled with pride for a moment,
reaching a hand out the open window to stoke the cherry finish of the driver’s
side door.
“Yeah. You need a ride? I mean, you live in the western housing block, right?”
The offer likely wouldn’t have been tempting even if he weren’t attempting to
run off a heat wave so great it made his knees tremble. As it was, there was
very little chance anything short of a kidnapping would get him into Rodimus’s
vehicle, even if he did think the other’s intent was genuine.
“No thank you.”
His response was clipped, and he felt both thankful and embarrassed by the
sharp tone it carried. He wanted Rodimus to leave him alone, not to think he
was a jerk. Regardless of his worries, Rodimus hardly reacted.
“Whatever, dude. See ya' round.”
With that he was gone. Blurr wondered absently how fast he was going, and how
fast he was legally supposed to be. Despite himself, he wondered if he could
catch up if he put his mind to it.
The housing complex was as prim and silent when he arrived. The gate director
flashed him a look as he passed through, but, as usual, said nothing. His own
place was quiet and dark, an incredible relief from the dwindling summer heat
outside. Throwing himself face down on the couch, Blurr sighed deeply, having
once again failed to work off his charge by running alone. Now that he was
home, at least he had some privacy.
Longarm had looked so good today. That is to say, he looked good every day, but
today he had seemed especially handsome. Maybe that was the extra shine his
compliments had glossed over Blurr’s optics, maybe he just had freshly pressed
his suit; either way, the memory of his crisp slacks hugging against his ample
thighs as he stalked in front of the white board had made Blurr shiver at his
desk. Even now, his hips shifted, grinding a little against the cushion beneath
him as he focused on those wide curves, the thick weight of his fingers the
singular time he had ever initiated physical contact with Blurr, opening the
door for the students after class and calling Blurr back a moment to discuss
some poor handwriting, a hand on his shoulder, beckoning.
Not even attempting to think twice, Blurr arched up his aft, wriggling his
shorts down to his knees and immediately moving in to stroke at his already hot
crotch plate. Never in the short history of his life as an interface capable
mech had he felt this much desperation. Since his enrollment in the class, he
felt he had taken to self-stimulation twice as often, if not more, than he ever
had before. In the beginning there had been doubts, nerves about his sanity,
wanting a mech more than twice his age, but it was all fantasy, wasn’t it?
He splayed his fingers to dig equally into the seams of his hips, the fork of
his thighs spreading wider to allow better room as his panels retracted, spike
and valve already swollen and needy. His hands flew to them with a sloppy
carelessness, leaving him held aloft by his shoulders alone. He kept his face
lying between the cushions where he’d pushed it; darkness could only aid his
imagination. Besides, there was something about the lack of sight, the muffled
sounds that leaked between the couch and his audio receptors, something that
made him tremble.
How hot would it be if Longarm blindfolded him? Of course, his teacher was far
to gentile for that kind of thing, probably, but since this was a fake Longarm
in his mind, one who didn’t have any reason not to touch him all over like he
desired, exceptions could be made. Besides, it was so good of an idea, his
teacher making him go face down just like this, unable to see and hardly able
to hear, not knowing where the next touch would come from or what it would do.
That wasn’t exactly something he could replicate here, with his own two hands,
but the thought itself was good enough for now.
He pumped his spike hard, smoothing the prefluid trickling down the slit across
his shift, aided by the angle and the dripping state of his valve. He was too
fast with himself sometimes, jamming a third finger inside before he was really
ready, but the burn only made him hiss and writhe, imagining it was just two of
Longarm’s fat digits instead. Biting the cushion, he whined a little,
embarrassed by the noise even though he was alone.
It would be so good to be touched this way by his teacher. He could almost feel
his serene gaze now, boring into his spine, watching as he spread himself open
like a slut, hips bucking into his hands because he couldn’t bear the thought
of going slower, even at the risk of being uncoordinated and ungainly.
Longarm’s warm hands holding him, petting him intimately, the round push of his
great stomach against Blurr’s back as he leaned in to press hard kisses along
his neck line.
It didn’t take long for Blurr to overload. It never did, but it would be a
blatant lie to say Longarm’s face didn’t push him over every time. His hips
shuddered, low moan losing itself in the couch, and he was done. The cushions
were probably disgusting, and in lieu of collapsing back down in his own mess,
Blurr opted to roll off the side of the couch with a hard thud.
Not the greatest idea he’d ever had, but at least now he didn’t have to clean
his hoodie. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, finding patterns in the
mottled plaster as the spots cleared from his vision. What a tangle. He really
needed to take a shower. It was only Wednesday and he had a short essay on the
color green for Blitzwing due the next day. As if that even made sense.
Pushing himself up on his elbows, he shimmied his pants the rest of the way
down, using his wrists so as to keep the mess from his shameful masturbation
off his track uniform. It took a stupidly long amount of time, his enormous,
boot-like feet getting in the way as usual.
In the bathroom, he tried to avoid looking further south than his waist in the
mirror. He wasn’t particularly embarrassed by the action itself, but getting
off to Longarm still left a bittersweet taste in his mouth. It’d be one thing
if he was just an older mech; at least then Blurr could entertain the thought
of getting to the legal age he was so eagerly approaching before making his
move. As it was, there was very little chance Longarm would ever be in a
position to accept his advances. It was silly to assume his crush would last
that long anyways, but the sliver of hope it would have brought him could at
least prevent the wretchedly empty feeling he was filled with without.
Trying to turn his thoughts to other things as he soaped up his hands, he
worked his way back over the day. First period he had narrowly avoided getting
some of the eggs Wreck-Gar was slinging at his newest sculptural creation all
over his hoodie, having walked in the door at exactly the wrong moment.
Blitzwing had been in one of his moods and was shrieking with delight,
assisting through the doorway of their joint office, and as amusing as it had
been, Blurr was mortified by the idea of having to spend the rest of the day in
his tank top alone. He would have had no way to disguise the fidgets and
shivers English tended to produce.
The hoodie he had so carefully avoided soiling now. He flicked water off his
hands, turning to finally wipe down his crotch a little as he turned on the
shower head. It was just one of the school’s generic sports sweaters, the kind
the jocks wore on a daily basis, but it was dear to him if only as a remnant of
his freshman year track experience. Rodimus had been trying out basically every
sport available, before his neighbor-turned-mentor-figure and their new
principal Magnus had gotten him into the extracurricular archery course at the
local college, and he was looking like he was a shoe in. Blurr had stepped up
to the line and beaten his smug little pants off.
Their interaction today had been unexpected. They had been in the same class
since seventh grade, but they had never talked much outside of pleasantries and
group projects. Rodimus was rambunctious and smart, smarter than most of the
other kids in their grade seemed to recognize over his glossy polished charm,
and Blurr liked him. It was never a chore to do double reports with him. A lot
of his bad reputation likely came from his connection to the principal. He was
taken in in elementary school, as the gossip went, shortly after being
recognized as a gifted student. Magnus had seen something in him and legally
signed up as the primary caregiver, a treat not many in their area were
entitled to. It certainly was natural to be jealous of someone who had that
extra safety net to fall back on, but the real envy lay in the political sway
and generous allowance he was given outside of the government mandated salary
every student received.
He was always coming to school with new things. If he were really ashamed,
Blurr supposed, he could try to hide his affluence a little more. Even that car
he had been driving today was new, although he was only just of age for that
sort of thing. Nice too, a real hot rod. His jacket was some letterman
achievement newly acquired, and his jeans were the type with the flashy tag
sewn into the back just to let everyone know they were expensive, and his
backpack-
Blurr froze.
His backpack. He had been so eager to get home after track that he had
completely forgotten it.
Everything exploded into motion. Blurr slammed the faucet off, jogging out of
the room and nearly tripping over his discarded pants before remembering he
really needed to put them back on, and then he was out the door, down the
block, hoping to Primus there was still some teacher or janitor skulking about
the halls because his grades really depended on actually having done the work.
What a novel concept.
The voyage back to Cybertron Normal High School was less than memorable, split
into little segments in his mind of each stop, no matter how small, he was
forced to make in his journey, each crosswalk, each ditch. A combination
parking lot and bus lane that bled into the myriad of fields surrounds the
school on all sides created a patch of baldness across the landscape, the dun
walls of the house of education rising up from the horizon like a video game
castle.
The gate to the front was already closed and chained, and while he could see
that the teacher’s lot was still open he hardly had time to run all the way
around. Luckily, the perimeter fencing was junk and he was easily able to
locate a tear in the chicken wire and push his way through. From there it was
just a dusty sprint to the front door and, hopefully, salvation.
He had expected the doors to be locked, but tried them anyways just to be sure.
He could hardly see through the powdery glass of the windows, but it was clear
enough that no one was immediately inside. He’d just have to make an extra loud
racket then.
His fist only met the door on every other pound, so rapidly that a little bit
of the red paint began to flake off, and it only took a few kliks (an eternity)
for someone to notice. A dark form advanced on the door, but Blurr didn’t see
it until a silhouette was suddenly blocking all the florescent light and the
handle was pushing out into his hands.
“Oh thank Primus I’m sorry if I’m interrupting tutoring or something but I
forgot my bag in the locker room and I really needed to make sure it didn’t get
lost or stolen or, or..”
He trailed off, jaw tightening into a dry swallow as Dr. Longarm poked his head
out from the dull hallway.
“Well hello, Blurr!”
Stammering for a moment, Blurr took a step back instinctively, as if their
proximity would somehow alert his teacher to the fact that, not but kliks
before, he had been face down on his couch at home, knuckle deep to thoughts of
that very smile. Needless to say it didn’t, and Longarm merely stepped back and
held the door wider.
“You said you’re looking for something?”
Stepping out of his daze, Blurr fidgeted uncomfortably, skirting around him and
into the building.
“Uh, yeah, my, uhm, my backpack, but I mean it’s nothing you have to worry
about sir, I mean doctor Lo-Luh, it isn’t in your side of the building even
it’s just in the, in the gym.”
He was making a fool of himself but he couldn’t stop. Even so, Longarm seemed
amused.
“I’m sorry Blurr, but I’m afraid I cannot allow you to go alone.”
Ushering him further inside, Longarm shut the door quietly.
“There is a rule against students travelling the school unsupervised after
hours. I know you’re a good student, but I would rather not risk the talking to
I’d get if I broke the code for you.”
Blurr could feel his fans sputtering all over again, only just muffled by the
thick material of his hoodie. Hoping his knees weren’t shaking too noticeably,
he nodded.
“Oh, alright, I mean that’s fine, perfectly fine, I, I love your company
anyhow, I mean not, not to sound like I’m sucking up to you or anything!”
They started down the empty corridors, Blurr’s voice echoing off the eerily
empty walls.
“I actually really enjoy being with you sir, I mean, in your class, I love your
class, I really do, I think language is a really important subject and kids
should have more respect for it and apart from that you’re such a good teacher
and a real pl-pleasure to be around!”
It was actually shocking how little was going on at this time of day. Sure, the
sports practices were all done, but private tutoring and personal practice
sometimes ran on into the night. Wasn’t there at least some other frustrated
teacher mulling over a grade book around?
“I guess that sounds inappropriate I mean teachers aren’t like friends with
students that would be, that would be weird wouldn’t it, ha-ha, but I mean I
just think you’re really smart and all and I know teachers have to be but like
extra good at, at what you do and-!”
“Blurr.”
He crossed his arms as if to trap the words in his chest.
“Sorry sir, was I rambling? I tend to do that when I’m…”
Longarm’s optics dimmed behind his smile, as though he were vaguely concerned
or pitying, and Blurr bit his own tongue as admonishment.
“Is this the locker room you meant? You are in track, correct?”
He hadn’t even realized they’d stopped. Subdued by yet another wave of shame,
Blurr nodded quickly, lips sealed, and rushed to hold the door. The subtle heat
of Longarm’s hefty shape as he passed by was enough to make Blurr giddy with
nerves all over again. He rushed around him as soon as the door closed, hoping
there weren’t left over underpants or something even worse lying around. He
would never be so careless with his own possessions but the second hand
embarrassment was enough.
His worry was, as usual, for naught. The room was as filthy as ever, but not
with the leftover debris of his fellow classmates. There, clean and untouched
in the corner, sat his bag, the salty blue straps arranged against one another
as if it had been waiting for him.
“A-ah!”
He scampered around the benches to his locker. The imposing presence of his
teacher momentarily forgotten, he immediately opened it and began a roster of
its contents, on the off chance that its seemingly undisturbed tilt was the
result of a very careful delinquent. It would not be the first time.
His rummaging halted. He leaned back up against the locker. It was all there,
all of it, especially his very soon to be due essay. Praise the Allspark. Petty
theft was the underground lifeblood of small schools and he was very not
willing to contribute. It appeared, however, that his track mates were clean.
“Find everything?”
Longarm was close. Extremely close. Blurr almost dropped his bag.
“Oh, I ah, sir, yes!”
Clutching the blue canvas to his breast, he smiled shakily. Longarm was right
in front of him, leaning in like he was about to share a secret. Blurr hadn’t
even heard him move.
“That’s good. I wouldn’t want you to be in any kind of trouble after all this.”
“Ah,” Blurr shifted, “thank you for helping me out, sir.”
Longarm’s arm wrapped around his shoulder unexpectedly and Blurr felt his fans
putter to life.
“It’s no trouble at all. As I said, or tried to say earlier, you are my
favorite student.”
He squeezed Blurr’ shoulders a little bit and Blurr could not suppress his
shiver.
“Don’t go spreading that around, though. That would not be good for me.”
“Of course I won’t, sir.”
This was the nearest he had ever gotten to his teacher. He could feel Longarm’s
chest rise and fall beside him, the rough texture of his jacket itchy against
Blurr’s hand. He was just taller than Longarm, which made averting his gaze all
the more difficult, and he knew he probably should because the sight of his
smooth facial features in the high definition of closeness was surely making
his own optics glaze, his lips parting just barely as a cool wash of breath
tickled his neck, but he simply couldn’t tear himself away.
And Longarm noticed.
“Perhaps there is something else you need before departing?”
Blurr heated, a bug under a spyglass.
“I, I don’t, I don’t think so, sir…”
Still holding him, Longarm turned to face him head on. The bulk of his weight
pressed firmly against Blurr’s waist, pushing him back against the lockers. A
padlock was poking painfully against his spine, but he could hardly breathe,
much less worry about that, the cool metal heating quickly at his touch.
“Are you sure, Blurr? Because you seem to be in need, and I would hate to turn
you away when you are asking for help so openly.”
The dialogue was obviously meant to be implicative of something more, and
Blurr’s processor nearly melted at the tone. It was too sudden, too confusing.
He couldn’t really mean what he thought he meant.
“I…I…”
Longarm leaned in until their lips were practically brushing.
“Just tell me what it is you need, Blurr, and I’m sure I would be happy to
oblige.”
In retrospect, perhaps, things would have been avoidable. Blurr could have
turned his head to the side, laughed it off, and gone home alone. Life would
have continued its natural course, school, home, college; Blurr would have
continued worrying about the normal things, gone to the normal parties,
graduated with a normal degree.
Blurr was not blessed with such insight, though, and all he knew was the now.
And right now, Longarm’s heavily lidded optics were staring up into his, his
other hand creeping up to cup Blurr’s waist and pull it flush against his own,
and Blurr simply could not fight the future.
He muttered something that was probably meant to be an apology but it was lost
inside the kiss he had thrown himself into. Longarm’s arms tightened
immediately, and Blurr shoved his hands up between them, clutching the dull
tweed of his jacket, trying to get as close as was physically possible. The
backpack dropped, spilling its colorful entrails across the sticky linoleum.
His spark pulsed so hard he through it may break straight through the wiring of
his chest, explode gorily between them in a fantastically overdone symbol of
his mounting adoration.
Longarm’s lips were cold and hard, but smooth, perfectly shaped, perfectly
handled, moving against him like they were designed to fit together. Or perhaps
that too was the romanticism of youth. Either way Blurr was so star struck he
felt his feet might slip out from beneath him.
“Ah, so this is it?” whispered Longarm against his receptor, kissing the spot a
moment later as Blurr cuddled against him, and he slid a hand right down the
front of Blurr’s shorts.
His legs did give out then, and even with both of their desperate holds it sent
him straight to the floor, legs splayed out as his sides as he tried to recover
and found himself wholly unable. Without thinking, he clapped a hand over his
mouth, awash with mortification.
“Sir I-I-I-I’m so sorry! I, I tripped and, uh…”
Longarm held an innocent hand down, offering assistance.
“That’s alright. It’s understandable.”
The swath of Blurr’s panel his fingers had grazed burned.
Looking down at the floor, he shifted his feet, the reality of what they’d done
sinking in. it was terrifying, really. He had thrown himself out there at his,
his teacher, of all people, his grown adult teacher and his teacher had
accepted and returned with full force, and still he was uncomfortably hot
because this very naughty, very nasty thing that should not be had just
happened and he wanted it to happen again and again and again-
“Blurr?”
A hand cupped his face, forcing him to again look into Longarm’s optics.
“Yes, sir?”
His lip trembled. Longarm’s thumb pet against the bio lighting on his cheek and
he leaned into the touch.
“How about I give you a ride home?”
He needed to collect his things. He had an essay to finish. He hadn’t taken his
shower. The light outside was dimming.
“Yes please.”
***** Too Much Information *****
Chapter Summary
     Fast times and faster thoughts collide in the worst possible way.
Chapter Notes
     Hey guys! I'm sorry things are moving at such an unsteady pace, but I
     gotta keep up with my other obligations, ya'know? Enjoy!
Blurr could not stop himself from stealing glances, but every time his gaze
lingered his teacher would return the stare with a small smile and it made his
spark tremble until he was sure it would burst. Longarm’s car was small, though
not cramped, and it made it impossible to hide his heat, his nerves. Hands in
his lap, Blurr hunched his shoulders and tried not to look anywhere but his
boots.
It was growing dark, and the windows were heavily tinted. It was unlikely
anyone would see them. Yet he could not stop worrying. He was almost grateful
for it, though, the tense pangs of fear at least distracting him from what he
had just agreed to.
Because that was just too much.
He nearly jumped out of his plating when Longarm’s hand caressed his knee. They
were at a red light; the glow shone in through the dim windshield to illuminate
their faces eerily. Longarm had never looked more handsome.
“Blurr, relax.”
He squeezed lightly and Blurr shivered. Shoving his twiddling fingers into his
hoodie, he nodded, frantic.
“I, I, I am sir, I’m fine.”
He wasn’t, but he didn’t want Longarm to regret this. He didn’t want him to
stop. He certainly didn’t want him to remove those wonderfully cool fingers
from his leg, but the moment the light changed they were back on the wheel. His
street turn off was coming up. Longarm didn’t really expect to pass the
security booth and not arouse suspicion, did he?
When they neared the complex, however, they did not slow or move to turn.
Afraid of being a backseat driver, Blurr said nothing until they had passed the
entrance entirely.
“Dr. Longarm, sir? We, we passed, um, my house…”
“I am aware, Blurr,” Longarm laughed quietly, “but thank you.”
This only made him more nervous, however, and he fidgeted until he felt his
plating might disassemble from tension alone.
“I, I don’t mean to keep asking all these questions because I know it’s
annoying and the last thing I want to do, the very last thing, is to annoy you
but I, uhm, where are we going, sir?”
“Not far,” said Longarm airily, “I’ll return you home soon, do not fret.”
Another thrill of cold exhilaration took hold of Blurr’s circuits and he
pressed his thighs together tightly. It was a warm evening, but the darkness
brought a chill that swept through the vents and onto his bare thighs and he
felt suddenly self-conscious.
Longarm pulled down a street Blurr had never paid much mind to before, high
walls from the surrounding gated communes blocking the city lights on either
side. When they had reached a significantly deep point between them, he killed
the engine, headlamps cutting out and leaving them in near total shadow. Blurr
shrank in on himself.
“Blurr.”
Turning to him, his teachers lips again swept light across his cheek.
“Do you want this?”
He leaned over the gear shaft, seatbelt already undone, though Blurr had not
heard it snap back. The rough material of his suit tickled Blurr’s arms as he
hugged himself tightly to his broad chest, pressing into the touch.
“Oh, yes, yes please sir, I do-!”
In the darkness he could only see the low glow of Longarm’s optics and the
crook of his smile beneath it. The bio lighting on his own cheeks flared in
embarrassment, still in shock over how quickly things were developing. Was this
experience even real, or was he still on his couch, face deep in the cushions
as he begged the universe for a break?
His own seatbelt was removed, Longarm’s thick digits passing straight beyond
the clasp to the hem of Blurr’s sweater and slipping beneath it. They were even
colder than his lips and Blurr jumped, pressing into the touch and away at the
same time, sensory network bright with data. All Longarm did was explore,
gentle probing, sweet touches, but it was enough to nearly melt Blurr’s nodes
together, legs shaking hard as he hid his face in his teacher’s neck.
“I, I’m-!”
“Shh.”
Longarm kissed him again, rich and yet soft, a calming gesture that sent his
processor into miniature reboot. It was a good thing too, because the next
moment he had found the seams of Blurr’s upper chest and was teasing them with
terrifying skill and had he been in his right mind Blurr might have questioned
his logic.
As it was, he fell back against the car seat, staring down at the wriggling
lump beneath his clothing with dumb shock as a high moan slipped, shocked, from
his vocalizer. And Longarm’s other hand, the one not currently stirring his
sensors, was on his leg again, but higher this time, stroking soothingly back
and forth along his thigh, creeping closer and closer to the rumpled edge of
his track shorts with each pass.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Longarm’s suit was so complicated at
this angle, and he wasn’t even sure if he should be removing it, where to put
it if he did. Instead he just grabbed the seat and squeezed, whining.
“Sir!”
“You’re alright.”
Longarm’s fingers teased up the first inch of his shorts.
“You’re okay.”
The hands came together again at his waistband, lightly tugging. Shuttering his
optics, Blurr lifted his hips. There was a low flying jet overhead; he could
hear the quiet scream of the engines against the cool evening echo down through
the city. His shorts inched lower. He felt as though his own engines were the
ones blasting loud in the night, his own fans turning hard through the air as
bit by bit he was exposed. Longarm was breathing softly by his receptor,
licking his lips.
His shorts came down around his knees. Squeezing the seat, Blurr shook them
down further, tugging one foot from within the leg so he could spread his
thighs wider. It was a bold move but Longarm hardly gave him time to regret it,
returning immediately to his thighs, petting the thick blue stripes where his
legs met his pelvic span, the seams there flexing at his touch.
“Blurr.”
Finally, painfully slowly, he cupped Blurr’s groin, palm grinding roughly into
the panels. Whining like an animal, Blurr immediately slapped a hand over his
mouth, turning away in shame as he burned at the touch. Longarm made a soft
noise, one Blurr couldn’t quite make out, and then pushed harder against him,
forefinger and thumb tracing his interface paneling’s seam around the edge
perfectly.
“Let me in, Blurr.”
“Okay, okay, oh-o-okay.”
He was panicking, but he didn’t want it to stop. He backed himself further into
the corner, the hook of his discarded seatbelt digging painfully into his
spine. He opened the first cover and Longarm vented loudly, pleased.
“This is, this is just so sudden,” Blurr babbled, bracing himself against the
door.
“Is it, though?”
Longarm hummed quietly, tracing a singular digit through the viscous sheen of
lubricant oozing from his secondary panel. Blurr shuddered.
“S-sir?”
Optics flickering up to meet Blurr’s, just briefly, Longarm smiled.
“You’ve been in my class nearly two months and I don’t believe you have spent a
single day without eyeing me. It seems to me that you’ve been waiting a long
time for this.”
Blurr heated all over again, shame only heightening his awareness of the way he
was barely remaining covered, the slick flash of fluid between his legs.
Longarm’s hand in the middle of it all. He was so good at this, so smooth and
gentle but demanding all at once; Blurr was overwhelmed.
“I…I…”
His panel parted, baring his valve to the dim glow of Longarm’s optics
reflecting across the dash.
“Oh, Blurr…” said Longarm, the moment fixed and surreal, crowned by darkness.
Longarm was kissing his neck again, thanking him for complying. Blurr
shuddered. A dog was barking somewhere in the distance. Longarm’s fingers
pulled at the lips of his valve, tender touches that burst color across his
visual feed. The wind whistled above the alley. Longarm circled his external
node, whispering into his receptor. Garbage rustled outside. Blurr’s hand
gripped the door handle, desperate for purchase.
“Look at me.”
Blurr couldn’t, he just couldn’t, but a firm hand found his chin and forced him
to. He had never known Longarm to be dominant like this, and it could not have
been met with more flushed desire than he gave it. His valve was leaking all
over Longarm’s clean seat, his shorts still bunched messily around one ankle,
his hoodie crumpled up beneath his armpits, and he hadn’t showered in two days.
He was young, he was a mess.
He was in rapture.
When his optics met Longarm’s the fingers pushed inside.
Blurr shrieked. He didn’t mean to, but he did; a brash, ugly noise that filled
the entire vehicle, legs closing hard around Longarm’s hand. He expected to be
rejected, the brazen display of his fear and inexperience repellent to even
himself, but instead Longarm surged against him, ramming his fingers in hard
and hooking them, holding Blurr still against him.
The sensation tore the air from Blurr’s system. He tried to rear back away from
it, too much at once, but he was already pressed against his seat and Longarm
was right there in front of him, swinging a leg over the console to better
access him as he squirmed. His optics were intense and Blurr shrank away from
them, feeling trapped.
“Be still, Blurr. I’ve got you.”
“Oh sir, oh doc-doctor Longarm,” Blurr squeezed his thighs as the servos inside
him wriggled, “oh please, please please keep going sir-!”
Longarm pressed even closer, somehow managing to work up a slow thrusting
rhythm despite the legs crushing his wrist.
“You want this, but you’re scared. I understand that.”
Blurr quailed.
“I am much older than you. I am your teacher. We both stand to lose much over
something like this.”
The thought sent another thrill of fire through his spark.
“And yet here we are, in a car in a back alley, with my fingers shoved inside
you, and you’re dripping for me.”
He breathed into Blurr’s receptor, almost a laugh.
“You know, I was watching you too. You thought you were being discreet when you
looked at me, but I saw. I noticed. And I looked back.”
He hummed, as if contentedly amused by something.
“At first I will admit I wrote it off as a silly crush, a student with an
active imagination, but you are so much more than that, Blurr, aren’t you?
Intelligent, skilled. You’re going places, Blurr, fast.”
Blurr rocked back against the seat as Longarm’s pace increased, fumbling for
words and coming up with only moans. The car must be moving, he knew, mimicking
his motions against the seat. Dreamlike, Longarm enveloped him.
“You really are my favorite student.”
Blurr came, intensely, seizing hard into Longarm’s grasp. He was wet, so wet,
and it must be everywhere now, pooling hot against his aft, and Longarm kept
pushing and pushing, until he was so overstimulated he thought his circuits
would fry.
But they didn’t. Their movements slowed, then stilled, Longarm withdrawing and
reaching into the glove compartment for a kerchief. Sagging against the sticky
seat, Blurr vented loudly, joy and fear and sex exhausting him. He felt so
small in the world, lost.
“You did make a mess, now, didn’t you?”
The question was so light humored that it caught Blurr off guard. Dazed, he
looked over just in time to catch himself as his leg was lifted, the soft cloth
massaging up the inside of his thigh.
“I-ohmygoshyoudon’thavetodothatsir!”
“Shh,” Longarm crooned, “I want to. You need to get cleaned up, after all.”
Shifting to allow him easier access, Blurr pushed his head down into the
comforting shelter of his hoodie, mortified.
“It’s part of my running, sir, I mean my speed, I, I need extra lubrication in
my legs for the friction and, umm, it also extends down, down there so I make a
bit of a mess and I’m really sorry about your car!”
Chuckling, Longarm moved on to his other leg.
“It’s not a problem, Blurr, really. I’ve cleaned a few stains out of upholstery
in my day. Besides, I rather liked your eccentricity.”
Blurr laughed. He had just been fingered by his teacher in a dark alleyway, in
a car, and now they were bantering about it. Blurr laughed harder, drenched in
dread.
“Pull your shorts back on, Blurr. I’m taking you home now.”
He hardly remembered the drive. Suddenly they were at the guard station, the
elderly bot in the booth peering suspiciously through the window. Longarm
flashed her a smile, showed his ID card. Told her something about late night
study sessions and danger on the dark streets. She nodded him through. Blurr
picked at the fabric of his shorts.
They had really done this. He had really just allowed his teacher to drive him
into a back alley and…Blurr pressed his face to the window. This was so wrong,
and so illegal, and his spark was going to burst if he got any happier because
it was already making him light headed with each frantic palpitation. Longarm,
his handsome, intelligent, kind teacher wanted him. Longarm was willing to risk
his job, his life, even, for him. Because Blurr was special, he had said. Blurr
was worth it.
“Blurr?”
Snapped from his thoughts, he flailed a moment before turning to smile shyly at
his teacher.
“Y-yeah?”
With kind concern, Longarm returned the look.
“You did not tell me which complex you live in. Where shall I drop you?”
“Ah.”
Blurr fumbled, processor shorting out a minute.
“I live in 65E.”
The pulled through the neighborhood slowly, the number designations on the curb
faint in the darkness. Blurr watched Longarm’s face harden in concentration as
he tried to make them out, hot all over again at the strength he exuded. And
his fingers had been so thick…
“Here we are.”
He turned to Blurr, all softness and joy. Blurr’s spark skipped a turn.
“Thank you, sir. For, um,” he brushed some dust from his cheek, turning his
optics down demurely, “everything.”
Longarm leaned in close, a hand straying to the black expanse of Blurr’s leg
once more. Blurr stiffened, fans stalling.
“You are most welcome.”
He pat Blurr’s thigh once and then unlocked the door. Dazed, Blurr stumbled out
into the night, turning around every few steps to wave at the car, tripping
over his own feet as he ascended the lawn. He could just barely make out
Longarm’s glow past the tinted window. The car didn’t leave until he had his
door open, scraping the key against the already battered lock several times
before hitting home. The light was still on in the bathroom from earlier that
day. It felt like it had been years since he’d been home.
Blurr swayed through the dark living room like a zombie, hardly noticing the
lingering smell of sex on his couch cushions. Blindly, he pushed his way into
the shower, only just remembering to strip from his clothing before turning the
tap. His thighs still itched and clung grossly to his underpants, but he barely
spared it a grimace. It was the remnants of his connection with Dr. Longarm,
however brief. Disgusting as it was, he was almost sad to see the stains go.
The clock on the wall read nine fifteen. Normally he’d still be high as a kite
but at the moment his frame could not have felt heavier. Thinking could wait
'til morning; he was fast and it was all scrap parts anyways. Blitzwing could
go jump in a lake. Blurr had other priorities.
Such as swimming between his comforter and mattress. He barely had the energy
to dig a suitable pair of briefs from his bureau before collapsing into the
sheets, cocooning himself away from everything but his thoughts and warmth. Not
that there was much in his head at this point outside Longarm’s slacks.
It was an odd night’s sleep. While he was sure he wasn’t dreaming, there were
several times in the night when he seemed to wake, feeling profoundly confused
but not sure why. Each time seemed to be shorter than the last, mere snippets
of memory retained in his hard drive the morning after. Seconds spent staring
up into the darkness and unable to discern the reason behind it, to look at the
clock one second and find it was cycles later than the last moment he’d
checked.
When the alarm went off, he hardly felt he’d slept at all. This was not
unusual, but that morning it was especially so. He rolled to one side, then the
other, groaning quietly. Somehow, the feeling was not unpleasant, as if he’d
merely napped for a few minutes after a good jog. Slowly, brightly, he rose to
greet the day.
The day in which his essay was due.
He shot straight out of bed, tripping up in his sheets but managing to avoid
actually falling by shaking his leg so wildly the bedding itself was ripped
from its fold. New socks, new shirt, same shorts as the day before. He had to
have breakfast, he knew that, but the process seemed to consume so much of his
dwindling time, as if the few quick klik it took for him to dispense himself a
small bowl of cereal was enough to drown him in boredom. Eating it was even
worse. Digestion had never been such a chore.
His home was kept relatively clean, but the night before had been hectic and
there were still remnants of his clothing on the floor, a damp towel at the end
of his bed, the couch cushions untouchable. He would have to deal with that
later, but there was simply no room for stripping the linens and worrying with
the washer in his morning schedule. He prided himself on his perfect attendance
record and he had no designs to tamper with it now. Of course, fate made
nothing easy. There was about a half cycle before the bell rang, but it meant
squat if he couldn’t find his backpack.
Useless. He had bought the thing in a small size because it was easy to run
with, but he was beginning to regret the choice as its apparently inherent
talent for disappearing made itself known. After he had run all the way to
school to get it, too. It wasn’t as if he could have left it anywhere.
For example, Longarm’s car. The thought slowled Blurr’s spark. The car Longarm
had driven him home in, in which they had been so sinfully close. He had left
his backpack in his teacher’s car, and now he was going to have to ask for it
back.
It would have been difficult enough the day before; now he wasn’t even sure he
could face Longarm. What had been a mad dash to make the bus turned into a
halting dance around actually leaving the building, edging lightly down the
walk before backtracking, locking the door, checking the lock. Nervous did not
even describe the emotion. He was petrified, a state which disagreed with every
line of his coding. He could not take the bus today. There was enough
stimulation in the street around him, his processor abuzz with thoughts.
Normally this part of the day went about as quickly as could be expected, which
is to say, outrageously so, but today was different. Everything was different.
Blurr was different. He needed to think.
He didn’t want to, though. When the red brick of the campus rose over the
horizon, he nearly flinched. Walking slowly had made it difficult for him to
organize his thoughts, but he couldn’t bear the idea of getting to school so
soon, and skipping was out of the question. He didn’t have Longarm’s class
Thursdays, meaning he had the entire day and night to worry. Of course he had
art first period and Blitzwing was going to rip his head off if he didn’t at
least bring something. He had to get his bag back, and there was only one way
to do it.
The school was ripe with life, a stark contrast to the evening before but a
welcome return to normalcy for Blurr. Skirting around his bustling classmates
and peers, he wormed his way across the winding hallways to the classroom he
both loved and dreaded, heat rising in the pit of his chest as he steeled
himself for the task he was about to perform.
AP Cybertronian Lit. and Comp., room A-144. He pressed his boot to the edge of
the door frame, testing to see the light inside. Someone was there. It was now
or never.
Longarm looked up from his book.
“Good morning.”
Blurr didn’t not miss the low, sugary tone to his greeting. He shivered.
“Hi, Dr. Longarm, I, I left my…”
Longarm was holding the bag in one hand, a playful quirk in his grin.
“I only noticed once I was already home, or I would have returned it last
night. I apologize if I caused you any inconvenience.”
Edging closer, Blurr shook his head quickly.
“No, no, I wasn’t disrupted or anything I was just a little worried, that’s
all, thank you so much for, uhm, for giving it back.”
“What else would I have done with it?”
He watched Blurr approach with mild amusement, only moving when he was within
reach. Blurr squawked as he was suddenly pulled close, an arm around his waist.
Longarm purred into his receptor.
“You’re very welcome.”
Then he was free. Blurr nearly dropped to the floor, the entire incident
unexpected. It made him weak in the knees. Everything about this situation did.
Offering a wobbly smile, he took a step back.
“Well, I, uh, thank you, and, uhm…”
“Wait.”
He stopped again, stiff as a girder at the command. A sudden shift from his
gentle touch moments ago, Longarm looked very serious behind his desk. It
almost looked smaller in comparison, his presence filling the room like a
giant.
“Blurr, I need to be very clear about what happened last night.”
Inadvertently, Blurr looked around, as if someone had snuck in the room to
eavesdrop without either of them noticing.
“WH-what about it?”
Leaning in, Longarm set his jaw.
“You understand the possible consequences of what we have done, correct?”
Blurr nodded.
“So you understand why it is in our best interests to keep quiet about it?”
This talk was going somewhere Blurr did not like.
“Sir?”
Before either of them could break the tension, it was done for them. The bell
rang. Against his better judgment, Blurr bolted.
He had retrieved his backpack, and a whole mess of other baggage with it. Last
night had been terrifying, and wonderful, a confirmation of every dream and
need Blurr had ever felt. It all meant nothing, though, if Longarm expected
their coupling to be an isolated incident. If everything he had said then had
been a lie intended to grease Blurr up so he could jam his big, lovely fingers
up his track shorts.
Blurr didn’t even care about the essay anymore. It was too late to anyhow, even
for him, and as he took his place behind his designated easel in class,
watching Blitzwing and Wreck-Gar attempt to argue about something in front of
the white board, it felt almost like a dream, surreal. He was going to get the
first F of this semester on an art project. It seemed fittingly petty.
He still cringed when they were asked to turn in their papers. He almost felt
he should fake it, walk up to the desk and back quickly enough that no one
could be sure of what he’d done, but that was the kind of deception that went a
step too far for his tastes. Choosing instead to hunker down in his stool, he
eyed his passing classmates with troubled envy. Wreck-Gar noticed.
“Do you not know where to drop your paper?”
He spoke too loudly; Blurr shrunk further.
“No, I, uh, I don’t have it.”
The co-teacher seemed slightly confused by this.
“Did you lose it? Have it stolen? Dog eat it?”
“No, um,” Blurr could not have been smaller in his hoodie, “I just didn’t do
it.”
Across the room, Blitzwing howled.
“What!”
Blurr cringed, kicking his heels against the stool as he was set upon. Getting
called out by a teacher was one thing, but having Blitzwing at your throat was
another. Most students could hardly understand him when he was worked up (which
was often), but fortunately or not Blurr’s own speech particularities gave him
a unique window into the manic cackles, shouts, and hisses of the co-art
teacher. It was highly unpleasant.
It also lasted about fifteen minutes of the class period, which was both
embarrassing and annoying as everyone else had little to do than sit and watch
while Wreck-Gar retreated to their office to work on his own projects. For a
class that was worth little more than a singular elective credit, it probably
had the most seriously bonkers teachers in the school. He hardly focused after
that, breezing over his less-than-inventive coil pot assignment and sliding,
drone-like through biology.
Botanica was a tough but fair teacher, understanding and helpful. She seemed to
sense something in him that period and did not bother him much. He supposed it
wouldn’t be hard to see the contemplative droop in his shoulders, even behind a
row of equally disinterested students. He was usually a regular responder when
it came to lesson involvement.
Most ills in high school were soothed by the balm of the lunchroom, the buffer
between the bouts of confusion and emotional trauma that made up the classroom
day to day. There was little respite to be found today, however, and Blurr took
his usual place in somber silence. Sentinel’s crew sat just a table away, loud
as ever. He had been with them the first two years but he was coming more and
more to terms with the fact that other people really didn’t like not being able
to fit a word in edgewise. He had thought isolating himself would hurt more
than it did, really. Watching was something he was good at.
Which wasn’t to say he had removed himself from even the concept of friendship,
because they were all still people he’d consider himself close to. The dynamics
had simply changed since middle school. It was weird, being a junior and having
the realization that the end was near. Optimus and Sentinel’s parting of ways
had been the biggest news in their short student history, and it had certainly
been optic opening for some. Things that had seemed to be set in steel were
beginning to shift, and it was frightening.
Blurr was frightened. He was frightened about himself, and what he was going to
do now. The more he distanced himself from his teacher, the more it set in,
cold and deep in his wiring. He folded his helm in his hands and stared into
the holes on his lunch roll. It was a good thing he sat alone. He needed time.
“Hey, man, you look like hot slag.”
Rodimus stepped from foot to foot, balancing his lunch tray in one hand as he
pulled a thread from the hem of his shirt with the other.
“I mean, not like I’m trying to insult you, you just look…trashed.”
Unsure whether or not he should greet the arrival of his classmate with
caution, Blurr sat up slowly.
“Thanks. Really, I needed someone to tell me I looked scrapped because I had no
idea.”
Rodimus screwed up his face before dropping his bag on the ground.
“Mind if I sit here?”
He already was. Blurr supposed he should be thankful the obvious ‘this seat
taken?’ question hadn’t been used, because the answer was so painfully clear it
would have dampened any desire he had to speak in the first place. As it was,
his sudden comrade did not seem deterred by his sour mood, though Blurr could
detect a small twitch in his optic, a stiffness of the joints. Rodimus was
nervous. That was new.
“Not really, although I see my answer doesn’t seem to matter either way.”
Mixing his green beans with his corn, Rodimus shrugged.
“I’d leave if you asked me to.”
He took a bite, smiling awkwardly around his fork.
“You aren’t gonna ask me to leave, are you?”
Blurr snorted.
“Well, not after you’ve made yourself all comfortable in my space.”
“Your space? It’s a damn table, get over it.”
Nervous or not, he was quickly drawing Blurr from his funk. It was unusual to
be approached by anyone who actually knew about his penchant for talking.
Beyond that, though he was no longer actively slowing himself down, Rodimus
didn’t seem at all thrown by his speech. Finally finding his appetite, Blurr
took a healthy chunk out of his spaghetti.
“Well it’s not like anyone else was clamoring to sit there, so I suppose you
can stay, although that does bring to mind one or two questions regarding your
presence here.”
“Such as?”
Rodimus smiled up at him, hunkered low over his vegetable medley so as not to
spill it everywhere.
“What do you want?”
He slurped his beans, snickering.
“What the hell kind of question is that? Are you interrogating me?”
Blurr sputtered slightly, accidentally flicking spats of butter across the
table top.
“Well I mean it’s not every day you come and try to initiate lunch or whatever,
I’m simply curious. You yourself have to admit it’s a little unusual, don’t you
usually sit…” he trailed off, squinting around the room for the familiar bulk
of Brawn’s green jersey.
“Yeah, yeah, I get your point,” Rodimus gestured with his utensil, corn still
sticking to the tines, “but isn’t it weirder to get all suspicious just because
someone wants to enjoy your company?”
Making a face, Blurr showed his teeth.
“Well now I know there’s something suspicious going on here.”
Rodimus held up his hands defensively.
“Alright, I’ll be straight: you looked like slag. I thought you might want some
company, that’s all.”
Blurr sipped his milk.
“That’s a dangerous bargain. What if I was upset and wanted to be genuinely
left alone?”
Flashing a grin, Rodimus leaned forward in his chair.
“Come on, Blurr, we’ve been in school together for, like, seven years now. I
know you better than that.”
That was true, and the obviousness of it made Blurr pause momentarily,
considering.
“Yeah. You’re right.”
 The change in tone made Rodimus immediately awkward, looking away with a
distant smile as he took up stirring his lunch again. Blurr watched him a
moment, not particularly inclined to say anything, for once. He apparently
didn’t have to, though, because Rodimus recovered on his own.
“So, what’s got you down?”
Blurr hummed through his pursed lips.
“I forgot an essay for art. It wasn’t really worth much in terms of overall
score but Blitzwing really got on my case about it which was duly accepted but
I think he can be a little overzealous about these things, you know?”
“Overzealous.”
Rodimus kicked him lightly under the table and Blurr squawked.
“Well it’s clear you’re smart enough to make up the credit, so I wouldn't take
it too hard.”
“I’m not…” Blurr rubbed his shin.
“I don’t know, I just had too late a night I guess.”
Which was not true at all. It was early, if anything. Rodimus could hardly know
that, though, and he simply shrugged.
“I getcha.”
The next few minutes were spent devouring what was left on their trays in
comfortable silence, Rodimus occasionally flicking kibble across the table and
Blurr flicking it back. The bell ringing shocked them both, the fastest lunch
period either of them had spent in a long time. Rodimus played with the trim of
his polo again.
“Well, I guess that’s it for now.”
“Mmm,” Blurr nodded, “thanks for talking to me, I guess.”
It felt stupid even as he was saying it, but Rodimus just waved and left. Blurr
lost himself in the infuriatingly slow flowing sea of backs and elbows,
drifting towards the general vicinity of his locker in quiet thought. As small
as it seemed, Rodimus’s unexpected show of camaraderie left him feeling warm
and pleasant, a small smile gracing his lips. They had never been close before,
but even their aimless chatter was a nice reminder of how good simplicity could
get.
He was so distracted that it took him several nano-kliks to realize that his
locker looked different because there was a note taped to the front. His first
thought was that he was being challenged by the main antagonist of some B grade
80’s flick, but the humor in his processing dwindled to nothing the moment he
got close enough to recognize the handwriting.
Please see me after school.
 –Dr. Longarm
Oh.
***** A Fast Car *****
Chapter Summary
     Blurr takes two rides.
Chapter Notes
     There are some comments about young loss of virginity in this
     chapter, and while it is in no way an unpleasant encounter in itself
     I just wanna say heads up. Enjoy~!
He was scared, though he hated to admit it. He was also excited, because as
turbulent as his young mind was, bouncing between the fear of being used and
the fear of being caught, Dr. Longarm was still as handsome and appealing as
ever and his valve still tingled pleasantly with the memory of his warm fingers
squirming their way inside.
His next class was math, which he was relatively good at, and Arcee was a
fairly forgiving teacher, so he allowed himself the time to think. The lecture
was dull and he hardly had to concentrate. He had considered the AP course at
the beginning of the year, but the honest truth was that his advantage came
from having read the entire textbook the first week of school. There had been
nothing better to do, and I certainly ensured less homework as the semester
progressed, but he was starting to regret his mild enthusiasm as other kids
tried to copy off his work. As if his handwriting could be deciphered by
someone not already versed in the various scrawls of unbalanced teenagers.
Longarm had once informed him, good naturedly, that his writing resembled that
of a stereotypical doctor. He supposed it was better than the comment Miss
Strika had made comparing it to that of a serial killer. Blurr did not want to
believe someone who had been able to find benefit in what others always
considered an inconvenience should just use him like that, take him out in his
car and leave him the day after. He was normally one to scoff at the
overdramatic nature of his peers, but when Longarm looked at him like that he
just lost all common sense.
So wrapped up in his self-contemplation was he that Blurr almost didn’t notice
the bell. In fact, he didn’t, but the steady flow of students rising around
him, the roar of thirty voices suddenly speaking at once, was enough to roust
him from his thoughts, at least until he reached his next class. Basic Circuit
Repair was, thankfully, enough to keep his hands and his processor busy, and
for the next hour he was completely focused, only breaking his concentration
when he would shift in a way that dragged his aft across the chair, almost
mimicking the rough touches from the night before. He wanted to bury his face
in his sleeves, a miserable, horny fool.
The worst part about feeling bad for yourself is knowing that your problems are
all of your own doing. He was sad because his teacher who he had a crush on may
not want to pursue a relationship with him. He was angry because this was a
ridiculous and dangerous situation he’d gotten himself into and that he knew he
was going to continue obsessing about until it was dealt with, one way or
another. He was an idiot, and he’d probably put out too fast, and Longarm
thought he was cheap and stupid and he’d come too soon and-
His fingers slipped and the welding torch went right through his palm.
There was a moment of stunned silence as he and the students around him fully
realized what had happened, the torch slipping easily from his grasp. The
resounding clang as it hit the floor seemed to unpause the universe and several
people who had witnessed the incident screamed, jumping from their chairs as
the still activated tool spun across the linoleum. Grasping his wrist, as if
that would help, Blurr was on his feet in seconds, beginning to hyperventilate
almost on cue. He could see the pale tiles of the flooring through the pinpoint
hole, the wound instantly cauterized by the heat.
“TEACHER?”
His voice was higher than he’d have liked, were he still capable of caring, and
Ironfist immediately scurried over, waving at Hot Shot to deal with the torch.
“Oh, goodness, that does look nasty doesn’t it?”
Blurr began stepping from foot to foot, not wanting to panic but clearly
beginning to.
“I mean,” recognizing his bad choice of words, Ironfist hesitated, “it’s
nothing Ratchet can’t fix up nicely, don’t worry, no bleeding or loss of motor
functions I’m sure!”
“Do you really think so because it hurts a lot like not a normal amount of hurt
but a lot lot and I don’t really know what to do I mean should I cover it with
something? I guess that would be stupid though since you just said it’s not
bleeding and I should probably just go I mean to Ratchet I mean oh Primus what
if it really did cut something important and I need surgery to re-wire my
servos oh Primus I should really get going shouldn’t I?”
Ironfist was already ushering him to the door.
“Bumblebee! Come make sure Blurr gets to the nurse alright, would you?”
The bot in question, who was currently staring googly eyed at the spiral of
burnt tile where the implement of Blurr’s injury had fallen, bounded across the
room like it was nothing. He could probably have made one of the sports teams,
if he were in any way, shape, or form a team player. Instead he just pretended
he had some sort of game on the sidelines, making a big show of his ability to
perform when he wanted. Which was never when it was necessary or appropriate,
if he could help it.
“Gotcha, gotcha, you can count on me!” he winked obnoxiously at the teacher as
they slipped from the room. Blurr would probably be annoyed if wasn’t still
holding his damaged appendage up to the light, watching as the dull strobes
winked through the puncture in fearful awe.
“Hey man,” Bumblebee started up as soon as they were out of Ironfist’s range,
“that was one way to get out of class, huh?”
Shaking a bit, Blurr returned to himself.
“You think I would do something that stupid to get out of doing my work?” he
scoffed. “No wonder your grades suck.”
Not even phased, Bumblebee shrugged.
“I have better priorities.”
He seemed to expect some sort of retort, but Blurr was still shaken, biting his
lip as the pain began to spread up his arm, the initial shock wearing off and
leaving him with no shield.
“That does look pretty bad. Musta hurt like the pit.”
“No, really?”
Blurr grit his teeth, looking away from his unfortunate companion and trying to
focus on something else, like the Halloween Bash posters some freshman had
crudely photoshopped together and smeared haphazardly across every bulletin
board in sight. Unfortunately, Bumblebee didn’t know when to shut up.
“No, but seriously,” he kicked a stray ball of paper off a locker, “you
normally seem so angry and boring, it was kind of cool to see you lose it on
something. I mean, not like hurting yourself is cool or whatever but, like,
knowing you’re a normal guy I guess.”
That was weird, and Blurr didn’t really want to think about it. Thankfully, the
nurses’ office was within his sights.
“Well, thanks for walking me. I mean you were forced to by the teacher, but
thanks anyways.”
Blurr picked up his pace, finally, thankfully, leaving Bumblebee behind. He
waved a hand absently at the overly loud and sarcastic “YOU’RE WELCOME”
Bumblebee hurled at his back, jogging the rest of the way to the office door.
It was shut and he was a little frightened of messing with the knob right now,
so he smacked his hip against the door a few times and hoped Ratchet wouldn’t
be too peeved.
“The door‘s open, like always!”
Of course, with Ratchet that was a wholly objective goal. Blurr fidgeted a
moment more before deciding that, no, taking his uninjured hand away from the
wound for more than a half nano-klik wouldn’t cause the appendage to fall off,
and quickly squeezing himself through the entrance. Ratchet looked up from his
computer, sighing with weary relief.
“Oh, praise the Allspark. I thought you were that chatty freshman. Could hear
him from down the dang hall.”
Zipping to the desk, Blurr held his hand out like an offering.
“I was in circuit repair and I dropped a torch on my hand and it cut right
through, right through! You can see the light through it! And I mean Mr.
Ironfist was pretty sure I wouldn’t lose motor function but I’m not and I think
we should probably do something fast before-!”
“Whoa, whoa, get that thing outta my face!”
Ratchet waved him off, standing with some difficulty and leaning in toward the
nervous student.
“Pff. You young things are always so hasty, never paying enough attention.
Looks like you really did yourself a hard one.”
His seeming lack of concern did not console Blurr.
“So you can fix it, right? With no need for a big time surgery or servo
replacement or something?”
“Nope, no need for that.”
Ambling over to his tool shelf, Ratchet took his time in choosing items out,
inspecting them, occasionally swapping them out. Blurr bounced up and down in
place, shaking.
“Well?”
“Don’t you ‘well’ me, kid.”
Ratchet turned on him and he took a step back, suddenly worried about more than
his hand. After a tense moment, Ratchet gestured to the hard little makeshift
berth against the wall.
“Sit down if you want me to fix that up. You’re as tall as I am, I’m not doing
this whole thing standing.”
“Ah...uh, yes sir, sorry sir.”
Rubbing his wrist, Blurr took his seat, the same bubble of self-doubt again
blowing itself wide in his gut. He was acting like a straight up idiot, with
all this worrying. What had happened to the honors student everyone knew was
going places? He got one little hiccup in his system and suddenly he can’t keep
himself together for one day?
Ratchet turned his hand over, humming distastefully.
“Well, you didn’t break anything major. Probably hurts, and I’d be careful with
this hand for a few days, but once I patch the hole your internal systems
should take care of the rest.”
Blurr breathed out a heavy sigh, as if relieved, but honestly his worries had
moved on again. It was good to know he wouldn’t need to report to the medical
district, especially since he would have to take the public bus, which was
always a trial, but he was already calm enough to have realized the stupidity
of such a thought. It was a relatively small hole.
Ratchet finished with him quicker than he’d have thought, given how slowly he
moved. Kicking his heels against the side of the berth, Blurr looked over the
ugly patches Ratchet had soldered on, feeling rather empty about the whole
ordeal.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sir,” Ratchet snorted a little, amused.
“You’re pretty polite for someone stupid enough to drop a torch through their
hand.”
“Um, thanks.”
He knew it wasn’t meant as a genuine compliment, but the words came out
reflexively. Ratchet shook his head again, giving Blurr another once over.
“Better hurry out before they start locking the doors. Ironfist doesn’t stay
after class often and your bag’ll get stuck overnight.”
“What?”
Blurr looked up to the clock on the wall, optics widening in minute arcs of
horror.
“It’s four forty, kid. School's been out a while now.”
He spoke too late; Blurr was gone before he’d even opened his mouth. Ironfist
was indeed leaving when Blurr arrived, but that was of no consequence. After an
infuriatingly long negotiation (almost a full klik) Blurr had his bag and was
on the move again, this time speeding not for the school’s exit but a room he
was all too familiar with. If Longarm thought he hadn’t come, it really would
be all over.
He could hardly consider the idea without growing cold.
The world did not tilt off its axis, though, and when he arrived at the
classroom Dr. Longarm was sitting quietly behind his desk as always. Blurr
panted, bracing himself on the door frame, less out of exhaustion than straight
panic. Longarm snapped his book shut and the sound was like the approaching
blade of a guillotine.
“You’re late.”
He did not sound contemptuous at all and it only made Blurr’s shame cut deeper.
“I know, I know sir, and I’m so, so sorry, I just, I hurt myself in class and I
had to go see Ratchet and-!”
“Hurt yourself?”
Longarm’s brow furrowed.
“Let me see.”
It was more of an order than anything else he had ever said to Blurr and it
shut him up fast, stiffly approaching the desk and presenting his hand.
“It’s-it’s nothing serious, I just cut myself with an, uhm, a torch…”
Longarm’s touch was curious and careful, turning Blurr’s hand over between his
own to inspect the covered damage.
“You cut all the way through your hand?”
Once again swallowed by the realization of his stupidity, Blurr nodded,
wincing.
“Yes. I mean, yeah, it was pretty dumb, just a dumb accident, but yeah, I did.”
He would have said more, apologized more for his blundering nature, but all
thoughts of self-deprecation died in his throat as Longarm raised his palm to
his lips, kissing each freshly welded seam carefully. The act was as intimate
as anything they had done before, in the car, even more so, and Blurr’s spark
fluctuated so powerfully that he worried he might faint.
“You should be more careful.”
“I-I-I know.”
He could hardly remember what he was responding to. Longarm looked up at him
serenely.
“You ran away from me, earlier.”
Blurr flinched.
“I did. I was, I was nervous because you were saying that I needed to keep
quiet about us which is true but I was afraid that you meant…”
Longarm’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on his wrist, just under the wound.
“That I meant what?”
“Thatyoumeantyoudidn’twanttoseemeagainSir!”
His thoughts themselves were a rush and jumble, and he felt small and
impossibly large all at once, the sole object of Longarm’s scrutiny. But
Longarm smiled.
“Why would I want that? I am quite fond of you, Blurr.”
He quailed under the onslaught of praise.
“I don’t know, sir, you just made it seem so…” he bit his lip.
Longarm pushed his chair away from the desk, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I never took you as the type to jump to conclusions so easily.”
“Well, I…”
Taking a deep breath, Blurr clicked his heels together, standing straight.
“You’re absolutely right, sir, I allowed my emotions to distract me and I made
a hasty and not well thought out decision. I’m sorry.”
Longarm laughed.
“So formal.” He leaned forward, smile tugging wider.
“I do like that about you. Come here.”
Blurr could not have resisted, even without the fresh confirmation of his
worth. He slid forward into Longarm’s lap like he was made to perch there,
skinny aft balancing on his thick thighs. Longarm pulled him closer still,
slipping a hand low on Blurr’s back to tease the hem of his shorts. Unused to
being treated in such a forward manner, Blurr heated perceptibly.
“So,” said Longarm, once they were comfortably arranged, “are we clear?”
Blurr shivered.
“Yes sir. We can continue to see each other as long as we are careful about it
and I understand the boundaries. Got it.”
“Very good.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the school football team
practice outside filtering quietly through the shuttered blinds. Longarm’s hand
rubbed quiet circles on his back, almost bunching the fabric up enough to touch
proto metal but not quite. It would have been pleasant enough, but Blurr could
not stay still long, and the stress of the day was giving him serious shakes.
He needed a little more action.
“So, Dr. Longarm, is that the only reason you called me in here?”
He tried to smile secretively, but his lingering shyness still pushed through.
It only intensified when Longarm’s fingers inched down the back of his shorts,
finally making contact.
“Of course not.”
His teacher was equally randy it seemed. Blurr squirmed, trying to edge the
fingers down deeper into his pants, painfully aware that the door to the
classroom was still unlocked and yet thrilled by the danger of it. Dr. Longarm
was no fool; he wouldn’t have set something like this up if he wasn’t sure of
himself. Wanting to touch but not to be too fresh with him, Blurr played with
the lapels of his jacket.
“What’s the other reason, then?”
He hunched his back, leaning in close in hopes of stealing a kiss. Longarm
quickly evaded him, only allowing their lips to brush.
“I wanted to ask you a question.”
As he said this, his hand did slip lower, into Blurr’s briefs to cup his aft.
Blurr jumped a bit, whining between his teeth. Barely anything had happened yet
but he was already so hot. Just as the night before, Longarm’s hand burned a
swath across his plating, tingling long after he had ceased to pay attention to
the area.
“Y-yes, sir? What question could you possibly have for me now after we’ve
already talked about the important matter at hand? Unless there’s something
more personalyou’d like to know about?”
Even as his voice wavered, he delivered the words with the same velocity and
intent as ever, a hint of seduction weaving his tongue. Longarm purred a bit,
teasing his fingers just low enough to make Blurr shake before speaking.  
“Well, Blurr,” as careful and cultured s ever, “I couldn’t help but notice
something last night.”
Blurr arched into his touches, gripping Longarm’s jacket to steady himself.
“And what is, is that, sir?”
Allowing him some mercy, Longarm pressed a line of kisses along Blurr’s jaw,
stopping just by his receptor. The feeling of cool breath against his neck made
Blurr shiver and moan, teeth flashing in a wide smile.
“You weren’t sealed.”
Every line of data currently being processed in Blurr’s mind froze, his optics
popping and flickering for a bare moment of raw panic.
“…No, sir, I’m not.”
He could feel the continuing puffs of air against his cheek, but he did not
dare to turn his face, see the true feelings behind Dr. Longarm’s question for
himself. There was a pause, a dreadful, infinite pause, and then Longarm
pressed another chaste peck to his throat.
“Tell me about it.”
“You want me to…” Blurr swallowed.
“You want me to tell you about how I lost my s-seals?”
Blurr could barely force the words from his vocalizer, a little shocked at the
raunchy turn of events. He was embarrassed enough to be being asked about it,
much less to have to actually describe in some amount of detail how the deed
had been done. Longarm had not seemed upset, though, or mean spirited. He was
simply curious. He nodded softly into his shoulder and Blurr could not deny him
that boon.
“Well I, I used to go to a running summer camp for kids, ages ten to fifteen.
The summer before my sophomore year I, well, I mean there was this other bot
there, this senior, and she was really good, and I mean really, really good.
She was the only one who could ever beat me, even though I could still beat her
back. We were pretty evenly matched I guess.
Anyways, she and I competed a lot, and then one day Override –that was her
designation- Override and I were out on a morning jog together, one that
wasn’t, wasn’t really part of the regular camp stuff, so it was just us, and
she caught up to me and we started pushing each other around and there were
these woods nearby and we just kinda fell into them and, and, umh, you know.”
As he spoke, Longarm had pulled back, forcing him to maintain optical contact.
His teacher’s expression was small and stiff, and Blurr shrank in fear of his
disapproval.
“Fifteen is rather young, is it not?”
“Yeah, it is, but we only did it once!”
He was not sure how that changed anything. but he said it anyways.
“Did you regret it?”
The question took Blurr aback, and he had to think for a nano-klik.
“No. I liked her. It was nice.”
He didn’t mean to sound so fragmented, but Longarm’s steady gaze was disrupting
his thoughts.
“That’s good,” Longarm smiled, “very good.”
He cared. He had asked because he was worried that Blurr had been in a
situation that was less than preferable. The realization shocked Blurr so badly
that he could hardly circulate air a moment, spark swelling in his breast until
it hurt. Longarm cared.
Freed from their tense moment, Longarm’s hands began liberally making there way
under Blurr’s clothing again, the hand on his aft finally sliding down enough
to tease the very back edge of his interface paneling. Blurr jumped, again
forced to grasp at Longarm’s broad shoulder for support as he leaned forward to
grant him better access. Another hand was worming up the inside of his shirt,
finding the tight plating in his chest and sides and working against him so
roughly he couldn’t choke down the series of high whines building in his chest.
“Wha-but-why-!”
“Shh, Blurr.”
Longarm’s inquiry had given birth to a thousand questions in Blurr’s mind, but
he couldn’t form them into proper words. Instead, he stuttered and hissed,
letting his helm fall back and Longarm once again nudged for his throat, this
time applying teeth in a way that hurt just enough to make colors bloom before
his optics. Too far gone to consider his shorts, Blurr opened his panels the
minute fingers probed hard enough, slick and ready. Longarm’s fingers pushed
inside and he arched further against him, moaning high and reedy.
The gentle interrogation had set him on edge, but, same as the evening before,
the fear only added to his anticipation, desire blooming deep in his gut.
Longarm managed to slip a third finger just barely inside, a fourth sliding up
his soaking valve to tenderly circle his exterior node. Blurr could feel his
shorts straining against the intrusion, bunching down around his thighs, but it
only allowed him to spread himself wider, kissing all over Longarm’s forehead
in thanks as he rocked his hips back fast into the slow thrusts.
“Oh sir, oh Doctor Longarm, sir-!”
Tension that had built all day was cut though like a knife, shredded by
Longarm’s sweet kisses and talented fingers. Blurr wanted to remain like this
as long as possible, but his overload was approaching fast and there was
nothing he could do to prevent the rush of fluids pouring down between his
legs, soaking his underpants. Longarm’s other arm separated itself from his
chest, circling around his back to pull them flush against one another, the
tight angle opening him perfectly for a rough finger-fragging that made Blurr
howl into his shoulder.
“Blurr,” whispered Longarm, lips brushing the bio lighting on his cheek,
“overload now.”
He did, two thrusts later, mouth hanging open in a wet sob of relief as every
sour emotion from the day seemed to flood out with the electricity bursting
along his frame, calipers clamping down tight around Longarm’s fingers. The one
circling his exterior node moved in tandem with his thumb to pinch it and Blurr
jolted through another, far quicker shock of pleasure.
Even as he slumped, tired and empty, against his teacher, Blurr attempted to
keep his hips raised, fearing the mess they’d make together. Longarm pet his
back, humming a soothing cadence against his helm.
“There’s a good boy.”
Despite everything, Blurr took the words as the highest of praise, beyond
content. He was exhausted, but his spark whirled a little brighter, he was sure
of it. Longarm helped him to the floor, engine purring pleasantly. He looked up
into his kind face, optics drooping with exhaustion and unabashed adoration.
Longarm was so perfect, so wonderfully perfect. He cared about Blurr’s
wellbeing. He asked questions about him because he was concerned.
In that singular moment Blurr was sure he loved him.
“Don’t pull your shorts up just yet,” Longarm was saying, rooting around in his
desk and returning with wet wipes.
“Thank you, sir.”
Blurr accepted them demurely, still doe eyed and woozy. His circuitry fizzled
happily even as he wiped himself off under the full scrutiny of someone he
cared about, the world returning around them. The football game seemed to be
ending outside, the shrill screech of a pea whistle indicating Lugnut’s call.
Longarm cleaned his own hand meticulously, a private smile gracing his
features.
Something occurred to Blurr.
“Longarm, sir?” he inched forwards on the floor, pulling his shorts and damp
underpants back on, “do you want me to, you know, take care of you?”
Timid but brave, Blurr placed his fingers on Longarm’s knee, rubbing the ashy
slacks suggestively.
“Ah, no.” Longarm’s optics flashed.
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh,” Blurr clicked his tongue, a little surprised but not particularly
offended, “may I ask why, sir?”
The setting sun shone through the slats of the window blinds just right,
reflecting off the linoleum tiles as it set and illuminating the entire room
with bars of gold. Floating just behind his head, the distant star surrounded
Longarm, darkening and dimming every detail of his face until all that could be
made out was the orb on his forehead, filled with light, and Blurr had to
squint through its brilliance.
“Because, my dear, you haven’t yet earned the right.”
Blurr stumbled out of the school and into the evening air, the luckiest person
alive. Longarm’s parting kiss still glowed on his lips, and his legs shook with
the exertion of walking. He was glad to not have had track practice on top of
everything else, although he would have missed it by now. There were clouds
streaking the sky, low and plush, and they held in the heat of the day so that
even the shade felt stagnant.  He could hardly tell, the puttering of his sated
engine running enough heat off his frame to make him burn regardless.
At the first crosswalk, Blurr tugged at his hoodie, unable to stand the feeling
any longer. He enjoyed the memory of body heat against his own, but the fabric
made things excessive and he worried condensation would soon muddy the memory
away. As the fabric passed over his oblong helm, a nearby car horn startled him
into jumping, tripping over his own feet and landing head over heels on the
sidewalk.
“Scrap, I’m sorry!”
Escaping his soft prison, Blurr glared at Rodimus.
“If you’re so sorry, why are you laughing, hmm?”
Rodimus was laughing, but he at least had the gall to look a little guilty for
it.
“Well, you look like an idiot for one thing.”
The light had turned green some time ago, but Rodimus kept his foot on the
brake, not a car in sight to protest. As Blurr righted himself, brushing dust
tenderly from his backside, he sniffed at the intruder to his thoughts.
“What are you doing out here anyways? It’s, like, six thirty.”
“Thursday archery practice is two hours. I just got out.”
The locks on the car doors sprang up.
“You ‘been out running? You look beat. Want a ride?”
He asked with such smooth confidence that his assumptions didn’t bother Blurr
in the slightest. Squinting into the autumn heat, Blurr shrugged.
“Why not. Thank you.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Checking that he still had his bag on him, Blurr hopped into the passenger seat
and buckled himself in. The material was fine, leathery, but it was
uncomfortable against his freshly bared shoulders, sticky with humidity.
“You know where I live, right?”
“Something like that.”
Rodimus shifted gears.
“Hope you like going fast outside the track.”
Blurr didn’t have long to ponder the question. Laughing, Rodimus dug his heel
into the gas pedal and they were gone.
***** Stupid *****
Chapter Summary
     Blurr does a lot of dumb things but doesn't regret them.
“You want something to drink?”
“What?”
Blurr had been kicking a soda can back and forth on the floor. The halting
speed of the car made it jump and roll away from his feet, underneath the car
seat, but as they reached the next red light it returned.
“You know, like, like a slushie or something.”
Rodimus grinned at him out of the corner of his optic.
“I’m thirsty.”
Blurr caught the can between his boots and held it there.
“I don’t bring money to school.”
“Ah,” Rodimus hit the gas as soon as the light changed, “that’s not an issue.
You can just watch me drink.”
Blurr gave him a look and he burst out laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m just being a dick. I’ll buy you something.”
That was almost worse.
“You don’t- don’t do that okay? That’s, like, I’m not even that thirsty.”
Blurr rubbed his arm, looking out the window again. The can slipped from his
grasp and he kicked it against the bottom of the dashboard.
“Dude, it’s not a problem. It’s not like I really need the ninety nine cents
for something else.”
Biting his tongue, Blurr said nothing. The window was cracked and he could hear
the loud rush of wind as they sped by, the faint smells of oil and pollen
filtering into the car. He couldn’t even remember if he had homework for
Friday, no immediate excuses rushing to mind as to why he shouldn’t go. He
shifted a little and his valve twinged, a small reminder of exactly what he was
doing here.
“Rodimus, maybe I should-”
“Here we are!”
Rodimus spun the wheel and they flew into the gas station parking lot, narrowly
avoiding a white sedan and somehow managing to align perfectly between two beat
up looking trucks. If speed were anything new to Blurr he would have needed a
moment to catch his breath, but as it was he slid out of the car as if it were
nothing, joining Rodimus on the sidewalk. The ground was speckled black with
old gum and oil stains.
“Classy.”
“Hey, it’s cheap!”
Rodimus ducked around him and held the door open.
“After you.”
Blurr rolled his optics, unable to hold back a smile.
“See, when you do things like this I can’t help but be suspicious again,
Rodimus, because I know for a fact you are not in any way shape or form a
gentleman and yet here you are buying me a drink and holding the door for me.”
“Fine, have it your way.”
Blurr had been half way through the entrance already and when Rodimus released
the door it swung back so fast there was no evading the metallic smack on his
aft. The stumbled forward, nearly tripping on the waxy tiles of the convenience
store, and Rodimus crowed with laughter. Bracing himself on his knees, Blurr
glared.
“Well at least I know I can trust this.”
His unexpected chauffer was already weaving between the aisles of jerky and
chips and chapstick, the hum of the soda machine welcoming him into the dim
back corner. There were more flavors than Blurr would have expected, each
glowing in its own bright radioactive color. Rodimus was already in the corner,
filling a large cup.
“It’s the same price for every size,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as
Blurr approached, “get whatever you want.”
“You seriously don’t have to do that.”
Blurr shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling sticky just looking at the
machines.
“No, dude, not even.”
Rodimus was already sipping his drink, despite having not paid for it.
“Those flavors are just for kids. Don’t even bother. The only good ones are the
sodas.”
For better or worse, the nutty brown ice Rodimus had chosen looked far more
natural in a Styrofoam cup than the neon rainbow of the fruit flavors. He chose
the smallest cup size, although small was apparently an arbitrary concept here,
and considered. If he picked the exact same drink as Rodimus would it come off
as a good choice or a haphazard attempt at imitation?
Then he realized he didn’t care.
“Good choice.”
Rodimus clapped him on the back and Blurr jumped.
“Must you keep doing that? I really don’t appreciate it.”
“Sorry, sorry!”
Steering him towards the counter, Rodimus smiled sheepishly. Whether he liked
it or not, Blurr was happy to have this innocent break from his current
reality. Rodimus was fun in a way he hadn’t experienced for what felt like
forever. Certainly years. It was difficult finding comfort in people you knew
didn’t understand you, and while he and Rodimus certainly didn’t know each
other well, there was something about the easy way he sidestepped Blurr’s
quirks that soothed his edges. 
He slapped a five on the counter and they took off. Instead of getting back in
his car, Rodimus rounded the building, briskly enough to keep Blurr on his toes
but not nearly enough to stress his legs. Rodimus spun on his heel, walking
backwards a few paces.
“Just bear with me, it’s right over here.”
Blurr shoved his unoccupied hand in the pouch of his hoodie, quirking an
optical ridge.
“What is? Your drug dealer? Because I am not buying anything off you, for you,
or with you.”
“Very funny.”
There was a black fence overlooking a steep decline to the highway. Reaching
it, Rodimus promptly dropped down, threading his legs through the bars and
patting the space next to him.
“Sit.”
Blurr cocked his helm.
“So you’re just going to assume I want to join you.”
Snorting while talking a sip, Rodimus eyed him.
“You agreed to have a drink with me, I figured you can’t loath my company
thatmuch.”
“What if I was afraid of heights?”
Blurr was already sliding into place next to him, crossing his ankles around
the warm metal.
“Are you?”
“Not any more than the average bot.”
They were still a moment, noisily slurping their drinks as the fog of cars
passing beneath wafted over them, pungent and sour. Rodimus kicked a pebble off
the wall below. The sun was setting over the eastern mountains and it
illuminated them for a brief second, enormous before the distant star. Blurr
pressed his face between the bars, absently estimating how high up they were.
Rodimus coughed surreptitiously.
“Thanks for coming, anyways.”
Blurr could tell he wanted to say something more but didn’t try to prompt it
out of him. He took another long swig, the cold cup feeling odd against the
patches over his wound. He had almost forgotten about it, and remembering only
stirred a dull throbbing to the surface.  
“These are really good. I haven’t had once since sixth grade; I forgot how much
I liked them.”
“Sixth grade?”
Rodimus looked up sharply.
“Why the hell did you stop?”
Grateful that the conversation had again turned to comfortable, shallow waters,
Blurr shrugged.
“I stopped drinking soda when I got really into running. It isn’t a big deal I
suppose but it was important to me.”
“Like you need any more advantages over us poor short legged Zambonis.”
Blurr elbowed him in the side, hard, without even thinking.
“What the slag does that mean?”
Rodimus yelped, laughing.
“If you beat me up, I’m not driving you home!”
“Then I’ll just steal your keys and drive myself.”
A small smile split Blurr’s face.
It was dark when they got back in the car. The headlights illuminated an old
gumball machine in front of the store like the killer in a horror flick. Blurr
reclined the seat a little, kicking his backpack to give his feet more room.
“How did you even afford this anyways? The car I mean, not the slushies, as
that would be a pretty dumb question.”
Rodimus picked at the dial, wavering news casters mingling with country soul
that slowly bled into old rock.
“Mags wants me to do out of town competitions, like archery and debate team and
stuff. He can’t drive me all the time so he said he’d get me a car.”
“And he got you this?”
Blurr was skeptical. And jealous.
“Well, the deal was that if I got three hundreds in a row I could pick whatever
I wanted from an in town lot.”
He gave Blurr a naughty look, the tip of his tongue caught between his bared
teeth.
“He should really do his research before he lets me pick the place.”
Despite fully recognizing the cliché, Blurr allowed himself to find Rodimus’s
bold reversal of Ultra Magnus’s intended rule set to amuse him.
“I’m sure you felt very clever being able to pull the steel wool over our
principal’s optical sensors.”
He shrugged.
“Everyone loves a rebel.”
Television had poisoned everyone’s minds about how the night was supposed to
be. Though Blurr had been raised his entire life in this small town, he still
was surprised by how quiet everything was in the shadow of the evening moon. He
still felt odd about accepting a ride from Rodimus after so many years of
nothing, but now the silence was at least a little less oppressive. He watched
the slow bob of his knee as he adjusted his foot on the pedals, the way his
thumb twitched along his steering wheel. He wondered if Rodimus felt strange
about it too, or if his free attitude towards approaching Blurr was indicative
of his general confidence. He wondered if Rodimus had felt his absence over the
years.
Blurr could not say he had himself, but he still wondered. It was only when
they turned, finally, into his habitation center’s parking lot that he
remembered why Rodimus had picked him up in the first place.
“Is this close enough?”
Rodimus pulled into a space and stalled, glancing across the dash at his
passenger. Blurr took a moment to reply, worrying a hand over his thigh.
“Yeah, this is fine, I mean it isn’t really close but I’d kinda be glad for the
walk anyways.”
Seemingly satisfied, Rodimus parked. Neither of them moved for a full minute.
As new and weird as everything today had been, Blurr really was happy. Not
nervously happy, as the night before, not subduedly pleased as he had been the
months before, but actually, genuinely happy. He slid his backpack into his
lap, digging around under the seat to find where his drink cup had fallen.
“Thank you for the ride, Rodimus, and for the drink, and for inviting me in the
first place. It was nice.”
Rodimus hummed a small note of agreement, not looking up.
“Yeah.”
Blurr tapped his heels against the floor mat.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
Rodimus exhaled loudly.
“Yeah. In history, right?”
For a moment Blurr was confused, until he realized Rodimus meant the class and
not the real time event. He clutched his bag tighter. Was Rodimus in his
history class? He had never even noticed. Now a small thrill of panic ran up
his spinal strut as he tried to recall everyone who sat around him, forward and
back, because he didn’t want to say something stupid and have Rodimus realize
he had forgotten him, but Rodimus was already flicking the locks on the car
doors and Blurr realized he should probably just leave.
“Uhm, yeah, see you then.”
Rodimus smiled. Apparently that was the correct answer.
“Bye.”
Blurr waved, sliding out of the passenger seat and into the heavy night. They
really had parked a ways from his house, as Rodimus had pulled through the E
block, but he had meant it when he said he would enjoy the walk. The motion
kept his mind turning, helped him sort through things. That was something he
really needed today.
Rodimus’s car did not move the entire time Blurr was walking, and he turned a
corner before he even saw the headlights flicker on. It was a nice gesture,
albeit mostly meaningless in their safe society, and he buried a smile in the
sleeve of his hoodie. He could hardly remember what it felt like to have
someone watching his back, literally or figuratively. It was a good thing.
It was such a good thing, in fact, that it was not until he was ascending the
porch of his home that his thoughts finally drifted back, as they always would,
to Dr. Longarm. All at once he was giddy again, head swimming, and he nearly
stumbled the last step straight into his front door. Stupid, stupid. It was so
stupid. Everything was changing so fast and it wasn’t even Friday.
When he got inside he needed to do something. If he couldn’t keep his legs busy
he at least needed to occupy his hands because if he was still for too long the
thoughts would pile up and that was absolutely the last thing he wanted to deal
with at the moment. He tore through his backpack, subconsciously praising
himself for at least not having forgotten it today, through all the madness.
His hand was stinging and he grimaced, annoyed with himself. There was nothing
to do, nothing. He had finished all his homework already. It was too easy.
Maybe he should have taken all AP courses. He shook his hand as if the pain
were wet mud he could slick off.
He couch still needed to be cleaned. It was unpleasant but had to be done. A
brief shock of embarrassment flared through him, considering, though unlikely,
the possibility of Longarm having walked him in last night, of having seen his
cum stained cushions. What would he have assumed? Blurr shuddered to imagine.
So badly, in fact, that the zipper caught on his temporary bandages painful as
he tried to remove the pillow cover. He sucked on his hand, both upset and
laughing at himself, annoyed and giddy. Being overly emotional was already far
out in left field for him, and apparently every part of his sanity fell to
pieces when he submitted to it.
As he stood, clutching the cover to his breast and his hand to his lips, he
paused. There was no clear way to describe his thoughts at the moment, but he
was suddenly unsettled. It was the kind of feeling he remembered from his
younger days, when his sensory net was still calibrating and he would see, from
the corners of his optics, or hear, just out of range, things his developing
brain could not immediately make sense of, creating something new and shadowy,
not quite reality yet not quite imagination, the weak graspings of a small
mind. He stared at the wall and could not understand it.
Then the moment was lost and he was moving again, dragging the soiled cushion
covers into the other room and stuffing them into the washing machine. He
measured and remeasured the softener, not entirely sure that he cared how soft
they were in the first place but keeping up the appearance of true cautiousness
because lax housekeeping was a gateway to sloppiness. Though it was largely for
his own piece of mind, he could not stand an unkempt house.
Various pitterings and patterings later and he was lying shower-fresh on his
bed, staring out the window into the black sky and still a pile of raw nerves.
He buried his face in his pillow and yelled, vibrating with the force of his
expression. It was not pure exasperation but it certainly wasn’t just joy and
he could hardly catalogue the emotion because it was so overwhelmingly powerful
that he could hardly even grasp the fact that he was feeling it. He kicked his
feet into his sheets and wondered why the hell he was even worrying about it.
Especially when, instead of worrying, he should be thanking Primus that he had
finally gotten his legs around those blunt, wide fingers, lips against his
throat.
Before he even knew what he was doing his underpants were on the floor. Stupid,
stupid, stupid. He shoved two fingers into his valve and bit his pillow, head
jerking back up so that he tugged on it like a wild animal. His spike slid over
the sheets and he was already making a mess so soon after washing the couch but
it felt so good, the lingering tingles of Longarm’s hands on his body making
him whine into his bed. His fingers were far too thin, not enough, and he
curled them harshly, upset.
It was fast and dirty, his hips dancing between his thrusting fingers and the
smooth slide of the bed sheets against his spike. His legs tumbled off the bed,
toes bracing hard into the rough carpet and pushing him forward. The mattress
shook, began to slide off the box spring, and he was so close already. He dug a
third finger inside himself and saw stars, and Longarm, imagined his cool hands
forcing his neck down, holding his hips stead so he could only feel and accept,
a thought so good it sparked blue pops of overheated filament light from his
eyes.
He slammed his own face into the bed, spreading himself wide and cumming. He
spat the wad of cloth from his mouth and gasped for fresh air, a little dizzy
and very confused. Things could not keep going on like this, surely. He was a
teenager, of course, but even so it seemed excessive. He sucked on his dirty
fingers sorely, peeling the wet sheet from his stomach as his spike retracted,
rolling over on his side. It was a long night.
When the morning came, though, he was ready for it. This week, Friday consisted
of A block classes, which meant that, had Rodimus meant what Blurr suspected
last night, he would be seeing both his potential friend and his favorite
teacher periodically throughout the day. For better or for worse, his first
meeting would be staged in Cybertronian History II, which meant it would be
governed by Ms. Strika.
He walked again, the usual route, the usual routine. He could no longer use the
excuse of needing time to think, but he no longer needed it. He arrived thirty
minutes early and ran the track until he felt more comfortable finding his way
inside, slipping off his hoodie and allowing the bright sun to gleam off his
shoulder blades through his tank. It was a hot morning, the air thick but dry,
and he could feel the dam of the grass beneath his feet filtering up into the
sky around him. It was a sparse few laps compared to his normal rate but he
pushed his limits, not bothering with time or distance but speed alone. It
wasn’t until the parking lot began to fill from a few spots of color to a full
rainbow that he stopped. He’d left his bag on the ground and when he picked it
up little white insects, hardly flecks against the blue, scattered.
The school was already bustling when he came through the side, as he’d hoped.
Noise, crowds. He was comfortable here. Now there was the added bonus of being
excited for something.  Ms. Strika was, as per the norm, giving the door to the
hallway her hardest of stares, instilling the value of silence into all who
dared enter, but it only slowed Blurr’s step a fraction today as he immediately
spotted his target, three desks from the wall, back row.
“Hey!”
The moment the word slipped from Rodimus’s mouth they both froze, glancing to
the front of the room. Strika did not move, though, still focusing her wrath
upon those stragglers who were not quite late to class and not on them.
“Hey.”
Blurr was considerably more careful with his tone, sliding into the seat beside
Rodimus. He had never sat at the back before and felt a little self-conscious
about it, as if he would be ruled a lesser student by association alone. Not to
say Rodimus was a lesser student, but the stereotype still stood.
“This isn’t anyone’s seat is it? Because if it is I can move or you can move or
something, I don’t want to put anyone out of their place.”
Rodimus shook his head, wrinkling his nasal ridge in silent laughter.
“No. I mean, yeah, but it’s just that prick Lockjaw, or Lockup or whatever.”
“Lockdown.”
Blurr straightened his back nonetheless, free to relax. Lockdown almost never
showed up anyways. It was only his third time taking the course. He knew all
the test material by heart and sold it out of the D wing bathrooms. The only
reason he was still in school was…well, the stories varied. He had trouble with
the law, he skipped too often, some sort of alleged tangle with the school’s
staunchest financial contributor (which was possibly the most bizarre and
unlikely of them all). Blurr could care less if the punk stomped in right now
and demanded his seat back. Even he wasn’t stupid enough to start something
around Ms. Strika.
“Your hand looks better.”
Having honestly forgotten it himself, Blurr looked down at the patching.
“I guess- wait a klik, you didn't even ask about it yesterday!”
He slapped his uninjured palm over his mouth, but the bell managed to ring
perfectly in sync with his exclamation, and Strika was none the wiser.
“Page two twenty two, now.”
It was a command, not a suggestion, and everyone in the room scrambled to obey.
As he leaned down to pull fourth his textbook, Rodimus winked at Blurr.
“You think a kid puts a torch through his hand and nobody’s gonna talk about
it? I knew everything before you had even made it to the nurse.”
Blurr hissed at him but said nothing, amused.
“Would anyone volunteer to read passage one?”
Everyone shrank down in their seats but Blurr, who began to raise his hand.
Strika was prepared.
“Not you.”
He slumped, annoyed. Rodimus snickered.
“Ah, you.”
And fell right into Strika’s trap.
“Begin.”
This time on the receiving end of the joke, Rodimus shot Blurr a cheeky look as
his finger found the first sentence and he began to speak.
The class being what it was, they didn’t speak again until the end, as they
parted ways. Blurr hurriedly informed Rodimus of his full schedule, lamenting
that they shared some similar courses but not at the same time. When he
described the rest of his day Rodimus laughed.
“You got stuck with Longarm too, huh?”
Immediately alarmed, Blurr bristled.
“What do you mean? He’s a good teacher, a better teacher than most, especially
here, and I like him a lot, I mean, as far as teachers go, I don’t see what
you’re getting at at all!”
Rodimus grabbed his shoulders and steered him away from the large crowd of
seniors he nearly stumbled into.
“Geeze, geeze, calm down!”
He was clearly surprised and Blurr bit back an apology.
“Are you always this intense about your education or is Longarm just the
exception?”
It was a joke. He was teasing. Blurr looked away.
“I, um, it was nothing. I was. I like that class.”
He had wedged a clear space between them and he felt immensely guilty for it.
Rodimus pushed through anyways.
“Yeah, he’s a good teacher. I just think he’s kinda, like, funny, you know?”
Blurr didn’t know and he didn’t feel like saying so, but Rodimus backed down.
“Well, I gotta go.”
Nodding, Blurr managed a smile.
“I guess I’ll see you at lunch?”
Rodimus was openly relieved.
“Yeah. Lunch.”
He shook his backpack.
“I got soda.”
Blurr was an idiot. A huge, monumental, grade A idiot. How could he be so
openly adoring of his teacher when he knew full well what the consequences of
them ever even being implicated as having been more than platonic were dire. He
wasn't so smitten that he couldn’t speak lies against Longarm if he had to.
Rodimus probably thought he was bent out of shape over nothing and he really
didn’t want the slow blooming friendship to wither over something as foolish as
his stupid, stupid, stupid crush.
Longarm turned out from around the corner and walked straight down the hall
towards him. it was as if he’d stepped out of a dream itself and Blurr just
stood there, dumb and mute, until Longarm was very close and simply said, “good
morning, Blurr.”
Blurr stammered. His knees shook. His backpack was suddenly too heavy and he
was going to be sucked down into Cybertron’s core along with its immense
weight. Longarm winked.
Blurr bolted.
***** Walk The Dog *****
Chapter Summary
     Blurr earns himself a gift.
Chapter Notes
     I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I will be more careful in the future
     when I open requests!! Enjoy!
“What do you mean, nothing?”
Blurr tucked his lunch tray neatly against the table’s edge and his arms,
keeping a safe but comfortable distance from Rodimus’s over exuberant flailing.
“I mean I have nothing planned for this weekend. That doesn’t exactly mean I’m
not going to do anything, just that I haven’t had anything in mind, which must
be strange for you since, given your reaction, I can only assume you come from
a place where everyone plans every nano-klik of every cycle out in full.”
“Shut up!”
Rodimus swatted at him.
“I just mean, like, you were serious when you said your social life was dead.
Yeesh.”
Smirking with a queer brand of self-satisfaction, Blurr tucked into his green
beans.
“Despite popular belief, I am not prone to exaggeration. Idiot.”
This time he ducked away from Rodimus’s vengeful hand, laughing around his
fork.
“This isn’t a game,” he exclaimed, “Weekends are serious business!”
“Are they?”
“They are!”
Wrapping an arm around Blurr’s shoulders, Rodimus pulled them together,
sweeping his other hand out across the empty air as if to display a vast and
virgin landscape.
“We need to do something. We need to go out this weekend and- and do
something.”
“Inspiring. You should consider going into public speaking.”
Blurr shoved him off with an elbow, reaching for the milk.
“No, but really.”
Rodimus settled back into his seat, smile flickering, just barely, as he popped
his soda top.
“You wanna hang out?”
“And do what?”
He hadn’t meant it to sound disinterested but the question clearly brought on
immediate strife and Blurr regretted asking it.
“I mean, yeah, of course I do. I just wanted to know if you had anything in
mind in particular. Not that it wouldn’t be fine if you didn’t. I don’t care if
we just hang around somewhere like we did yesterday. I don’t mean anything by
it.”
His own voice felt as if it passed through him with equal awkwardness, but
Rodimus instantly relaxed.
“Well, duh. Yeah. We’ll figure it out as we go.”
Blurr wondered if being a part of a larger group had shielded Rodimus’s blatant
nerves before. He seemed to be under the impression that he was doing a good
job fooling Blurr, though he wasn’t. The thought itself gave birth to a slew of
other questions, namely tacked onto the back of the realization that, since his
first attempt at contact with Blurr earlier in the week, Rodimus hadn’t spent a
single moment that Blurr had noticed with anyone else in their school. He could
still see Sentinel and the others at their combined table in the corner,
seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world. Though it sparked another small
twinge of paranoia in his gut, Blurr subdued the feeling. Rodimus would reveal
his motives in time.
Now he was looking through the leaves of his sandwich as if he expected a
surprise, and Blurr realized he may have dragged the silence on too long.
Clearing his throat, he took another bite.
“So, I’m thinking, Saturday? Provided that’s a good time for you, of course; as
I already stated my time is all free so I guess there isn’t any reason why it
couldn’t be another day but Saturday has always seemed like one of those
special 80’s-movie kind of days for wreaking havoc or whatever.”
“Yeah.”
Rodimus kicked his own bag under the table a few times, not looking up but
smiling.
“Sounds good.”
Blurr didn’t bother questioning his new friend’s anxiety. After all, he had
plenty on his own plate, although hopefully their two situations stemmed from
different roots. Running was what he did, but he still felt like an idiot for
applying it to what was swiftly becoming any attempt at social contact with
Longarm other than having a hand shoved up his shorts. He was torn between
squirming in his seat, overcome, and trying to pretend it hadn’t happened at
all so he could get through another day with clean underpants.
However, neither action would prove to be a solution. Frustrated and
embarrassed, he did want to see his teacher. He was just unsure how well he
would be able to steel himself in public, much less alone with him, not now.
Admittedly, hiding his intimate interests from Longarm was now a moot point,
when taken into serious consideration, but the alarming rate at which he felt
himself losing self-control was too big to ignore. Longarm would be…
He stopped outside the classroom, shifting.
Longarm would be disappointed.
“Now, I know it’s almost the weekend, but please, remember to take your water
breaks now, before the bell rings, and not during class please!”
A considerable amount of students had already showed up and were milling about
the room. Even though Longarm was currently attempting to herd them all to or
from their seats, his still managed to take notice of Blurr the moment he
stepped across the threshold, lifting his helm and smiling a private smile. It
was enough to make him weak in the knees and Blurr rushed to his desk before
they gave out. Maybe he wasn’t disappointed. Maybe he understood, allowed it.
Allowed it, as if Blurr belonged to him.
Longarm took his place at the front of the class, shooting Blurr an almost
imperceptible look, as if scanning the crowd, but Blurr could see, just
momentarily, the flash of his dark tongue between his lips, optics flashing in
almost a predatory manner. He melted.
“The second bell has rung, everybody…”
The murmuring died, though only to a fault. Recognizing this was as good as he
was going to get, Longarm turned to the board, underlining the day’s lesson
plan. Despite being seated, Blurr worried he might tumble over anyways. It was
ridiculous how quickly he was swinging back and forth between moods this week,
first his excitement and embarrassment around Rodimus, and the intimate joys of
being around Longarm in any capacity. Despite all this, he managed to hang onto
the lecture fairly well and the class passed in its usual breezy fashion,
Longarm’s melodious voice washing over him like the most pleasant of waves.
He was slow to pack up as things began to wind down, intentionally. He
expected, hoped that Longarm would want to speak with him, even briefly. All
thoughts of the weekend drizzled away as he glanced up and their optics met,
the slightest of nods on his teacher’s part making him giddy. Holding his
backpack to his chest, like a dizzy child, he approached the front desk,
worrying his lip between his teeth.
“Sir, could I speak with you a moment?”
Bulkhead and Bumblebee roughhoused a little too loudly on their way out and
Longarm shot them a stern look before turning to appraise his student.
“Of course. You know that I am always willing to take some of your time.”
Feeling both overly pleased and somewhat foolish for it, Blurr stepped from
foot to foot as though he were preparing for a race. Lowering his bag to the
floor, he waited patiently until the last student had passed into the hallway
and the door had shut before lunging forward, spilling papers across the desk
as he pecked Longarm full on the mouth. He pulled back before it could turn
into anything else, smiling at his feet.
“Well, well,” said Longarm, bemused as he glanced at the black paper covering
the door window.
“I’m sorry I probably shouldn’t have done that I just, uhm-!”
Longarm reached across his now muddled grading and gently held Blurr’s hand.
“While I would prefer it if you did not show affection so recklessly, you do
not need to be embarrassed for it. The feeling is mutual.”
He rubbed his thumb across the joint between Blurr’s forefinger and palm and a
wave of tingles spread through his neural net.
“I-I-I know that Sir I just, I’m just very happy
alrightIshouldprobablybegettingtomylastperiodnow!”
“Ah-ah-ah!”
Longarm held onto him tightly, preventing him from turning away.
“Will I see you after school?”
A thrill shot through him.
“Here? I mean, right after school? I-I have track practice until five.”
“That’s fine,” he murmured, words dripping with affection, “just come to my
classroom when you’re done. I should be alone.”
Unable to help himself, Blurr’s vents opened, a small cloud of steam forming
around his head.
“okay Sir that sound’s really good I’ll be there I promise as soon as I’m done
I-I’ll run right here no one will see or anything okay?”
Giving him a little squeeze before letting go, Longarm chuffed.
“Okay.”
Speeding into the hallway, Blurr powerwalked all the way to his next class,
simply nodding off any of the teachers he passed who attempted to call out for
him to slow down. He couldn’t slow down; time could not move fast enough. Not
even Lockdown’s arguments with Prowl could liven up Philosophy for him,
Yoketron’s droning making the nano-kliks on his chronometer crawl.
He shot into the hall at the moment the first bell rang, Yoketron’s indignant
yell that the bell did not release him lost to the closing door behind him, and
ran headfirst into Bumblebee.
“Woah, Speedy! Take it easy!”
He was as good humored and frustrating as ever. Blurr tried to step around him
but Bumblebee stepped too.
“My name is not Speedy.”
“Speedy, Zippy, whatever.”
He shrugged dramatically, wide optics flashing with feigned innocence.
“I just wanted to ask, how’s you’re hand? Looked pretty nasty last time I saw
it.”
He sniggered and it took Blurr a moment to remember that, yes, he had injured
his hand last time they met. Looking down with a surprising amount of
dissatattchment, he held up the limb in question, the make shift welding
already beginning to flake as the wound closed beneath.
“Fine, wonderful, swell, healing right up, now if you’ll excuse me I have to go
to my track meet-!”
“Oh, really? That’s cool, I mean I didn’t know you were in track but I probably
coulda guessed, huh?”
“Yeah, probably.”
Finally managing to get around him, Blurr continued walking as briskly as he
could without outright running from the bot, but unfortunately this allowed
Bumblebee the opportunity to follow him. Which he very unfortunately accepted.
“You know, I always was pretty fast, you know, good at those kinds of things. I
just don’t like being part of that pesky team, you know? I play by my own
rules.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Actually, you know, I thought about trying out for track once. Its better I
didn’t though. I mean, a team can only have one real star player, right Zippy?”
“That’s not technically true, actually-”
“Actually that reminds me, I mean, so like. I’m in a little bit of trouble and
I was, eh, hoping you could help me out?”
“Trouble.”
“Yeah. Like. Okay, so you remember Wasp?”
“No.”
He spoke without thinking, but the moment the word left his mouth he paused.
“Actually, yes. I do. That kid who got suspended for cheating or whatever at
the eighth grade field day? Or I guess for you it would have seen sixth grade
wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Bumblebee nodded emphatically, “yeah, him. Well see I was kinda
involved in that and-”
“Hey, Bumbler, didn’t I tell you asking around was against the rules?”
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Wasp and his taller orange friend,
Ironhilt, Blurr thought, popped out around the corner as if they had been
waiting for them. Perhaps they had been. Bumblebee jumped out of his plating
but Blurr managed to care just little enough to get away with a straight face.
“Are you following me?”
Bumblebee was clearly indignant.
“Well, duh.”
Wasp was apparently as snotty as he looked, crossing his arms over his chest as
though he were posing for a portrait.
“Obviously you needed someone to ensure you wouldn’t cheat.”
His friend – Ironhide!– chuckled lowly, the accent of Luna II thick on his
breath.
“I wasn’t gonna ask him about that! What, you think I’m backing down from you?”
“I don’t think, Bumbler, I know.”
Turning to Ironhide, Blurr raised an optical ridge. The quarterback tilted his
chin up in a silent greeting, smacking gum between his chops. It seemed he was
perfectly happy to watch the exchange, and didn’t seem to recognize how
confusing and awkward this was becoming for an outsider.
It was that moment that Blurr realized, a little belatedly, that he was just
standing there when really this was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
With the echoes of some comment regarding Wasp’s elitism and Bumblebee’s idiocy
following him in the emptying hallway, Blurr turned and booked it.
He ran and kept on running, so hyped up that he didn’t even mind the playful
and not-so-playful verbal jabs aimed at him as he easily outpaced and overtook
his teammates. Wheeljack tried to clap him on the back as the hour came to its
end, but he missed and swung forward, nearly smacking Cheetor in the face.
Blurr had no time for apologies or complaints and he was back in his day
clothes and out the door before the others had even made it to the locker room.
Longarm was waiting for him, as promised. One leg crossed purposefully over the
other, he sipped from a small mug of tea as he drew a red circle around
something on a form in front of him. When Blurr propped the door open, knocking
timidly, he slid the paper into a drawer in his desk and shut it smoothly but
with intent, looking up with a wide smile as he locked it with a small key.
“Hello. Please shut the door behind you.”
By the time he finished his sentence Blurr had already shut the door, pushed a
chair in front of it, and crossed to room to stand behind his desk, squirming
where he stood as though his plating itched. Longarm leaned back in his seat,
curling and arm up to his lip thoughtfully.
“Eager as always, I see.”
“Of course!” Blurr babbled before he could stop himself, “of course I’m excited
to see you Sir I’ve been thinking about you all day I really mean that I mean
wow I just. Hello.”
Longarm uncrossed his legs, setting them down with solid purpose around Blurr’s
ankles.
“Sit.”
It was a command. Blurr’s mouth went dry. Without thinking, without
questioning, he dropped to his knees, backpack falling to the floor beside the
desk. Longarm leaned forward and put a hand on his helm, stroking gently around
the base of his crest.
“Very good,” he murmured, and Blurr pressed up into the touch, optics wide. It
was as if he were watching himself from afar, his body seeming to move on its
own. It was done as if by instinct, the touch and posture alike feeling
inexplicably right. A small chirr stirred in his throat, almost a question
aimed at himself. Longarm laughed.
“Frag me!”
The words spilled out of him like vomit, having risen in his chest until they
could no longer be contained.
“Please Sir please frag me I really really really want to!”
Longarm’s petting stopped.
“Blurr, we talked about this, did we not?”
He could not be dissuaded, trembling with the force of his plead.
“I-I mean, I can make you feel so good, I want to, so badly, if you would just
spike me you would see-!”
Longarm cut him off with a look.
“I don’t know, Blurr, do you think you’re worthy of my spike just yet?”
The very idea sent a bolt of heat straight from Blurr’s spark to his
extremities, other worldly and lifting, making him light headed for a moment.
He managed to retain enough self-control to remain perfectly still and calm
where he sat, hands twisting in his lap.
“…no.”
“That’s right.”
Longarm pulled his seat forward, spreading his thighs wider, an intentional
tease of his denial.
“I still have yet to see proof that you are disciplined or well-motivated
enough for that kind of special treatment.”
All at once, shame, dark and poisonous, stabbed through Blurr’s core. He
slumped forwards, hugging himself to Longarm’s leg, lips pressingly firmly
against his boot.
“Oh, sir!” he cried, wrapped in guilt, “I can be better, I can do better, I
promise!”
Seeming hardly shocked by the display of desperation, Longarm sighed.
“Can you?” “I can, I can! I can be so good!”
Blurr broke off into high whines as he began kissing around Longarm’s foot
sloppily, feeling that his life depended on the acceptance he hoped to garner
from the action. His spark sank as the boot turned on him, pushing him away
unkindly.
“First you beg for my approval, then you attempt to take it for yourself? Who
told you you were permitted to take such liberties?”
Pressing his forehead into the linoleum, Blurr shook with grief.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so, I’m so, so, sorry!”
Above him, he could hear Longarm stand, but he didn’t dare move. Contents
shifted in a bag. Blurr could only hope this was a good thing.
“Because I am kind, I will give you one last chance.”
Relief hit him like a flood. Before he had the chance to launch into the usual
tirade of gratitude, Longarm continued.
“Get up, over the desk. Pants down. Present yourself.”
Scrambling to comply, Blurr fought to curb his enthusiasm. This wasn’t about
him. He needed to be good for Longarm, just like he’d promised. Wrapping
himself in a shroud of concentration, Blurr bent over the desk, panels parting.
He was so wet already, probably too much so, and the cold air of the classroom
made him shiver. Longarm hummed contemplatively behind him.
He did not expect praise, nor did he get any. The task was too simple. Still,
the long silence brought an extra tint of fear to his mind.
Something nudged the lip of his valve. It was not fingers. It was not a spike,
either, but it was definitely not fingers. Something cold, too cold, and
synthetic. Plastic, blunt and hard. He shifted his hips back ever so slightly,
hoping to open himself better to Longarm’s desires.
“Do you know what this is, Blurr?”
A hand settled heavily on his back, holding him in place. Face buried in the
sleeves of his hoodie, Blurr shook his head.
“No sir.”
The object kept pushing, spreading between the folds of his valve to press
insistently against the opening. It was larger than anything Longarm had
deigned to put in him before, but not so large as to be excessively painful.
More than a few fingers, certainly. The lack of preparation should have made it
more difficult than it was; his spread calipers and slick nodes a clear sign of
how whorishly devoted he was to pleasing Longarm. It earned him a small
chuckle.
“It is clear that you don’t care regardless.”
 “I-if it’s what you want, sir, how I feel doesn’t m-matter.”
He was amazed at how easily the words came to him. Longarm made a soft noise.
“You do not think I am so cruel as to completely disregard your feelings, do
you?”
Gasping as the object began, finally, to tip inside him, Blurr again shook his
head.
“No at all, sir! No, no, that isn’t what I, ah, no sir you are so good to me
and so kind and perfect I didn’t mean that that way at all, ahh…”
It slid inside him in one long push. Blurr’ thighs strained, pushing up until
he balanced on the tips of his toe pieces, hands clamping over his mouth to
muffle a wail. Pleased by his reaction, Longarm pet his back soothingly.
“You do carry such light sports equipment these days.”
All at once it came to him, a flash of terror and back breakingly potent
pleasure blending into one as he realized the object Longarm had so carefully
slid inside him was his own water bottle; thinner, lighter variant from the
usual brand (thankfully) fitting just perfectly within his valve. Even now he
recognized the cold slosh of the liquid inside moving, shifting the weight
inside him until he rippled, smooth enough to keep from damaging him, but he
would never have thought, never have considered using it in such a way.
“Oh, Sir!”
He knew he should be horrified by the wanton lilt of his voice, but he could
feel nothing but rapture in the revelation. This degradation of himself and his
personal properties, the proof that he and all he owned were merely tools for
Longarm’s pleasure, gave him nothing but ecstasy, and his mouth fell open in a
deep moan.
Pushing the bottle in extra hard for good measure, Longarm purred happily.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Blurr tried his best not to squirm, the small measure of praise reflecting
indefinitely in his mind. All was not lost. He could do this.
Pulling away, Longarm again shifted around behind him. It was easier to ignore
now that he had something to distract him, the water bottle warming slowly
inside his valve filling the bill nicely. Still, he worried, and wondered,
burning slowly as the time passed. His fretting over his state of continued
usefulness to Longarm was still a heavy darkness in the forefront of his
processor, and the mixture of fear and lust for further punishment tingled in
his circuits. The hand on his spine continued to soothe up and down, moving
lower and lower on his aft until it was skirting lightly around his straining
valve.
“Ah. Here we are.”
Blurr hardly had time to question the affirmative before something hard and
flat slammed down on his aft. He jumped, screeching in shock, but hardly had
time to recoil before the sharp pain slammed down again, and again. Launching
forward against the desk, he clenched down hard, not entirely meaning to, and
the water bottle shifted again inside of him, slipping out a pinch.
The blows stopped.
“Now, Blurr, that won’t do at all.”
The bottle was shoved back in sharply. Blurr bit down on his sleeve.
“Here is how this is going to work: you are going to accept your punishment
willingly and actively until I decide whether or not I should be wasting my
time with you. If you let this water bottle drop, I will leave you like this.”
Gasping harshly, Blurr straightened his thighs. It was a harsh thing to have
said, but there was a playful note in his voice too. He knew better, Blurr
reasoned. It was just a game.
“You only have one chance, Blurr. Try and do your best.”
He started nodding but was bowled forward as another smack bit roughly into his
upper thigh. This time, though, he was slightly better prepared, bracing
himself against the table’s surface as Longarm began to again build up the
intentionally punishing pace with what could only be assumed was a meter stick.
It only took five more strikes for Blurr to cry out, seven before he was
yelping and whining with each new blow, ten before he was a drooling mess.
Though not much actual damage was being done, the continuous stimulation was
overloading his receptors, too centered to dissipate properly before the next
swipe would light them up again. The growing agony was the backfire of his
nerve circuitry, unable to handle the repeated, sharp nips of pain as they
covered the same blanket surface of his behind over and over again. He would
hardly be dented after this, but the explosion of information crowding his
processor almost left him momentarily blind.
Bouncing between his heels and the tips of his toes, his hips rocked back into
the movements, welcoming each smack eagerly. Longarm had been right; it was
kind of him to offer Blurr this chance. Unprecedentedly kind. Who else would
have been so forgiving in the face of his selfishness? Blurr could not think of
a single person in his life who had shown him half the acceptance and joy as
his teacher, certainly none who would allow him to return after such a
transgression as blatant avoidance.
Something clicked together in his mind. Like the epiphany of his own inherent
belonging to Longarm, it brought a great blossom of bliss to his spark,
prompting him to push his hips back even higher, calculate his hold on the
bottle better. Pleasure, pure and molten, dripped through his chassis,
electrifying every spank and magnifying the pressure tenfold. His valve
trembled, all his willpower being devoted solely to the task of keeping the
bottle tight but not forcing it out. The relaxed state of his posture left him
particularly vulnerable, allowing the full magnitude of the damage to his
backside to make itself known, until the stress and pain nearly drove Blurr out
of his mind.
He had never felt a greater bliss.
“Spread your legs a little more,” and Blurr did without question, gasping out a
sob as another blow landed so close the sting spread up through his valve. Of
course, that was already burning, the effort of holding still, the unprepared
stretch around the bottle, thin as it was; it was too much, and he was fading
fast. Pixels crept into the corners of his vision as he tried not to lose
control, thin strands of drool escaping his parted lips.
“Ah,” Longarm breathed, looking him over as he delivered more pain than Blurr
could honestly grasp, “you look perfect like this.”
Blurr came, biting his sleeve with a mouth full of spit just in time to cover
his wail. Longarm pulled away completely, but it didn’t matter, his hips
shaking back as the water bottle sloshed around inside him, fingers scrabbling
uselessly at the desk, displacing Longarm’s plaque, unsettling his potted
cacti. He knew he was making a mess of himself, that hot lubricant was leaking
down his legs and likely staining the insides of his shorts, still tight around
his knees, but he could hardly think to care, hardly think at all.
His legs crumpled beneath him and he fell, not entirely flat on the floor but
down the desk, his face catching painfully on the metallic drawer knobs. He
braced himself against it, trying to ventilate, trying to catch his mind and
put it back where it belonged. His legs were wet, his pants were wet. He was so
filthy. His backside ached.
A panic began to build inside him, strong and fierce as he realized what he had
done. Not only had he broken away from Longarm, his teacher, but he had
overloaded before the game had ended. He had failed.
“Very good, Blurr.”
His spark stopped.
“S-sir?”
He couldn’t even bring himself to turn and look. Longarm moved behind him, and
then a hand, gentle this time, fell on his shoulder.
“You seem so troubled for someone who has succeeded in a difficult task.”
He did move then, optics meeting Longarm’s with confused sincerity. But Longarm
wasn’t the type to lie to him for his own cruel amusement, not the kind of bot
who would build Blurr up just to watch him fall, and his smile was kind.
“Blurr,” he said again, and Blurr jumped as the hand on his shoulder slid down
to cup the bottle still firmly grasped in his array, “you have passed.”
Then his fingers wrapped around the bottle, turned it once, and ripped it from
within him. Still incredibly sensitive, still tingling with pain, Blurr yelped,
hips bucking into nothing as a rush of previously blocked lubricants spilled
out to soak him anew. He was such a shameless mess.
“So I… I earned staying? With you, I mean, not, not here…”
Longarm opened a drawer in his desk above, a different one than before, looking
terrifically pleased.
“Oh, I believe you have earner a little more than that.”
He tossed Blurr a packet of wet wipes but continued to root about. It took
Blurr longer than it should have to recognize their purpose, and then he moved
far too hastily to comply, smacking his elbow against the desk and sucking air
between his teeth in shock.
“Ah, here we are.”
Blurr was only just finishing up what he could, underpants definitely ruined.
He couldn’t go home bottomless, however, and with a wince and a hiss he pulled
his wet shorts over his stinging aft.
“Stand up, back to me.”
The tone was far more conversational and Blurr, sated in every sense of the
word, stood with less desperate speed than usual. His thighs trembled
noticeably, every shift of the tight cloth against his throbbing protoform
sending another zing of angry data to his core. Longarm purred behind him,
hands coming to rest on either side of his neck.
He was holding something, and with careful movements he curled whatever it was
around Blurr’s throat. It was tight, though not uncomfortably. There was a bit
of tugging as Longarm connected the back, but then he pulled away and it fell
comfortably against Blurr’s cording. He refrained from touching it, waiting for
a sign of confirmation.
“Oh, Blurr.”
Longarm’s voice was full of emotion.
“You look wonderful.”
He allowed himself to be turned and stared into Longarm’s pale optics. He was
proud, really, genuinely proud. It made Blurr’s spark swell with desire all
over again, and whatever he had been planning on saying died on the tip of his
tongue.
Longarm held up a hand mirror, and Blurr could not stop himself then from
bringing his hands up to touch himself in wonder.
It was a collar. Made from some kind of leather, it was clearly new but not at
all stiff, a dull, dark brown worked to softness. The front had a series of
small connections ending with a single silver loop of metal that hung down
against his chest, heavy enough to feel, just above the rising curve of his
breast.
“Sir!”
Tenderness choked his throat, and he felt faint. Longarm took his face in one
hand, rubbing slow fingers along his cheek.
“I am so glad you like it, Blurr. You deserve it.”  
He wore it all the way home, limping as he was. His shorts chafed and stung his
backside but every zing of pain was a reminder of his blessing, and every klik
he found himself reaching inside the collar of his hoodie to again stroke his
throat, feel the material there. He found himself on his doorstep and could not
even remember the walk.
Collapsing face first onto his bed, he bunched his blankets up around his face
and crowed into it, kicking his legs up and down into the mattress until his
entire body bounced. He couldn’t concentrate on anything and ended up passing
out several hours later in front of the television, two films in to a marathon
of whatever fluffy sap he could find that could hold his attention without
requiring it. His dreams were wild and dark and sensual and he awoke several
times in the night, migrating from the couch to the shower and then to his bed.
All through the night the little red light on his answering machine blinked,
waiting patiently to convey its message.
***** Led by the Blind *****
Chapter Summary
     Rodimus takes Blurr out.
Chapter Notes
     I broke my oath. This chapter has very little allusions to porn at
     all. Enjoy!
“Aw, sleepyhead, did I wake you?”
Blurr rolled onto his side, groaning loudly into the phone, and Rodimus laughed
again.
“Dude, it’s, like, noon.”
“Some of us tend to enjoy the weekend for what it is instead of seeing every
opportunity as one to flaunt our infuriatingly good ability to one-up
everyone.”
“Pfft.”
It was cooler than he would have liked in the room. Blurr wondered idly as he
untangled his feet from the sheets if he had left a window open. It was
unlikely, but the air smelled of dew and wind and cut grass. He could hear
Rodimus shifting a bit through the receiver and was surprised by how easy it
was to imagine the flash of his silver teeth as he produced yet another award
winning grin.
“It’s always better to go to the matinee. There’s never any screaming kids or
teenagers there.”
“I wonder why.”
The bandages were starting to unseal from his hand and it itched terribly.
Holding the phone between his shoulder and his audio receptor, Blurr swung his
legs off the bed and strode into the bathroom with a gait that hid well his
still foggy head, scratching at his palm.
“So, you wanna go or what?”
“What do you want to see? I don’t even know what movies are out right now. It’s
been a very long time since I went to the theater.”
“I dunno,” Rodimus seemed a little nervous, “we’ll figure it out when we get
there.”
Blurr did not answer at first, not for lack of words but because when he caught
sight of himself in the mirror he was, for a moment, captivated. The hand
previously preoccupied with picking pieces of the temporary sealant away from
his mostly healed wound flew to his throat, where still the plushness of the
collar lay. With the same swiftness a bolt of heat shot down to his groin,
warming his paneling instantly, a kind of surreal daze of sensation blocking
his mind from proceeding.
Rodimus coughed a bit.
“Yeah, that sounds fine.”
Blurr took the phone in his hand again.
“But you have to give me a klik to get dressed, if you don’t mind.”
That earned him a chuckle.
“Well I suppose showing up naked wouldprobably earn us a few stares. Alright,
I’ll be over in ten.”
The line cut. Scoffing at the lack of proper goodbyes, Blurr turned his optics
to his own reflection again, fingers still tight around the loop ring at the
front of the collar.
He was in so deep.
He had to take it off before Rodimus arrived. He knew that, and yet the thought
tugged at his spark in the most childish of ways. Doctor Longarm had given this
to him. He’d earned it. It was so hard to separate the reality of his situation
with the fantasy he found himself caught up in, the slow burn that had begun to
beat behind his panels. He’d taken it off to shower already but even the chafe
marks against his throat could not make its removal feel right. Swallowing the
odd grief, Blurr stripped off his night clothes, finally, almost shamefully,
undoing the buckle at the side of his collar and placing the leather on the
counter by the sink, almost reverently.
Washing up, he tried to keep his gaze from straying back. He had only just
started hanging out with Rodimus; he was not going to make himself out to be
even more of a recluse by showing up in what was clearly more than a fashion
accessory. The day was nippy but not enough to merit heavier clothing than his
usual hoodie, and after a few quick checks to ensure he had gotten whatever
grit had settled in his seams overnight clear, he was by the door.
Of course, Rodimus was not prompt. Ten kliks came and went and Blurr found
himself tempted to ruin his appetite for whatever junk food he would be
consuming at the theater by having an actual healthy breakfast. Meandering into
the kitchen, he kept a sharp optic on the window, the sun reflecting blades of
light across the drying lawn. There were several things he could make in a
pinch but he found himself slowed by indecision. He didn’t like waiting. As
someone who was prompt, if not early, always, it was uncomfortable for him to
be stuck on someone else’s watch because there was no way of knowing if he had
time to occupy himself or not before they arrived. While he didn’t blame
Rodimus more than he could blame anyone, he found himself growing antsy,
actively keeping from touching his neck.
Slapping at his palm and then wincing at the unpleasant feeling of more of the
bandage detaching, he turned to the garbage pail by the calendar, intent of
scraping off what of the metal mesh he could, when he caught the light on the
message machine flickering a dull red.
“This is a message from the Lower Sextuplant School District Board.”
Principal Magnus’s voice was booming and dominant even through whatever grainy
recording device had been used, but there was a quieter air to it than when he
was addressing a crowd as Blurr was used to. Sure this was some sort of warning
about midterms or reminder regarding the upcoming bake sale, Blurr huffed his
vents, turning back to the window.
“I am afraid to report that there has been an unfortunate occurrence among our
student body. Our freshman Wasp of the Upper Third Batch from year six-six-
twelve-eight-nine has gone missing. As you know from prior messages, this is
not the first report of a vanished pupil we have had this quarter.”
Blurr’s attention was back on the machine. It was true, there had been an
earlier call, just the second week of school, about one of the seniors, Rubix
or Rosie or something, but she had always been considered a trouble maker and
everyone just assumed she’d dropped out. While Blurr knew firsthand how
bothersome Wasp’s attitude could be, he was one of the more studious and
pretentiously law abiding of the freshmen classes.
“He was reported missing yesterday evening when a fellow student reported him
as having been approached by a dark green van of unknown make while walking
home and then ailing to reappear from behind it. While the abduction was not
actually seen suspicion was aroused and Wasp has not returned to his home as of
seven thirty six, while I record this message. He is described as being a dull
blue-green with yellow accents, blue optics, and a jaw guard, build type 65356-
9292-346. If you have any information regarding his whereabouts-”
The bang on the door was so sudden and loud that Blurr actually screamed,
flinging his hands up and stumbling over his own feet as his flight protocols
activated without a full understanding of the situation. He could hear
Rodimus’s laugher even through the door.
“You slag sucking gear head.”
It wasn’t even an accusation, Rodimus practically crumpling in on himself as
Blurr flung the front door open.
“Th-that’s how you- fraggin’ Blurr, you sound like somebody shoved a fork up
your spike housing!”
Trudging down the steps, Blurr locked his front door with more force than
necessary, only to get the key stuck for a moment and stand there tugging at it
like an idiot. Rodimus was still laughing, that slagger. Blurr turned and
considered him.
“Did you get the phone call from school? From Ultra Magnus?”
“Ah-ah-ah!”
Rodimus, seemingly unconcerned, straightened out.
“No school talk now! This is the weekend. I know it’s a hard concept to grasp
but bear with me.”
Blurr crossed his arms, a small smile peeking from behind his dour mood.
“I’m just asking because-”
“No!”
Rodimus grasped his sleeve and shook him.
“No school!”
He pushed him down the rest of the walkway, even as Blurr attempted to chatter
on, and up to the passenger side door of his car. In the light of high noon its
finish sparkled with even more luster than before. Submitting to his fate,
Blurr ducked inside the cabin and buckled himself in, kicking a few cans out of
the way sourly. Rodimus swung in and patted him on the shoulder, grinning like
the fool he was.
“Party time.”
They nearly hit the gate on the way out.
If there was one thing that could be said for their friendship so far it was
that Blurr was the perfect person to put in Rodimus’s passenger seat. Though he
did experience some amount of worry at Rodimus’s driving skills he had no
problems at all with the speed. The window was cracked and he rolled it the
rest of the way down, sticking his head out to smell the air like a dog.
Everything smelled wet and decayed, as autumn often did, but there was enough
sun left to leave bake the leaves as they fell and crawl across the sidewalks
in visible waves. There were pens on the floor and papers in the door pocket.
Slumping back in his seat, Blurr peered through the clutter.
“you know the quality of this car’s niceness is lost a little bit once you
actually get inside and see what a mess you’ve left it to be, just saying, it
could use a bit of a vacuum I think.”
“Don’t tell me how to run my life.”
They swerved around a corner.
“So, what do you like?”
Rodimus winked at him.
“Romance? Action? Gore flick?”
Blurr made a small sound of disinterest.
“it really depends on what specifically the movie is I can’t just make a
decision based on something as vague as genre I mean there are some horror
films that are awful and some that are great I can’t just say oh I like horror
because that makes it sound like I enjoy everything the concept envelops and I
don’t.”
“Primus.”
Rodimus snickered again.
“How often do you wear your vocalizer out?”
A little peeved, Blurr tugged at his hoodie.
“I was made this way thank you very much.”
With a little cursory sniff in Rodimus’s direction, he squinted his optics.
“How often do you get punched in the teeth for laughing at everything?”
They blazed into the cinema parking lot, Rodimus just about beaning a parked
vehicle as he leaned over to bop Blurr on the shoulder.
“Aft.”
As predicted there was next to no one at the theater. Rodimus parked, badly,
and they jogged up the steps pushing verbally and physically at one another
until they reached the ticket counter. It was shortly after Blurr had overcome
his doubts about how much contact Rodimus was comfortable with that he realized
they had never even picked a film.
“What do you have showing at,” Rodimus paused a klik, beeping twice as he
checked his internal chronometer, “twelve forty five? Or around then.”
“Rodimus!” Blurr hissed, but the cashier was already pulling up a list.
“Mm,” Rodimus considered, glancing at Blurr through humor slitted optics, “two
for this.”
He pointed. Blurr stuttered.
“D-don’t buy me things without even telling me what they are or checking to see
if I have money because I do I don’t expect you to get me everything what is
this what are you planning what the hell!”
Rodimus grabbed the tickets from the startled looking cashier and tugged him
inside the lobby before he could complain more.
“You want popcorn? I do. I’m getting popcorn.”
As frustratingly confused as this entire event was Blurr couldn’t help but
smile. Rodimus was trying hard, too hard, but he was trying. It was hard to
watch another person’s excitement without sharing in it. He could pay Rodimus
back later anyways.
“Soda?”
“Everyone going to the theater gets a soda. Of course I would like one.” Blurr
bit his lip. “Please.”
It was weird. It was one big mess of weird and Blurr was honestly happy to be
tangled up in it. Rodimus made him cover his optics when they approached the
theater so he wouldn’t see the film name on the marker. The inside was
completely empty so they took their time choosing seats, Rodimus making him go
all the way up to the screen and stand on the stage front, looking back into
the darkened camera room. It was the first time he’s ever been at this end of a
theater and he had to admit it was a little mind blowing despite the seemingly
bland difference between staring in one direction of a room to staring at the
other.
It wasn’t until the local commercials for house painting and truck dealerships
switched off to the actual pre show ads that Blurr began to get an idea of what
he was in for.
“Rated R for sexuality and mild violence.”
Rodimus was throwing pieces of popcorn in the air and catching them about half
the time.
“Is this a romantic comedy? Did you take me to a date film?”
“Maybe.”
The next preview began with a close up of two bots kissing. Blurr stole a large
handful of popcorn and said, “You fragging jerk.”
Rodimus blew him a kiss.
“What can I say? Turntable is hot.”
“Turntable is in this? Like starring in this film?”
Blurr sat back in his chair.
“I guess that’ll do then.”
Even with his predisposition for the romances of another Blurr was not
incapable of appreciating the beauty of a famous frame. The previews took
longer than he would have liked but when the film started it started off well.
Turntable liked his intimate scenes. Rodimus elbowed him stupidly. It was a
good film, all things considered. As the first thirty kliks rolled by he was
able to relax more, the tapping of his toes the only restless movement in his
frame. Being as vapid as it was, the film allowed room for his mind to wander
as he took in the thin plot, the actor’s strife and passion a mellow background
to his thoughts.
Rodimus was a good friend. Yes, so far all they had done was drive around and
kick at each other like hatchlings, but he was so at ease with it. Blurr knew
he tended to be high strung and this was a revelation, to be as comfortable
around someone as this with little to no reason for it. Even if on occasion
they rubbed one another the wrong way it never seemed to interrupt whatever
good thing they had going. He didn’t want them to. This was a nice break from
whatever he had been doing beforehand. Lusting after his teacher alone in the
back of the classroom.
The thought made him tug at the strings of his hoodie inadvertently, looking
for a little metal ring that wasn’t there. It had only been one night. Stupid.
On the screen Turntable was begging his love not to leave despite him having
discovered the undercurrent of deception in their relationship. He was staring
just to the left of the camera, optics dulling to a painful shade of pastels,
teeth sharp and clean. Blurr drummed his fingers against his bare thigh,
suddenly uncomfortable. Rodimus was staring up at the screen, face a genuine
mask of concentration, but Blurr felt a little lost. He had never been very
good at sitting through anything, energy rolling inside his stomach, but there
was a different edge to his nerves this time. Plucking at the seams of his
shorts, Blurr tried to focus on the flick. It was not easy.
“You okay?”
Rodimus’s voice was loud in the dark and Blurr immediately looked through the
empty theater as if expecting reprimand.
“Uh,” he forced a smile, “yeah, sorry. I have a lot of, you know; nervous
energy and I tap sometimes. I’ll try to stop.”
Tilting his helm, Rodimus gauged him a bit. It was interesting how quickly his
focus could switch between two things and still remain laser fine. Blurr had to
admit he admired it.
“No you’re not. I mean yeah but it’s not just that, is it.”
Blurr kicked the chair in front of him a bit.
“I know you didn’t want to talk about school but that call from Principal
Magnus was really weird.”
He shoved his hands into his pocket and bunched the soft fabric of his jacket
between his fingers.
“I mean I was just talking to Wasp yesterday, like, a cycle before he went
missing. I’ve never really known that to happen to someone before, someone I
knew. Do you think he was really kidnapped?”
The word felt frightening on his tongue. Rodimus seemed to harden in his seat.
“Well, Mags said they don’t know. His friend was walking home with him and when
they crossed the street he kind of vanished after a van passed. It was, like,
really fast. Wasp is a weird kid. No one really knows.”
It was clearly not a satisfying answer and Blurr lowered his gaze, almost angry
at himself for ruining the mood. There was more kissing on the big screen. The
silence held for a little while between them, not exactly awkward but certainly
heavy. Rodimus leaned over a bit.
“I’m not gonna say something about how he’ll be fine or whatever because I have
no idea, but you can’t just dwell on that slag, you know?”
At that Blurr sighed, nodding. It was true. There was nothing his worry would
do for Wasp or for himself. Uncurling, he leaned back against the seat, looking
at Rodimus through slanted optics.
“It’s just weird I guess. You hear about that kind of thing happening in big
cities like Iacon and Kaon and you don’t really think anything of it because,
you know, those are different places far away where crime happens all the time
and you don’t know anyone there personally and even if you do you don’t think
it’s going to happen to them. But sometimes it does. You don’t expect it to but
it does.”
Rodimus looked back at the screen.
“Yeah.”
He was struggling for something else to say but Blurr didn’t hold it against
him. It wasn’t the kind of thing words could fix. As it was neither of them had
been personally wronged. Biting his lip, Blurr could think of nothing to say to
abate the rift in their mood he’d caused.
Rodimus grabbed his arm.
“Hey.”
His optics were deep. Surrounded by the atmosphere he had created, Blurr
watched him, lips parting. Leaning in, Rodimus breathed heavily.
“You want the rest of the popcorn? I think I ate too much.”
Blurr gaped. Rodimus poked his nose.
“Settle down, dude.”
Words of wisdom if he’d ever heard them. Picking up the half full bag of
popcorn (he’d told Rodimus a large was too much) he set about demolishing the
rest. Rodimus was easing back into his seat, optics on the film, though Blurr
didn’t doubt his peripheral vision was set at maximum capacity. Behind a
mouthful of salt and butter he breathed more easily, shoulders sagging. On the
screen, Turntable lifted his chosen beau and kissed them fully on the facemask
as the music swelled.
On the ride home the tension had lifted. Rodimus played the radio loudly and
sung along, voice cracking and flat and priding in it. Blurr shoved at him to
stop until he pushed a little too hard and the car swerved dangerously in the
road, making them both scream a little louder than their egos cared for. Light
and breezy, Blurr let his arm hang out the window and catch the wind, watching
the distant clouds of vapor and gas twist purple signs in the sky.
“Where do you wanna go now?”
Rodimus drummed his fingers on the wheel as he slowed to a stop at the next
light. There was almost no one on the roads, the day in high noon when the suns
shined the hottest. Shrugging, Blurr kicked his feet into the dusty carpet.
“Where do you spend time normally with friends? Or by yourself I guess, I don’t
think the situation really matters much if you enjoy your time spent doing
whatever it is you do.”
Humming, Rodimus looked out the window.
“I dunno. Stuff. What do you do? You’re like, by yourself all the time.”
In a moment of quiet dumbness Blurr could not remember what it was he occupied
his time with. Study, running, watching TV. They were all viable options but
seemed terribly mundane at the moment, the kind of dull living you didn’t want
to admit to when faced with plans for adventure from someone as openly active
as Rodimus. Blurr bristled a bit, staring at his hands. The only thing out of
the ordinary he had been doing, for the past week at least, was jerking off and
getting fingered by his teacher before passing out at home like a limp noodle.
Cowed by the thought, he was suddenly embarrassed all over again, picking at
the lint on his hoodie.
“I don’t really do anything special or out of the ordinary or whatever. Just
hang around mostly. Mostly.”
He laughed a bit, mentally slapping himself for how unhinged he sounded. He as
cut from his internal degradation when Rodimus suddenly jerked the wheel left,
probably against traffic law, and turned down a side street. Jumping, Blurr
grasped the door handle.
“What – why – where are we going?”
Rodimus gave him a look, optics bright.
“You’ll see.”
They were heading into the downtown area, and Blurr could not for the life of
him think of what the hell Rodimus had on his mind. There was little down here
for people of their age; most of the storefronts boasted cheap insurance and
lawyers for accident trials. Rodimus was humming, pointedly not looking at him
as he failed to stifle the humored look on his lips. Blurr was half temped to
push the question but the idea of a surprise, though normally unpleasant to
him, meant something else hen presented by a friend. Continuing to scrutinize
their surroundings in hope of a clue, he held his tongue.
The pulled up into the parking lot of a little strip mall near the edge of the
downtown shopping district. Blurr had never been there personally but
remembered having been driven past it before. There was a shelled out kiosk in
the middle of the lot that had once been a drive through for homemade burritos.
It was empty now but he remembered the manikin it had advertised with before,
and how it’s mechanical arms had twirled a cheap sign. He had always found it
immensely off-putting. Now there was nothing, but the memory made his optics
flicker a lighter shade.
“Come on, come on.”
Rodimus unlocked the doors and swung out onto the tarmac, tapping on the
windshield to break Blurr from his reverie. Following him, Blurr turned away
from the empty kiosk and looked up at the brightly painted door sign before
them.
“An arcade?”
He flushed his bio lights.
“I would be more surprised but after having known you for even a cycle I
probably couldn’t say I was with true honesty. How often do you come here and
with who else? It looks dead. I mean I see the open sign but I’m surprised
something like this is even still in business since the teen appeal stores
moved in town six years ago and none of us were able to travel out here by
ourselves even back then, though I’m not saying we are the first generation of
offspring in like sixty years or something.”
Rodimus rushed past him and held the door open, the scent of hot dogs and glass
cleaner wafting out of the dark hall and into the sun baked cement.
“I come here by myself, mostly. It’s kind of nice because it’s so, you know,
out there.”
There was a distinct sense of intimacy to the sentence and Blurr had the sudden
realization that he was being given a leg of trust that probably no one else in
their school had been given. The burden was oddly nice to carry. Allowing the
darkness to envelope him, Blurr stepped into the neon atmosphere.
“You’re gonna like this, I swear,” said Rodimus, and he tugged on Blurr’s
sleeve again, fingers lightly brushing the back of his hand.
“Maybe I will,” Blurr tugged back, optics narrow and playful, “but I certainly
hope you enjoy getting made to mop the floor. I’m a fast learner.”
“Made to mop the floor? If you mangle me as well as you did that insult we’ll
be in business.”
Wrapping his fingers around the greasy handle of a joystick, Blurr forgot Wasp
and Longarm and the strip of leather waiting on his sink at home and allowed
himself, for the first time in months, to not overthink it.
***** Heads and Faces *****
Chapter Summary
     Blurr gets continually loopier and Longarm is no help at all.
Chapter Notes
     Merry Xmas or other holidays to all you lovely people out there! Stay
     strong and stay warm.
Monday. When Blurr stepped into the school it was as if he had entered a dream.
It wasn’t that everything seemed surreal, because Blurr had had enough of that
in the past week to get over it, but that everything was so changed from the
past few months, years even, that it was hard to process. He was no stranger to
the excited thirst for learning, nor the palpitations of his spark at the
thought of seeing Dr. Longarm, but now there was an extra weight behind it.
It was solidified when Rodimus jumped up behind and him wrapped an arm around
his neck, hanging off his shoulders as though he needed the support.
“Heyyyy!”
Blurr had to brace himself against his locker to take the extra weight, but he
smiled easily.
“Are you here to beg for mercy after I so thoroughly destroyed your aft at the
arcade? Because I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”
Rodimus dropped off him, putting on a deeply wounded face.
“You monster! You said no one would know about the aft-destroying bit!”
 It was easy in a way no relationship had ever been for him before. He felt
himself glide through every interaction and was almost awed at how he handled
it, at how no one asked him to repeat himself or questioned his logic and
intelligence. It didn’t seem like such a tall order to fill, in retrospect, but
it was still surprising how few fit the bill.
Speaking of which.
“Good morning.”
Doctor Longarm was standing outside his classroom, monitoring the halls in an
entirely normal way, but Blurr’s spark nearly stopped upon seeing him.
“Good morning, sir.”
Rodimus had been saying something, but he heard nothing of it. Longarm was
clean cut and his smile seemed so fresh. Blurr grasped the straps of his
backpack and held them tightly, worried that if he didn’t find some way to
occupy his hands he might do something stupid. His teacher waved, slowly, and
he felt his optics dim with pleasure.
“Move your aft, kid.”
Blackarachnia pushed past him so hard he nearly toppled over, ignoring
Longarm’s kind look and swaying over to take her seat and read, a few admirers
following to their own places and pretending they were there for other reasons.
Rodimus started to laugh but began to choke on his own spit.
“WH-what the frag was that!”
He waved off the admonishing sigh from Longarm ushering Blurr down the hall
again.
“I, I got distracted I guess. Monday, you know?”
That sounded so lame. Blurr shoved his hands in his pocket, fingering the
wrapper of a mint he had forgotten to thrown out. Rodimus seemed to buy it,
though, launching back into whatever he had been speaking of, but Blurr’s
attention was kay behind. His shoulder blades itched with the knowledge of what
lay between them, sloppily hidden beneath an extra shirt at the bottom of his
backpack so the tag wouldn’t jingle. Blurr swallowed thickly and smiled as
Rodimus gave an expectant laugh.
It wasn’t a particularly busy week, so he didn’t have much to worry about.
There had been some minor homework he had managed to do over the weekend even
in his dreamlike state between blabbing with Rodimus and laying on his bed
wearing Longarm’s gift. For a year in his high school experience that had begun
so slowly, everything was suddenly tumbling down in an avalanche of emotional
and physical experience.
Basically, he was screwed.
He loved it.
There wasn’t much else to be said for Monday. Rodimus talked his receptors off
but he countered with more than equal effect for half the effort, and Longarm
touched his hand when passing out a print out in class. After school he had
track and Rodimus met up with him to get unhealthy drinks and kick pebbles down
the freeway. Tuesday he did meet with his teacher after track let out but they
had hardly begun to kiss when a call on Dr. Longarm’s private cell separated
them and cut their liaison short. Longarm apologized profusely and Blurr waved
him off with bashful glances but he could not deny being furiously jealous, nor
that when he went home he jammed himself full of fingers and came all over the
bathroom floor several times.
Wednesday was different because they had an assembly about Wasp. It was
surprisingly explicit regarding the fact that he was gone, although Blurr
noticed a distinct lack of details. Ironhide, an actual witness to the crime,
was not even asked to speak. Blurr could see him, after some scanning the
crowd, looking despondent in a batch of freshmen near the front of the stands.
He tried to elbow Rodimus, who had snuck away from his class to sit with him,
but his optics were on the principal as he adjusted the mic stand and spoke
about safety and responsibility and how anyone with any information should step
forward.
“You’d think they were framing this as a runaway case,” Blurr whispered during
a lull in the talk, when Magnus had asked if anyone had questions and so the
entire room had shut silent.
“They kind of are.”
Blurr gave his friend a sharp look and Rodimus shrugged again.
“It’s not that they’re denying what Ironhide saw, but they’ve asked everyone to
keep on the down low about it, even after that phone call. I’m not supposed to
know. You’re not supposed to know. I mean, officially.”
“What about Ironhide?”
“I dunno.”
He kicked the stands and made the sophomore in front of them shoot him a glare.
“Maybe they paid him off.”
It was meant as a joke but he delivered it like an admission. Blurr watched
Rodimus’s optics dim and wondered what Ultra Magnus was like in private.
It was Thursday when he finally saw Dr. Longarm in private again. It was a bit
of a stretch to go to his classroom after track, but his teacher had been
making eyes at him whenever their paths conspicuously crossed in the halls all
day and Blurr felt he should at least try for it. He was not entirely wrong. He
practically threw open the door and found his beloved teacher staring hard at
his computer, the information for some school document buzzing in the blue
light.
“Ah!”
“Hello, sir, are you free? Can I see you now? Because I’ve been missing you an
awful lot, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
Longarm turned away from his monitor.
“I am indeed free to see you, my dear.”
Overly affected by the pet name, Blurr swayed a little closer, taking his bag
off his shoulders.
“I-I-I’m so glad,” he stuttered, opening his backpack and digging through it,
“sir.I have this. I brought it every day, because, well, because I am so happy
to-to have it.”
The collar had retained its shape despite being stuffed under his sweater every
day for a week, partially because he had been wearing it at home. He held it up
between his fingers as though it were an offering, despite it being his own
gift from his teacher. Longarm beamed.
“Put it on.”
It was better than any other response he could have given. Blurr fumbled but
managed to get the thing around his neck with embarrassing swiftness, and
Longarm’s optics narrowed in a playful understanding of exactly how much
practice he had gotten with the clasp in the past week. He turned from the
desk, knees together as he patted his lap.
“You look beautiful. Come here.”
Blurr did as told, glowing with praise. Spreading his thighs shyly he straddled
Longarm’s lap, leaning in to accept a soft, loving embrace. Warmth flooded
through him, both innocent and not, and he pressed his face deep into the itchy
fabric of his blazer, sighing contentedly.
“Thank you sir,” his voice came out muffled and sloppy, “thank you!”
“Shh.”
Hands encircled his waist and held him there. Blurr realized, as he drifted in
the lovely comfort of Longarm’s scent and strength, that they had never
actually had such a tender moment before. He had dreamed of it, certainly, but
most of their past encounters had been straight to interface. Past encounters
as they were. It was hard to believe it had been such a short amount of time
since they first pressed into one another in the empty locker room. It made him
dizzy to think about.
“You’re too sweet to me, I think, too good overall, I don’t know what I did to
deserve this but I’m so happy.”
He wasn’t sure if Longarm had heard him, because there was no response.
Reluctantly, he pulled back, only to catch Longarm’s concerned expression as it
lingered on the computer screen.
“Sir? Did I say something wrong because I certainly didn’t meant to over st-
step my bounds if that’s what’s happening and if it was something else I’m
sorry I’m sure I can-”
“No, no, I’m sorry Blurr.”
His frown lessened.
“Things have just been… strained this week.”
Blurr followed his line of sight to the monitor.
“Is that Wasp’s?”
Longarm turned back to him suddenly and he realized he probably shouldn’t have
been looking, even if it was right there. The name had been fairly clear on the
top of the document; he hadn’t even thought before speaking.
“Oh, sla- I mean oh gosh I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to cut into that kind of
thing I know teacher’s files are private and not to be viewed by students I
just kind of turned and sawit!”
“Blurr.”
Longarm pulled him close, very suddenly, and kissed him on the lips. It
succeeded in stunning him silent long enough for Dr. Longarm to continue.
“Yes, it is Wasp. If I truly didn’t want you to see what I was doing, I should
have shut down the files. Don’t worry.”
Relaxing again, Blurr tentatively gestured to the screen.
“What is it, if you don’t mind my asking?”
With the mood somewhat drawn back to something more uncomfortable for them
both, Blurr sat upright, though he remained comfortably perched on Longarm’s
stocky thighs. His teacher looked a little humored, albeit darkly.
“It’s the grade for an essay his class did last week. I’m trying to decide
whether I should upload it.”
“What do you mean? Why?”
Blurr fingered the lapels on Longarm’s jacket, trying to act casual but
secretly fluttering with excitement at their easy closeness.
“Because,” Longarm sighed, “if he comes back soon, as it were, he would
probably benefit from having this input now, but if he doesn’t I’m going to
have to live with the title of the teacher who couldn’t resist uploading the
fact that he got a low C on his last grading opportunity after disappearing.”
He chuckled at that, and Blurr laughed a little, but it was a hollow sound.
Something about his use of the word ‘disappearing’ made him incredibly
uncomfortable. He didn’t want to think about Wasp or what had happened,may have
happened, when he was with Longarm. It seemed almost odd remembering that, as a
teacher, Longarm had connections with all these students around him, though not
quite in the same way.
Despite himself he had to ask.
“Do you think he’s coming back? I mean, do you know anything about what
happened?”
Longarm’s smile turned soft.
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
He pet Blurr softly, pulling their chests together again. Blurr leaned into it
wholeheartedly, letting his optics shutter. They sat together a klik still,
silent but for the wind and the birds outside and the occasional bark of a car
horn in the distance. Blurr let his spark beat try to seek out Longarm’s,
hoping they could beat in synch, feeling selfishly hopeful that they could turn
to something more pleasant. He still jumped in surprise when Longarm’s fingers,
that had been so gently stroking up and down his spine, suddenly dipped lower
to pick at his waistband.
The shift was dramatic, and Blurr loved it. Suddenly he was clinging to
Longarm’s jacket, arching his back down so his hips could push into the
contact. Longarm was in his underwear already, pressing hot circles over his
interface cover. It was just like that night in the car, unexpected and
unbelievably arousing. He didn’t want to run home in soggy underwear again,
and, for once, had the peace of mind to reach down and pull at his shorts
insistently until Longarm got the message, pulling back just enough to help him
out of his pants. Then they were working on his hoodie and shirt, which got
stuck against his antenna and made them both gasp husky laughs, and then he was
sitting, fully nude but for the collar around his neck on his teacher’s lap in
the literature classroom.
Curling a finger through the ring at his throat, Blurr parted his panels,
feeling his valve plump in the open air.
“I didn’t tell you to do that.”
Blurr leaned back so far in the chair he almost feared he’d fall off, clenching
his legs tight as he exposed himself.
“I’ve been aching for you.”
The words sounded a bit too romantic and for a moment, as with every moment
around the bot he was helm over stabilizing servos for, he doubted himself.
“Blurr, my dear,” Longarm too his finger from the loop and substituted it with
his own, “you are so very good at turning me on.”
He swooned.
“Oh sir, oh Doctor Longarm sir, that is just – you are just too good to me, I,
I, I l-like you so much, I really do, you’re so good and perfect and-!”
Pressing in tight, he canted his hips back and squealed into the thick fabric
as Longarm once again prodded at his valve lips, pushing one finger in while
two more held him spread. It was just one, but his servos were about as thick
as two of Blurr’s own and he squirmed and wriggled it enough to make Blurr
quake, desperate.
“Tell me how it feels,” Longarm whispered in his receptor, adding another
finger.
“W-what?” Blurr could hardly think for a moment, trying to keep himself from
drooling on his teacher’s lapel.
“Tell me exactly what you’re feeling. Right now.”
Blurr’s spark bloomed into another whirling storm of arousal and mortification.
“Well,” he swallowed thickly, then swallowed again to drown the last one, “I’m
hot, really, really hot, I mean inside, and, uhm.”
He fidgeted, keeping his face hidden against Longarm’s chest as the fingers
began to slowly swirl, almost but not quite thrusting.
“I-I’m happy.”
Longarm shifted his head to nuzzle at Blurr’s cheek, not stopping the work of
his fingers. Blurr moaned a little, smiling into his shirt as he was kissed on
the cheek and forehead.
“I’m happy that you are,” he said, a sultry murmur, “but I want more than just
emotions, my dear. I want you to describe, in bold detail, every little filthy
thing I do to you.”
Blurr’s breath hitched as each word was punctuated by a little jump inside him,
and Longarm laughed a bit.
“I’ve read your essays. I know you’re no poet, but I think you have the smarts
and creativity to work something out.”
Shivering, Blurr reassessed the moment. He knew exactly what was meant but it
was hard to consider when all he really wanted to do was bury himself inside
Longarm’s embrace and cum and cum again. At the same time he wanted to please
Longarm more than anything, and he knew his need for speed was part of his
glitch and his desire to interface so soon was his teenage mind on the fritz.
He wondered if Longarm faulted him for that, for acting juvenile. Doing his
best not to stutter, he began.
“I’m hot inside, like I said, but it’s very acutely focuses in-in my valve, and
it feels tight and it’s getting tighter like I’m squeezing down all through my
stomach, and I can feel your fingers inside me and they’re so, so much bigger
than mine are and they feel really, really good, and I’m getting so wet, and
open, because I really want you, I’m so happy to be like this with you, and my
spark is so big and moving so fast right now it’s making me light headed, but I
don’t want it to stop, I want you to keep touching me like this and ooh, that
way you twist your fingers sometimes is just the best, a-and, oh!”
Longarm, apparently appreciating his poorly performed tirade, pulled him in for
a kiss while finally giving in to temptation and beginning to really push his
hand hard. Blurr clutched at him for dear life and he used this stability to
his advantage, releasing Blurr’s back and moving down between them to massage
his exterior node. Blurr keened into his mouth, rolling his hips back shyly,
then, seeing his approval, with vigor. At this point he was really lubricating,
little drips and hot drops skating down his inner thighs and splashing out
every time Longarm’s fingers dove back in. had he been in a clearer mindset he
might have been concerned for Longarm’s nice pants, or the way they were making
the chair squeak against the linoleum in a very clearly erotic manner, but he
was barely able to process the words to speak much less be upset and Longarm
was already taking care of that issue by shoving his tongue down his throat.
He was hyper aware of how naked he was against his teacher’s full suit. His
plating felt smooth and cold as the fabric tickled his chest and stomach. He
pushed his nose against Longarm’s cheek and kissed along his mouthpiece,
reveling in how exposed he was, alone. The collar around his neck held its
weight like a constant kiss.
“Longarm,” he breathed, “oh, sir…”
Bucking back, he bit into Longarm’s collar without thinking, muffling his own
cry as he came. It was a rough overload, coming on and off as he squeezed his
legs tight to keep from rocking to hard and falling, but Longarm pulled him
through it. Clutching them chest to chest, Blurr strained every joint in his
body to lock, rippling his calipers a few times, hard, and then collapsed.
Fuzzy and warm inside, he let Longarm cradle him for a few kliks, content to
just be naked and limp in his hold.
“Blurr,” he heard, just above his helm, “look at me, Blurr.”
Droopy eyed and adoring, Blurr gazed up his chest.
“You did well today,” said Longarm, cupping his cheek.
“You deserve this.”
He flicked the tag on the collar, making Blurr shiver with delight.
“I-I’m just so glad, sir,” he said, touching his palm to Longarm’s wrist, “it’s
all been happening so fast but it’s so amazing, like some kind of romantic
movie, and I just am so happy that I can,” he struggled for words, “please
you.”
That changed something in his teacher. It was only for a moment but Blurr, used
to watching things around him flood by, caught it, the urn of his smile
darkening, almost sadly.
“I’m glad to have you too, Blurr.”
He seemed to want to leave it at that. Slipping out of his lap at a small
nudge, Blurr stood. He felt weird for a moment, still trying to discern the
meaning of Longarm’s strange look, but forgot it again as he remembered he was
completely nude, panels still open. His first reaction was the juvenile, comic
response of trying to cover himself, but Longarm caught his hands, rubbing his
thumbs soothingly through his joints.
“I mean that, you know. That you are beautiful, and wanted.”
He urged Blurr to turn this way and that, tugging gently on his hands until
Blurr smiled and laughed again, playfully shifting his hips. He knew his
movements were stiff and imprecise, but Longarm was giving his eyes again and
he could see that deep inside them he really was watching, admiring Blurr in a
way no one ever had. That level of maturity and recognition. He had other
bodies and other lovers to compare Blurr too. Override had been wonderful, in
her time, but they were just kids in the woods having quick ruts in the bushes
when nobody was around. Longarm had prestige, in Blurr’s optics. He had real
world knowledge. He wanted Blurr for reasons other than adolescent lust and
emotional instability.
“I really, really like you sir,” he said, meeting Longarm’s gaze, “I mean that.
I think you are the best thing to ever happen to me, and I know I haven’t had
much time to have things happen but I mean that.”
“I know you do.”
Longarm kissed the back of his hand, and the corners of his chest, and his
striped stomach.
“Would you like me to drive you home?”
He had gotten Longarm’s pants messy, but luckily he had another pair. Blurr was
surprised; Longarm apparently kept a lot of extra clothing on hand ‘just in
case’ in his supply closet, including what looked like several black suits that
were nothing like his everyday wear. Longarm seemed a bit sheepish about it
when asked, and Blurr backed down, not wanting to go into matters that didn’t
yet concern him. The sun was setting when they went into the parking lot, but
all the sports teams had finished up when track had so there was little worry
of being seen. Thankful Blurr himself had remained dry, clothing-wise at least,
so he looked fairly normal, if a little more flustered than usual.
Blurr remembered the inside of the car well. It’s smell seemed to familiar, so
comforting even though it was only a pale reflection of Longarm himself. Still
clean, still comfortable, still just dusty enough to give off the same poised
but down to Cybertron look that its owner had. Slipping into the passenger
seat, Blurr almost hissed at himself in admonishment as his valve lit up again
in excitement. Surely Longarm wouldn’t notice, but it was stupid how easily his
interface protocols activated. He shouldn’t be such a mess with it, but it was
hard not to when his glitch made every overload bounce back at him five times
over at the very least. He would probably be spending all night on the floor
with his collar on now, thinking about the way Longarm was smiling at him
across the dashboard-
“y-you remember where I live, right?”
He crossed his legs in what he hoped was an inconspicuous manner. Longarm
nodded, turning the radio station to something old and tranquil. Blurr tried to
keep from watching his fingers handle the wheel, instead turning to blindly
admire the sunset. It became harder still when Longarm began to softly sing
long to one of the songs.
“Your voice is lovely,” he said, partially to ease the tension between his
legs. Longarm didn’t fully respond, giving him a cheerful look as he continued
to rumble away. Something deep came out in his voice when he sang, though it
was quiet, as though a second voice were joining his normal one. It was
mesmerizing. Blurr could not turn away this time, watching the way his lips
formed words and the glow of his forehead’s glass in the low light.
It was lucky he didn’t turn back, though, because it was beyond the rise of his
teacher’s helm that he saw the cherry paint of Rodimus’s car wink in the dying
sun.
“Oh slag!”
He ducked down too fast and the seat belt rode up into his throat, making him
gag. Longarm was just as startled, swerving the car a bit before slowing to a
halt.
“What’s wrong?”
He turned down to try and tug at Blurr’s shoulder as he rearranged himself,
huddling as low under the dash as he could without undoing the safety belt.
“It-it’s Rodimus, sir! From school! He’ll recognize me!”
“I see.”
Longarm was very good at acting natural, suddenly, pulling back up and taking
the wheel again. Still, they weren’t moving, and Blurr could hear the squeal of
what he knew much be Rodimus’s brakes.
“Why aren’t we moving?”
“I’m at a red light,” Longarm said, very calmly. Blurr couldn’t even see his
lips twitch.
“Is he beside us?”
“Yes.”
“Frag,” said Blurr again, then covered his mouth with both hands as he
remembered who he was with.
“Sorry sir, it’s just, d-dang it, he’d recognize me for sure. I should have
remembered he has late archery today, Primus damn this stupid hard drive!”
As he was speaking Longarm turned and smiled out the window, waving a bit.
Blurr was aghast.
“What are you doing!”
“He saw me,” Longarm said, again hardly moving his face, “I think it would be
worse for my image were I to avoid him.”
“Can he see me?”
“I doubt it, but he might hear you if you keep carrying on like that.”
Blurr’s hands squeezed on his face tighter, as of trying to trap the budding
words behind the damn of his fingers. Longarm held the wheel casually, but his
optics were steadfast on the road in front of him. Through the windows, Blurr
could just barely hear the hum of Rodimus’s hot rod’s engine over the crooning
radio.
Then the car slowly pulled forward and Longarm turned, the shadow of a building
falling over Blurr’s hiding place.
“He’s past us.”
Longarm had a chuckle in his voice, and Blurr’s relieved sigh held a hint of
contentedness as he straightened his back, checking around them to be certain.
“That was close, I mean not to overstate the moment but that was really close!”
It was getting dark now, the sun fully behind the horizon and only leaving the
last echoes of its light behind. Longarm switched on the turn signal, checking
his sides at a stop sign.
“You and Rodimus are close?”
“yes,” said Blurr, then backtracked, “well, kind of, I mean we are friends, I
would certainly say yes to that, but we’ve only reallybeen friends since last
week even though we’ve know each other since freshman year and known ofeach
other since a little before then.”
 “So, not close yet?”
“A little. I’d like to be. I don’t have a lot of friends here, not to complain,
but it is nice to have someone around you can trust.”
“You don’t trust him… too deeply, I hope.”
Longarm had his optics on the road, but Blurr could see the grimness in them.
"Oh, no, sir, no!”
He leaned across the console, putting a hand bravely on Longarm’s leg as he
spoke.
“I would never tell him something so private and personal and dangerous! You
could lose your job! I would- I would never do that to you! This is between us,
I know that, sir, not between myself and whomever else I might like spending
time with.”
They pulled up at another stop sign, some deserted intersection. Longarm turned
to him.
“Good.”
His hand was behind Blurr’s helm and pulling him into a kiss so quickly he was
almost unprepared for it. His lips parted and met Longarm’s with warm welcome,
a moan bubbling from his vocalizer before he was even touched. It was only a
dash of tongue, almost chaste, but when they parted Blurr found himself
fluttering and dizzy again. Remembering Longarm’s request to him earlier, when
they were interfacing behind his desk, Blurr squeezed his thigh and said, “You
make me feel like my guts are going molten and my spark is going to fly right
out of my chest.”
“That’s rather morbid.”
Longarm accelerated. They were almost there.
“I meant it in a good way, the best possible way,” Blurr pulled back into his
own seat, “but like you said earlier, I’m not exactly a poet.”
“Oh, Blurr, I knew what you meant, and I feel a strong affection for you too.”
They pulled over at the side of the road, where there were still fields before
the gated communities began, and shut off the headlights. A little over two
miles up towered the taller apartments they had parked between that first
night. Blurr could see the lights of the gatehouse in front of his block, but
where they were was in complete shadow.
“I hope you don’t mind walking, but I feel it would be safer for us both if you
were not seen in my car for a second time.”
“I under- yeah, I mean, I don’t mind walking, I understand.”
He hesitated.
“Is there some other way we can communicate? Maybe somewhere else we can meet?
I mean, I know that’s dangerous and all but I really want to talk to you
sometimes when I can’t go back to school or you aren’t at school. I understand
if this sounds presumptuous and you can say no I don’t mind or anything I just,
um, I’d like it.”
Longarm seemed to consider.
“It would be very dangerous for me to share computer information with you,
Blurr. The school keeps a good track of that.”
“I know. That’s alright; it was stupid of me to ask.”
He toed at his backpack a bit, trying to tell himself he wasn’t too put out.
“I do have a private cell, however. Not linked to my private communication
lines or my house phone. The school has no control over that.”
Blurr’s head snapped up so quickly the servos in his neck screeched.
“Do you mean I can use that number to contact you?”
“Indeed.”
Blurr threw off his seat belt and leapt across the gear shaft to hug Longarm.
“Oh thank you sir thank you sirthankyouthankyou I’m really excited about this I
mean I won’t be texting or calling you all the time - do you even have a
texting package? – but I’m just so happy you trusted me with this I promise
I’ll-!”
“Blurr, please!” said Longarm, “Allow me to at least give you the number
first.”
Reaching into an inside pocket of his blazer, Longarm recovered a small
handheld device of unknown make. Blurr could not tell if the phone was very old
or very new.
“Give me your number. That way I can begin our contact at a time that is good
for me.”
“O-of course.”
Blurr stumbled over the digits of his own number, a little too giddy to think
straight, and then Longarm kissed him again before sending him off into the
night.
***** Short On Sympathy *****
Chapter Summary
     Blurr realizes he's way too obvious about this crush thing and
     Rodimus has a hard time with everything.
Chapter Notes
     Enjoy!
“I fragging hate midterms.”
Rodimus sprawled across Blurr’s comforter, pouting at the wall. On the floor at
the foot, Blurr hummed noncommittally, focusing more on finishing the math
busywork they’d been given for ‘test prep’, though even the teacher knew it was
a lie. Thankfully math was not a subject Blurr was either here nor there on and
he was finishing the worksheet with relative ease.
“Seriously? Agree with me, dammit, I’m trying to complain here.”
“I agree,” said Blurr, laughing and darting away when Rodimus swatted at him.
“No, but seriously, I do agree, kind of, I just don’t think they’re such a big
deal. I’ve always liked test weeks, to be honest, they give you snacks and
there’s no homework and if you finish early you can just sit around.”
“Well not everyone over here is mister speed-out-my-aft.”
Blurr snorted, putting down the worksheet and crawling up to lay beside his
friend.
“Doing things fast doesn’t mean they’re done well. I mean I think about them
and all that, I do my best, but it’s not like I’m a genius.”
Puffing air between his lips as though he were smoking a great pipe, Rodimus
dropped his own pencil to the floor, watching it roll lamely.
“You get straight A’s.”
“So do you.”
Without the scratch of pencils, the silence between words sounded indefinitely
loud. At the same time it was a comfortable silence, even if the tone of
Rodimus’s voice was starting to deepen. Blurr picked at his comforter.
“You know,” said Rodimus, lying on his shoulder to look at Blurr squarely, “I
used to like school. Like, learning and stuff is always cool, but I really used
to like school itself.”
“There’s growing up for you.”
Rodimus rolled again and ended up half on top of Blurr, slinging his arms
around his neck in a gentle choke hold.
“Don’t give me that wise scrap.”
“I’m serious!”
Blurr only wriggled a little to get more comfortable, enjoying the weight
against his back. He wasn’t one to initiate touch but the casual contact
Rodimus seemed to engage in without thinking was warm and sweet, in a weird
way. He liked knowing he was privy to it.
“You get older and everything becomes a pressure for college and jobs and
grades start to mean something and it all starts feeling like a slog instead of
a jog. I’m not just using my ‘quick intellect’ to harsh your mellow, idiot.”
He meant it with the most tender of affections. Rodimus tried to noogie him and
he head-butted back into his shoulder, hurting them both. He tried to get out
from underneath but Rodimus bit him, right on the crest. It was a surprisingly
dirty move and Blurr made a loud sound, both injured and appalled.
“Get off!”
“Mnng.”
The new angle did force his opponent up slightly, and Blurr elbowed him in the
gut. Rodimus spluttered, spitting out his mouthful, and slid away, clutching
his winded stomach.
“Y-you bastard!”
Rubbing his helm, Blurr smiled smugly.
“Please.”
“Please yourself.”
He pushed off, returning to where his homework was weighing heavily on his
peripheral vision. There were three problems he hadn’t been able to do his
first pass around that he would like to at least try and finish. Rodimus
calmed, but two solutions later Blurr did not hear the sound of him following
suit. He stayed diplomatically focused on his paper, but things were never
passed off easily by Rod.
“I guess it is just stress, growing up and scrap, but it feels pretty stupid to
learn to hate something you used to enjoy.”
He had his arms crossed under his chin, and his sleeve muffled his voice
slightly, but Blurr heard every word of it.
“I just wish Mags wasn’t such a hard aft.”
Blurr watched his optics fixate on the carpet. Setting down his homework one
problem away from completion, he turned back to the bed.
“What do you mean? That sounds like something.”
He wasn’t sure if he was allowed by friend law to pry that far, but Rodimus
seemed unfazed, shrugging.
“I dunno, he just makes it seem like what I do now is going to be relevant for
the rest of my life and that if I don’t give every single klik my all I’m going
to fail at saving the universe or whatever.”
Not having any frame of personal reference for this, Blurr found himself
struggling to form a coherently sympathetic response.
“If he has expectations beyond what you can do, that’s his problem, isn’t it? I
mean, you’re not the one being let down or something if you don’t put one
hundred percent into everything.”
“Yeah, but,” he rolled on his back and waved his hands around, “I don’t like
disappointing him! He pisses me off so much but I still get all stupid and sad
when he doesn’t get perfect wonder child Rodimus!”
It was hard not to laugh at that, and after a moment even Rodimus cracked open
a clean smile.
“Well,” said Blurr, “maybe he doesn’t always deserve perfect wonder child
Rodimus.”
“Mm.”
The sat in silence a while more, Rodimus staring at the ceiling and Blurr
quietly eyeing his unfinished problem and hoping it didn’t make him rude to be
thinking about it.
“Sentinel used to understand. I know Elita did too before she went all goth.
Optimus did, and Jazz, you know that kid with the headphones?” he gestured,
“Yeah, him. He’s also been in those weird honor roll meetings this year. He’s
not even a senior.”
“Honor roll meetings?”
“Yeah,” Rodimus rolled over again, smiling stupidly at him in a way that
reassured Blurr better than words could have, “stuff about career path choices
and all that rust. We have them every few months. I guess they bring in younger
students who are doing well to try and, like, invigorate them for learning or
something. They even have freshmen sometimes, like they brought in that Hot
Shot kid for some reason (I hate that guy) and Wasp was there once.”
The room seemed to darken as soon as he mentioned the last name, although Blurr
felt it was out of courtesy more than anything. They already established that
neither of them had really known or liked the kid.
“I didn’t think Wasp was actually a good student. I thought he was just one of
those elitist douches.”
“Well, he was, but he was also in for straight A’s.”
“The worst.”
“Yeah.”
Rodimus kicked his legs up as ballast and flipped into an upright position.
“Well enough of that depressing slag; take me home.”
Magnus wanted to see him today for some kind of dinner, or ‘supper’ as Rodimus
had called it, making a face that showed he knew exactly how prissy it sounded.
Apparently this was normal behavior between them but Blurr still found it
strange. Stranger still was that Rodimus had forgone his car to walk over,
explaining rather lamely that Magnus found driving everywhere ‘just for fun’ a
waste of money and time. Blur found he could hardly wrap his head around the
concept. Driving was a faster way to get from point A to point B; while speed
was indeed fun, wouldn’t everyone want to be going faster, given the chance? It
seemed like a commodity rather than a pointless expenditure.
“I’ll walk you half way.”
“You’d better.”
It was intended to be a joke but Blurr nearly winced as he remembered the exact
scenario in which Wasp had been supposedly taken. Whatever embarrassment he may
have harbored was quickly washed away when they went out into the high
sunlight. As per usual, the concept of moving about in the open air was far
more enticing than bad thoughts were. He started jogging a bit, the sloppy hang
of his weekend basketball shorts making Rodimus laugh and try to pants him, but
he ran circles around grabbing hands.
“Hey, I’m just trying to save you from a fashion fail. Sky blue on sky blue?
Really?”
“First of all I don’t even think these match my plating second of all my legs
are black anyways and thirdly you are a lazy aft who won’t even try running
after me to really deal with this supposed fashion failure so I conclude that
you aren’t really trying to save me at all. Aft.”
Shrugging, Rodimus raised his hands in defeat.
“I suppose my wicked motives are made clear by my actions!”
“You should have been a theater kid.”
The halfway point was an uninteresting intersection at the base of a small,
slow sloping hill atop which was the complex Rodimus lived in. cars hummed past
on their way to whatever weekend activity awaited them, loudly minding their
own business. Blurr finally slowed down, ceasing his circling of the sidewalk,
and Rodimus tried one last fruitless grab at him.
“Whoever let you join the track team was just looking for disaster.”
“I like to think so myself, if you don’t mind my saying so,” said Blurr with a
look that just challenged anyone to mind.
Rodimus used the distraction to tug on his pants. Blurr screamed.
Going home alone probably should have been boring, but Blurr had the wind on
his heels and a dream in his mind. Not to say he’d been champing at the bit for
Rodimus to leave, but there was a very special phone call he was hoping to
receive.
Dashing through the front door as with speed enough to trick an onlooker into
thinking he’d fazed through it, Blurr was on his bed digging around in his side
table for his collar in under three kliks. He normally kept the thing in plain
sight but with Rodimus over he obviously had to change plans. Now he felt like
a mess inside, internal workings in a knot of excitement and worry. It
shouldn’t be worried, he tried to reason, because he and Doctor Longarm had had
multiple personal connections before and he already knew their situation was a
good one, but somehow the nerves still came. He just wanted to please so badly.
He often wondered how Longarm would prefer to find him. He had waited, the
night before, completely nude for all of ten kliks before panicking and putting
on his pajamas. Then he had switched to nicer clothes, to casual, and
eventually gave up at one am and took a shower. He wasn’t exactly disappointed,
because there had been no promise he was being let down on, but a part of his
felt like every night Longarm didn’t call was another night he could be
reconsidering their whole relationship. He told himself he was being paranoid,
but he also was smart enough to know the difference between paranoia and real
fear; the difference between rational thoughts and the irrational.
Unfortunately it was all too rational to question what they had begun. Even
Blurr, as young and passionate as he was, knew that. At the same time he tried
his best not to think about it, to allow himself to be caught up in the hybrid
fairytale slash porno atmosphere he built in his fantasies.
He perched on his comforter, deciding to settle in what he hoped was an
attractive blend of his day clothes and his sleepwear, fingering the D ring of
his collar nervously. When just staring at his cell phone brought about no
results, he realized he’d need to fall back on different time killing methods.
Unfortunately it was hard to concentrate on reading or watching TV when he was
so amped up about something, even harder than usual. The clock ticked by so
sluggishly he had to keep checking his own chronometer to ensure it was in fact
correct. He made a light dinner and then took an hour to eat it, standing to
pace between mouthfuls.
Even a reciprocated crush, it seemed, was hard to deal with. Thinking about
Longarm filled him with such a deep sense of confusion and pleasure and need
that he felt he would burst, but there didn’t seem to be any real way to not
think about him. Every thought and action cyclically drove back to a single
point, making him feel mad with anxiety.
He ended up falling asleep on the floor beside his bed. At some point he awoke
in the night, an odd feeling on the back of his neck, but too tired to be assed
he crawled up onto the mattress and rolled over on his side, away from the
annoyingly bright window, and went back into recharge. Waking up and falling
back down was always an issue, because secondary recharge cycles brought out
the stranger, messier defragmentation cycles and with them the nasty dreams. He
often dreamed of Longarm, as he did on this night, but it was a muddled and
strange vison where his teacher continually fell in and out of focus, colors
blurring together in a muddy purple crawl through his circuitry. When they
intertwined it was literal, Blurr finding himself wrapped inside the seemingly
endless cocoon of Longarm’s frame, and it was warm and smothering in a way that
was both exciting and terrifying.
Blurr jerked upright, fans blasting out steam. The sun ate trails in the carpet
and illuminated the peaks of his feet beneath the sheets like sister mountains
amidst snow. It was fitting because, despite the heat between his legs, he was
freezing.
A disappointing as it was to have been figuratively stood up again, Blurr
wasn’t able to be too upset by it. They were busy enough as it was with the
self-same midterms Rodimus had been complaining about coming up. He supposed,
as he crawled into the warm stream of the shower, that it was probably a lot of
work for the teachers themselves. He was being selfish by expecting Longarm to
devote all his time to Blurr as Blurr devoted every thought to him.
The unfair part of it all was that he, being who he was, was about as done with
whatever he had to do for the weekend as done could get. Rodimus wasn’t
responding to his tentative texts and there was really nothing left to work on,
so he studied as best he could before his patience snapped. It was a rough
contrast to the wildly exciting week before and he slid through it in a kind of
bored daze, more annoyed than anything. He masturbated more times in one day
than he had in months.
The good thing was that Monday was schedule A, which meant Longarm’s class.
Even if he wasn’t able to be satisfied during the off days he could at least
see his teacher. Maybe receive those secretive looks that made him nearly wet
his seat. That and Rodimus was in his first period.
“Man, Strika is gonna crush us. She’s gonna crush us into dust.”
“Shh,” Blurr dodged another shot at his ankle.
“You take this too seriously. You’ll do fine. You always do!”
“Hey, just because I can withstand being crushed doesn’t mean I have to like
it.”
Given the schedule of the week, their midterm would be on Friday. Strika had
seen her opportunity and taken it, spending Monday and, assumedly, Wednesday to
drive the idea of never-ending failure into their sparks. Rodimus was not doing
well under the pressure.
“Just don’t worry about it, do what you always do, study like you always study
and everything will just fall into place. It’s midterms in the fall. This
hardly even affects your overall GPA.”
“Ugh. Ergh.” Rodimus shoved away his lunch as if he were sick.
“Don’t even talk about it anymore. You sound like the councilor in my
elementary school.”
“Yeesh.”
He wanted to say more but was still in the process of formulating his response
when Bumblebee slid into the seat across from him like he belonged there.
Slotting his fingers together, he set his mouth in a comically grim line and
leaned across the table. Blurr stared at him. Rodimus lifted his face out of
the fabric of his lunch bag. Nobody moved or spoke for a good klik.
“Hello there.”
Blurr reset his vocalizer, raising his brow meaningfully. Bumblebee sat back a
bit, still staring.
“We need to talk.”
“Oh, do we?”
It would have been hard not to laugh, but Blurr didn’t exactly try and stop
himself. Shaking himself a bit, Bumblebee tried to hide his budding
embarrassment. Blurr noticed Bulkhead sitting across the room trying to pretend
he wasn’t watching from behind an upside down textbook.
“No, not you, zippy, him.”
Rodimus perked.
“What can I do you for? If it’s test answers then don’t bother unless you have,
like, twenty bucks and a Kit Kat.”
“It’s not, I don’t, shut up. It’s about Principal Mags.”
Frowning, Rodimus leaned in, as if someone could hear them. Blurr rested his
chin on his elbows and watched.
“What about him?”
“You guys are like, close, right? Like he’s your sponsor or whatever?”
“Uh, ‘whatever’ is correct. Why?”
“Do they know anything more about, you know, Wasp?”
Rodimus sat up straight again, clearly disappointed.
“Look, if they knew anything more than what we’ve all been told, I have no
idea. I’m not exactly in the circle of ‘responsible adults’ around here.”
That wasn’t true and Blurr knew it, but he also knew that he wasn’t supposed to
know it, so he remained silent, watching as Bumblebee’s face went through a
strange series of emotions.
“Really? Dammit.”
“Sorry dude.”
They were both clearly uncomfortable with the direction the talk had taken.
Bumblebee was still wearing his serious mask, for what it was worth, but his
optics were straying. Bulkhead’s book was slowly lowering into his lap as he
focused so intensely he forgot he was holding it. Blurr shifted noisily.
“Well, uhm, if you hear anything, let me know?”
It shouldn’t have come out as a question but it did. Bumblebee started to get
up and froze halfway hunched between standing and sitting.
“Yeah, sure.” Rodimus smiled weakly. “Sorry.”
“Yeah.”
Bumblebee shuffled away and Rodimus blew out a gust of air from his vents.
“Primus on a platter.”
“Don’t feel bad about it, you did the right thing.”
Blurr patted his back awkwardly, hoping that anything he was saying held some
comfort. Bulkhead was ushering his little friend away, seeming to be laying on
more comfort than was necessary as Bumblebee kept pushing on his hands. His
high voice carried only enough for its ghost to be heard across the road of
teenage conversation, but he didn’t sound too upset. Rodimus shook his head,
snorting.
“It’s cool, I know.”
He pulled his food back with a vigor just as the bell rang.
“Are you kidding me right now- slag it.”
He shoved the open bag back into his backpack and started pulling carrots out
and eating them violently as he started walking. Blurr, who had hoovered his
food within the first three kliks of lunch as always, laughed.
“Don’t hurt yourself there.”
“Har har.”
Blurr wasn’t sure how far he should push it, so he left off, following Rodimus
even though their classes weren’t exactly in the same direction. For whatever
reason, though, they ended up moving towards the AP wing without his guidance.
“Don’t you have gym?”
“What, you were gonna follow me all the way to gym class?”
Rodimus pushed his shoulder a little too hard, snickering when he stumbled.
“I wouldn’t tear you away from your precious Lit, don’t worry.”
“Precious? That’s one way to put it I suppose.”
Brushing himself off, Blurr shot a nervous glance towards the door. Longarm was
not within sight and as such probably hadn’t seen him looking like an idiot.
Probably.
“Shut up, you totally love this class. I see the way your little optics light
up every time we head to class on A schedule. I can’t imaginewhy, but don’t
even bother denying it.”
Blurr stammered. Rodimus didn’t look suspicious, just playful, but he was sure
he looked guilty as all hell so instead of speaking he shoved his friend and
laughed loudly. His real laugh, the obnoxious, high hyperventilation sound that
always made people stare. Rodimus seemed humored by it but Blurr took the
opportunity to duck into the classroom, waving uselessly behind him in hopes it
was an acceptably ‘goodbye’.
Dr. Longarm was not actually in the room at all. Taking his seat nervously,
Blurr shrugged off the stares of the kids who had heard him shrieking in the
hallway. It was his own doing after all. He felt overshadowed by an odd amount
of guilt, both about ditching Rodimus after he walked him to class and about
the weakly formed lie. The weight of the entire secret was suddenly very
apparent and he curled down over his desk in embarrassment, as if the other
students could tell.
It was nearly five kliks after the second bell that Longarm rushed into the
classroom, somehow as professional and calm as ever as he hurried to catch up
with the lost time. It was unusual for him to be late, but Blurr was so
distracted in his own wallowing that he was happier for the distraction of his
teacher’s arrival than anything else. He didn’t care to think too deeply right
now.
“I apologize for being late.”
A few people laughed. Blurr bit his lip.
“Alright, then we’ll begin.”
He wanted to see Longarm, in private. He suddenly wanted it more than he had
wanted the phone call or the spanking or to see Longarm’s spike; he wanted a
moment of pure intimate reassurance. He tried to focus on the lecture, but it
was hard. In fact, it wasn’t until the end of the day that he was really able
to find focus. Rodimus had given him a cursory goodbye and popped off already,
looking for all the world like he’d never been harried by Bumblebee during
lunch. Blurr knew that wasn’t true of course but he also knew Rodimus’s face
and if he looked fine he probably was fine. They made a quick agreement to meet
in the parking lot after their various activities and split. He was out the
door and headed towards the back of the school for track when a hand on his arm
stalled him.
“Blurr.”
“Sir!”
They swirled sideway into his classroom and shut the door in one fluid
movement, like a dance of excitement. Longarm’s chest pushed against his own,
arms framing Blurr’s shoulders and keeping him pinned. He felt light headed,
spark pushing against the curves of its chamber as the barest flicker of
Longarm’s own could be felt in his EM field.
“I know you don’t have much time, but I wanted to see you.”
Longarm moved in as he spoke, turning his helm until he was kissing Blurr’s
audio receptor with every word.
“I-I wanted to see you too, sir, I’ve really been missing you, you know.”
“I do.”
Turning Blurr’s chin with a single finger, Longarm kissed him slow and sweet on
the lips. Blurr melted into it, as he always would, wringing his hands in the
hem of his own shirt.  It was short but felt like eons, and when they parted
Blurr somehow found himself gasping for air as if he was overheating.  Looking
out from under the cusp of his helm, Blurr smiled toothily.
“Uhm.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to call you yet. I don’t mean to string you
along.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’ll be busy again tonight, but I will get to you by the end of the week.”
Be brushed his hand along Blurr’s cheek.
“I promise.”
“Okay.”
It took so little to completely dissolve Blurr’s vocabulary with him. They
kissed again, a small peck really, and Longarm pulled away completely,
straightening his tie.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear.”
Was there a normalcy to be found in this kind of relationship? Blurr had never
had this kind of love before, with anyone. A fall storm was clouding the sky
and everyone on the field gleefully raised their heads and hands, trying to
catch the first drops of winter water in the air. Somehow he was set on ease by
it. By the time Rodimus came back to the school to pick him up, it was flat out
raining. Blurr had to run around the side of the building to stay under the
eaves until he had the car unlocked, trying to stay as dry as possibly for both
his and the upholstery’s sake.
“Just throw that scrap in the back. Careful though.”
Shuffling to remove his backpack while inside the car, Blurr looked back and
perked.
“Is that your bow?”
“Yup.”
He then launched into a flurry of technical speak about what it was called and
how it was used, all of which Blurr listened to but, without reference to
understand it, somewhat glossed over. It was enough to hear his friend’s
enthusiasm. Taking his time for once, Rodimus allowed Blurr the opportunity to
put both his backpack and the duffle bag that had been occupying the passenger
seat into the back around the bow before driving.
“Sounds like you had a good day. The rain wasn’t a problem for you guys? I’d
imagine there would be some sort of protocol or rule or like adjustment you’d
have to make for shooting in the rain although honestly I guess I have no idea
but you’d think the physics wouldn’t add up.”
“Eh,” Rodimus shrugged, “we have an indoor range too so it wasn’t a big deal.
I’m surprised you guys kept going on our shitty field though.”
Blurr smiled quietly.
“Hot Shot fell on his aft like five times but I have pretty good balance
myself, probably for the same reasons I have good posture, whatever they may
be.”
They were silent a while, the radio crooning some pop song through wind induced
static. The soft plod of the windshield wipers and the scent of creosote
through the vents was almost soothing enough to lull Blurr into recharge after
a while, the energy pump from his run settling down to the post-high
drowsiness.
“I’m sorry.”
Blurr almost thought it was the radio for a moment, not unsheilding his optics.
“What?”
“For making fun of your, uh, your English class there. I know you like it. I
didn’t mean to make you sound like a nerd.”
Blurr almost laughed but when he looked up Rodimus was intent on the road,
solemn. His optics had the same dull quality as when he was lying to Bumblebee.
“I wasn’t upset by that, I do like that class. You don’t have to be sorry about
it.”
Something about the serious mood disturbed him. Rodimus sighed, shifting his
grip on the wheel. The red of an approaching stoplight glittered off a hundred
raindrops on the windshield, illuminating the interior of the car in the dull
evening glow like a disco ball.
“I dunno, you just get kinda edgy whenever I bring it up. I don’t want you to
think I’m some kind of brick headed jock douchebag.”
“Wha- no! I don’t think that at all! Why would I even be hanging out with you
if I thought that, I’m not one to sacrifice my dignity for a relationship
especially since getting to know Sentinel and his crew I mean obviously I know
you’re a good guy or else I wouldn’t be here!”
He studied Rodimus’s face closely.
“I mean that. You’re my friend.”
Rodimus sighed, breaking into a small smile as the light changed.
“That’s true. You’re not that pathetic.”
Blurr punched his arm weakly.
“Told you.”
They pulled into the round where Blurr’s house was. Shielding his bag with his
body, Blurr barreled across the gravel into his porch, nearly slipping twice.
He turned and bowed to a laughing Rodimus, waving before he disappeared into
the house. He hadn’t gotten too wet, but he dumped his backpack and immediately
began stripping off his clothes anyways, listening to the receding splash of
Rodimus’s tires as he peeled out of the lot. Was he really that obvious about
Longarm or was Rodimus just sensitive? He still hadn’t seen him rejoin his old
friends since they had started hanging out, although Mentions of Sentinel never
seemed to bother him. Rodimus seemed to be as much an enigma as he was
straightforward. Blurr supposed he could trust him to reveal his secrets in
time, but there were some things he was forced by his inquisitive mind to
ponder anyways.
OR he could ponder that kiss in the classroom earlier. Half nude in the
kitchen, Blurr leaned against the counter and blew out steam.
Oh, that kiss. Longarm was too sweet with him sometimes. Somehow it just made
him want roughness. Maybe that was the point though, to leave him craving.
Knowing he wasn’t going to receive the phone call tonight was both an annoyance
and a relief. At least he didn’t have to worry about being in his right mind
when the number came in.
The shutters to the kitchen window were down so Blurr wasted no time in pulling
his underpants own his thighs and wrapping his hand around his spike, the other
one slipping behind to tease at his valve rim, already dripping within nano-
kliks. Maybe he wouldn’t get time with his teacher today, but he was sure as
the pit going to get off. Holding off for the right moment was for romantics
and chumps, and while he couldn’t deny falling into both categories a little he
could deny those sensibilities enough to lean into the linoleum pattern by the
sink and moan as loudly as he wanted as two fingers sunk inside himself, his
thumb swiping a small swirl in the bead of transfluid growing on the head of
his spike.
It had been a long weekend of fingering himself but he still was insatiable.
Even if he’d burnt off the high running gave him in Rodimus’s car the memory of
track class, of that night a few weeks back in the locker room, made him
vibrate all over. He wanted to earn that spike, wanted to taste it, feel its
thickness between his palms. He tugged his own faster, remembering the deep tug
of Longarm’s tone when he told Blurr he didn’t deserve it yet and how it made
his insides quiver. They did now too, noticeably around his fingers, and he bit
his lip and buried his face in the counter as he jumped up on his tippy toes a
few times, trying to reach that angle that made him sing. Longarm seemed to
know it instinctively, like he knew everything else about Blurr.
Dragging his hand down to roughly palm the base of his spike, Blurr rubbed warm
circles around the housing, just barely catching the nerve clusters hidden
inside the strip between his equipment. He stuck a third finger inside himself
and gasped loudly, a bit of spittle drooling down his chin. There was no shame
when he was alone though and he ignored it completely, digging in deep and
curling against the bulging nodes along his own lining, trying to get his thumb
around in a good position to rub at his nub but having a difficult time with
it. His calipers flexed hard and he moaned like a whore.
He could earn the right to have Longarm’s spike. He could be a good boy. He
could be so good. He wanted to bring pleasure back, for all he had gotten. He
wanted to, and maybe that was why it was being withheld in the first place, to
exploit the unfairness of it all. Longarm was older; he knew how to deal with
these things. He probably didn’t go home and pant over himself like Blurr did
every day, begging his fantasies like a slut. He was an adult, and a poised on
at that. If only he could see Blurr now.
Overload sunk deep and hot in his belly, not an explosion or a surge but a warm
bath of sensation that made him stop pumping and merely hump against the
counter as his valve pulsed, spike discharging all over the wood siding. It
wasn’t until his receptors stopped ringing that he realized he was biting the
counter, little tooth shaped rings left along the linoleum.
“Oops?”
He pushed back, pins and needles shocking his legs as his systems tried to
recalibrate for the motion patterns of walking long enough for him to get to
his bedroom and face plant on the sheets.
Everything was so confusing and arousing. Primus being a teenager was hard.
***** Four Seasons In Two Days *****
Chapter Summary
     Mega Update! Blurr spends one long weekend figuring his life out.
Chapter Notes
     As an apology for the LONG wait: this chapter is double the usual
     size! Enjoy!
Blurr raised his hands high above his head and arched his back, stretching
every wire in his frame, pulling the warm noonday air into his ventilation
system. Then, as slowly as he had breathed it in, he wilted, breathing out,
back bending forward until the tips of his fingers lay in the snouts of his
running sneakers, knees locked straight. His optics opened.
Rodimus slapped his aft.
“Go!”
He shot off down the track, too focused to even care for the teasing. By the
time he had reached the first corner Rodimus was still coughing his dust at the
starting line. Skidding in the loose turf, he rounded himself perfectly and
shot down the other side of the straight. Grass kicked up at his heels and he
flew forward, ripping past Rodimus again in a matter of seconds. There was no
wind that day but the air whistling in his ears was just enough that he was
deaf to Rodimus’s loud exclamation of hot slag! As he raced past.
Three laps; that was what they had agreed on. Holding his phone over his eyes
to keep the sun out, Rodimus whooped as Blurr made his second hairpin turn,
just barely keeping within the lines of his track as he drifted on dust again,
calculated and practiced. Blurr rounded the course a third time, sweeping in
close, and stopped with a few errant steps right next to Rodimus.
“Time?”
“Uh,” and then the cloud of dust that had been following Blurr caught up in the
low breeze sending them both into a coughing fit.
“Primus!”
Blurr snickered through his teary optics, raising a hand as if to slap Rodimus
on the shoulder before hesitating and letting it drop.
“It was,” Rodimus squinted at his phone, “I forgot.”
“You forgot?”
“I forgot to press start.”
“You didn’t record it.”
Hopping on his heels as he cooled down, Blurr snorted with laughter again, and
Rodimus leaned his head in onto Blurr’s shoulder to half hide his smile.
“Well that doesn’t help!”
“I kno-I don’t know!”
Rodimus’s touch tingled a bit. Blurr found himself leaning in just a fraction.
The schoolyard was dim in the afternoon light, the sun beginning to revolve out
of site, but it was still before six. Winter was coming and it made the sun
scares. Blurr always hated that. He hated running at night, in the dark, he
hated the cold, but Rodimus was here now. He was the first to pull back,
letting Rodimus’s head fall forward for just a tick before he caught himself.
“Well,” he said, “now what?”
There was an odd thing about this point in their friendship where it didn’t
really matter what they did, which was good because in their small town there
was so little to do. Rodimus’s car made everything easier but it was still all
so routine. Yet that wasn’t a bad thing. They drove around and outside the
town, looking at the mountains in the distance and the town from afar. On
hotter days or ones where Rodimus didn’t feel like driving too much they went
into stores and wandered without aim. There was nothing particularly great in
town either but something about it worked anyways. Rodimus liked the fruit
aisle at the local supermarket. He claimed it was ‘Zen’, some kind of order and
pattern about the food, how it was the most basic of all necessities. Blurr had
heard the entire speech several times and never fully memorized any of it
because it was silly in his opinion, which he outright told him, but Rodimus
never cared whether he was being silly or not. Besides, even though it wasn’t
really allowed, Blurr enjoyed skating on the back of the cart they wheeled
around and didn’t actually use.
The most common venue of their random outings was a big supercenter of some
kind, something that wasn’t local but was still probably regional because it
was never a brand mentioned in the movies or books like the New Kaon Outlets or
Praxus Bounty, and certainly nothing from Vos such as Wings or Red Sun
Groceries.
“We don’t get name brands out here in the sticks,” said Rodimus once, pointedly
puffing out his chest to show off the Wings logo on his t-shirt. Blurr rolled
his optics so hard he was worried he’d strain a piston.
“You got that shirt, like, two years ago on a field trip to the space travel
museum and you keep whipping it out in every possibly situation like it’s some
kind of trophy but it’s just an overprices piece of cloth.”
“Chill out!” Rodimus ducked behind a rack of bargain priced jeans as Blurr
jerked towards him, not actually intending to do anything. “You know I’m just
screwing around.”
“No you aren’t,” said Blurr playfully, “you’re desperate for attention and you
will sink as low as you need to to get it!”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
They meandered towards the toiletries aisle without any real interest. Blurr
almost flinched at how powerful and sudden the wave of smells hit him, waxes
and soaps and oils.
“Nothing really, but you have to own up to it or else it looks bad.”
“Oh,” Rodimus laughed, walking backwards in front of Blurr with his arms spread
in a shrug, “so if I admit to being an exhaust port it becomes okay?”
Blurr stuck his tongue out.
“I didn’t say you were an,” he caught sight of a mech examining some paper
towels nearby and lowered his voice, “an exhaust port, don’t twist my words
like that you wingnut.”
Rodimus snorted loudly and then hopped back a step to escape a light swipe by
Blurr, inadvertently running right into a rack of loofahs. It was attached to
the end of an aisle line but still managed to make quite a crash as his aft
unsettled the metal hooks, several loofahs and other bathing sponges tumbling
down. Rodimus started but Blurr was the one who jumped like a rabbit, yelping
in embarrassed horror. The mech who had been perusing the paper towels had
disappeared from sight and there wasn’t anyone else in the immediate vicinity,
but Blurr found himself instinctually swiveling just to be sure they weren’t in
immediate danger of being caught.
“Scrap, Rodimus, be careful!”
Scolding before Rodimus had even fully recovered, Blurr rushed to his knees and
began scooping all the displaced loot into his arms, still looking over his
shoulders. Rodimus stumbled to the side a little, clearly not as bothered by it
as Blurr was.
“Dude, it’s okay. We didn’t break anything.”
He knelt down to help but Blurr had already collected everything and stood up
the moment Rodimus’s aft hit the linoleum.
“I know that I mean it would be stupid if we had broken something anyways these
are sponges you can’t exactly break a sponge I mean you can tear it apart but
that’s not something you’re liable to do with your rear end although what do I
know ANYways I don’t want them kicking us out of here for being rowdy
teenagers!”
“We are rowdy teenagers.”
Speak for yourself, butter-butt!”
Rodimus had to cover his mouth with a curled hand to keep from laughing again,
bracing a thumb on his cheek as if in thought.
“Well, uh, that sure is a name you just called me.”
“Shut up!”
Blurr slapped the items on the correct racks far too smoothly for the roughness
of his motions. Despite it being mostly unnoticeable, he began straightening a
few of the only slightly affected pieces on the display, brows knit in
consternation. He wasn’t angry, and Rodimus could tell, but he was a little
frazzled by the accident. Deciding it didn’t merit much more thought, he
shrugged off the momentary worry and patted Blurr’s shoulder as he continued to
mumble and organize, almost compulsively at this point. Blurr often
straightened things when waiting in line for food or other such checkout aisle
grabs; the candy shelves were rarely cleaner than after he had passed through
them. It was almost unfortunately cute, something that should not have meant as
much to Rodimus as it did.
It was in this moment of only somewhat pensive quiet that he noticed the
approaching figure of a classmate a few aisles down. Rodimus had the kind if
mind that held the faces of everyone he’d ever met. It took less than a few
glimpses of her purple paint to immediately know what he was seeing.
“Blurr,” he whispered, nudging him with his elbow, “Blackarachnia’s here.”
Significantly calmer now that things were in good order, Blurr glanced up at
Rodimus, then behind him, then to where he was indicating and too saw her. She
didn’t see them, too distracted by something in the paint shelves she was near.
“Yes, and?”
Neither of them knew her very well, even when she had still been going by Elita
One. He didn’t particularly care what she was doing in the supermart.
“I wonder what she’s looking for.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re such a stick in the mud!”
Blackarachnia had moved on down the lane she was in but they had both seen he
leave and Rodimus began, without a shred of hesitation, to follow. Blurr
grabbed the back of his shirt rather uselessly, following him even as he tugged
back.
“What are you doing! And who even says that anymore?”
“I’m just saying hello.” He gave Blurr a look and Blurr immediately let go, a
little embarrassed. “You’re really antisocial aren’t you.”
“I’m not against socialization,” said Blurr, begrudgingly following as they
began to much less expeditiously continue to follow after Blackarachnia, “I
just don’t see the point in going around and talking to every last person we
see who we have even a passing history with.”
“Call me curious.”
They turned into the aisle she had just passed down but Blackarachnia was not
immediately visible yet. Apparently whatever she had wanted was not here. Blurr
felt a small splash of relief that was almost immediately retracted.
“Is that really necessary?”
She sounded annoyed. For a moment Blurr’s senses were on high again, alert, but
as she wasn’t even within visual or EM range it was unlikely that her irateness
was directed at them.
“I believe so, yes.”
That made both of them stop. The answering voice was as easily recognizable as
it was surprising.
“Ve may not be as discreet now as ve once vere, but ze method is still viable.”
Blitzwing, the main art teacher. Blitzwing, the very aggressive and
unpredictable art teacher who no one had ever really tried to imagine outside
his cave of erratic paintings. Blurr turned to Rodimus with a raised brow while
the other simultaneously mouthed what the hell.
“I’m just-“and then her voice got mostly too low to hear, “…on your part.”
Surprisingly taking the lead, Blurr crept forward, placing one foot in front of
the other like a cat stalking prey. Rodimus followed with significantly less
stealth and more enthusiasm, grinning from audio receptor to receptor.
“Vell I don’t make ze orders, sveetspark, I just carry zhem out.”
Blitzwing, in the metal himself, stood behind peering up at a sale set of
cleaning wipes as if considering them deeply, Blackarachnia beside him with her
hands shoved deep in the pockets of her hoodie. Without really meaning to Blurr
catalogue the contents of the cart Blitzwing was pushing (two boxes of
lightbulbs that were lined with blue, meaning they were 80 watt, one bottle of
red wine, several chocolate bars, a magazine on engine health, and six
individually packed milk drinks), suddenly as curious as Rodimus had professed
to being before and twice as suspicious. Arguing with a teacher, in public no
less? Outside the school grounds? It was unusual behavior to say the least.
He briefly entertained the idea of asking Longarm about it.
“Whoa, they’re really into it, huh?”
Rodimus was right behind him and Blurr had to cram a palm over his mouth to
keep from screaming.
“Shh!”
But, having picked up the cleaning wipes, Blitzwing was already moving further
away from them with their peer following, whatever else they were saying lost
to whispers. Standing back by what he was only now noticing to be an entire
aisle of duct tape, Blurr let out an exhaustive ventilation.
“That was too close. And stupid. Why were we following them? Are we criminals
or something?”
Nudging him with his shoulder Rodimus shrugged again, his latest physical tick,
and said, “You’re the one who didn’t want me to just go up and say hello to her
face.”
“Well maybe that was the right decision on my part even so. I mean interrupting
a tense situation is never exactly fun now is it.”
“I guess.”
Wiping a bit of spare dust from his hands, Rodimus turned and looked down the
way to where the two mechs had disappeared to.
“Think we can leave without them noticing?”
Blurr bit his lip playfully and, without really thinking of the symmetry
between their movements, shrugged.
===============================================================================
 
Rodimus rolled the window down and stuck his hand out.
“Woo!”
“You’re going to get that taken straight off.”
“By what? A bird” Rodimus gestured to the empty streets with the same hand.
“At the speed you’re going I wouldn’t be surprised.”
The sun was almost set now and Blurr could almost taste the edge of coolness
that was preparing to fill the night. The streetlamps were flickering on one by
one, giving the end of the day a rather synthetic glow. Despite his warning to
Rodimus moments before, he himself allowed his fingers to graze the wind
outside the passenger side door as they sped along, shuttering his optics and
tapping his feet on the underside of the dashboard.
“I’ve always hated winter,” he said, out of nowhere. Rodimus made a soft noise,
smiling.
“I dunno, I have a good feeling about this one.”
Blurr didn’t see him glance across the cabin to him.
“Maybe.”
Watching the passing horizon, Blurr leaned his helm on the glass.
By the time they made it to Blurr’s neighborhood the windows were beginning to
light up like eyes in the night. Rodimus turned into the cul-de-sac swiftly and
then parked all too fast, making them both jerk in their seats. Instead of just
leaving him at the door, Rodimus hopped out, killing the engines, and walked
with Blurr up the drive. Neither of them actively acknowledged it; either he
was going to stay a while or he wasn’t. Blurr always finished his homework on
Fridays and Rodimus wouldn’t be doing it now anyways unless it were some big
project Magnus was on him about, so it didn’t really matter either way.
“Sorry it’s a mess,” said Blurr, sparing the couch a nervous glance. The
freshly clean pillows looked normal as ever, but there was always a lingering
fear that he’d overlooked something. Never noticing, as usual, Rodimus made a
b-line for the kitchen and opened the fridge.
“There’s like one misplaced towel,” he muttered, pulling out a juice carton and
shaking it, “is this still good?”
“You think I, of all the mechs you know, would keep rotten juice around?”
“Just checking!”
He plunked down on the couch, sipping liberally. Blurr stretched his arms
behind his back.
“The remote’s over there. I’m going to go change, okay?”
“Slipping into something more…comfortable?” Rodimus stretched a leg out and ran
his hands up it sensually, giving Blurr a sleazy wink. Blurr scrunched up his
face mockingly as he backed down the hall.
“Totally. Be right back.”
He left the door ajar as he changed, throwing his shorts and tank top in the
general direction of his hamper. While they were comfortable enough to wander
uninhibited by awkwardness, he still felt an odd need to entertain when Rodimus
was in his personal home, and the idea of him sitting out there alone, even as
the soft sounds of the television turning on filtered in, left him feeling
anxious. The loose shirt he slept in during the colder months was fished from
his dresser quickly and he jogged down the hall again, only stopping to appear
more leisurely as the light of the living room hit him.
“That was fast,” Rodimus said without turning. On the screen before him was
slow turning steaks in a low romantic light.
“What’s this?”
Blurr flopped down beside him, somehow managing to still look more dignified
than Rodimus had.
“Commercial.”
“What’s showing outside the commercial?”
“Dunno.”
“Is there anything else on?”
“Primus beneath us! Patience is half the game of TV, Blurr!”
And so they relaxed, browsing channels as they had browsed the aisles of the
supermarket before. There was nothing much on, despite it being a Saturday
night, and they just lay together and watched commercials about things they
weren’t adult enough to purchase and sitcoms they weren’t young enough to find
interesting. Something about the pastel suits and big glossy jewelry of the
dated shows gave the living room a soft glow and lulled Blurr until he found
his optics shuttering despite it only being past eight. The few times he did
jerk himself awake he noticed Rodimus napping without much regard for anything,
and eventually he allowed himself to follow.
It was not a true sleep, one that was punctuated by slow crawling half-dreams
influenced by the still flashing television. Once or twice Rodimus shifted and
he started awake again, jumpy as ever, but easily came back down again. Because
of this, it took him a while to realize that the small song he was hearing was
real.
He bolted straight upright, hand flying to his hip, only to remember that he
had changed into his sleep shorts out of modesty and that his phone was still
in the pocket laying somewhere on the floor down the hall. His legs were under
Rodimus’s torso, flopped in what looked like an uncomfortable position despite
his deep snoring, and he shifted them carefully, trying his hardest to escape
the weight before the call ended. He couldn’t tell how long it had been ringing
before he fully woke up, the stiff beeps of his ringtone not any good
indication. Another pause and another ring; Blurr ripped his legs free. Rodimus
fell forwards onto the couch but as his face rolled to the side it was clear it
had not shaken him from his slumber whatsoever. Giving him a small smile, Blurr
jumped the arm rest and bolted.
There was only one person it could be. Rodimus was the only other person who
called him on his private number. The school and other community systems called
the mandatory house line, which came with the commodities. His cell was his
own, something he had gotten years ago just in case and only started using
recently. Tripping over his own feet in his haste, Blurr knelt on the floor,
struggling into the pocket of his shorts and withdrawing the small flip cell.
While he didn’t recognize the number on the front screen, his spark was still
turning its way out of his throat.
Backing up to close the door behind him, quietly, Blurr answered the call.
“Hello?” his vocalizer cracked with static and he winced.
“Good evening, Blurr.”
He melted against the door frame.
“S-sir, it’s you, I mean I had thought-hoped it was you, no one else really
calls this, I mean, wow,” he smoothed a hand over his face, burning with
embarrassment. Longarm’s chuckle sounded so silky even through the roughness of
a phone line.
“Yes, Blurr, it is indeed me.”
Blurr laughed breathlessly, shaking. He shouldn’t be shaking. Longarm couldn’t
even see him. Yet he was alight with nerves.
“What, um, how are you, Sir?”
“I’m quite well,” Longarm hummed, “but I am missing you, I admit.”
“Ooh,” said Blurr, hand over his eyes, “Oh.”
“Have you missed me as well?”
He was teasing. Blurr sank to the floor, crossing his legs.
“Of course I have Sir, of course I have, you don’t even have to ask that
because I, I,” he cradled the phone to his cheek, “I always miss you when we
aren’t together.”
“How romantic.”
He really meant it.
“I’m, I’m really happy you called.”
Longarm sighed softly, fondly. Behind the door Blurr could still hear the faint
whispers of the TV, but it felt worlds away.
“I trust you’ve been taking care of yourself?”
It had only been one day since they had last passed one another in the hall.
“Yes, yeah I’ve, uh, I’ve been out with Rodimus all day. We weren’t really
doing anything interesting, really, just, just dumb stuff, I guess.”
“You don’t need to be ashamed of having fun.”
“I know that!” he stammered, “I just don’t really know what else to, what else
to say about it.”
“You don’t have to say anything else.”
“I mean I know I talk too much already and I don’t want to annoy you with all
this blabber I mean it’s not like any of this stuff is even really important or
interesting I mean you’re an, an adult and you don’t care about any of this.”
“Of course I do, dear.”
Blurr was dizzy with heat.
“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better. Not that you made me
feel bad or anything just that you don’t need to worry about me feeling, um,
bad.”
“I don’t. I mean it. You can tell me anything you want to.”
He pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them.
“Sir, that’s really, really, really, really nice of you oh but Primus I’m so
embarrassed I’m sorry!”
The phone was slightly dislodges from his receptor by the movement but he could
still hear that melodic laugh loud and clear.
“Oh, even as just a voice, you are so cute when you’re shy.”
“Sir!” Blurr whined, smiling wide enough to hurt into his kneecaps, “sir,
don’t! You’re just making it worse!”
“And you only become more precious as I go.”
“Stop it!” he was giggling now, hand cupped over his mouth to muffle the noise.
“Really, my darling, how do you manage it? I can easily picture the way you are
– likely sitting, covering your mouth like you do, your optics a delightful
glimmer like they are when I first slide my hand up your thigh.”
Really, he should have expected that, but nonetheless Blurr squirmed to hear
it.
“I, I, oh!”
“Do you enjoy me talking of our past exploits? I think you do. You are rather
naughty, despite how you act, aren’t you?”
Crossing his legs tighter, Blurr felt his bio lights flare.
“Sir! Rodimus is still over! He’s asleep on the couch but he’s right there,
he’s just down the hall, we can’t!”
“Shh,” purred Longarm, “he doesn’t know, does he? He couldn’t, asleep on the
couch. What’s wrong with a few dirty words?”
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that he is right there, right there and he could
wake up and hear us at any moment and then he’d know, even if he can’t hear
your voice he’d know something was going on, maybe I’d say your name, it would
be awful, awful! I don’t want you or me to be in, in, in trouble!”
“Then don’t use my name, Blurr.”
“I…”
“Are you frightened?”
“No!” Blurr pulled down on the hem of his shirt, smiling despite himself as
Longarm’s voice turned playful again, “I’m not scared I’m just, that’s such a
dirty thing to do, having Rodimus around and you talking to me like that, you
must understand that it’s embarrassing even if he doesn’t know what’s going
on!”
“Of course,” said Longarm, “that’s half the fun. You certainly didn’t mind my
reaching down your shorts in the classroom, despite that being public.”
“Well,” said Blurr twisting his fingers into the cloth, “no one was, I mean, I
didn’t expect anyone to come in then, it was after school and the door was
locked-!”
“But they could have, couldn’t they?”
He sounded so wicked, too sweet for the words he was saying, and Blurr squirmed
again, knowing full well the heat in his belly wasn’t just from nerves now.
“Yes, I suppose they could have come and knocked.”
“Compared to that, this is pretty tame, is it not?”
Blurr said nothing, smiling helplessly at his knees.
“What are you wearing, my dear?”
The oldest question in the book. Shaking his head a bit, Blurr snorted softly.
“My pajamas, Sir. It’s,” he glanced around the room but couldn’t find a clock,
“it’s like ten at night.”
“Ten thirty,” Longarm corrected, “What do you sleep in then?”
“Just a big shirt, some, uh, some shorts.”
“What, you sleep in your day clothes?”
“No, they’re, uh, boxer shorts.”
Longarm made a small chuffing sound down the line, something a step away from a
laugh.
“Oh, I see,” he said, “is that all?”
“Of course it is! What else would I be wearing underneath my underwear?”
“Mm, I’m simply asking.”
Blurr could hear the same ad he’d heard at least five times already that night
begin again, something about furniture discounts, everything must go. His
fingers caught from having twisted the fabric of his shirt too much and he had
to turn the other way, unspooling his hand.
“Will you touch yourself for me?”
Everything must go! Blurr shivered, so hot the air felt cold.
“Yes, Longarm Sir, yeah.”
“Good, I’m so glad.”
The praise made him glow.
“Let me guide you, if you will.” His breathing was calm, not at all like he was
asking Blurr to masturbate form him. “Where is your hand now? The one not
holding the phone.”
“On my stomach. I was, over my shirt I mean, on my stomach over my shirt.”
“Good, good. Keep it over your clothing, but move it down, please. Touch your
panel through your shorts.”
Spark whirling madly, he did as told. Even through the cloth his panel was
burning.
“How does it feel?”
“Hot. I’m really hot, Sir.”
“Ah, so you’re already excited for me, aren’t you?”
“I really love your voice,” he said, “I love how you sound, Sir, I always have
and I, I get so excited even in-in class.”
“I bet you do, I bet you’re so wet after my class, hearing me speak to you like
that, as if you’re the only person there.”
“I-I am!”
“Are you rubbing yourself, Blurr? Are you wet now, behind your panel?”
“Yes. Yes, yes.”
“You always do get so wet. Every time I’ve touched you, even the first time,
you were just soaking, Blurr, dripping. You make such a mess.”
“I-I…”
Open your panel, Blurr. Did you do it?”
“Yes.”
“Touch yourself through your shorts. Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’m just- I’m touching my v-myself, I’m rubbing my fingers, um, up and down.”
“Over the middle, dear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Rub your node. Can you feel it through the fabric?”
“Y-yes, it’s, um, it’s a really tough texture to be doing this, but, ah-ahh-!”
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes sir, it does!”
“I bet you’re already dripping through to the floor. Are you making a mess?”
“a-a little.”
“If I were there, Blurr, I would taste you. You’re so sweet. I’d love to pinch
you’re nub between my fingers, roll you.”
“Ah!”
“Are you doing what I said?”
“I-I’m-!”
“Go beneath your waistband, now, touch yourself raw.”
And he did. His legs uncrossed, spreading against the carpet slowly. He was
dripping, not terribly, not ruining the floor, but he was wet and he was
burning.
“I-I’m doing it now, Sir, I’m touching myself beneath the, my shorts.”
“Put a finger inside.”
“Mmn.”
It was such a simple action. Were he simply self-servicing it would have felt
like nothing. He shoved fingers inside himself without a thought on a semi-
daily basis. Somehow, though, Longarm’s voice, his smooth hum, amplified
everything. He couldn’t help but begin to curl and pump inside himself without
being told, arching back against the door.
“Ah, can I put another one inside, Sir? Please.”
Longarm chuckled.
“What a good boy, asking me for permission.”
Blurr felt himself clench down, a pulse of heat making his vision glitch for a
moment.
“One more finger, yes.”
He complied eagerly, pumping in deep, mortified by the loudness of the slick
sounds it made. Rodimus couldn’t hear. He was asleep.
“Oh, oh Sir, it’s so hot!”
“I do love the way your calipers ripple, when I’m knuckle deep,” Longarm said,
still so calm, “I love how your whole body trembles.”
Was he trembling? He could hardly tell if it were his own body shaking of the
entire world around him.
“Push them in deep, Blurr. I know your fingers are not as large as my own, I
know, but keep pushing, feel yourself. Are you clenching tight? I know you are.
I know you’re soft and swollen, I know you wish it were me there, fingering
you, don’t you?”
Bracing himself against the door, Blurr could not answer, gripping the phone
tightly in hot fingers.
“Can you hold the phone on your shoulder? I want you to use both hands, Blurr,
I want you to take your other hand down and spread yourself, can you do that
for me? Can you spread your pretty valve wide open, perhaps touch your nub
again?”
“Y-yes! Yes I can, I’m doing it for you, I, I swear.”
“I’m sure you are.”
Longarm could no doubt hear his labored ventilations, his voice fractured by
pleasure. He was stupidly close, especially for someone who was barely
fingering himself, hands clumsy as he tried to hold the phone steady, but
Longarm’s goading him on was too much to bear.
“Sir, please, I’m so close, I, m-may I?”
“May you what?”
“May I cum?”
He felt another pulse in his valve at the words, almost shocked by how much it
affected him.
“I think you may, Blurr. You’ve done very well today.”
Blurr’s back arched and he moaned, loudly, far too loudly but unable to stop
himself. His engine was humming soft and vibrant inside him, peaking every few
nano-kliks, his pleasure following, higher and higher.
“oh Sir, Sir, it’s very hot and and and I’m very hot and everything is so,
nice, so good, with you, I do wish you were here I, I do, if you were here I’d
be so happy, I’d love to, to suck your spike, Sir, to touch you, I’d do
anything, I’d, ah, I would be so good toyouhhahh, please Sir I-!”
His overload made his back straighten so rigidly he slammed backwards into the
door, causing it to loudly bang into its frame. For a moment though he heard
nothing but static, whining softly as his valve clenched and clenched and he
moved his fingers in and out so quickly it was like a small blur. By the time
he returned to himself he was dazed, half tipped over against the door, and he
realized that the small buzzing sound he could hear was not in his receptors
but was coming from his phone, which had fallen to the floor on his right.
“I-I-I-I’m sorry! I dropped the phone!”
He was still shaking, still twitching with pleasure with his underpants around
his knees, but he had practically thrown himself to the side to grab his cell
phone. Longarm did not seem bothered.
“That was so nice, Blurr, very good.”
“Um, thank you Sir.”
He wasn’t exactly sure how else to respond. Now that his senses were returning
to him, he felt an intense burst of embarrassment, exciting, sharp
embarrassment over what he had done.
“I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I would be more worried if you had,” Longarm said, and Blurr could hear his
smile through the line.
“Well, I mean, it was really, really nice though! It wasn’t a complaint or
anything when I said that. I mean I had, uh, fun and-”
Down the hall there was a shifting. It was obvious the moment it began and
Blurr shot straight as a board, again knocking his head against the door, this
time accompanied by a loud yelp of pain.
“What the hell was that?”
Rodimus still sounded half asleep but he was laughing again, clearly hearing
Blurr’s cry. Panic set in fast and hard, the mess on his thighs turning cold.
“I just tripped!” he shouted over his shoulder, but his voice cracked terribly.
The phone was still cradled to his ear and he could hear Longarm saying
something. Rodimus shifted again.
“Sorry sir, it’s Rodimus and he’s woken up and-!”
“Shh, it’s okay.”
“But he’s going to see that I’m a mess he’s going to see and know I was doing
something gross even if he doesn’t know about you! My life is over!”
“Blurr. Your life is nowhere near over. Simply clean yourself up. He doesn’t
need to know anything.”
From down the hall, Rodimus yawned loudly, then burped.
“How long was I out?”
“I-I dunno!” then, into the phone, “okay, okay, fine, I have this, okay. I’m
fine. It’s going to be fine.”
“Indeed it is.”
“Will I get to talk to you again soon?”
“I do hope so. My schedule is busy but I always strive to make time for you.”
Blurr felt his faceplates heating up again but before he could let the
sentiment linger he heard the coach groan with the shifting of weight.
“Good bye Sir” he whispered, “I’ll talk to you soon!”
Longarm chuckled again and the line went dead. Blurr held it to his face for
another spark beat, breathing in deeply, but the sound of springs from the
living room sent him flying to his feet.
From down the hall he heard a vague, “did you drink all the juice?”
“Um, Rod?” he called, shimmying his wet boxers back up over his thighs, “I’m
gonna take a shower okay?”
“What?”
“A shower! I’m gonna take a shower really fast!”
Switching off the overhead, he cracked the door and peered out into the hall.
It wasn’t very long but the only light aiding Rodimus would have been the
television, were he even looking. At the moment he was patting around the
cushions as if he’d lost something.
Blurr dashed across the hall before he could even register Blurr’s appearance,
sliding into the bathroom and shutting the door until just a crack was left
open.
“Okay, I’m starting now!”
“What? I mean I heard what you said but why are you-?”
Blurr shut the door and locked it, stripping out of the unfortunately sticky
boxers and his shirt and practically diving into the tub. If Rodimus said
anything else it didn’t penetrate the curtain of sound the water created, and
he was thankful for that. He needed a moment to really compose himself.
Never in his short life cycle had a shower felt as truly cleansing as this one.
He hadn’t even gotten very dirty, not really, all things considered, but it
felt like all the blame and nervousness was washing away with the spunk. His
legs, he realized, were still shaking.
That being said he was in and out very quickly. Just a little soaping up,
nothing too extreme, only enough to make sure all traces of lubricant were gone
from his thighs and that he was clean enough elsewhere to not make their
spotlessness conspicuous. There hadn’t even been enough time for steam to
really build on the mirror, and he wiped off quickly. He couldn’t re-don the
shorts, though, and after a moment of deliberation he opened the bottom cabinet
of the sink and threw them in there for safekeeping. When Rodimus was gone held
launder everything. Tomorrow was Sunday anyhow.
“Sorry about that, I just really needed to- what are you doing!”
Rodimus was right outside the door, something he had not expected. He’d only
opened it a crack but he slammed it shut just as quickly.
“What am I doing? What are you doing? Acting all skittish and taking weirdly
timed baths.”
“It wasn’t weirdly timed! I needed to shower because I,” Rodimus had asked
about the empty juice bottle, hadn’t he? Blurr had drank it all, but apparently
Rodimus was out before it happened, “I spilled the last bit of the juice on my
pants! I went to my room to change but I was all sticky and gross and I decided
I wanted to shower so I did but then I realized I forgot to bring new shorts
into the bathroom and I wasn’t expecting you to be standing outside like a, a,
a pervert waiting for me to finish up in here, okay!”
“What, seriously?” he heard something touch the wall, probably Rodimus bracing
himself like he did, shaking his head like an old mech who had made a stupid
joke.
“Yes seriously!” Blurr squawked, “Now don’t look unless you want a face full of
my aft!”
“What if I do?” Rodimus mocked seduction.
Blurr huffed loudly.
“Are you going to let me walk out of here with some amount of dignity or not?”
“Fine, fine, fine, calm down! I’m not looking.”
 Blurr cracked the door. Rodimus was indeed faced the other direction, hands
covering his optics.
“See?”
“Yes, I see,” Blurr grumbled, tugging his shirt down uselessly as if he could
magically make it cover him better and slipping across the hall again, back
into his room where he slammed the door shut behind him.
“Just give me a klik!”
His shorts and his cell were rather obviously misplaced on the carpet. Turning
on the light for the first time, he checked between his feet to the spot on the
rug where he’d previously sat and, well. Apart from some lingering heat it
didn’t appear that he’d actually made any noticeable stains. Good. Kicking his
phone to somewhere it’d be less of a nescience, he dug some fresh underwear out
of the dresser quickly and stepped into them, feeling a little silly for having
been so worried. Of course Rodimus didn’t think anything of it. Who expected
something that scandalous to actually happen while they were around?
“Alright,” he stepped back into the hall, patting down his clothing, “I’m
good.”
Still facing the other way, Rodimus lowered his hands.
“You’d better be. I am not in the mood for a random flashing.”
Blurr walked past him, sticking his tongue out.
“What time is it?”
“Hell if I know.”
Rodimus followed him back out into the kitchen. Now that it was nighttime it
was actually quite cold, especially around the doors and windows. Blurr found
himself rubbing his arms every few kliks, still a little damp and chilly for
it.
“Eleven thirty?”
“Eleven thirty two, to be precise.”
Rodimus opened the fridge and stared into it thoughtfully. Coming up behind
him, Blurr took the door from his hand and closed it.
“Don’t do that. You’re wasting the electricity. Also you shouldn’t eat anything
after ten if you plan on getting any sleep.”
Leaning back against the fridge, Rodimus crossed one leg over the other
nonchalantly.
“What can I say, I’m a rebel.”
“If you get home much later than this you’re gonna have to explain that rebel
attitude to Magnus.”
Rodimus pouted.
“Party pooper.”
“So,” said Blurr, watching the numbers on the microwave flicker from 11:33 to
11:34, “are you going home are are you just gonna crash here?”
With a great sigh, Rodimus sat back and looked out the blackened window.
“I probably should. I’ve got some homework and stuff. Nothing terrible but I
mean,” and he shrugged. It was clear the idea wasn’t exactly a wonderful one
but that was school life.
“Yeah, I understand.”
The television flickered dull blues from the other room. The light gave
everything a cool halo and, had he been looking he might have noticed the wide
shapes that Rodimus’s eyes became as they looked upon him within it. As it was,
he left the kitchen and turned the TV off.
In the kitchen, Rodimus pulled away from the fridge.
“I guess I’d better go then.”
It was dark in the living room now, but they could see one another’s optics
clear as day. The bio lighting on Blurr’s cheeks illuminated his whole face
like a portrait.
“Alright. Want me to walk you to the door?” he stifled a yawn.
“No, it’s cool.”
Rodimus dug around in his pocket and retreated. Blurr straightened the couch
cushions out of habit.
“Bye!”
“Bye, dude!”
The door clicked shut. Though normally Rodimus’s swift leave would have been a
little unusual, Blurr was glad for it. He practically sprinted to his bedroom
again, throwing himself face down into the blankets with a little shriek. Even
in his brief pass through the door he had been able to detect the lingering
scent of sex and it only augmented the feeling of wicked bliss that was still
pounding away inside him. Longarm’s call had been – poorly timed, perhaps,
mortifying and very close to dangerous – but overall wonderful. Perfect. He’d
been called so many pet names, praised so highly even if his teacher wasn’t
there to see him work. The memory of it sent a small zing through hi interface
array, overactive and ready for more already, but he didn’t want to sully the
moment with his own personal masturbative touch when he still had the clean
sound of Longarm’s laugh ringing in his receptors.
It wasn’t enough to send him to sleep immediately, as the excitement of hiding
it had all but woken him up fully, but it was too late to really do much else
but straighten up his room a bit and dispose of the still damp boxers in the
bathroom. A little overstimulated, Blurr spent a long moment in the florescent
light sitting on the countertop and ventilating slowly, counting the beats of
his spark to the klik.
===============================================================================
 
He knew it was too much for him to hope Longarm would call again on Sunday.
Still, he spent most of the day eyeing his phone and pretending he wasn’t. The
only activity it got was a few texts from Rodimus about homework and something
he saw online, and when it got cool enough Blurr had to leave it on the bed and
go for a jog. It was too much just having to wait like this for something he
dint even expect.
The roads ended up leading him to school. He could have just called Rodimus
since it was likely he was done with his projects by now but the weirdness of
the night before still left him feeling a little anxious about it despite him
having neigh expertly avoided disaster. Instead he ran up to the field himself,
alone with his thoughts of things he shouldn’t think.
There was a truck gate that was always closed after school and on the weekends
but it was easy to simply jump if you wanted to use the track. As far as he
knew there were no rules against it; families could sometimes be seen playing
here in the mornings on a good Saturday. Right now though, as afternoon turned
to evening, it was vacant and green and the perfect venue for a little running
away from your self-introspection. He wasn’t exactly donned in his workout wear
but there wasn’t really an outfit Blurr owned that didn’t lend itself to
running. The extra weight of his hoodie didn’t bother him at all as the wind
dragged the cloth flat to his chest, a brisk jog the only speed he needed at
the moment.
The first lap around and he was feeling calmer already. The track was elevated
above the school slightly, partially because the area of town it was built on
was a small incline and partially to help irrigate water when it rained so it
wouldn’t become waterlogged or a field of mud. It hadn’t rained in a long while
so the ground was hard packed even where the grass was growing around the
track, and helped his legs propel him forward as if they were springs, cutting
through the dry air.
The second lap wavered inside him however, because that time around he happened
to glance down at the parking lot and saw, with a bit of a jolt, the spot he
remembered Longarm’s car having been on that first evening when he drove him
home. It was like his brain was begging him to be distracted by thoughts of
Longarm, drowning him with them every time the smallest connection was to be
found, and somehow they managed to be numerous. His actual gate did not falter
but his calm certainly did, pushing him to run a bit faster as if he could
leave the distraction in the dust.
The third lap was his second wind. Longarm lingered in his head but he was only
a thought, only a whisper of the past, and as consuming as he could be Blurr
was not going to let him in now. He lowered his head, hunched his shoulders,
not the best running from but a good one to avoid nasty thoughts. The things he
had already appreciated about the atmosphere of the evening still stood, the
cool air, the dwindling light making watercolors on the clouds. He could focus
on other things. He tried to think of one of the literature problems Rodimus
had shared with him over the phone. It was difficult to read as a text message
and he hadn’t been able to solve it for him. The memory made him reach for his
pocket, only to realize he’d left his phone at home. The phone Longarm had
called him on.
He only made it four laps before he turned around the corner and nearly fell
flat on his face.
“Blurr?”
He felt like he was hallucinating but knew he couldn’t be, and that Dr. Longarm
was, really, right there in front of him. Well, not right in front; he was down
the slope of the raised dirt, walking past as if he had been leaving the
parking lot. A cursory glance didn’t immediately locate his car, but it wasn’t
too farfetched to assume he had driven up and parked while Blurr was busy
shaking thoughts of lust from his head.
“I-I-I, uh, Sir!”
He shook out his hands and jogged down to where he was, immediately rebounding
from shock to elation.
“What are you doing here, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Just come in to do a little early preparation for this week,” Longarm said,
smiling up at Blurr with a slight squint against the setting sun, “I certainly
didn’t expect to see you.”
“and I didn’t really think I’d see you either I mean I am very glad to see you
don’t take that the wrong way but to be really honest I was here because well I
just couldn’t stop thinking about you after last night and I wanted to get some
of the uh energy out you see so I was just running and wow here you are!”
Longarm reached up and patted his arm. It was a simple and friendly gesture,
nothing at all implicative about it, but it made Blurr’s spark sing.
“Well I wouldn’t want to interrupt that. Though, if you did want to come visit
me inside, I would be glad to have you. I’ll be in my-“
“o-of course I would like to come visit you I mean I wasn’t really doing
anything and I can even com now if you’d like!”
He slapped a hand over his own mouth, embarrassed to have interrupted, but
Longarm didn’t seem to mind.
“How nice! Well then, come with me.”
It was hard for Blurr to keep his pace slow enough to match his teacher’s.
Apart from the now bursting level of energy he had, his legs were so much
longer than Longarm’s and he felt a little awkward next to him, like a giraffe
following a rhinoceros. Of course, Longarm had much more appeal than the rhino,
but he couldn’t think of any better metaphors when he was already so addled by
conflicting thoughts and desires.
Pulling a key from his pocket, Longarm opened one of the back doors and held it
for Blurr, a perfect gentleman. Blurr felt himself heat, hands stiff at his
sides.
“Thank you, Sir!”
He weaved back and fourth behind Longarm as they walked, fiddling his fingers
together and doing his best not to babble answers to every comment or question
Longarm posed. Did you get good nights recharge after I hung up? How was
Rodimus? I hope it wasn’t too warm outside, I know the air conditioner is
broken in my classroom. On and on it went, and Blurr let himself be immersed.
There was always something weird about seeing the classroom outside of school
hours. Even seeing it outside your normal period was odd, seeing who sat where
in this other arrangement, this other social environment that had structured
itself entirely differently based on its inhabitants, who looked half asleep
and who looked like they were taking real notes and who was choosing to instead
make out in the back of the room. Now it was just empty but it still held an
almost eerie quality, like he wasn’t supposed to be seeing it like this.
“You can use my extra chair, if you like,” said Longarm as he seated himself,
“it’s much more comfortable than the desks.”
“Ah, thank you Sir, that’s really nice of you.”
He folded his hands in his lap neatly. He hadn’t really been expecting them to
leap on one another the moment they entered the room, but he hadn’t actually
spent much personal time with Longarm outside their trysts. Suddenly he was at
a loss of what to do. Longarm was digging through his papers, opening a drawer
in his desk to retrieve something. He seemed wholly unconcerned and it made
Blurr even more nervous, like he was missing some incredibly obvious cue.
“You don’t just have to sit there, you know,” said Longarm pleasantly,
straightening a stack of papers in his hands before setting them down on the
desk, “I may be working but I am capable of multitasking.”
Blurr’s face flared with heat.
“I, oh, I mean, what exactly do you mean by that?”
Longarm gave him a knowing look out of the corner of his optics.
“I meant I can hold a conversation and work. I think I require at least a
little self-control if I want to get these assignments prepared, but I do enjoy
your company.”
Crossing his ankles and laughing weakly, Blurr looked away in embarrassment.
“o-of course that’s what I thought! I’m just, you know, not very good with
these small social nuances and all that stuff.”
“I know. It’s alright.”
Longarm took out a little black pen from the mug by his monitor and uncapped it
with a loud pop, scanning over the sheet in front of him. Blurr had no idea
what to say. Conversations with Rodimus were playful and stupid, just lots of
petty banter and talk about grades and classes. Longarm worked at the school
already; surely he had no interest in the random problems of students. Not for
the first time, Blurr realized he wasn’t sure how to proceed here, and looked
to Longarm to lead him.
Without missing a beat, Longarm began writing down notes and said, “You and
Rodimus seem to be getting on quite well.”
Remembering exactly where this conversation had gone the first time they had
it, Blurr shrugged, a little uncomfortable.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Of course?”
“Well I mean yeah, yeah, we’re getting pretty close. I mean nothing too close,
I haven’t told him anything or even hinted at anything that could, you know, be
problematic for us in the future. But we are close!”
“That’s good.” Longarm smiled, never looking away from his work, “I don’t want
him to be estranged from you – I certainly don’t want you to be alone.”
Blurr grinned a little.
“I know. I mean, I had assumed as much, I suppose I couldn’t know until you
told me specifically but I figured, you’re not, you’re not so uptight or
anything even if you were worried.”
Leaning back a little more as he spoke, Blurr relaxed, getting into the flow of
speaking.
“It wouldn’t even be that weird for him to see me coming into class for lunch
or late anyhow I mean it’s not weird to enjoy Lit or need a little extra study
time, even for me. heck I don’t even think it would be so weird for us to be
seen talking, in a small capacity of course, I mean just yesterday Rodimus and
I saw Blackarachnia, you know, the mech with all the dark clothing and the
makeup, I don’t know if she’s in any of your classes but just yesterday Rodimus
and I saw her talking to Mr. Blitzwing at the store and-“
“You saw what?”
Longarm was stiff as a board all of a sudden, and looking straight at him.
Blurr was taken aback.
“…yes? Yes, they were just at the grocery store and they were talking. I mean
it didn’t look weird or anything. Well, a little weird; she seemed pretty mad
for some reason. Maybe he gave her a bad grade or something. I never thought
she was into art but I mean who really knows, right?”
“Indeed.”
Longarm had looked back to his work, but something was definitely off.
“Uhm, is there something wrong with that, Sir?”
Shaking himself out of it, Longarm looked back at him with a smile.
“No! No, no, I didn’t mean to give off the impression that there was. You’re
right; it was probably a dispute for a grade. She has been arguing with many of
her teachers lately, that are all. I simply worry for her academic success. She
seems to have trouble with authority.”
“Mm.”
He wasn’t sure whether to be convince or not. There wouldn’t be any real reason
for Longarm to lie, and Blurr himself certainly didn’t understand all the inner
workings of the school, but something still seemed to be hidden behind his
words. He kicked his heels against the chair, wincing at the loud clang it
made.
“Well, I’m glad it isn’t anything serious-“
And then an even louder clang rang through the building. This one was not
caused by his own feet, but it certainly sent him to them as Blurr leapt from
his chair in shock. Even Longarm was started, looking up from his work sharply.
Neither of them spoke, sharing a look.
“Www...”
That was what it sounded like, at least. The voice was distant but distinctly
real. Someone was in the building. That would have been abnormal but not
worrisome, if it weren’t for the sickly high tone it had, the odd, screeching,
almost.
“WWWWW…”
It was closer now. Blurr started when a hand touched his shoulder. Longarm
pushed him gently to the side, nodding towards the door. Stepping back
nervously, Blurr let him take charge. He opened the door and peered out into
the hall. Blurr could not see outside, but he did see the way Longarm’s optics
widened, mouth opening just a fraction.
“Wasp,” he said, “you’re back.”
And that was all he got out before a flash of green tackled him to the floor.
End Notes
     I'm afraid that this is it for a few weeks as I am swamped with
     requests to finish, but I wanted to kick you kids off with something
     to get you hooked! Thanks for reading.
  Works inspired by this one
      Quarter_Mile by MercuryMapleKey, Bridge_Over_The_Grind by Hambone, Waist
      Deep by ribbonelle, To_Make_You_Proud by ribbonelle, The_Line_Isn't
      Straight by Hambone
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