Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1979841.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Transformers_-_All_Media_Types, Transformers_Animated_(2007)
  Relationship:
      Blurr/Longarm_Prime_|_Shockwave
  Character:
      Blurr_(Transformers), Longarm_Prime_|_Shockwave
  Additional Tags:
      Sticky_Sex, Masturbation, Dirty_Talk, Alternate_Universe_-_High_School,
      BDSM
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-18 Words: 1745
****** Waist Deep ******
by ribbonelle
Summary
     He's too deep in whatever this is, he's utterly lost in it, but maybe
     that's exactly what he wants.
Notes
     wrote this for tumblr user hamfootsia bc super awesome high school
     AU! i think i'm being clever with the title but i'm actually sleepy
     and incoherent so forgive me.
  This work was inspired by
      Textbook_Felony by Hambone
It was dark.
It was dark because there was a blindfold wrapped tight around his optics. The
setting sun might have something to do with that as well; his internal
chronometer was disabled by request; but he knew the time as he had headed
straight for the classes after the evening’s track practice.
And it was as if the professor knew that Blurr was trying to distract himself,
as a heavy weight fell on his thigh.
His venting hiked up in anticipation, his engines revving in slight dread. He
moved his hand faster in hopes of satisfying his teacher, two fingers slicking
in and out of himself, the wet noises almost as loud as his panting. He
insistently rubbed a thumb against his anterior node.
As much as he loved Sir Longarm’s touches, he’d much rather overload first.
Knowing his lover; or tormenter, most of the time; he wouldn’t be getting his
release anytime soon.
“Blurr.”
He froze, the voice making his spark swirl and jump terribly, and the moan he
answered with was full of static.
Longarm’s voice always sounded detached during their trysts, as if he was
another mech altogether. It made Blurr’s valve ripple with longing.
“I recall mentioning that you could only use two fingers, pet. And only inside
of you. Were my instructions not clear enough?”
Blurr whined, regretfully moving his thumb away from the sensor node. He upped
the pace nevertheless, to the point of shoving the fingers in his valve,
lubricant pooling under his aft. It felt good; syrupy pleasure emanating from
the recesses of his valve to the very tips of his pedes but it wasn’t enough,
it was hardly enough.
He wanted so bad it was excruciating.
“S-sir, please. Sir, I want you inside of me please I want you to touch me oh
Primus sir please please please—“ his vocalizer shorted out at a harsh tug on
the cables in the seam of his thigh and he bucked his hips up, frantic.
Something trailed along the same cable, something sharp, and it wedged in the
juncture between his pelvic array and his thigh to force his legs open even
more. The cables strained with effort but Blurr didn’t notice it. All he could
focus on was the noise of him fucking himself, and the looming presence of Sir
Longarm beside him.
He was held so gently, despite there being only an arm supporting his back and
the touch in his seams. Gentle, in contrast to the demanding tugs to his
cables; tender, but sent sharp jolts of pleasure and pain all over his network
simultaneously.
He wanted to weep. He just kept trembling and sliding fingers into himself.
“You’re in no position to make requests, my sweet,” came the purred reply, “You
do what I ask of you. Don’t you agree?”
A pathetic whimper but Blurr turned his head to the side, trying to reach
whatever he could of his teacher. In a display of mercy, the other mech ran a
hand over the side of his head; or what felt like a hand; and Blurr pressed
against it urgently.
Longarm hummed in approval and Blurr felt a pressure under his chin, tilting
his head up.
“Take your fingers out.”
He made a noise of protest at that but obliged, his hand hovering, trembling
over his open array. Blurr could feel fluid pulse out of his valve, feel it
stringing in between his fingers. He felt absolutely filthy but there was no
denying how much he needed this. No denying how much he wanted.
The pressure under his chin slid down along his torso; it ran over the fabric
of his varsity jacket; coming to a stop on the curved rise before his open
valve. He wanted to push his hips up in encouragement but thought better of it,
in case Sir Longarm decided to punish him again.
“Open yourself for me. Use both your hands, Blurr, and hold yourself apart. Let
me see.”
He shook in his teacher’s hold, gritting his dentae even as his hands moved
down to shakily spread the lips of his valve open with a few fingers on each
side, blushing hard at how exposed he felt. But the vulnerability served to
turn him on even more, and he could feel himself clenching at the thought, at
the cold air that assaulted his drenched nodes.
He was so empty it was almost painful, and he whimpered in need, knowing full
well that Sir Longarm was looking at him, at his valve.
His frame rumbled with how hard the older mech groaned then, the vibrations
rattling his very core. “Look at you,” his teacher vented, in a voice as close
to breathless as Blurr could describe, “You’re perfect. Do you know how wet you
are? How you’re trying to clamp down on empty air? I never knew you were this
whorish, Blurr.”
A touch skittered too close to his anterior node, “Are you a whore?”
Blurr moaned in frustration, head shaking from side to side, backstrut arching
against Sir Longarm’s hold. His venting hitched afterwards as he tried to rein
in how overwhelmingly needful he was, “Yes, yes! Sir I can’t stand it I can’t
take it anymore please please frag me I need you inside plea—aaah!”
Something pushed against his opening and he spread his valve even more, legs
stretching to welcome the motion. He writhed. Sir Longarm had big, thick
fingers, fingers he’d dreamed of kissing and licking before but the thing
sliding torturously slow inside of him was way longer than that. The thought of
Sir Longarm using a toy crossed his mind but his thoughts fragmented when said
object curled inside of him, hard.
His mouth opened in a wail, head falling back as he thrusts his hips up,
wanting it deeper, harder.
“Down, boy.”
It took Blurr his all to stop, thighs trembling, pedes curled over the edge of
the desk he laid on and settled with thrashing his head and whimpering as if
that would help him any better.
Seemingly satisfied, Longarm pushed whatever it was into him at an almost
punishing pace, making him shriek and gasp as he was thoroughly fragged.
It almost felt like a spike, but Blurr knew it couldn’t be. Sir Longarm had
never spiked him before and the reason was simple; Blurr did not deserve it
yet. He hadn’t been good for long enough. But that day will come, and it was
all Blurr could do to stay patient.
The not-spike drove into him again and again, scraping his nodes till the metal
screeched with the rough treatment, squelching noises nearly drowning Blurr’s
open-mouthed pants. His legs were spread to the point where it hurts, but he 
was offering himself the best he can, the most he can till his control snapped,
and Blurr bucked in a frenzy, losing his mind.
This time Longarm didn’t stop him so he fucked himself to oblivion, surges of
spark-bright pleasure colliding behind his optics till it became overwhelming,
till the tightly wound coil of lust burst and he came with his back curved like
a bow, valve spurting transfluid around the appendage inside him, an expression
of divinity on his faceplates.
His knees came together, shaky, trying to hold Longarm inside as he came down
from his high. Blurr twitched with the after effects of the overload, vocalizer
spitting static as Longarm nuzzled against his head, gently caressing his
plating.
The athlete went limp, legs falling open and head tilting to find Longarm’s
lips, but his teacher moved back out of his reach. “Sir?”
His words dissolved into a pained moan as Longarm left his valve, and gently
laid him to lie back on the desk. His ventilations were still short and fast,
like he’d just run five laps without rest, and the adrenaline rush was not
unlike the feeling either. There was a faint mechanical sound, like the
whirring of gears or reassembled plating but Blurr paid it no mind as a hand
cupped his cheek, and a gentle kiss was placed on his forehead.
“What a good boy. You’ve been wonderful today, Blurr.”
Blurr made a tired, happy noise as Longarm kissed him, languidly returning the
affection. Longarm’s glossa roughly pushed between his lips nevertheless, and
he moaned from the sheer hunger he could feel in his teacher’s movements. It
was only up to Longarm whether he was worthy enough to return the favour, to
touch his teacher.
A light tug on the fabric over his optics and it fell away, Blurr onlining his
vision to see his beloved smiling down at him, amusement on his face. His
embarrassment returned like a rush, and he averted his eyes in realization of
how utterly shameful he’d been.
Sometimes he thinks he’d gone too far, he’d humiliated himself forever. But he
couldn’t stop coming back to Longarm, couldn’t help submitting to him. He was
addicted and the fact weighed heavy in his processor, but he couldn’t imagine
for the life of him, being without this now that he had experienced it. He was
ruined.
He sat up gingerly, the twinge in his valve alerting him that he wouldn’t be
able to run as fast for a couple of days, but the thought was dismissed as he
realized the mess he had made.
“Sir! Oh gosh sir this is Rodimus’ desk, it’s covered all over oh no he can’t
come to class tomorrow and sit here with it like this it must be cleaned or
changed. I’ll go do that right away.” He moved to get off the desk but a large
hand on his waist stopped him, and Blurr looked at Sir Longarm in apprehension,
in confusion.
Longarm had the most gentle look in his eyes, but it sent shivers down Blurr’s
backstrut, the way it always does before Blurr gets on his knees in total
capitulation.
“I know of a way to clean your classmate’s desk, Blurr.” the teacher said
kindly, and Blurr ached all over again.
Sometimes he would ask himself why he gave in to Sir Longarm’s demands. He knew
he was utterly lost for his teacher, he had dug the grave of a crush he had a
little too deep, but he could always say no, could always leave if he wanted
to. Therein laid the truth: he didn’t want to.
And when Sir Longarm pushed his head downwards ever so gently, he complied
without a question.
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