[G1] Win-Win

[dracoqueen22]

Title: Win-Win
Universe: G1
Characters: SunstreakerxSideswipe
Rating: M
Warnings: twincest, sticky
Description: Sideswipe squeaks and Sunstreaker discovers a weakness. Score.

Originally written as a gift-fic for fuzipenguin, cleaned up and reposted here for archival purposes.


Half-awake, in the muzzy minutes right before they need to report to shift, is the best time to interface. Well, sometimes.

In their berth, curled around Sideswipe, lazily thrusting into that warm, grasping valve, it's like a slice of what the humans call heaven. Sunstreaker's engine purrs with approval. His hands stroke a path of pleasure over Sideswipe's chest, his sides, his hips. He teases over Sideswipe's spike, plays with the seeping head and then reaches lower, fingers tracing his anterior node.

Sideswipe moans low in his chassis, arches back against him, his hips rocking back against Sunstreaker.

There's no urgency, no desperation. Just the slow build of heat that gradually loosens Sunstreaker's plating and makes his fans spin in a thrumming rhythm. He nuzzles the back of Sideswipe's helm, lips and ex-vents tickling against the sensitive cables, smelling the special wax he orders to keep Sideswipe as shiny as Sunstreaker expects him to be.

Sideswipe squeaks.

Sunstreaker's already lingering thrusts, slow further. ”Did you just squeak?”

“No,” Sideswipe says, but there it is once more, a small noise as Sunstreaker nips at his audial and ex-vents again.

“Yes, you did,” Sunstreaker says and his lips curl with amusement. It's cute. “You're squeaking.”

“Well, you're...” Sideswipe squirms, his field blooming with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. And then he mumbles something.

Sunstreaker tilts his helm, directing his audial closer to Sideswipe. “I'm what?”

Sideswipe wriggles around again, his valve clenching down as though trying to convince Sunstreaker's spike to move faster. Instead, Sunstreaker pushes in deep, to the hilt, and waits.

“What am I, Sideswipe?”

His brother squirms like Bluestreak holding on to a juicy secret, but it's less impatience than it is whatever caused him to squeak in the first place.

“... it tickles,” he finally answers in a small voice.

Tickles?

For a long moment, probably one that tells Sideswipe all he needs to know without Sunstreaker saying a word, Sunstreaker tries not to laugh. His ex-vents, he realizes, are directing themselves right at the base of Sideswipe's helm, ghosting over the components usually protected by overlapping armor plates. It probably does, in a way, tickle.

“Don't laugh,” Sideswipe says, and he twitches his aft at Sunstreaker in such a way that he knows drives Sunstreaker wild.

“I'm not,” Sunstreaker says as he starts to thrust again, pace more hurried this time as the pause had done little to calm down the growing need in his spike.

“I can feel the grin on your face,” Sideswipe accuses, but it's with a gasp as Sunstreaker's spike nudges that deep, deep node and his fingers flirt with Sideswipe's anterior sensor.

“There's no grin,” Sunstreaker lies, and then he nudges his lips to the back of Sideswipe's helm again and purposefully ex-vents.

Sideswipe thrashes in his arms, a dance both adorable and arousing, his valve spooling down tight on Sunstreaker's spike. “Torturer,” he says with a moan. His field spikes with lazy, warm pleasure.

Sunstreaker chuckles and yeah, maybe it has a bit of an evil bite to it. “You know it,” he purrs and pushes harder into Sideswipe, dragging a gasp from both of them.

The pleasure is spiraling out now, swallowing them both whole. Sunstreaker holds Sideswipe tighter and slams into his twin's valve, all pretense of slow and steady gone. Now there's only overload and the pursuit of it because Sideswipe's moaning Sunstreaker's favorite song and writhing about in his arms in Sunstreaker's favorite dance.

When he overloads, it's with a spurt of transfluid over their berth and a tight clamp on Sunstreaker's spike. One that drags him over as well, spilling deep within Sideswipe's valve.

The berth rattles with their combined cooling fans and Sunstreaker nuzzles the back of Sideswipe's helm, once again purposefully ex-venting. Sideswipe kicks at his ankle with a glancing blow that doesn't so much as scuff.

“Aft,” he says.

“Love you, too,” Sunstreaker murmurs. And yeah, he's grinning.

Now the next time Sideswipe dribbles sticky energon goodies all over him just to be a brat, Sunstreaker knows how to get some payback without Ratchet getting involved.

Win-win.

****
a/n: I'll be putting this in Database in Transmission if you get to looking for it later. :) Ah, there's something relaxing about writing Sideswipe and Sunstreaker feel-good fluffy smut.

Anyway, feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I am working on the Flash Fiction, just had some RL stuff crop up that delayed me.