Encouraged by GGG's words, having calmed down herself, Kuulas made her way to Foot's door. She slipped her right, non-injured foot into the steeltoe boot she'd been carrying. Banging the door firmly with both her fist and foot, Kuulas called "Foot!"

Gold Foot heard the knocking on his door and that very familiar voice calling his name.

Shit. He turned to face the door, conflicted. 

Shit shit SHIT. He got up and stumbled his way over there, miraculously not managing to trip on his mess and slumped against the door. 

Fuck, why was he so tired? He stared up at the door lock, torn between opening it or ignoring it. His hand raised, hesitating, before squeezing his eyes shut and punching it. His hand jerked slightly as the broken panel gave him a small shock.

'How could one bot have so much stamina?' Long Haul wondered, watching Prowl kiss down his chasis. The Praxian wasn't at all bothered by the purple and green paint decorating his thighs and hips, too focused on bringing up Long Haul's charge. The Constructicon gave a moan when Prowl reached his interface panel.

SUPER LATE WHOOPS. I hope the smut makes up for it. :]

Long Haul’s turgid spike sprang free of its housing before Prowl’s fingers even grazed the protective covering. How could he hold himself back at the pleasure-drunk sight before him? Covered in paint transfers and streaks of fluids, Prowl grew more debauched by the klik. Those hazy, blue optics rolled back as the Praxian sank down, taking Long Haul’s spike within his sopping wet valve before it had fully extended.

Around them, the other Constructicons echoed Long Haul’s moan of appreciation. They huddled closely together on the floor, each either waiting impatiently for his next turn or trying to muster up enough strength to see if he could go another round.

Prowl was insatiable as he jerked up and down the length of the rising spike. Mixmaster reasoned that it was because he had denied their seduction for so long. Scavenger insisted that their plentiful gifts finally coaxed Prowl out of his shell. Hook was highly suspicious of something, but he did not voice his thoughts on the matter.

Bonecrusher didn’t seem to care either way. His large hands traced down the lines of Prowl’s back as the smaller mech continued undulating atop of Long Haul. Prowl cast a glance over his shoulder at the large Constructicon, a flash of recognition  brightening his optics before he leaned over, presenting the rim of his valve as it slid slickly along the pulsing spike.

Flat on his back, there was not much Long Haul could do besides groan when he felt Bonecrusher’s fingers slip past the outer rim of Prowl’s valve. The slick channel spasmed hard around the existing spike and new invasion. It felt wonderful.

The fingers slipped away and Prowl lowered down to press his chest against Long Haul’s. This close their sparks could nearly touch, were it not for their protective plating. The Constructicon’s processor reasoned that no, not yet, but the bond screamed for reunion. Especially the way those small, clawless fingers dug into his chest seams and how those small, seductive little pants turned into keens when Bonecrusher thrust.

They had done this before, with Scrapper. Primus rest his spark. But Prowl… Prowl. The Autobot was smaller, weaker, but seemingly just as able to take both Long Haul’s and Bonecrusher’s spike at once. The squeeze was nearly painful. They held still for a moment, Bonecrusher’s side of the bond pulsing with second thoughts. He had moved too quickly. Concern about harming their Prowl flooded the bond.

Prowl shook between them. His small, breakable fingers dug furrows into Long Haul’s chest as his valve stretched then fluttered uncontrollably. They had gone too far, pushed too much. But then: “Move,” Prowl ground out in a ragged voice that shocked both bigger mechs.

They did at first, tentatively. Small, shallow thrusts into the loosening valve made Prowl shake harder. Long Haul gripped Bonecrusher’s arm, forcing the other to stop. But between them Prowl growled, forcing himself onto his elbows and knees between the pair and slamming back against both spikes, taking them both to the hilt in one rapid thrust.

All three moaned raggedly, the two Constructicons unable to take their optics off their Prowl as he worked himself on both of their massive spikes. Just how he could take them both without breaking Long Haul would never know. His smaller frame, drenched in condensation, rocked forward and backward hard and fast. Optics closed and helm thrown back, he was the picture of euphoria.

It was too much for Long Haul. Each sheath sent tingles up his backstruts. The feel of his gestalt mate’s spike pulsing against his own made him claw against the floor. Rivulets of lubricant leaked down their shafts to pool on either side of Long Haul’s hips. It was more than one mech could take.

Stars and laser light explosions blinded Long Haul once overload hit. He reached up blindly, gripping Prowl’s hips and thrusting savagely into that unbelievably tight, wet heat. There was no small amount of pride in his overworked processor when he heard the way Prowl shrieked in bliss. A large pair of hands covered his own as he continued to ride out his climax. Bonecrusher, reaching his own limits, plowed into Prowl from behind, making the smaller mech jerk uncontrollably as twin jets of molten transfluid spat the back of his valve and flooded out. Between them, Prowl went rigid, screaming his pleasure wholeheartedly while his valve spasmed even tighter than before.

Collapsing in an exhausted heap, the three mechs laboriously sucked in as much cool air as they could. Not that there was much left in the heated, ozone-filled room.

Bonecrusher held himself above Long Haul and Prowl with shaking arms. Noticing his gestalt mate’s troubles, Long Haul tiredly raised an arm and helped support Bonecrusher’s weight. Prowl laid limply on his chest, ventilating hard. Long Haul wrapped his free arm around the smaller mech lovingly.

“Was…that…enough for you?” Long Haul teased breathlessly, tracing his fingers along the edge of a quivering doorwing.

Growling, Prowl dug his fingers deeper into the furrows on Long Haul’s chest. “More.”

The Constructicon pair groaned wearily, but gasped when Prowl was dragged out from between them. They watched, alarmed, as Hook hungrily pinned Prowl’s hips to the floor and proceeded to lick clean every leaked drop of transfluid from the gaped valve.