Chapter Text
Optimus sat at his desk in the newly restored Senate building. He groaned as he looked over at the stack of datapads he still needed to look over, and sometimes longed for the days of battle.
No, he didn’t want war and death, but to be out on the field fighting against Megatron; their two frames dancing across the sands… all of it seemed far simpler than rewriting a treaty for... The sixtieth time?
Every time they seemed to have it finally completed another member of the New Council had a complaint, or needed to add a clause, or something was spelt wrong, not written well enough to not have loop holes… Leave it to the Decepticons to see through every law…
Optimus hung his helm wearily, feeling bad for judging those that used to be Decepticons, but he couldn’t deny that they were invaluable in their experience of deceit while writing new laws.
He checked his chronometer and realized he had stayed in his office almost six breems past when he was supposed to go home and he groaned. Megatron will be furious…again…
At the end of the war he and Megatron had decided to bond, yet it wasn’t only a political step. Through the vorns of war, especially at the end, the two leaders had found it within themselves to put their past grievances aside and come to get to know one another once again. It had been slow going at first, filled with fights and plenty of silence as well but slowly, they rediscovered what they once saw in one another so very long ago.
Now they were bonded, and leading members of the New Council and with that came a vast amount of responsibility and… As it turned out, plenty of time away from one another.
Optimus stretched his aching arms above his helm, the hidden gears and cables cracking and sliding back into realignment as he did so. He knew when he got back to their quarters Megatron would be livid with him, not that the Prime could blame him.
As the weeks went by on the newly restored Cybertron, their relationship on a personal level had been pushed too far back, as Megatron reminded him a few weeks ago. The former warlord had stood in their living quarters, his powerful arms crossed over his chassis as his red optics blazed angrily. He had made Optimus promise to make more time for them; that he would be home on time at least twice a week… So far Optimus had only kept that promise once.
The result of his failures were felt every time he returned home and found his berth room locked, and he had to sleep on their couch. He would wake to find Megatron gone each morning as well. It seemed the only time they saw each other now was while working for the council. Megatron was always civil in public, but Optimus would catch his mate glaring at him coldly now and then.
It bothered Optimus to be away from his mate for so long, but he was the Prime, so his involvement and responsibilities far outnumbered Megatron’s. He didn’t want to be away, and he missed falling into recharge wrapped up in Megatron’s warm embrace, but what was he to do; tell the council he didn’t get those reports done because he needed a decent frag!?
Optimus slumped behind his desk, partially wondering if he should just recharge here, as he was certain to have to sleep on that wretched couch once again, and be here bright and early anyways. He sighed as he felt his longing to be with Megatron ache in his spark, and decided maybe… just maybe Megatron would find it in his spark and forgive him, and they could lay together like they used to.
He pulled himself from his chair, organizing his datapads neatly on his desk before finally leaving his small prison…
By the time Optimus made it to his and Megatron’s living quarters it was well past midnight. He opened the door and wearily scanned the apartment. It was definitely one of the nicer living quarters in Cybertron, but not obnoxiously so. Some could even say it was so large only because of how large the mechs that resided in it were so really, it all evened out.
Megatron insisted on appearing humble anyways, and Optimus agreed. In this new Cybertron no mech was to be so high that they forget those that they were meant to protect and serve.
The Prime vented dejectedly as he closed the door behind him, Megatron was nowhere to be seen which meant he was probably locked away in their berth room already.
Optimus felt a flare of resentment fill him, but it was quickly snuffed out as he remembered the promise he had made, and how he kept failing it, and his mate.
That night he didn’t even try to open their berthroom, he didn’t think his spark could take the rejection again, and opted to use the wash room instead.
Perhaps a nice warm oil wash would help ease the cold hole in his spark. He was exhausted, and his processor felt like slag, but he knew if he lay down now he would merely spend the night staring blankly at the ceiling until it was time to work once again. That had been his theme of late, and with each night of little to no recharge it just made his work so much harder to focus on.
He rubbed his helm as he walked into their wash room, slowly turning the dials to his favorite levels, and moaned openly as the heated oil splashed down over his frame. Yes, this was exactly what he needed.
He grabbed one of their mesh towels and began to scrub his plating gently. He wasn’t truly dirty, or at least not nearly as filthy as he used to end up during the war, but the soothing warmth of the oil was a comfort he longed for, and just about the only comfort he enjoyed these days…
He ran his helm under the stream feeling how the hot liquid ran down his aching cables and slipped deep into his transformations seams. He groaned as he began washing his torso, and he found himself wishing it was Megatron’s servos that were rubbing along his plating.
In his mind he could see the larger mech standing behind him, his large clawed servos slipping along each aching plate, and dipping into each crack.
“Ahhhhh…” He moaned out, a heat growing in his lower chassis as he begrudgingly allowed the day dream to continue. He moved his servo down between his thighs and gasped as he rubbed along his heated panels.
It had been so long since he had found a moment to find release but he normally had no issues with putting it off for as long as need be. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so hot, yet figured it had to do with his lack of recharge, and all of the frustrations he had been dealing with recently.
“Unnnnnn… gods…” He whimpered out as he fought with himself over whether or not to continue torturing himself and either give in to his surprising need, or put on some cold oil and ignore it all. Just as I have been ignoring Megatron… He growled quietly, angry with himself for being such an absent mate, and frustrated at his apparent lack of control.
He turned and faced the shower’s back wall, and placed one servo against it as he began to feel dizzy with need. His other servo still rubbed at his interface panels, and he found his venting growing ragged. Finally his resolve fell away and he opened his panel covers.
As the warm oil slid along his thick spike it immediately became hard and he fisted it with a whimper. “Ahhhh, frag it…” He whispered as his helm fell back, splashing through the cascading oil until it hung just outside the stream, the hot oil running down the front of his chest plates.
He began to jerk his spike roughly, moaning as he did so. This wasn’t nearly as amazing as it would have been with Megatron, but he supposed he would take what he could get. Arrrrrgh Megatron… I miss you love… I am so sorry…
………………………
Megatron groaned as he pulled himself from berth. It was early in the morning, the suns were not set to rise for a few more breems, but he could not recharge.
He growled in frustration as he paced at the end of the berth, his optics skirting from the floor to the doorknob. Every night Optimus came home he would wait for the usual shake of the doorknob before he would let himself fall into recharge. Yes, he was livid over Optimus’s constant failure to keep his promise, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about the mech.
When Optimus would try to enter he at least knew the mech had made it home safe, and he could recharge, albeit brokenly, from that moment on, tonight he hadn’t heard a sound. That didn’t mean the mech wasn’t home necessarily, as their apartment was thankfully well insulated and damn near soundproof, or so it seemed, but that he didn’t even try the know was telling.
Maybe the fragger has just given up? Maybe he isn’t even home? Maybe… maybe he is in trouble… Maybe he is lost somewhere out on the streets in the middle of the night and…
Megatron growled, finally deciding to open the door and check. He didn’t know what he would say if he saw Optimus, maybe just a grunt and return to berth… Yes, that way he would know the fragger was safe, but he could illustrate his displeasure at the same time. Perhaps it was petty but honestly Megatron didn’t care.
He was tired of coming home alone, fueling alone, sleeping alone. He was tired, lonely, and ached for some contact with his bonded, in more ways than one.
He couldn’t battle anymore, and that was frustrating enough, but to not even be able to frag!? That Optimus was so slagging amazing at it was even more of a kick to the spark, it left the silver mech longing for more, and FRAG HIM for keeping his mate wanting…
The silver mech kept his anger right at the edges of his spark as he threw the door open and stomped out. He turned immediately to the couch, his optics widening as he found it empty.
All of his pent up fury dissipated in an instant as fear took over. Scrap! What if he truly is in trouble!? Who should I contact first? Maybe Ratchet, or alert Soundwave to be on the lookout for…
He suddenly became aware of the familiar sound of running oil, and his optics narrowed angrily once again. Arrrgh, the fragger IS home. Just washing… what the frag time did he come home? Just now?
Megatron fought to keep from stomping right back into the berth room when he heard Optimus… growl? What the frag is going on in there?
He frowned and moved to stand behind the room’s door, his audials straining when he heard a very familiar, too absent, and terribly desired moan. He’s self-servicing! He is self-servicing and I AM HOME!? He didn’t even try the door!
Somewhere deep inside himself, Megatron knew that recently he was just as much to blame for adding to the time they were not around one another but for him to just…
The silver mech growled as he fought with what to do. On one servo he wanted to burst in there and berate the Prime to a bumbling mess of apologies and then fuck him raw, and on the other he wanted to angrily go straight back to berth and ignore everything he had heard.
As he stood there he heard Optimus’s fans blaze to life, and his groans grow in volume. There was a constant wet slapping sound heard as well and Megatron felt his valve grow wet as he listened. That fragger, it has been so long since I have had a good frag and then he comes home late again and…
Megatron moaned as he opened the wash room’s door quietly. His optics rising to find Optimus’s supple frame arched back, one servo placed against the back wall as his other pulled at his thick spike, his frame drenched in the hot stream of oil.
Oh frag it all… Megatron thought both angrily, and lustfully as he scanned over his mate’s heaving frame. Suddenly a distinctively sweet scent washed over the larger mech, and he felt his spike and valve weep lubricant in response. He… he is in heat!?
Megatron almost laughed out loud at the irony of it all. For far too long he had longed for his mate, and now… Optimus was at a point that he could no longer ignore his needs.
The mighty Prime mewled as he frantically stroked himself, his beautifully sculpted silver hips thrusting into his servo desperately sending drops of oil out against the wall with each jerky movement.
“Arrrgh… unnn, Megatroooon…” Optimus strangled out with a howl, and the silver mech felt the heat in his chassis grow immensely.
The former warlord grated his denta as he fought with himself. Should I burst in there and help sate the greedy fragger’s need, or let him take care of it. Does he even realize he is in heat? Do Prime’s even have a heat cycle? Frag if I know. Yet, if he knew wouldn’t he have come to me? Pfft, who knows these days, stubborn bastard.
As Optimus’s vents heightened, and his frame began to move faster, a ragged moan escaped the mech. Megatron’s optics widened as he took in the glorious sight of his mate dissolving to a growling savage mech, his optical ridge drawn down tight as he worked his fist faster and faster until…
“UNNNNNN, GODS! YEEEESSS!” Optimus’s large spike twitched once, twice when it suddenly erupted. Load after load of lubricant shot from the beautiful appendage, the thick substance splattering against the wall in front of the mewling mech, before slowly trickling down.
Optimus groaned as his legs went out from under him, and he fell to his knees. His frame hunched over under the warm spray of oil, the liquid dripping from his helm, and shoulders as he recovered.
Megatron begrudgingly closed the door, and hurried to their berthroom fighting from slamming the door behind him. Arrrgh, fragger… He’s in heat. That means he won’t be working, right? I mean who would work during… Megatron snorted as he realized if there was any mech that would work no matter what it was Optimus, that was when he got a perfectly wretched idea.
Fragger wants to spend all of his time at work, fine. Let’s just see how this pans out for him.
Megatron smiled as he thought about the morning, and what he planned on doing to his ever absent mate. Fragger needs to learn a lesson here. No one leaves Megatron wanting, not for long anyways…