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Bluestreak was often a lot calmer than those around him realized. He knew he talked a lot, and fast, but that wasn't always because of nerves, it was just the way he was. He was pretty sure he'd been like that his whole life, even though his memories of his stellar-cycles as a juvenile, before the Fall of Praxus, were fuzzy. Prowl, who had functioned as Bluestreak's creator for so long people sometimes forgot the tactician had adopted the traumatized orphan instead of having him sparked, said Bluestreak had been that way ever since they'd met. Bluestreak had no idea why some people called Prowl 'drone-like.' Sure, he didn't show a whole lot of emotion when he was working, but he was working and wasn't everyone a little more restrained when they were working? With Bluestreak, at home, Prowl was loving and affectionate, steadying and calm. If Prowl hadn't adopted him, Bluestreak thought he might be in a much worse place, emotionally and psychologically, than he was.
Bluestreak had been very happy for his creator when Jazz had come into their lives. Prowl was caring and kind, and he had a very demanding job that Bluestreak knew was harder on him emotionally than anyone thought. He deserved someone to love him the way Jazz did. It hadn't taken long for Bluestreak and Jazz to love each other as well, and the younger mech had quickly come to consider the saboteur as his sator, his second creator. He knew Prowl was pleased that his child and his lover got along. Bluestreak was happy that Prowl was happy, and Jazz's presence had helped Bluestreak as well. Jazz knew a lot about how to keep calm under stress, and he'd taught Bluestreak. There was very little Bluestreak felt he couldn't take to his creators.
But there were a few things. For instance, as much as Bluestreak had been raised to not be ashamed of speaking of sex or sexuality, he really, really didn't want to ask either of his creators what it was like. Bluestreak was sure they'd tell him from their own experiences, and that was just too much personal information, especially coming from his parents. He mainly wanted to know what the first time was like, just to give him some idea and help him prepare. He had friends, but it just seemed like such a personal thing to ask. Even when he was reading and watching videos from people who were willing to talk about their first interface, he didn't feel like they really told him anything. Bluestreak wanted to know. He didn't feel like he needed to be in love with his first partner, but he did want them to be someone knowledgeable and trustworthy. Someone who understood that even though it had been many long meta-cycles since Praxus Bluestreak wasn't free of the trauma. Also, someone who wasn't scared of his creators, even though Bluestreak was an adult, had been for some time, and so long as he engaged in an enthusiastically consensual interface, it wasn't any of their business.
So Bluestreak's ideal first partner was someone trustworthy, experienced, and who would show Bluestreak patience and care. Bluestreak wasn't at all ignorant of the mechanics of interface, even if he was a virgin, but knowing and doing were two different things. He might get distracted when trying to please his partner, he might get tense or even nervous enough to call a halt to things. Bluestreak mostly didn't have issues with touch, but flashbacks and panic weren't unknown if he were bumped into or grabbed the wrong way. (He'd been separated from his creators when someone bumped into him, then grabbed…no. Bluestreak cycled his ventilations systems like Prowl and Rung had taught him and pushed the thought away.) He also needed a partner who would understand that Bluestreak wasn't looking for a relationship, just experience. When Bluestreak did take a lover as part of a relationship, he didn't want to disappoint them.
It wasn't so much planning as the realization of who met his criteria that made Bluestreak settle on asking Optimus Prime to be the first mech he'd interface with. Bluestreak couldn't think of anyone who better fit the requirements of 'trustworthy,' 'patient,' and 'caring' and he was sure that Optimus was experienced. (Besides, didn't the Matrix act as a repository of knowledge? That would include knowledge of interfacing, right? The thought made Bluestreak feel both titillated and slightly guilty for thinking something like that about his Prime.)
The realization was one thing, though. Working up the nerve to ask was quite another. Optimus was Optimus, was the Prime and Bluestreak admired and respected him. He was also afraid that Optimus would still think of him as a juvenile, even though Bluestreak had been an adult for nearly fifteen meta-cycles now. Bluestreak wasn't even going to attempt a seduction, he knew he wouldn't be very good at it. He was going to get nervous and probably say too much too fast, but he really couldn't see any way past that. He just hoped that if Optimus turned him down, which he really thought was the most likely outcome, he'd be let down gently.
Bluestreak's opportunity to ask came one day when he'd spent the evening in his creator's quarters. Jazz had found a well-aged bottle of Visco - neither Prowl nor Bluestreak asked how or where - and mentioned wanting to give it to Optimus. Since Bluestreak was leaving soon, he volunteered to take it over on his way back to his quarters in the enlisted wing of the base. He did small errands like that for Prowl and Jazz all the time, so it gave Bluestreak the perfect excuse to show up on Optimus' doorstep. Jazz had the nerve to just show up at someone's home and cheerfully say 'hey, wanna 'face?' (and probably had) but Bluestreak didn't think he could manage that himself. Not – not yet, anyway.
Prowl, always attentive to Bluestreak's moods, looked him over carefully as the younger mech stood to leave.
"Is everything alright, Bluestreak?" Prowl asked.
"I've just got something on my mind," Bluestreak told him truthfully. "You don't need to worry about me, Prowl."
Prowl got up to see him to the door. "I always worry, Bluestreak. But I trust you, too."
"I would tell you if anything were wrong," Bluestreak promised.
"Maybe some lucky mech caught Blue's optic," Jazz teased, following Prowl and Bluestreak to the door, flickering half his visor in a wink. "Or the other way 'round."
"Hmm, perhaps," Prowl said, regarding his creation. "Shall we prepare to meet someone?"
Bluestreak laughed. "You guys, it's not like that!" It wasn't, after all. Not the way they meant. "Really. Don't worry about it. I'll see you both later, okay?"
Bluestreak hugged his creators good-night, told them he loved them (which he always did, never knowing when he'd get another chance) and headed to Optimus' quarters, clutching the bottle of Visco in one hand. If Optimus weren't in or didn't answer, Bluestreak would just subspace the bottle and try the next day again.
Luck of some kind, as Jazz would say, was on Bluestreak's side that night. Optimus Prime opened the door shortly after Bluestreak's first press on the door panel.
"Hello Bluestreak," Optimus said, looking down. His battle mask was up, of course, but Bluestreak could tell he was smiling. "How may I help you?"
"Hi, Optimus! Jazz sent you this," Bluestreak said, holding out the Visco. "I said I'd drop it off since I was heading out anyway."
"Thank you, Bluestreak," Optimus said, accepting the bottle and reading the label. "Ah, a favoured vintage, I see. I imagine it's best not to inquire where and how Jazz came by it. Would you like to come in for a bit, Bluestreak?"
Okay, so it was just basic good manners to invite someone in when they showed up on your door, but it worked for Bluestreak. He'd worked up his nerve to ask Optimus Prime to 'face him, sure, but he wasn't ready to proposition anyone in the hallway! Even though he'd spent time planning this and talking himself into it, Bluestreak became even more nervous once he accepted and walked inside the Prime's quarters. Prime offered Bluestreak a seat and some energon - Bluestreak had fueled with his creators and only took a little to be social.
"I haven't seen you much since you came to us, Bluestreak," Optimus said, obliquely referring to Bluestreak's refugee status after the Fall of Praxus. Prowl, always protective, hadn't liked having Bluestreak's status as The Praxian Survivor broadcast, for Bluestreak's safety, or referenced, for Bluestreak's comfort. "Less so since you moved into your own quarters. You're training to become one of our gunners, aren't you?
"Yes, sir," Bluestreak said. "I specialized as a sniper."
He could use a much wider variety of weapons than just sniper rifles, of course, including the missile launchers his substructure had been reinforced to handle when he'd had his final round of upgrades as an adult. Enhanced or not, he could sometimes still feel the weight of them, of what they meant.
"I remember Prowl saying you'd been found to have a gift for it some time ago," Optimus said conversationally. "He's very proud of your skill. How are he and Jazz? I haven't had many opportunities to see your creators outside of work lately."
"They're still really happy together," Bluestreak said, honestly. "Which is good because Prowl works hard, and I know adopting me wasn't ever something he had planned, not the way Prowl plans things, which is really long-term, and balancing being a parent and a tactician probably wasn't easy."
"No," Optimus agreed, "I imagine it wasn't, but I know he's never regretted it."
"He hasn't, he told me," Bluestreak said. "I know a lot of people think Prowl adopted me for security reasons or something, but we decided together, really. I-I never thanked you for clearing the way for him to adopt me so quickly."
"You don't need to thank me, Bluestreak," Optimus assured him, smiling. "I was happy to do so. I could see how much you and Prowl care for each other."
Prowl had taken Bluestreak in after he'd been orphaned by the destruction of Praxus. At first, Prowl, since they were both from Praxus, had spent time with Bluestreak to provide the juvenile with a sense of familiarity and stability that would help manage his trauma. When Ratchet decided that Bluestreak needed somewhere other than the medical bay to live while foster parents were found for him, Prowl had taken him in. Prowl had never planned to adopt, foster, or mentor any manner of newly-built Cybertronian but he had come to care for Bluestreak, then to love him and it had been reciprocated. When Prowl had gotten clearance to adopt Bluestreak, the tactician had checked to make sure that it was genuinely what the juvenile wanted. Bluestreak had been thrilled beyond words to legally become Prowl's creation. The gunner had been very, very young, not even two stellar-cycles old when he'd been orphaned. He still loved the creators who had requested his spark from Vector Sigma and always would but when he thought the words 'creator' and 'sator' it was Prowl and Jazz, respectively, who came to mind.
"He asked me, did you know?" Bluestreak asked. "If I wanted him to adopt me. I hadn't even been thinking it would happen, I thought I'd go to another foster parent or parents and maybe get to see him occasionally. But I told him one night that I'd rather stay with him, and the next morning, he asked to be my adopted creator."
"I did know," Optimus said with a smile, relaxing back in his chair. "After I authorized him to do so I asked if you knew and he said he would ask you after his shift. I sent him home early so neither of you had to wait."
"Oh," Bluestreak said, surprised. "I hadn't known that part of it. I was worried he came home early because something was wrong, but he just said he was home because he wanted to spend time with me."
This was not the conversation Bluestreak had pictured himself having before asking his question, but it felt necessary and – and friendly, that Optimus had some kind of personal interest. Well, maybe it would be better anyway if he made a social visit first and asked later. Besides, it felt weird interrupting a conversation that had started with being asked about your creators to ask the other person if they'd interface with you. It wasn't like there'd be a strict rule against it or anything, but it probably wasn't a good idea, so Bluestreak just kept quiet about that for now.
Besides, it was nice, really nice, sitting here and talking with Optimus. Once Bluestreak got over the fact that he was sitting here with the Prime, it didn't feel a whole lot different than spending time with his friends.
Bluestreak stayed and chatted with Optimus for a little over a cycle, which was long enough for a visit with someone you didn't know that well. Optimus sounded genuinely regretful that the evening had to end when he saw Bluestreak to the door and, best of all, invited him to come back sometime.
It took a few mega-cycles for Bluestreak to work up the courage, without an excuse like the Visco, but he did go back. More than once, because even though they didn't talk about Bluestreak's creators or his past, Bluestreak still felt a little bit awkward. Not terribly, not uncomfortable and definitely like he didn't want to be there, but enough that he kept putting off asking. Besides, he liked his visits with Optimus, and he didn't want to wreck their – well, he guessed it would be called friendship if he were going to be so bold as to call himself friends with his Prime. At the same time, Bluestreak wanted Optimus just because he was Optimus. He didn't know if the interest was returned at all and he didn't know how to ask.
Jazz, of course, noticed that something was on Bluestreak's mind. His sator 'casually' dropped by Bluestreak's quarters one night when his roommates were out.
"Noticed something's been on your mind, Bluestreak," Jazz said once he'd been invited in, dropping himself into a chair. Bluestreak sat down across from him. "Thought you might wanna talk about it. Go on, spill."
"Oh, I…" Prowl wasn't a prude at all, but yeah, if he was going to talk about anything to do with interfacing Jazz was the more comfortable option. So, Bluestreak spilled. Jazz listened.
"You know you don't gotta be in a hurry, right?" Jazz asked when Bluestreak was finished. "Ain't like there's a special age you've gotta have 'faced by."
"I know." Bluestreak had had that talk already, as an adolescent, just before his interface protocols unlocked.
"And if you just wanna know what it's like, then Optimus is a good choice." Jazz regarded him levelly. "So you're wondering how to ask him?" Bluestreak nodded. "Well, Blue, I think you should just go ahead and tell him what you told me, then go ahead and ask."
"Okay, but," Bluestreak flexed his fingers, "um, what if he turns me down?"
"Then you accept it and don't let it get weird, that's all. Optimus ain't gonna mock you for it." Jazz watched for a moment while Bluestreak slowly nodded, processing. "Feel better 'bout it now?" Bluestreak nodded again, and Jazz held out his arms. "Good. C'mere, kiddo. Hug time."
Bluestreak had to get up and cross over so he could lean down and accept the hug. He rested his head on Jazz's shoulder. "Thanks, Sator."
Jazz squeezed him. "Any time, brightspark."
Okay, so…just tell Optimus what he'd told Jazz then go ahead and ask. Bluestreak twisted his fingers nervously, even as he said to himself he could do that, while he waited for Optimus to answer the door.
As soon as Optimus' big, confident, structure filled the doorway, Bluestreak felt his nervousness ease, just a little bit. He could talk to Optimus, of course he could. That was how he'd think about it, Bluestreak told himself, just talking to him.
He kept telling himself that and tried to relax. It didn't quite work because once they'd gotten past the initial pleasantries, he realized Optimus was looking at him with an expression between curiosity and concern.
"Is there something on your mind, Bluestreak?" he asked gently.
"Oh, well, I, um…" Just say to him what you said to Jazz, Bluestreak reminded himself. "Yeah, yeah, there is...."
Bluestreak didn't even try to hold back. He spilled the whole thing, the same way he had with Jazz, from his curiosity to know what interface was like to his criteria for a partner and how Optimus met them all. He even told Optimus how he'd meant to do it the night he'd delivered the Visco from Jazz but then they'd gotten talking about his creators and his adoption and it had felt too weird to ask for sex after talking about his parents and his adoption. How he'd come back, and it had been hard enough to say he just wanted to spend time with Optimus even though it was true. How he'd started to enjoy their talks just for the sake of them but also how he'd begun to find Optimus desirable as more than just a match to a set of criteria. The only thing he left out was his conversation with Jazz.
Then he asked.
After he'd asked, Bluestreak stared down into his energon, cheeks burning so hot, he was sure Optimus didn't need infrared to see. He braced himself for rejection – kindly put or not, rejection was rejection – and started when Optimus laid a careful hand on his forearm.
"Bluestreak, is everything alright?"
"Yes, fine, I'm fine," Bluestreak babbled, "I just hadn't ever asked anyone before, because I haven't ever interfaced before, and I got really nervous, and I'm talking too fast I know, and I'm sorry I'll-just-see-myself-out-shall-I?"
"Bluestreak." Optimus changed his grip, folding one of his big hands gently around Bluestreak's. "You don't need to leave. I haven't said 'no.' I'm not turning you down."
It took a nano-klik or two, but that got through the climbing levels of anxiety in Bluestreak's mind. "…you're not?"
"No. I would be honoured to be your first lover, Bluestreak."
Bluestreak dared to peek at his leader's calm, caring optics. "It – I – you're really okay with this? You're really saying 'yes?'"
Optimus smiled, warmth in his optics. "Yes, I'm really saying 'yes.'"
Wow. Wow, okay! Wow. Now that Optimus had said 'yes' Bluestreak wasn't sure what happened next. Well, okay, no, obviously he knew what happened, the data had unlocked for him during late adolescence just like everyone else who'd been sparked a juvenile, he just wasn't sure how they'd get there from here.
"That's part of what I'll show you," Optimus assured him calmly.
Oh, oops. "I, um, didn't mean to say that out loud," Bluestreak muttered, embarrassment rising again.
"It's alright."
"I'm just – I'm just nervous, I guess." If it were possible, Bluestreak was more nervous now than before he'd asked. His vocalizer actually locked up as about a dozen different thoughts all tried to express themselves at once.
"That's alright too. Whatever you're feeling, it's completely normal." Optimus took Bluestreak's hand. "Here, sit with me on the couch, and we'll talk."
Right, talking. That was important. Jazz and Prowl and Bluestreak's data files on engaging in relationships had all told him about how talking to your prospective partner first was very important. (Which was probably the kind of conversations Jazz and Prowl had had while sitting on the couch in the mega-cycles before Jazz started staying overnight. The type that Bluestreak had accidentally kept interrupting. Oops. He owed them an apology. This was difficult enough without a clueless adolescent walking in on you!)
Bluestreak moved with Optimus from the chairs to the couch. The couch was much bigger than the one Bluestreak was used to, in his creator's quarters. He supposed that made sense since Optimus was so much bigger than they were. Than Bluestreak was, too. If there hadn't been room on the couch, Bluestreak could have fit neatly on Prime's lap.
Maybe he would. Maybe he would soon.
Okay, that was enough of that. Bluestreak was going to get heated up just from thinking, and he needed to focus. He cycled his cooling system, silently, once and centred himself like he did when he was getting ready to focus on a target.
"It's awkward for me, too," Optimus said gently, taking one of Bluestreak's hand in his much bigger one. He smiled reassuringly. "I think this conversation is always awkward, no matter how many partners one takes."
Oh, Primus. Bluestreak didn't have any illusions that this would turn into some kind of long-term or permanent relationship. It wasn't what he was after, he just wanted a first partner who would be careful with him. It just hadn't occurred to him until right now that he'd wind up taking everything he learned here and applying it to the same scenario with some unknown someone else at some point. But that point wasn't now.
"That's good to know because it feels really, really, awkward for me right now," Bluestreak said honestly. "But it's less awkward since it's like that for you, too. I mean, if that makes any sense."
"It makes perfect sense, Bluestreak," Optimus assured him. He rubbed his thumb soothingly over Bluestreak's wrist. "Do you have questions or anything specific you want to discuss?"
"I know I should because my datatrax tell me so," Bluestreak told him. "But it's like the whole list wants to queue up in my vocalizer at the same time and even I can't say it fast enough. And then I'm worried about how I might not ask the right question at the right time because of that so – so maybe you can just…just start?"
"Of course."
Optimus' thumb kept petting gently over Bluestreak's wrist as he spoke, a steady rhythm that helped Bluestreak centre. It reminded him of the time Jazz had taught him to calm himself using a metronome. That, and Optimus's voice helped Bluestreak feel more at ease even if the other mech was talking about things like interface transmitted viruses and past sexual history. Optimus didn't have as much as Bluestreak would have thought. Maybe being the Prime kept him isolated? Or at least meant he had fewer choices available to him than, say, Smokescreen, who routinely sexiled Bluestreak to his creator's habsuite.
"So, I've been kissed a few times," Bluestreak said hesitantly when it was his turn. "And a little tactile, just making out as an adolescent, y'know, and it wasn't ever enough for either of us to overload. And then – we hit that lull, remember, and everything was looking up for a while, and I thought I was good, but it was like, now that things were kind of okay all this stuff about Praxus and my creators – the ones that requested me – started coming to mind. I wanted – I had to deal with that first, so I stopped with anything romantic or sexual with other mecha for a while."
Optimus nodded in understanding. "A wise choice, not to push yourself when you felt you weren't ready," he praised. "And now you do?"
"Ready but nervous?" Bluestreak offered. "If that makes any sense?"
Optimus chuckled and put a hand on Bluestreak's shoulder. "Then, may I kiss you, Bluestreak?"
"Oh! I guess that would be a good start, I mean that's where people usually start, isn't it? I mean –" Bluestreak caught himself. "Sorry. Nervous. But yes, yes, you may kiss me."
Bluestreak's spark was spinning a mega-mile a klik when Optimus's mouth closed over his in a gentle kiss. Bluestreak had been kissed before, and he still was scared he'd mess it up somehow even so, but all the worry got dumped straight from his dynamic memory at the touch of his lover's mouth. He kissed back, only able to think of how Optimus had said it was okay to go slow and not be sure.
"Good?" Optimus asked, kindly.
"Yes!" Bluestreak hastened to assure him.
Optimus smiled. "Another?"
Well, yeah, he wanted another! It was a thrill to realize Optimus did too, that the bigger mech wanted Bluestreak and wasn't just humouring him. For once, Bluestreak managed to stem the flood of words to one simple one that said so much.
"Yes."
Optimus kissed him again, this time nudging Bluestreak's lips gently with his tongue. Bluestreak knew about that, of course, but experiencing it was different, and it took him a couple of nano-kliks to realize he should open his mouth. Long enough for Optimus to read it as doubt.
"You don't have to do something you don't want to, Bluestreak," Optimus reminded him. "Remember what you were taught about consent."
"I do, and I do want to, at least to try," Bluestreak assured him. "It just took me a nano-klik or two before I got what you were asking for because I haven't done much of this, I don't have a whole lot of practice, and I'd really, really like some. So, um, can we try again?"
Optimus chuckled gently. "I'd like that very much, Bluestreak."
It took a few tries, not that either one of them was complaining, but eventually, Bluestreak got to the point where he didn't have to think so much about what he was doing. He got into the rhythm of it, and there was a lot less accidental clicking of teeth and bumping of noses. Well, that had mostly been because of Bluestreak, but he didn't get lectured, just guided. And, okay, Bluestreak didn't have a whole lot of experience, like he'd said but he was pretty sure Optimus really, really knew what he was doing.
"Oh, wow," Bluestreak breathed when they broke apart. "That was…wow! Er, it was, right?"
"Yes, it was." Optimus stroked the back of a finger down the side of Bluestreak's neck. "Have you ever had your throat kissed?" Bluestreak shook his head. "May I?"
Bluestreak nodded, then remembered the importance of verbal consent, especially with a new lover who didn't know his signals yet and said "yes."
Their size difference meant they had to switch around a little bit. Bluestreak sat on the couch, and Optimus knelt on the floor and leaned over him. Bluestreak tipped his head back, gasping as Optimus's lips moved delicately over the cables in his throat. Bluestreak wasn't sure how to respond or what to do with his hands so he just kind of clutched at Optimus's shoulders and let himself make noises on automatic. Bluestreak felt Optimus's hands cupping his sides, thumbs running gently along the underside of his bumper
"Is that alright?" Optimus asked, and Bluestreak swore he could feel the vibration as that deep voice rumbled in his leader's chest.
"Yes!" Bluestreak gasped out. "Yes, it's alright, it's good, I really don't want you to stop!"
Optimus kissed Bluestreak's jawline. "I'd like to give you a tactile overload if I may?"
"Okay, yes, I'd like that," Bluestreak babbled, really really wanting Optimus to get back to building his charge. "In fact, you can just take it I've said yes from now on and unless I say 'no' you can just keep going."
"I like to hear your consent," Optimus said, smiling up at him. "But I'll keep it in mind. Now, I think you have a sensitive seam right…here…"
Bluestreak decided, once he was able to piece thoughts together again, that tactile overloads and overloads someone else gave you were both pretty great, and he'd like a lot more of them in the future, please!
"You liked that, I see," Optimus observed, smiling at a still blissed-out Bluestreak.
"Mmm. Mm-hm." The run of words that was so often present in Bluestreak's head was quiet now.
"Good," the Prime said, sounding satisfied. He sat up on the couch again and pulled Bluestreak against him. Bluestreak cuddled up happily – Optimus maneuvering around his doors wasn't even awkward, surprisingly – and shut his optics off, listening to the hum of his lover's systems and enjoying the warmth.
Oh, but he was supposed to reciprocate, wasn't he? Right, basic interfacing courtesy, and besides, he wanted to! He let his fingers curl lightly into Optimus's grille.
"Is that alright?" Bluestreak asked. He wouldn't be able to reach Optimus's throat like this, but he could try that later. "Should I keep going?"
"Ah," Optimus's voice hitched, and Bluestreak felt a little proud of himself. "Yes, please do."
"Where do you like people to touch you?" Bluestreak wanted to know. Optimus had him asked if he'd ever had his throat kissed so it must be an okay kind of question to ask.
Optimus chuckled affectionately. "Exploring your lover is half the fun. But I will tell you you've made a good start!"
Bluestreak was starting to feel more confident, and he tried a little teasing back. "But if I don't know what you like, it might take me a long time to figure it out. You don't mind, do you?"
Optimus's fingertips trailed along the top edge of one of Bluestreak's doors. "Not at all, Bluestreak." Bluestreak thought he was smiling. "Not at all."
It did take a few tries, but Bluestreak got a thrill the first time he pulled a moan from his lover. He immediately repeated the touch just to hear that deep voice in pleasure once again. Optimus hadn't been silent, but that was a real, deep, moan!
"Oh," Bluestreak said, feeling proud of himself, running his fingers over the seam again; Prime shuddered and caught his hand, pressing it more firmly to the bigger mech's torso. "This is what it felt like for you when you touched me and I…" Bluestreak couldn't really explain how he felt, but he knew he wanted to hear that again, so he leaned forward and followed the stroke of his fingers with his tongue.
"Bluestreak!" Optimus gasped, clutching the smaller mech a fraction tighter.
"Can I make you overload like this?" Bluestreak asked curiously and repeated the action on the matching seam on Prime's other side. "I mean, I know I can, maybe, but is it okay? Do you want me to see if I actually can?"
Optimus shuddered and curled up around Bluestreak. "Please…try."
It turned out the answer was 'yes.' Bluestreak cuddled into Optimus afterward, stroking his lover's heavy armour to soothe, not to arouse. Bluestreak still had a charge built up, but he was okay with letting it start to disperse on its own. Overloads felt so good, but sitting here like this, knowing he'd satisfied his partner, felt good in a different way. His data on interfacing had mentioned that it would, but the dry, precise terminology from his datafiles hadn't brought across how it would make him feel.
"You don't have to," Bluestreak said when Optimus recovered enough to begin touching him suggestively again. "I mean, I don't mind if you do – I'd really like it – but you don't need to feel, I don't know, obligated or something because I just made you overload."
"I don't do this out of obligation," Optimus assured him. "Come here." Bluestreak squeaked a little in surprise when he was lifted and resettled astride Optimus' lap; Optimus chuckled affectionately. "I want to."
"Okay, just so long as it's what you want and not becau – oooooh…" Optimus hadn't had access to Bluestreak's sensitive door hinges before, but he did now, and he was making the most of it. "Mmm, yeah…" He was a lot closer to Optimus's throat now, and maybe Optimus had shown Bluestreak what necking was like almost first thing because he liked it himself? Bluestreak wasn't quite level with the bigger mech's throat but if Optimus leaned down and Bluestreak stretched up… "I want to kiss your throat."
Was that a little shiver? Maybe? Probably, since Optimus was leaning down and urging Bluestreak to lean up even as he said: "Bluestreak, yes!"
A little later, right before his second overload surged through him, Bluestreak had the oddly clear thought that he'd more than made the right choice for his first lover. Then static crackled across his superstructure, and he shouted affirmation against Optimus's chest.
It took a bit to recover, but once he had Bluestreak made sure to bring Optimus over as well. Optimus brushed kisses over his helm, praised him, and held him close afterward. Bluestreak felt good, content, cared for, and he rested there, sated, almost drowsing, for a time he didn't bother to count.
"It's getting late," Optimus murmured eventually, interrupting their post-overload cuddle session. "Will your roommates worry if you don't come back tonight?"
"No," Bluestreak answered, nestled happily in Optimus' warmth and strength, "they'll just think I stayed with my creators. I do that sometimes." When he thought about Praxus and his stress spiked, and the nightmares threatened, and the familiarity of his old home helped keep them away. Or when Smokescreen brought someone home, and the rest of them got sexiled.
"Will you stay here with me tonight?" Optimus asked. He brushed a kiss over the top of Bluestreak's helm. "Nothing more has to happen, but I'd like to have you near me."
Oh! That sounded…that sounded like something he'd enjoy, whether Optimus 'faced him or not. Bluestreak didn't really want to leave the warmth and contentment being with his lover brought anyway. He nuzzled the right half of Optimus' windshield. "Of course I'll stay, Optimus. Er, if I did want more to happen, would you want that too?"
Optimus tipped Bluestreak's chin up for a kiss, smiling. "I would."
Optimus's quarters were in the part of Autobase Iacon that had once been the High Council Pavilions but were relatively plain even so. Most of the luxury that had once been their hallmark had long since been melted down, repurposed, or sold off-world to fund the Autobot war machine. One of the pieces that remained was an absolutely massive bed. Primes tended to be on the large side, after all. There was more than enough room for Prime and Bluestreak and probably two more mecha Bluestreak's size as well.
Bluestreak had just a moment to wonder how he was supposed to get into it, not that he'd mind being lifted again he really liked the way Optimus could do that contrasted with the mech's gentle consideration. Then Optimus put a hand to the – was that? It was! To the control pad and a set of steps transformed out on one side of the bed and Bluestreak could just walk up and sit down on the mattress.
Ooh. Comfy.
"There's a reason this is one of the few pieces of furniture I kept. Well," Optimus amended as he lay down and tugged Bluestreak in close, "relatively few. The place was overstuffed before. I gave most of it away."
"It's worth keeping," Bluestreak agreed, tucked between Optimus's arm and his chest.
"Do you need anything?" Optimus asked. "Fuel, coolant…?"
"No," Bluestreak said, letting his optics dim to off. "Thank you. I just want to lie here for a bit."
"Of course," Optimus said gently. "Let me know if you want or need anything."
"I will," Bluestreak promised. For now, he was just going to rest for a little bit.
Just a little.
Bluestreak woke up about a cycle later, confused for a nano-klik about where he was. He flexed his fingers, brushing them over the surface to try and figure out who he was cuddling with. Metal, no surprise, glass square, broad chest – oh! He raised his head and met warm blue optics.
"Welcome back," Optimus said, smiling.
"Hi," Bluestreak said. He pulled himself up and kissed his lover, quite happy to take the initiative. "Did you recharge for a bit as well or was it just me?"
"A little," Optimus replied, while Bluestreak kissed his jaw. "Ready for more, I take it?"
"Yes! I mean, if you want to as well," Bluestreak amended quickly. "I mean, we haven't cabled yet."
A big hand stroked his back, skimming gently over the articulations for his doors and making him shiver. "Much as I'm looking forward to experiencing that with you, we don't have to do everything tonight."
"Right, I know," Bluestreak assured him, not failing to notice the implication that Optimus would like him to come back. "But, we can, right?"
A deep chuckle vibrated through his chest plating, pressed to Optimus's. "Yes, Bluestreak, we certainly can."
Bluestreak was smaller, so it didn't take him nearly as long to build a charge up as it did Optimus. There were ways to make it work so you could build charge simultaneously with a smaller or larger partner, but Optimus said not to worry, he'd teach Bluestreak those later if he wanted.
Bluestreak wanted. Just, later, because it probably needed more patience than he wanted to give right now.
"It doesn't always have to be an equal amount of overloads," he was assured. "So long as everyone gets something out of it. For example, I like to watch my lovers enjoy themselves. And feel it, when I'm networked with one of them."
So Bluestreak didn't feel bad when Optimus brought him to another overload before Optimus's charge even got close. It was smaller this time, didn’t leave Bluestreak as blissed out as the first two had; he wanted more.
"I want to connect," Bluestreak mumbled happily, collapsed on top of his lover. He lapped gently over a primary energon line, nibbled at the collar fairing just below. "Please?"
"Gladly."
Optimus drew gentle fingers up Bluestreak's back, then down, running over his hips and stroking the covers of the access ports there. It felt good, though everything felt good for Bluestreak right now, and he let the covers slide open. Bluestreak felt a little thrill of nervousness. Sure, he'd done some basic data transfer before using the ports in his wrists, and it was the same hardware there as in all his other data ports, but somehow this felt different. It wasn't like he'd never opened those ports before either, Ratchet tested them every meta-cycle as part of routine diagnostics. But it was different.
"Alright?" Optimus asked.
"Yes, I am, it's just – it's new," Bluestreak confessed. "Not new new of course because I get regular medical checkups and they get tested for functionality each time, but that's just…clinical, I guess? And this…isn't. But I'm still okay. I still want to."
"I understand, Bluestreak." Optimus rubbed slow figure eights, in opposite directions, over the dual ports on each side and Bluestreak's charge surged again. "Sit up and move back a little when you're ready to connect."
Bluestreak moaned and took a klik or so to be sure he was ready, dipping fingertips into seams and between armour plates to make sure he kept Optimus running hot as well. Then he pressed a final kiss to his lover's mouth and sat up, shifting backward to get access to Optimus's hip ports as well.
"Here," Optimus murmured, taking his hands and guiding them to the bigger mech's access ports. "Jack us into each other and take charge of the network connection. We'll do this at your pace."
"O-okay." Bluestreak let his fingers skim over Optimus's ports, static dancing between his fingers and the metal and drawing a noise from his lover. "Was that - ?"
"Good," Optimus reassured him. "Very good. The jacks are sensitive too."
Bluestreak nodded, but hesitated, not sure where to start. Was there an order he was supposed to go in, his lover first then him, or…? He couldn't remember.
"Here." Optimus guided his hands again. "Jack yourself into me first, since I asked you to make the connection, then yourself."
"Alright," Bluestreak whispered. His hands had fine tremors due to nerves and eagerness in equal measure, but he managed to keep them steady enough to jack himself into Optimus. His network interface protocols wanted to request access to Optimus's systems right away, but Bluestreak delayed it till he'd made the reciprocal connection.
Bluestreak cycled his cooling systems then pushed Optimus's jacks into his own ports, one set, then the other. Optimus's jacks were bigger than diagnostic ones, and it took a nano-klik for Bluestreak's ports to reconfigure, but it didn't hurt. There was no network connection yet, but Bluestreak was sure he could feel Optimus's presence on the other side, waiting.
"Wrists as well?" Optimus asked gently.
Right, right, hip and wrist ports were customary. More bandwidth, more data transfer, more sensation.
"Yes," Bluestreak managed, and connected them, wrist to wrist, and twined their fingers together. "I'm going to let the protocol suite run now, okay?"
"Please," Optimus groaned, and Bluestreak knew he was feeling the need to complete the network as well. "I want to feel you in my systems."
Networking and syncing took only a klik, and at the same time, it felt like forever to Bluestreak. Then it was done, and he was through and in, and Optimus was in, and…
"Oh." Bluestreak buried his face in Optimus' chest, shivering at the feel of someone else so intimately connected to him. Optimus had been so right: this was nothing like data transfer, it went deeper, promised so much more. He could feel Optimus – strong, compassionate, steady, patient – on the other side of the connection, waiting for Bluestreak to begin actively transferring sensory data. Optimus, who understood Bluestreak was as nervous as he was eager and who would wait for him as long as he needed.
"I just need a klik," Bluestreak managed. "M-maybe two. But I don't want to stop!"
Optimus told him what he already knew, but it was good to hear it anyway. "I know. Take as long as you need. I will wait for you, Bluestreak."
Maybe it was contradictory but being told it was alright for him to wait made Bluestreak feel ready. Optimus caressed him, keeping his charge up and Bluestreak tentatively gathered up how that touch felt and pushed it across the network between them. It wasn't much, just a test really, but he got Optimus' response to it sent back to him, and oh-oh, he'd done it right. That felt good, like the first time he'd made his lover moan had, so he sent back what the realization felt like, and oh Optimus sent him back how truly honoured he had been to be taken as Bluestreak's first, the feel of Bluestreak running hot, pressed against him and wanting more, more…
Bluestreak whined and curled his fingers into gaps in his lover's armour. This…he could feel his overload building, but this one was different, from inside rather than out, maybe a little frightening even. But all he had to do was want 'slower' to get Optimus to throttle back the transfer rate from his end, and the lowered throughput eased Bluestreak back from the edge, was easier to handle.
"So good," Bluestreak whispered, stretching up for a kiss. Experimentally, he transferred the sensation of the kiss back to Optimus as his haptic sensors received it, winning a moan from the mech below him. Curious, Bluestreak fed over more of what he was feeling right now, from the joy of having Optimus networked so deeply with him, to the physical sensations of the big frame below him and between his thighs, running hot.
"Bluestreak…" Optimus groaned, sharing the same sensations from his side right back. Bluestreak whined again, but it was one of pleasure this time, with no fear in it.
"Touch me," Bluestreak whispered. "Touch me, send it to me, I want to feel…I want…"
He wanted so much, all at once, and he didn't – couldn't - ask for it with words, so he sent the feeling of what he wanted over their connection. He was rewarded by Optimus arching under him and sending back…and Bluestreak showed him, and got…oh…oh yes! Like that, more of that, and he didn't even have to send it, the want suffused him, filled their network, greedy for more, more bandwidth, more throughput, more touch, more of Optimus, more more more…
One of them, Bluestreak didn't know which, kept him, or maybe them, on the edge of climax for long, glorious, kliks until he couldn't hold the charge anymore. Bluestreak overloaded with a shout, bright lances of static dancing between himself and his lover even after his systems tripped into a soft reboot.
Bluestreak came back online lying on his side, quite firmly snuggled in Optimus Prime's arms. They were both a little overly warm to the touch, but the static had grounded itself out, and Bluestreak's charge had been expended so that he just felt lazy and satiated and content. They were still cabled together, and even without active data transfer, Bluestreak could feel Optimus's satisfaction and, yes, affection. Bluestreak wasn't sure what the other mech would feel from him, but he was pretty sure it was the data equivalent of a satisfied 'mmm.'
Bluestreak cuddled a little closer, holding his lover in return before he had to squirm backward so he could look him in the optics.
"Welcome back," Optimus said with a smile. "How do you feel?"
Bluestreak thought about it for a nano-klik. There was any number of words to describe the way he felt, but even with glyph markers, none of them felt quite right. He settled for letting it be felt across the network and just saying "wonderful," before snuggling close again.
Optimus stroked his back, saying quietly, "I'm glad."
Bluestreak's last thought before he fell into recharge was that he really had made the best choice.