How Sweet He Sounds

by Zira

Summary:

Optimus has to find work. At least here the pay is good, he can get through Academy, and will be a Prime before he knows it.

Chapter 1

A decacycle later, and Optimus can still hardly believe that he had been accepted into the Elite Academy. Sergeant Kup had claimed he'd gotten some of the best exam scores in decavorns, and he'd even qualified for a scholarship that covered his Academy entrance fees, while his pay during training would cover most of his room and board. Unfortunately, there was still a healthy chunk of cost left over, and Optimus was left with the choice of either taking out a massive loan or finding work to pay for the rest.

So that's how he's found himself here, standing in front of the entrance to a big office building. The previous decacycle had been nothing but dead-ends hunting for a job that would let him work truly flexible megacycles and still pay enough to cover his bills. Three cafes, two warehouse jobs, and four different office positions all ended in failure. So his hopes rest on this job, found in an advertisement at the last office that had rejected him.

'Do you have a talent with words? Do you have a good imagination, and you want to express it? We offer flexible positions and megacycles for bots willing to work hard over the com. Adult bots only.'

Telemarketing isn't something he's ever seriously considered, but he's considering it now. It's not like he's not used to getting yelled at. Sergeant Kup's favorite thing was yelling at them, back in bootcamp. This can't be that different.

He opens the door and walks inside. The building is clean, with a small waiting area with two chairs and a table, a stack of datapads to browse on it. The receptionist desk is empty, but the door must have a chime somewhere, because a pink minibot comes out and steps behind the desk, smiling brightly at him, "Well, hello there. How can we help you at the Blue Flash this sol, sir?"

Holding out the flyer he'd taken, Optimus smiles nervously. "Well, I was hoping you were still hiring?"

The mech laughs a little, grinning at him, "We're always hiring. Not everyone can deal with the work. Do you have your resume?"

He nods slowly, and is just glad that he's almost certain to be hired now, if only due to what must be a high turnover rate. With luck, he can stick it out long enough to pay or to get a better job. So he pulls out the datapad with the information, and the bot takes it easily, scrolling through it.

THe mech smiles at him again, "Well, not what we're used to seeing on our resumes, but we get a few like this. One of our best workers came in with one a lot like this, so don't worry. I'll run this in, and once we have things arranged, we'll have an interview."

He tries to keep the crushed look off his face, "Will I need to wait for your com?"

THe minibot blinks, looking confused, then the smile is back, "Oh! No, of course not. Just sit in one of the chairs, and I'll be back in less than a breem to get you in."

He perks up, happy to be able to get one now, instead of waiting a decacyle and being told he's not wanted. If he's lucky. Mostly it's just no responses at all. "Thank you!"

"Not a problem. Go sit down, and relax. I'm sure you won't have any trouble."

Optimus takes a set and folds his servos in his lap, practicing the answers to the standard interview questions in his processor. He really can't afford to fail at this too. If he has to, he can take out that loan, but it's going to mean he's in debt for a long time after he graduates, and even longer if he doesn't manage to graduate. The Academy has a basic schedule each stellar for classes, but the sol-off varies every three decacycles, and there's always a chance that he'll have to take an unexpected exam with less than a sol's notice. That's very unappealing to most jobs.

For telemarketing? He's sure they'll be a little more flexible, especially if they have enough bots to fill in each sol. At least he hopes so.

"Optimus?" a voice asks, and when he looks up at the bot that just walked through the door, Optimus nearly has a spark attack. He recognizes the mech.

The tall, thin blue racecar arches an optic ridge at him, and Optimus manages to cough and answer, "Y-yes."

Blurr. Elite Guard Blurr, famous for starring in a lot of Playbot publications, and for reportedly having one of the highest graduating exam scores in the Elite Academy ever.

"Well, Optimus, why don't we step into my office and we can conduct your interview there? There's a lot to go over." The mech's words are spoken just a bit too quickly to be normal, but nowhere near as fast as he's heard in some recordings of the bot.

He isn't sure how well he'll do, if someone as important as Blurr is the one interviewing him. His spark sinks a little at how he's just going to be rejected. Again.

but he forces himself to stand up straight and walk into the office. Sitting at the amazingly comfortable office chair, he quietly luxurates at the cushioning, since he knows he won't be here long. May as well enjoy what little he can before being tossed out on his aft.

Blurr sits across from him, saying, "just from looking at your resume, I can tell that you're a freshly graduated bootcamp recruit, and are now starting up Academy."

"Yes, sir."

"The potential loans are killer, that's for certain. I remember them, myself." The bot hums, looking him over, "Who's your Sergeant?"

"Kup Minor, sir."

Blurr smiles, it's kind and soft, "Ah, how good did you test?"

"Top of my stellar, sir!" he says it proudly, happy to say it. No one else asks, but Blurr is interested.

"And..." Blurr looks him up and down, very critically, "Poorbot, from one of the planets on the outer rim? Likely a neutral planet, not kind to anyone not rich?"

"... Y-yes, sir."

"Well, that has nothing to do with your ability to work here, but it explains why you're looking for work in the first place." Blurr taps on the datapad, "So my first question to you is going to be, do you actually know what it is that we sell here over the com?"

Optimus blanks. This is a standard interview question and like a slagging glitch, he hadn't even looked up the company!

"I'll take it that you don't, especially considering your work history. Factory work, bartending and serving, etc, etc." Blurr taps the tablet stylus against his mouth. "Well, I'll be blunt with you. We're here to sell something very important over the coms, and it requires you to be creative and clever and willing to put your client above yourself. This is a coms only job, which is how we're not located in the blue-light district-" the what?? "-and we value your privacy and safety, so we have a lot of rules to follow. If we hire you, we'll train you and give you guides to help, but your job will be to provide erotic fantasies to mechs over the com."

Oh Primus, it's that kind of com center? An interfacing comline? His faceplates feel so hot he's worried they'll melt. "Um . . oh. I uh, I didn't realize-"

"I figured as much. But I do think you'd do well here, with some training. You have a very pleasant voice and you were interested in com-work, so you may enjoy it here. The pay is good, and the megacycles are very flexible, as we advertise. You are required to dedicate at least ten megacycles of work for us each decacycle, but our offices are open every sol at all megacycles. We receive calls from offworld, after all, and we have to cater to every possible schedule."

Ten megacycles as a minimum is... amazingly little. "And how much is the maximum megacycles?"

Blurr looks amused, "Half the staff is fulltime. If you're going to the academy, you won't be able to make that. But if you want to drop out to join, and you're doing well, you'd be welcome."

He smiles, "I don't think I'd drop out but the options being there are good to know."

Blurr nods, "Do you think you can do the minimum ten megacycles?"

It's clear from the bot's tone he expects there to be no problems, and Optimus is happy to reaffirm that, "Absolutely."

"Good." Blurr looks at his datapad, "I'd like you to look through the rules we have for safety, and to tell me if you think you can follow them.'

Optimus flicks through the pad. Real names are forbidden here. He'll have a work designation that he can share, and his clients can request any other names, but he cannot give out his real designation. He cannot give out his private com frequency. He cannot ask a client for their personal information, though a client can share it if they want, he is not allowed to make use of it, and he should discourage it. He has to sign a client confidentiality agreement, meaning that nothing said over the com console here can be shared--with one legal exception for a bot either admitting to serious crimes or threatening the worker. He can request not to take a client again if they make him uncomfortable. He cannot take work calls anywhere other than here at the office. If he fears that his information has been exposed and thinks a client may be trying to stalk him, he has to report it immediately.

He sets the pad down. "That... um, that's a lot of rules, but I don't see me having any issues with them. I notice there's nothing about um, verbally abusing someone?"

Blurr shrugs easily, "Some bots like that, but if you make it clear with a client that you won't tolerate it, and they continue, or vice versa, we don't tolerate it."

"So a case by case basis?"

"Consent is important, and part of play is that sometimes abuse is toyed with. If you don't like that sort of thing, you can refuse those clients or scenes."

He nods, "Okay, yes. I can do this."

"The reporting of a possible crime is important, and can not be ignored. Stalking happens a lot by the more obsessive clients, and we don't want our employees in danger. Most of the time, they get jealous, and will attack the employee for not remaining 'loyal' to them," Blurr ends that with a very sarcastic drawl.

Which is understandable. This is a job. Just because he smiles at them because he needs to while working doesn't mean he likes the person he's serving. "Yes, I understand."

"The way we take a client is simple. You'll be assessed to see what roles you play best, and then you'll sign in to the database whenever you come for a shift. When a client calls, they tell our system what they are in the mood for, and it will match a few bots in the database that are on duty. You'll have the option to accept the client or pass them on if there are other bots available that match. You can choose to allow bots to ask for you directly as well."

No one will ever ask for him directly, he's sure of that.

"Now," Blurr shifts a bit, "I need to ask you a few things." The mech looks him over, "How confident are you in being able to provide a mech an erotic fantasy?"

His faceplates burn, "Um," he squeaks, "if I get some practice and guidance, I'm sure I can manage it."

"Mmhm." Blurr taps on his datapad, "And what would you say you are like in the berth? Do you have fantasies you could cater to more naturally?"

Primus below, his plating must be literally melting now. "Um . . I . . well, when I read datapads I really like when bots are sweet, but it's also exciting when another bot takes charge."

Blurr doesn't look surprised, "Are there any specific fetishes you like?"

He only barely manages not to hide his face in his servos. Oh, he can talk over the comnet and on the forums easily, since that's generally private and anonymous, but face to face? Not easy at all. "Praise kink. Um.... sparking... kink."

Blurr looks mildly amused, but also pleased, "Anything else?"

"I'm not into . . I don't like the idea of pain at all. Maybe like, spanking would be okay, and I'm alright with the thought of bondage." HIs cheeks hurt from how hot they are. "I like size differences a lot too."

"So do I," Blurr chuckles, "since most of my chosen partners outside this job are big bots. Nothing like a nice big spike, right?"

He ducks his helm and nods, though he has no idea. He likes to think about it and read it though.

"So, am I right in guessing that you have very little experience with these things?" Another embarrassed nod. "Well, that's not a problem, so long as you have the willingness to do some research and follow the suggested guides we have.

"I can do that," he says easily. Even if they're more ... educational based than the datapads he usually reads, he wants to do well in the new job.

"Good." Blurr stands up, "When can you start?"

He mentally checks his schedule, then makes sure to check if anything from the academy is popping up, "I have the rest of the sol free, sir."

The mech reaches over the desk, and shakes his servo, "Welcome to the team. Let's get you into some training, and get this show on the road."

Optimus feels a weight lift off of him he didn't even realize he's been carrying. The stress of no job is replaced by the hope and excitement of potential credits. The freedom of not being forced into a potentially predatory loan. "I'm excited to learn, sir."

"You're hired now, that means you can call me Blurr."

"Blurr."

The mech walks around the desk, and grabs him around the shoulder, leading him out, "So, now that we're in less formal conditions. You ever try fragging Kup? He's hot as the Pit, right?"

Optimus thinks he may have a permanent blush burned into his faceplates. "He . . um, he rejected me the one time I tried." Optimus had approached the mech on a sol off at a bar, and had all but begged the mech to berth him. Kup had gently rejected him, telling him that he'd never frag one of his cadets ever. It had been for the best, honestly, because Optimus would have regretted it later.

His seals are for his future bondmate.

Of course . . if Kup had so much as hinted that he might make use of Optimus's mouth, he would have given it to him in a sparkpulse.

No one else has interested him enough to try.

"He does that. I managed to get him on the very last sol, but if you ask him, he'll insist it was after the new sol ticked over. Him and his principles. He doesn't need those in the berth with me."

Optimus wonders if working here will give him a blush burned into his faceplates, or he'll eventually stop caring. He's hoping it's the latter, since if Sentinel and Elita comment on a constant blush, he won't be able to fob them off if they push.

"If you say so," he demures.

Blurr chuckles, "But you being where you're from, I'm gonna let you in on a secret."

"What's that?" He isn't sure he wants to know, but the mech kind of has him trapped.

"There aren't any scholarships for the Academy. Not really. That's not how it works. Not originally, anyway. But Kup is a softspark, and you said you were top of your stellar."

"But I have a scholarship!"

"Yeah, because Kup set it up. Keep that in mind when you graduate, alright? I help contribute to let new bots help pay. You should too, later on."

Oh. Oh, now he feels terrible, because he knows that Kup can't be pulling that large of a salary, as a Sergeant, and he's put so many credits to Optimus? Optimus, who might not even make it through? He shouldn't have!

Optimus will pay it back. He'll pay Kup back when he can, and he'll put credits towards other cadets in the future too. He will. It won't be any different than when he paid credits to his orphanage on Haydon IV while working in bars and warehouses and factories there.

"Our cubicles are soundproofed, so we don't have to worry about interrupting another call." They walk through the quiet offices, where a bit of soft music plays from a radio mounted in the wall. Optimus takes a quick glance at a few of the bots as they walk by. There's an orange tankbot flipping through a magazine, looking bored out of his processor while talking to someone, a blue mini-racecar who seems to be really interested, waving his arms enthusiastically, and a neon lime boatbot who looks like he must be referencing something, as there are what appear to be muted interfacing videos on his screen while he talks.

Optimus can't hear anything from any of them.

He's relieved to see no one is touching their 'facing equipment, too. But he's pretty sure there's a reason for it that he'll learn during training.

Blurr leads him to a room filled with datapads, and a com console, "Time to get you all signed up and in, then we can work on logging your training hours. Settle in, this will take awhile."

He sits on the chair next to the com, and Blurr sits next to him. He can do this.

Chapter 2

Optimus looks at his cubicle, and feels ... comforted. It's just warm and cozy, and all his. Well, as all his as a part timer gets. It means he doesn't really get to decorate until a stellar in, but since he won't be working a huge number of hours, that's fine. And if by the end of the stellar, he's still here, then he gets to move to a larger cubicle for decorating. He passes by those cubicles while on training, and he... really wants one.

So he focuses on his work, and spots how he has a client.

Bracing himself, he adjusts his seat, and glances at the various specifications the client wants. Sweet mech, bonded, and he has fuel ready for him to drink before they get down to more. There's no check for sparking, and part of him is very disappointed, since this is right what he'd want to do. especially the bonding part. But he can do this.

Accepting the call, Optimus vents out slowly and smiles, because bots can hear a smile, "Hello, my name is Sweetspark, who do I have the pleasure of speaking with this sol?"

There's a pause, and then a mech with a very deep, rumbling voice answers. Sounds like a larger bot, maybe. "This is Havoc. You sound really nice, Sweetspark."

Optimus blushes a little, "Oh, that's so nice of you to say, Havoc. So, what do you look like? Are you as handsome as you sound? And what kind of place do we live in?"

Another pause, and a rustle like the mech might be in a berth. "Well, we got a nice place, a little house in the city, with a good kitchen and livin' room. Two berthrooms, but we only use one. I'm a pretty big tank, green paint if that matters. What 'bout you?"

He's a fantasy for this mech, so he's whatever the bot wants. "Well, that depends, what do you think I look like?" An opportunity for the mech to tell him what he wants, though Optimus is allowed to describe himself as he is, if he wants and the mech wants it too.

"I just wanna know what you look like, Sweetspark. Ya sound real cute, and iffin' we're doin' this, I'd like to have a better idea in my processor. Ya know?"

"Well, I'm a truckbot, a bit... a bit on the small side. Not as large as most of my modeltype." he smiles when the mech revs a little, not much, but just on the edge of hearing. "Is there any color you'd like me to be?" He brings up notes for the call, since if he's lucky, he'll be asked for again, and having baseline notes helps keep the fantasy for the next time.

“I'd never tell my bonded they need to change for me. Whatever ya are, that's what I'd want."

He types that for Havoc that he's just looking like himself, "Well, the majority of my frame is red, but I have blue forearms and legs, with a blue helm that has helmfins."

"So... do ya like 'em touched?"

"I like that very much, Havoc."

"Real sensitive things?" Havoc's voice has gotten even deeper, rumbling a little. "I bet you'd really love having my mouth on 'em, right?"

Optimus shivers a little, imagining it. "Oh, yes. I love that." So he knows what the mech's looking for, the basics of names and appearances, and the bot hasn't asked for anything that requires a consent statement, so they can begin. "I hope you like the fuel I made for you. I've been practicing things I've seen on the console. If it's bad, you have to tell me so I can make something better for you. I want you to have the best fuel after your long sol at work."

"Mm, I'm sure I'll love it, Sweetspark," Havoc rumbles. "You wearin' that sweet little apron I got for you?"

Optimus taps on his console, looking up aprons really quick for inspiration. "Mmhm. I put on the pink one with the little blue spark on the top. The cords are a little too long at the back though. They keep tickling my aft plating and making me jump, thinking it was your fingers."

Havoc makes a happy sound, "It's real cute on ya, Sweetspark. I've told ya that we can shorten those up. I don't mind. I don't want you distracted while you're working and doing things at home."

"They're fine," he reassures, making notes on the apron. "They remind me of you, and makes me excited for when you're coming home. Like you are now." He falls a little further into character, "I miss you when you're gone, and it's nice to just think of you through the sol."

"I'm here now, so you don't need to miss me, anymore," Havoc says firmly, sounding pleased. "Tell me about the cube ya made me."

He does a quick search, "It's a bit plain, since I'm not sure if you'd wanted bitter or sweet fuels after coming home-"

"Neutral. Ain't so fond of bitter, since all they got at work is the darkest sla- garbage for energon. While sweets after that just stick too much to the glossa."

"Well, I'll remember to rinse my mouth before I kiss you then, because I had the sweetest fuel before you got home," Optimus teases, leaning back in his chair. This is nice, so far.

Another bit of rustling, "Ain't gotta do that, Sweetspark. I love kissin' ya, no matter what you've been doin'. Don't matter if you taste sweet or bitter or like my transfluid, I'll still kiss ya." That makes Optimus blush a little, thinking of being dragged up for a kiss after sucking a bot's spike to overload.

"You softspark," Optimus smiles and giggles a little. It's not hard to act like this, when he's imagined something not that far off of this so many times for himself. As much as he likes working, and likes the idea of serving the Autobots as a Prime, he also wouldn't mind living as a housemech for a while, at least while he had sparkling in a young stage of life. "I did layer a few bits of tinfoil and some crystal flakes near the bottom of the cube, as a treat." They're both neutral, other than a bit of texture.

"Sounds wonderful. I'll drink some of it as you tell me about your sol." He can hear the mech clearly take a sip of energon.

He flips through what something a housemech would do, and lands on, "I didn't do too much interesting. I just cleaned the," he glances at his notes, "house. I was thinking that it would be nice to change out the carpeting in the common room, though."

"Oh?" Havoc sounds interested, "Why's that?"

"Well, the carpet is harder to clean than the tiling is."

"Would it be better if I got you a drone? I could buy you one to clean up."

Oh, he wants a drone himself. The idea of one in his apartment. Something to come home to, and not need to clean it himself or deal with Sentinel and Elita's mess. "Would you? I'd love one. I just... I can't expect you to."

"I want to. We can research the drones you'd want later, though. See how we feel about that."

He perks up a bit. Since that implies the mech may ask for him again, and he likes that idea a lot. A regular after his first call? He pushes the thought away, and focuses on now, "I'd love that. Perhaps something cute?"

"As cute as you, I promise," Havoc hums, and there's another rustling. "Why don't you come sit on my lap, Sweetspark?"

"I'd love to," Optimus murmurs. "Oh, you've got a few dents in your plating. Was work rough this sol? Can I help with these little dents?" The other mech revs a little so Optimus continues, "You know I'm really good with my servos."

"Slag," Havoc almost growls, and then settles, "Yeah, you can help, after I finish my fuel. You feel really good on my lap, Sweetspark. Your panel's all hot."

"You get me hot, husband. you know I miss you when you're gone." He smiles, adding playfully, "Maybe next sol, I shouldn't wear my panel at all?"

There's that deep rumbling rev, "I think we're done with fuel, Sweetspark. Iffin' you don't want me to take you on the table, you should hurry to the berthroom."

He plays with the idea of allowing the table, but this is his first call ever. He wants to at least pretend to be in a berth. "The berth then," he says teasingly. "Come with me. I want you to hold my servo and kiss me as we go."

Havoc's voice is a deep, dark rumble that sends a thrilling shiver down his backstrut. "I'll hold yer servo, Sweetspark, but if I kiss ya, I'm gonna end up pinning you up against the hallway wall 'nd takin' you there again."

A little moan escapes his vocal processor, just from thinking about how nice and strong the mech must be, to sound so confident about being to just lift him and take him like that. "Oh. . but I want our nice, soft berth tonight. I want you to put me down on it and spike me so good you knock us both offline from pleasure."

"Oh, I c'n do that, Sweetspark," Havoc growls, and there's a click and suddenly the mech groans. Did he just . . take his spike in his servo?

It makes him feel better about what he's doing, "Then come along, let's go to the berthroom. Our big berth for the two of us." He pauses, getting nothing but a bit of a moan, so continues, "And now that we're there, and I'm climbing onto the berth, I'm sliding back my panel for you, husband mine."

"Ah, my fingers press inside of you. You're so wet, sweetspark."

He giggles a little, softly, "Well, I've been waiting all sol for you, and I didn't want to touch myself before this."

"You're more than welcome to, iffin' you need to. It's good for the sparkl- For your spark, an' I enjoy smellin' yourself on ya."

Optimus bites his lip, "I was, mm," he pauses to moan a little--that had been the hardest part, practicing all the different noises he's supposed to make," thinking about getting something to put inside me while you're away. To keep my valve ready for you, so when you come home you can just pull it out and replace it with your spike."

Havoc groans loudly on the other side, and there's a soft, wet, repeating noise that Optimus knows must be the mech stroking his spike. "Slag, would you really do that for me, Sweetspark? Keep this tight little valve open and ready for me?"

Knowing the answer already, Optimus moans again, finding it easier this time, thinking about it. "Oh, yes, I want to please you, husband." His spark is pulsing a little bit faster in his chest, and his frame is more charged now.

"You- You already please me, Sweetspark. Bein' home for me, an' just, nngh."

He leans forward a little, "I," he moans again, gasping ever so slightly, "I want to do my best for you. You," sharp invent, "do so much for me already. I love you so much." Since if the bot's his husband, of course he says he loves him.

The sound speeds up, "I love you, Sweetspark. 'Nd soon we'll be more'n just the two 'a us."

He perks up a little at that. It is very likely the mech will come back, if he gets to know what Optimus offers. "I want that," he says, whimpering a little like he's happy and pleasured.

"Slag," Havoc groans, and then lets out a half-strangled noise. Optimus takes that moment to fake his own overload, moaning higher and drawn out, ending in a shuddering sort of sigh. "Mm." Havoc is venting hard, clearly satisfied.

Optimus vents harder himself and sighs again, "Oh, mm, that was very good."

"Mm, yeah," Havoc sounds a little out of it, the way lots of mechs get after an overload, apparently. "Yer slaggin' perfect. Sorry for . . springin' that thing on you, at the end."

Optimus giggles, "I don't mind. I like the idea of carrying, you know."

"Y-you do?"

"I do," he reassures. "That's one of my preferences." He smiles at the thought, touching his chest, "The sweet talking, and ah, getting sparked up."

Havoc makes an odd choking sort of sound, "Really?"

"Oh, yes. I'd like to be sparked up at some point." Not now, but after being bonded.

The mech revs, "C'n... C'n we... keep goin'? Maybe... talk about more things?"

He smiles widely, "I'd love that, Havoc."

--

Two decacycles of work later, Optimus is really starting to get the hang of his new job. He's had a variety of bots calling him--Havoc asks for him specifically and has called three times now. His others calls weren't bad either, some mechs wanting something similar to what Havoc had wanted, a couple of bots who just wanted to hear him talk dirty to them about how much he wanted their spikes, and one enthusiastic cyclebot who had gone on and on about tying him up and riding his spike, which had been odd, but not bad.

The megacycles work for him, which is good, because the Academy classes are tough. He loses track of how many tests they've already had. Not to mention the physical training, which had left dents in places he didn't even know he had.

"So," a femme voice drawls behind him, and Optimus lifts his helm from his textbook datapad to gaze blearily over his shoulder at Elita. "Where exactly are you working?" Neither she nor Sentinel has an outside job. Elita's family paid for her, and Sentinel had enough credits saved up. "You never said."

He blinks at her, and returns to his datapad. "Call center."

"Call center? Doing what?"

"I need to convince them to buy what I'm selling. Jumping through all sorts of fragile egos and-"

"Nope. I don't want to hear how you sold your spark to get credits, Optimus. Not when you're selling trash to some random bots in cold calls. At least tell me you aren't comming private lines?"

"I'm not. Not in any way."

"Okay, that's all I need to know."

Sentinel pokes him from his other side, "You've joined the dark side, haven't you?"

"Yeah, sure," he says distractedly. "Look, you know there's a test in two sols. We're studying."

"Don't care," Elita sing-songs. "It's only worth half a percent of the overall grade, and I know enough to bluff most of it. You need to come to the bar with us tonight."

Elita and Sentinel go out to a bar a couple times a decacycle. "I don't have the credits right now."

Sentinel slaps his shoulder, "We'll buy your first cube, and then your admirers can buy the rest."

Scowling at them, Optimus shuts off his textbook pad. "Very funny. Ha-ha. I don't want to fail this test, so I am going to stay here and study. If you two want to get overcharged and try to get back here without getting caught for being overcharged on Academy grounds, that's your choice."

"You're such a spoilsport, Optimus," Sentinel says. "Come with us."

"No," he grinds out. He can't explain that he feels more pressured now to be amazing, since Kup is counting on him, damn it. He can't let their old Sergeant think Optimus is a waste of time by not remaining at the top of the stellar. He has to be fantastic. "You two go, and let me study."

"You already know everything on the test," Elita says, leaning against him. "Just come with us."

"Even if I did know, and I don't," technically true, since no specifics, even if he knows the general parts, "I still need to do my minimum megacycles of study every sol. Go, you two have fun, and if you make it back, tell me how I missed out." Since they'll tell him even if he informs them he doesn't care.

"Fine, you stick in the mud," Elita pouts, giving him a little shove. "But you gotta come with us next time. It's not the same without you with us." Optimus doesn't understand why they bother. They go to trashy bars, get overcharged, and Optimus drags them back home. He doesn't let himself get overcharged, because he doesn't want to accidentally end up losing his seals to some mech that won't even look at him sober, let alone consider a relationship.

"If we all do well on this exam, I'll go out with you the next time I'm not working and we're all free, I promise." It's still a little fun, if they pick a place with good music.

"How good?" Elita asks, suspicious.

"Top three."

Sentinel makes a face, "No way! Top ten."

"Top four," he says, knowing how this goes.

Elita sighs, "Top five, then. It won't happen, but we'll try."

"Top five," he agrees.

Elita grabs Sentinel, "Come on, let's get going. Let's leave him to his boring datapads as we go have fun."

Optimus sighs in relief as they go, and rubs his temples a bit to ease the ache in his optics. Maybe he should see how much glasses will cost. Something to ease the strain. Some of his clients say that they like their partners with glasses, anyway. Makes them cuter.

He doesn't need them, but maybe he should just in case.

Chapter 3

Optimus sits in the breakroom, happily drinking the sweet energon with the freely provided sweetener additives. He chews slowly on the crystals, taking care not to activate his long destroyed gear dente. Not worth fixing, since they were destroyed fueling on cheap oil shale as a sparkling, and they're considered cosmetic and slightly Decepticon on Cybertron. But he still enjoys crystals when he can get them, and he doesn't even feel bad about it anymore. Not when Pep, the pink minibot, pretty much just has huge chunks of crystals with only a tiny bit of energon whenever he shows up.

He'd failed out of Bootcamp for his gear dente, apparently, but the minibot clearly didn't care much. Nothing gets Pep down for long, which is why he's apparently the primary secretarybot for the company. He keeps track of everyone's schedules and pay too, and never gets grumpy.

Optimus suspects he may be fueling on a bit more purple cora than is strictly legal, but the bot doesn't show any signs of addiction, so it's fine.

Today is his sol off from the Academy, which means he's working a full shift here at the Blue Flash. It's been a good sol so far, with three calls. They get paid a flat rate by the company per megacycle of work, and then they get a percentage rate on top of that for however many kliks they're on the com with a client, and a client can choose to give them a tip afterwards, which they keep the majority of. It's been good pay so far, making him a lot more than any of his previous jobs.

He sighs happily, drinking his cube, when one of the bots peeks into the breakroom, "Hey, Optimus? It okay if you cut your break a little short?"

He looks at his cube, "Any reason why?"

"Got a high profile client on the line, and he likes your specialty."

Ah, sparking kink.

He stands up, "I'll finish the rest of my break afterwards. I'm not even half done."

"Alright, thanks." The bot leaves, clearly thinking Optimus will be hurrying up and go.

Putting the cube in his subspace, he does walk to his cubicle, but doesn't walk faster than he usually would. No matter how high profile this bot is, Optimus still is being called out from his break to take it. The mech can stand to wait about a klik for him to get there and read up on what he needs to know.

He takes a seat, looking through the information. His optics widen a little, because the notes clearly state the bot is a Decepticon, and wishes to be referred to as such if faction ever comes up. There have been some clients that he suspects may have been 'Cons so far, and many neutrals, but no one has openly said they were a Decepticon. Is this ... legal? It must be. Blurr wouldn't let anything illegal happen here.

Client's name is Galvatron, a Decepticon, located on ... New Kaon.

This really can't be legal, but ... well, it could be argued that the entire thing is just a fantasy, and fantasies don't have to follow the same legal lines that real relationships do.

A Decepticon located on New Kaon. He wants a fantasy about his botnapped lover finally giving in and letting himself be sparked, which apparently binds them in something called a Rite of Primus. He wants the mech to be a little bit reluctant at first, and then to give in eagerly. Not the first sparking fantasy he's had like that, though definitely the most specific, with those strange details. Are those things really like that in 'Con culture?

Optimus shakes himself and looks over the notes for the caller. Galvatron calls a few times a stellar, apparently, and he's described himself as a very large spaceship mech, in dark grey, black, and red, with a ... a fusion cannon and a pair of swords. Well ... it looks like Galvatron is a Megatron-fanbot.

He rolls his optics a little at that, but just accepts it. He's not sure how a bot that only coms a few times a stellar is high profile, unless someone higher up is sure this is actually Megatron. He has to laugh at that, shaking his head. No, Megatron will not com Autobots, just to pretend to frag them. If the actual Megatron wants someone with him to frag, there's all sorts of bots that will happily climb into his berth. And also be willing to pretend to do this fantasy.

As such he takes an in-vent, settles into his chair, and ... accepts the com call, "Hello, my name is Sweetspark. Is this Galvatron?"

The mech's voice is that deep rumble he likes so well, "This is Galvatron. So... Sweetspark?"

"If you want to call me something else, I'm certainly open to it, Galvatron."

"Mm. Well, I find Sweetspark more of a term of endearment than a name, darling," the mech purrs at him, voice low and seductive and oddly familiar too. "Would you mind if I called you something like Oracle or Melody?"

"Oracle sounds very nice," and close enough to both of his names that he can answer to it easily. "So, I am your prisoner?"

A deep, rich chuckle answers him. "You're sweet, Oracle, and I can tell you've had little in the way of dealing with Decepticons. You are mine. I have botnapped you to prove my love and devotion, and you have finally accepted my feelings."

That's not even remotely how botnap works, but if the term prisoner offends Galvatron, he won't use it. "What would I call myself then, in that position?" He's both genuinely curious, and needs to know for their game.

"Well," Galvatron drawls out slowly, and for some reason, his voice keeps triggering memory file recall, but nothing comes up. "The mech botnapped is often referred to as the Beloved of the botnapper."

Interesting. He makes his notes clear as he talks, "I see. And what would the Beloved call you?"

"In Decepticon space, the correct term is Devoted. But Botnapper is also accepted, should it come down to it. It's just not the same or correct feeling."

He nods to himself, "Understandable. And since I've accepted your feelings, should I call you my Devoted, or by your name?"

"Typically, the Beloved called the Devoted whatever they want to. In fact, it is heavily against protocol for the Devoted to demand to be called anything at all. The Beloved is the one who decides."

Interesting. He gets the feeling he's going to think most of this is interesting. He wonders if this is some elaborate fiction Galvatron is making up or something that actually happens in botnappings from Decepticons. "How do you feel about me calling you... my love?" His default.

There's a moment of silence and then a slow vent. "You may, if you like, though even for a game between us, it may be a bit too much at first."

Optimus giggles, he can't help it. "Too much to call you my love, but not too much to beg you to put a sparkling in me?"

Another long pause, and then another vent, and Galvatron sound amused now, "You are right, of course. As my Beloved, you would have the right to call me whatever you liked, and I would hope you would only accept my sparklings after there was true emotion between us."

His smile can't be stopped now, "I would have to love you, to let you spark me up like that. I'm a virgin after all, and I couldn't let you take me without the promise of a bond and a family."

"Are you? I did not expect that, when I botnapped you."

"I am sealed Galvatron," he admits freely. No client ever believes him, since he works here. So saying it doesn't have them slavering over him or harassing him. They're just... well.

Amused.

Galvatron clearly sounds like he's humoring him, but willing to play along, "Well, then I've chosen my Beloved very well, even if it is unintentional. All the more reason for the rite of Primus, To properly bind us then and there. The instant you are sparked."

His notes are more detailed than usual for a first session, it's just interesting, he supposes. "A practice you've assured me is real?"

"Yes, if you think it is needed, I've placed my servo upon the shrine to Primus and sworn to you how true it is."

His optics widen, and he says seriously, "Then I will not take such an action lightly. Not when it is so true."

"For Primus to bless a union with a sparkling is a sign that Primus has bound those bots together," Galvatron promises him. "Any formal bonding ceremony after that is merely a formality."

Curious. "And if that sparkling happened to come from a... nonconsenual coupling?"

Galvatron's voice goes deep and cold. "Then Primus had nothing to do with it, and the one who perpetrated the act would be offlined for spitting in Primus's faceplates." That's a very odd thing to hear, when his own Academy lessons have already mentioned that rape was a common thing forced on Autobot prisoners of war, and something he would have to take lessons on if he inteded to take missions into Decepticon territory. "You have my word that such acts do not go unpunished in my Empire."

"Your Empire," he teases, thinking Galvatron will splutter, his obvious Megatron-worship or roleplay having been caught, but the mech just hums in what sounds like agreement.

... Interesting.

He makes note of that, and then says, "Well, my ... my beloved. I think... I'm waiting in the berthroom, sitting on the edge of the berth. nervous, a little worried. You have shown how you love me, but still. I've been here for... how long? I may have my internals to count, but I worry I've been miscounting them. But you're supposed to come back now, and usually I'm in the common room. I just want to surprise you, is all. Maybe I'm messing up?"

"Not at all, Oracle." Galvatron sounds pleased. "Yes, if you're not where you usually are, I call for you, and search a bit, but I think you're possibly napping. You take stasis naps every so often, and I enjoy finding you in our berth room, not in the private one I've provided you.'

Private berthroom? Decadent. He wants to ask how large the quarters are, but they're into the scene, and he won't be leaving the berthroom in this. But he is already hoping Galvatron comes back, if only for the backstory.

"When you come in," he says, "I look at you with a smile, just... so happy to see you return. You always do, but I worry. What if you need to work late, and I online alone? I smile at you, still a little nervous, where just the sol before, it would be wide and happy. Hello, Galvatron," his voice is happy, with a mild waver, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Oracle, my darling," Galvatron sounds satisfied, like he really is a mech who just came back to a bot he loves, and it sends a little pang through Optimus's spark. "Are you tired? You are not usually in our room so early in the sol. I hope I have not disturbed you from a pleasant recharge."

Optimus sighs, letting it shudder a bit. "I .. I want something from you, my... my," he cuts off as if unsure of what to call the bot. "I want something."

"You have but to name it, and I will get it for you, my darling. What do you want?"

Optimus lets silence settle between them for a moment, broken only by the sounds of their venting and then murmurs, "I want you to spark me."

He smiles at the engine roar, and Galvatron's venting is slightly uneven, "You... Oracle, are you certain?"

"I..." He takes an in-vent, then says, louder, "I want you to spark me. I know that you love me. You have to love me if you took me from my home and cared for me like this. You don't make me do anything I don't want," Primus he hopes he's right about that, "so I know. I know you love me." He hurries before Galvatron can agree, "Just... just like I love you."

Galvatron's engines are very loud in that rev. He's glad that everything is soundproof, or he'd worry about everyone hearing it. "You love me?"

"I do. More than anything. That's why... that's why we should spark, so we're bonded like I want to. Like Primus will grant us. Even... even if we don't spark - and we will - then I know you'll bond to me anyway."

"You have been mine since the moment I took you," Galvatron's engine revving is so loud, and his voice so deep, the mech growling his words. Optimus shifts in his seat, his thighs pressing instinctively together. "I'm going to take your spark and valve until you're unable to move, and our sparkling is growing inside you."

Now he's actively squirming, heat building in his spark, and his sealed valve actually clenching just a little. "I want it," he vents out, breathy and needy. "Please, please, Galvatron. Please spark me!"

He's rewarded with the familiar click of a panel opening, and he knows Galvatron has his servo on his spike now.

"I reach for you with one servo, and my clear chestplate opens, revealing my backplates entirely, to show how my spark is shining and pulsing through the crack." And that's the sound of a servo stroking a spike. He keeps the satisfaction from his voice, "Kiss me, Galvatron. I need you."

"I easily step close, next to you in a single stride, taking you in my arms and push you down into the berth with care, kissing you." Galvatron pants a little, "Open up for me, Oracle."

"I spread my legs, revealing how my valve plate is already retracted entirely, and the seals are bulging with lubricant. My sparkplates open entirely, showing off my spark, full and needy. Ready for you to fill me with our sparkling." He mewls softly, "Galvatron, I... You'll fit, right? You have to fit inside of me. You've told me that you will."

"Primus below," Galvatron curses, "Yes, I'll fit in your sweet little valve, Oracle. You'll take every mechano-inch of me and love it." He revs loudly, "I come closer to your frame, reaching between your thighs to stroke a finger over your bulging seals. These are mine, Oracle, and you are so very sweet to have kept them intact for my pleasure. Should I break them with my spike or my glossa, my darling?"

If this were real, Optimus thinks, squirming, he would want the bot to use his glossa, but for the fantasy, he knows bots like feeling the seal break on their spike. "Please, I need you to spike me!"

"If that's what you want, then that's what you get, Oracle." Galvatron sounds like he's close, but very much fighting it. It's... kind of sad, so Optimus hopes that he will get the mech again, if only to help the bot out on the fantasy he's fulfilling. The poor bot clearly needs this.

"I do want it," he insists. "I need you to spike and spark me. I want to be bound to you, my love."

Galvatron groans, saying, "I slide between your legs, opening my external armor sparkplates, then my internal innersparkplates," Optimus scrambles to write this down, wondering why this information isn't already in the file. "I press my spike to your valve, and slide in on one smooth motion, pressing our sparks together firmly."

Optimus moans in pleasure, panting and mewling in happiness. "Please. I... I need you to frag me, my love." If he really had just had his seal broken like that, he probably would have shrieked or squealed a little from the sting, but that's not for a game like this, when Galvatron clearly wants his partner loving every moment. It's also a little unrealistic that with their size difference, Galvatron would be able to keep his spike inside Optimus and touch their sparks at the same time, but again, this is a fantasy. Frames work in mysterious ways in fantasies. "I want you to put your sparkling in me!"

Engines roaring, Galvatron growls, "I'll frag you so good you'll be sparked tonight, and I promise when our sparkling onlines, I'll put another in you!"

Optimus shivers--he should be terrified by the idea of resparking, considering some of the tales he'd heard on Haydon IV, but with a mech like Galvatron, he's not. He likes the idea of carrying a few sparklings right in a row, so his little ones will have brothers or sisters to play with growing up. "Yes, yes, please," he begs, moaning louder, letting the sound cut off like he's being fragged roughly.

"You'll be so full, Oracle. I'll fill you with sparklings."

He moans in pleasure, "I need them. I want them so badly."

"And you'll have them," Galvatron growls low and rumbly, making him shiver in pleasure. The mech does sound good, so close to the edge. He can also hear a slight staticking, which is telltale of a bot rubbing their spark. It certainly shows how into this Galvatron is.

"You're so big," Optimus whines, letting it break a little at the end, and it's easy, because his systems are revved up, imagining some big Megatron-lookalike fragging him. He's such a bad Autobot. "Will you frag me every sol?" He lets out another little whine and rocks his hips against the chair he's in, enough to make some noise. "You... you have to, to keep our sparkling growing!"

He doesn't get a chance to hear an answer, because Galvatron overloads with a roar, and Optimus is quick to make his own noises of satisfaction, since most bots want their partner to overload at the same time as them.

He pants a little, still worked up himself, but forces himself to calm down. He thinks about more distracting and boring things, like his stupid test coming up and how annoying it is that Elita and Sentinel keep harassing him during study time. He's cooling down just enough as Galvatron says, "... Oracle."

"Yes, Galvatron?"

"Hmmm...." the bot sounds very satisfied and happy. "I think we should discuss possible future calls."

He grins happily, "Yes? What would you like to talk about?"

The bot sounds languid, "Well, as an Autobot, I'm certain you have questions about various things we discussed at the beginning. How about we fill that out now?"

He perks up, and glances through his notes, "Right! You said something about my own private berthroom?"

The mech chuckles, and they settle in to talk more.

Chapter 4

Notes:

Last week I was very sick. I couldn't really leave my bed, much less post a chapter. Still kinda sick right now, so the posting is late, but at least the update is happening.

Optimus is back in the breakroom, finishing his interrupted break, and is currently looking at the tip from his call in confusion. So much so, that he reluctantly hurries to finish fueling to talk to Blurr about it.

He wipes the crumbs from a little crystal roll he'd nibbled on off his faceplates and heads to Blurr's office. Blurr has his own, private office, and he's luckily not on a call when Optimus gets there. If he is taking a client, the little light-up sign on the door changes from FREE to BUSY. It's currently set to FREE, so he knocks and waits to be let in.

Blurr is doing . . something on his console, with a half dozen pads spread out on the table top. As Optimus comes in, the mech flips the pads all upside down so casually that if Optimus hadn't been in the Academy, he wouldn't have noticed. So, maybe something related to his other job. Other-other job, because Blurr works here, works for Playbot, and has some kind of Elite Guard duties that Optimus has no idea about. "Optimus, what can I help you with this sol?"

He moves closer, pulling out the datapad tracking his pay, "There must have been a glitch, since I got too high of a tip from my last client."

The racecar frowns, tapping on the console before turning to him and shaking his head, "That's Galvatron. He always pays well."

"No, look!" He passes over his pad, and Blurr gives him a humoring look.

The mech flips through it, and hums softly, "Well, it's a bit high, but not that much. You must have impressed him." Optimus is given back the pad, and Blurr grins, looking gossipy - an expression Optimus isn't very fond of, since it typically ends with him blushing so hard he worries about faceplate damage. "So, how much did you make him beg before you let him spark you?"

He blinks, now just feeling confused in a different way, since really? "Why would I have made him beg? His fantasy was for me to ask to be sparked. I didn't make him plead or push. Seems... counterproductive?"

Blurr leans back, his expression going contemplative. "Huh . . you really weren't kidding about having a sparking kink, were you?"

His optic ridges draw together a little. "Why would I have joked about that?" Lying on his interview could be grounds for later termination after all, and there was no reason to lie about it anyways.

"Huh. Well, no wonder you're getting so many repeat clients then," Blurr looks him up and down. "It's been a long time since we had an employee who genuinely liked the idea of strangers sparking them."

"Typically, my repeats are someone who has scenes involving long term relationships."

"Huh, I didn't realize. I don't really look into your clients, since you don't seem to have many problems. The few you do are easily fixed by transferring them to someone else." Blurr looks at him seriously, "You aren't allowing them to contact you out of work or using your real name?"

"I wouldn't. That's not allowed. And I don't want possible stalking." One of his coworkers quit because of being tracked by a few creepy bots. He doesn't want that to be him.

"Good, then it's harmless," Blurr leans back in his chair, making it tip up on two wheels. "Enjoy the credits. Galvatron only calls a few times a stellar, but he always pays very well for services rendered if he likes you."

Very well was an understatement. The mech had tipped him more than a hundred times what his next highest tip had ever been, and that tip had been enough to cover his costs for a whole decacycle. If he's lucky enough to get all of Galvatron's calls each stellar, then he'll have enough to cover his remaining Academy costs each stellar off those alone.

"He did say he plans on asking for me again, so I look forward to him comming me next time."

"First time he's chosen a bot, so congratulations, then. Typically, he asks to be put with someone new, if we can."

And Optimus can see using Galvatron's credits to tempt a newbie who's wavering. If they see the credits as worth it, then they'll keep trying. Optimus is already staying, but he certainly isn't going to complain about a mech returning to him. "Well, with luck, he'll enjoy my service again and again."

"Mm. Don't get offended if he ends up choosing another mech next time. What a-"

"-client wants is what a client gets, and we don't get our feelings hurt," Optimus repeats in time with Blurr, because it's one of their most important rules. They sell erotic fantasies, and if they can't meet the client's needs, then some other bot will. It's a business, not a relationship. "I know, but it was . . nice." Optimus flushes.

Blurr chuckles at that, "Oh, that kind of nice, huh? Well, you know what the private washracks are for, if you need them, my mech."

He doesn't need them, but if he explains that, it might mean more questions he doesn't want to answer. "I know. If I do, I'll use them."

"Good, good." Blurr waves a servo, "You get back to work."

"Right." He nods, and heads out. He can relax a bit in his cubicle until his next client. Sometimes the bots just don't want him, but there's usually someone who just wants even a quick self service after being told how big and hot their spike is.

--

Optimus is just starting his shift, his study pads to the side, not that he expects to use them too much, but if there's a dead zone, he wants to have them. It's been a bit dry and boring, but he's not going to complain.

He perks up when he sees the bot calling, and has to grin. He connects instantly, "Galvatron," he purrs. "It's so wonderful to hear from you again. I missed you."

He hadn't been expecting a call so soon, but maybe those few calls a stellar that the mech does all come close together. There are some files he's handled that show call records where a mech calls twice a decacycle for an orn or two, and then no calls until the next stellar.

"I missed you too, Oracle," Galvatron purrs at him, and Primus curse it, but the mech's voice still sounds so oddly familiar to him. "Did you see my request?"

The request had simply been one to speak with 'Sweetspark,' since that was his official work-name here. No other notes. "I did, and I'm glad I was here when you called, but it doesn't tell me much about what you want."

"Well, since you did so well last time, I thought we could do a little more. Clearly, you've been checked, and there's now the sparkling inside of you." Optimus smiles at how pleased Galvatron is at this, "I was thinking a bit of... celebration on that."

"Oh, of course. I'd rather enjoy it. Where exactly would we be celebrating. We're bonded through the Rite of Primus, so am I to stay in our rooms, or-"

"Due to the Rite, you are no longer confined to our home and rooms. No, you can leave when you wish. I'd of course, just keep you with me all sol, to show you off to everyone. But before that, since we've only just got back from the medic, we will be in the rooms first. I'd have you in my throne room if you prefer, of course."

"Your throne room?" Optimus teases a little. "I'm not going to let you interface me in public! I'm a good mech, Galvatron."

"A good mech would happily sit astride my spike and show our Empire how well he takes it, and how good he's been, getting sparked for me." Galvatron's engine is revving, and Optimus notes that public interfacing is definitely a thing for the bot. Maybe it's a Decepticon thing. His own spark pulses a little, mostly from the mention of being a good mech, which he knows he has a thing for. "I would never force you, but it would please me greatly to take you in front of our citizens, Oracle."

"You said the rooms," he reminds gently. Since public 'facing, even just in a fantasy, is a little too much for him right now. maybe when he trusts Galvatron more. "Perhaps at a later time."

"The berthroom, then. I don't think I'd be able to help myself, too eager for you to get to the berthroom. But the common room has a couch, and we can do this there." Galvatron pauses, "And perhaps prep you for interfacing in my throne room?"

"Well, since we only just started interfacing the night before, I'll feel better, practicing 'facing while sitting down."

"Have you ever ridden a spike before, Oracle?" Galvatron asks, and Optimus smiles and giggles a bit.

"I told you, I have . . well I supposed I should say that I had my seals. I've only ever had your spike, and you've never had me ride it before, so no, I haven't, my love." He likes the idea of it though, being able to control the pace and depth himself, turning Galvatron's spike into a toy for his use and pleasure. "You have to promise to tell me if I do a bad job. I want to make you happy."

The answer is almost instantaneous, "You make me happy just by being with me, Oracle. By giving me a sparkling and your love."

He absently notes about the throne room thing, and the couch in the common room, "Good, and I do love you so much, Galvatron. My... my husband." At Galvatrons excited rev and strangled gasp, he notes how the mech does like that a lot.

"Yes," Galvatron growls. "Husband. You are my Beloved, and we're bonded."

"I put my servo on your sparkplates," he narrates before saying a little needily, "We are. You're my husband, my love." He licks his lips, "I spread my legs, showing how my valve plating is already retracted. I want you to give me the fluid that the sparkling needs."

"Oh, I'll give our sparkling everything it needs, and everything you need," Galvatron promises. "I reach down and press two fingers into your valve, which is still wet with all the fluids I gave you last night. It's easy to find your inner nodes, and I rub them, pressing as deep as I can get, to get your valve ready for me."

Optimus shifts in his chair and blushes, realizing his legs have spread of their own accord, and one of his servos is resting on his own thigh. "Mm. You don't need to spend time stretching me, since I'm still relaxed from the last time, ready to take your spike now."

"The medic said you could get damaged if I don't keep you stretched out. It was... irresponsible of me to spike you instead of breaking your seals on my glossa." Galvatron sounds regretful about it.

"I press a kiss to your mouth, pressing demandingly into your fingers, valve sliding over them. I told you to," he reminds the mech gently, feeling a little touched at Galvatron saying that. It's a fantasy, so of course Optimus did. "I won't say no to you," he sighs softly, like he's actually feeling the fingers inside of him, "licking my valve later. But right now, I'm going to ride your spike."

Galvatron moans, and Optimus can hear the mech's servo on his spike already, stroking slowly. "You need to be careful."

"I will," Optimus moans too, and lets out a high, excited whimper, "Oh, your spike is so big when I start to sit on it. I can feel it stretching me open. I keep forgetting how huge you are, husband. I have to stop halfway because it's just so much." He can imagine that, needing to stop and vent with only half the big mech's spike inside him.

"Take the rest," Galvatron rumbles, low and eager. "Take the rest and show me what a good mech you are, Oracle."

He makes a small needy sound, low in his vocal processor, "I... I can do it." He shivers a little at the praise, narrating, "It takes me a little bit, I keep needing to adjust a bit, clinging to you as I slowly sink down. But I manage to get you entirely inside of me, and I just stay there, looking up at you, venting as I get used to the fit."

Galvatron revs needily., "I reach between us, pinching lightly at your external node, playing with it since it sticks out due to just how full you are of me."

Whining a little louder, Optimus presses a servo to his valve panel and then quickly takes it away, flushing deeply, hoping that no one saw that. "If you tease that too much, I won't last long enough to satisfy you," he warns, but that only excites Galvatron.

"You know you'll never have a single overload with me," the mech promises, "so I pinch your node a little harder, and flick it just right, moving my servos with your hips as they buck. Your valve clenches so tight around me it's hard not to just grab you and use you the way you clearly want me to."

He mewls and moans, faking the overload sounds, and pants a little, "I grab your wrist, stopping you from doing more. I... I want to overload while riding your spike. I let go of your wrist, looking up at you, even as my valve tightens and squeezes your spike."

"Then ride me, Oracle." Galvatron tries to sound commanding, but it mostly sounds desperate. Optimus would be unsurprised if the bot is sitting on the couch, optics offline as he's talking.

"I readjust a little, grabbing your shoulders, and pull up, my legs shaking with effort and still weak from the overload you've just given me." He can see the scene in his own processor clearly, and he wants it. Optimus wants to be straddling some big mech's lap--his bigger bondmate's lap-- fragging himself on the mech's spike to get fuel for their sparkling.

"You're such a good mech," Galvatron grunts, servo pumping slick and steady over his spike. "So good to take me so nice and deep. You love this, don't you?"

Optimus shifts and swallows around a dry intake, before venting out slowly, "I love you, Galvatron. And I want to show you how much, so I take your servo and move it to my sparkplates which are cracked open for you."

Galvatron lets out a slow shudder, "I carefully press it open with my fingers, sliding them in to press and fondle it, rubbing and pressing." Optimus vents in sharply, gasping in soft pleasure as the mech narrates, making Galvatron say, "Oh, yes. You like that, don't you Oracle?"

"I do," he says softly, "I do."

"Good. I lean in close, nibbling at your audios-"

"Helmfins," he corrects before he can stop himself.

He mentally curses, but can't apologize or change it since Galvatron sounds pleased as he says, "Nibbling your helmfins." The mech moves a bit, and says in a quiet murmur, "This is where our sparkling is. We made him together, my dear. Let me provide energy as you ride me so well."

Primus, Optimus suddenly wishes that this were real, that he were on Galvatron's lap, and that he's really sparked by the mech, who treasures and wants him so much. He offlines his optics and shudders, moaning for him. "Please!"

"Your spark is so hot against mine," Galvatron growls, and there's the loud static of a spark being touched, followed by Galvatron groaning in pleasure. "Yes, yes, you're so good, darling. I want you to overload for me!"

He moans, his own spark feeling big and swollen under his chestplates, and fakes his overload, which sounds good enough that Galvatron overloads across the comline, hissing and breaking something with a crack. Optimus vents raggedly for a klik, which isn't hard, as his systems are so revved up still. "G-Galvatron?"

Silence, and then a raspy laugh. "Ah, darling, you made me knock a datapad to the floor."

"Ah, I'm sorry. Perhaps next time you should contact me without anything breakable near you?"

That gets more laughter, a deep chuckle, "Ah, a good idea. I commed since I didn't want to work, and this just shows that you are far more interesting than a report on-" He can almost see Galvatron shaking his head, "No, it doesn't matter. Anyway, you are more interesting than work, so I should place a certain time to com you, should I make this as regular as I am suspecting it will be from now on."

He flushes, "Oh... you flatter me, Galvatron."

"It's well earned, Oracle. Very well earned." The mech hums, "I'm going to have to be better prepared when I com again. How about we talk a bit, so I can better set that up?"

He smiles, "I'd be more than happy to. What would you like to know?"

"Well, from what I already know, you're a clearplated truckbot."

"I make no secret of it."

"I'd like a few... specifics."

He laughs softly, "I can't really do that, depending on what you ask. But ask me, and I'll answer what I can." He knows some of the operators joke about how their clients ask for valve dimensions. He can't give that.

Even if he knew that, he wouldn't give that kind of thing. How embarrassing and bizarre for a bot to want to know.

"Well, tell me your paint colors. Your optic color." Galvatron sounds content after his overload. "Perhaps your favorite treat to fuel on?"

That's easy enough. "My chest is red, while my legs and forearms and helm are blue. My thighs are white, and I have some yellow accents on my frame. I have blue optics, of course. My chest glass is tinted blue too." Admitting that he loves anything sweet makes him sound like a glutton, so he instead says, "I like my fuel a little sweet, and I rarely bother indulging in treats, but I do like crystal crunchies."

"Why don't you indulge in sweets? Someone as sweet as you deserves a crystal cake every single meal."

He laughs, "I'd get so my protoform bulges from my armor! Don't be ridiculous. I need to be in shape, otherwise I'd need to be rolled around while in my botmode to move."

"No Autobots able to just carry you, then?"

He snorts, "Some can, but I have perfectly viable legs and vehicle mode. I do not need to be carried around." And he can imagine Kup looking at him and being disappointed. He needs to be in combat readiness as a Prime.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with a nice, plump protoform, Oracle. Nothing so intense it would negatively affect you, but I find I quite enjoy laying between a mech's legs with soft protoform thighs holding me in place." Galvatron, "Or simply working off the fuel in more entertaining ways. What sorts of sweets do you enjoy? I could buy some for you."

He really can't. "For our games, you could get me crystal crunchies. Or if you want to see me lick the rim of a cube, you could dip it in crushed sweet crystal."

"So you like crystals, Oracle?"

"I do."

"Do you have any gear dente?"

"I did as a sparkling, but not anymore."

"You had them removed?" Galvatron sounds horrified.

"I did not," he says honestly. "They just aren't there anymore. I didn't have them since a bit before becoming a teenbot."

The mech sounds relieved, "Oh... Okay. Good. I know some Autobots and neutrals remove them before bootcamp, but the idea is... it's mutilation, and forcing yourself into malnutrition and possibly even starvation. I can't imagine such a thing, since it hurts me to hear a bot doing such a thing."

"Well, that isn't what happened to me," he reassures, even if he's worried about the damage now. Is he hurting himself by not repairing them?

No. He doesn't need them, and he can fuel on crystals without feeling bad about doing it now, anyway. No tug on his conscience

"Just promise me that you still fuel on crystals. If you can't chew solid ones, that you at least take supplements for your frame's health," Galvatron sounds so genuinely concerned that Optimus smiles. He doesn't really, he can't afford that kind of thing. But he gets some. "Oracle? Promise me."

He vents out, "I'm not really . . financially well off enough to afford that kind of thing, Galvatron, but I do get crystal sweets now and then."

"I will double your tip this time, but you must swear to me that you will use the extra credits to buy either crystals you can eat, or powder supplements to add to your fuel."

"You do not need to do that," he says, alarmed. "I will be fine! I've been fine, and-"

"Swear it, Oracle. I want you safe and healthy. You're in Autobot space, on Cybertron, Primus himself. You must get crystals to be healthy, if you had gear dente as a sparkling. Swear to me that you will buy crystals or powdered crystals. Fuelgrade."

"I don't need-"

"Oracle," Galvatron's voice is firm, commanding, and that feeling of familiarity hits him even harder this time for some reason. "Swear to me that you will buy the fueling crystals with half of the tip I give you."

He gets the impression that if he refuses, then Galvatron will choose another bot next time. No matter what. And, really? What is it worth to burn bridges when it's just the mech wanting him to fuel.?

He sighs, feeling a little bitter about giving in, even if he knows it won't hurt him. "I swear."

"Good mech," Galvatron praises him, sending a rush of embarrassing warmth through his frame just hearing it. "Of course, were you in Decepticon space, you would have much easier access to what you needed. Shockwave, for instance, has no troubles finding very rich crystals that he can fuel on."

As in . . General Shockwave? The frameshifter? Optimus pauses, "Thank you? I appreciate that you're willing to do so much for me, but I am an Autobot."

"Yes, a shame. I have the feeling that you would look excellent with red optics, Oracle."

"I don't think so. I like my blue ones." He rolls them a bit, "I've been thinking about getting yellow lens glasses, though. To match my small amount of yellow accenting."

Galvatron hums softly, "Not even willing to try red?"

"No."

"They'd shade your optics purple," the bot says, sounding conjoling.

"I'd be getting the kind that wouldn't make my optics look too different, or would just make them look yellow."

"So if you had a different optic color, you'd choose yellow?"

"I ... guess?" He hums, thinking about it. "I've never considered it before. So possibly."

"With yellow accents to your paint, yellow optics would look nice too."

Optimus pouts, letting some of it seep into his voice, "Are you telling me that you hate my blue optics, Galvatron?"

"No, no," Galvatron rather frantically backpedals, and it makes Optimus smile. "I'm sure they're lovely, but . . . I am not used to my partners having blue optics. If you wanted to keep them, you would, of course."

Chuckling, Optimus takes a sip from his cube of fuel nearby. "Optical replacement isn't really something in my plans for the future anyways. The rank I want-" he stops, paling a bit, praying that Galvatron didn't hear that. He didn't want to talk about the fact that he's in the Academy.

But of course the mech caught it. "Rank? You passed bootcamp then, and you've . . gone into one of the officer academies?"

He presses his servos to his face, "It's my first stellar. That's why I'm working here." Since he can admit that. It isn't like some clients don't ask how he got into the job. He mostly tells about the job search, and then just being hired after coming in with a resume that didn't fit. It's a funny story, and it satisfies their curiosity.

"Ah, are you enjoying working here?"

"I am.'

"Good." Galvatron sounds pleased, "I wouldn't want you to be unhappy as you work."

"It's fun," Optimus freely admits, though he never thought he'd enjoy it so much.

Galvatron is quiet for long moments, and Optimus thinks he must be about ready to end the call, when he finally speaks up. "Do me a favor, Oracle."

"Yes?"

"If you do manage to attain a high enough rank, refuse Ultra Magnus when he tries to berth you, please."

He laughs, "He won't want anything to do with-"

"Oracle." Galvatron sounds firm, "You are a truckbot. Even if you were nothing he wanted, being a truckbot would be enough. But ... you want to be sparked. If you didn't, you wouldn't be doing what you're doing."

"Y-you can't be sure of that," he denies, knowing that he's lying incredibly badly.

Galvatron sighs, "Refuse him. He will push and push, and you will feel like you need to. You are more than allowed to refuse. No one should be pressured into interfacing."

Optimus smiles a little, because for a mech whose fantasy is that Oracle was botnapped, he cares a lot about consent. "I promise I won't let him pressure me into anything."

But Galvatron lets out a noise of frustration, like he's swallowing back words. "Oracle--fine. Just don't let him sweet talk you into giving him anything you don't want to either. I can promise you that the interface won't be worth it with him."

Optimus laughs, "Do you have experience to back that claim up?" Because-

"Regrettably yes. We shared a truckbot together one terrible evening many decavorns back, before the war.

That seems .... really odd. And unlikely, since Decepticon.

"I... I guess. But you don't need to worry about that. He won't pressure me at all, and he won't even be interested. There are far nicer looking truckbots than me."

"He won't think so," Galvatron mutters, then says in a normal tone, "Anyway. Yellow glasses? I think next time, I will tip enough on top of my usual so you can get them. Not this time, since half of it will go to crystals."

Galvatron must be very rich to afford this, even just a few times a stellar. "You don't have to do that, but I appreciate it." He's not going to turn down credits. He's not a glitch. Galvatron is helping pay for most of his lessons, which he supposes is ironic in a sense. A Decepticon paying for an Autobot to attend the Academy.

"I will spoil you as much as I like," Galvatron warns him. "Were you truly mine, you would never want for anything."

He flushes, "That's true." He squirms a little, "I like what you're doing in the calls so far. It feels... very nice."

Galvatron sounds pleased, "Good. Perhaps in the next session, we should skip ahead a bit? perhaps to the next sparkling?"

"Oh, if that's what you want, we can. Or it could be a new session entirely, and just the same area, doing something different this time. Of course, I'll want you to spark me up. But if you want us to keep going with our previous, I won't be at all upset."

The mech hums, "We'll see how I feel at the time."

The calls are for Galvatron's pleasure, after all. He chooses the topic and whatever they want to do. Optimus likes most of his clients so far, but Galvatron is his favorite, and not just for the credits he pays. If he didn't tip at all, he'd still be Optimus's favorite. Even after just these two sessions. The bot is very kind.

"Do you want anything else from me?" he asks, because sitting here mostly in silence can't possibly be worth the mech's credits.

"Oh, I want many things from you, most of which your company does not allow."

"Would you like to talk about anything, then?"

Galvatron sounds thoughtful, "So, you're going to one of the officer academies. What's your favorite subject?"

"Fighting, mostly. That and tactics. It's a bit like a puzzle that I need to solve. It's fun."

"What weapon do you wield?"

"Energy axe, mostly. I have a set of built-in grapples I can use, but they're more for transportation than combat. I know how to use a laser pistol, but I'm probably still best with crystal daggers." They're not a weapon taught in Bootcamp or the Academy, but he still practices with them enough not to get rusty.

"Crystal daggers? Wouldn't something made of metal be better?" Galvatron sounds genuinely curious, not like he's mocking Optimus, so he answers him.

"Where I grew up, there were . . well, there was a lot of hydrolizard infestations, and I never had access to metal, and most metals don't work particularly well on hydrolizard armor anyways If you sharpen a crystal dagger enough, they'll slip right between the armor plating gaps."

"Aren't they brittle? Prone to breaking?"

"Well, in some ways that can help, since it will offline them faster. But eventually, you get good enough that they don't break at all. I still have a pair in my subspace." He rolls his optics, "I showed my Sergeant, but he said that it wouldn't be safe. That's why I use the axe."

"Did you show him how you fight with them?"

"I did, but he stopped me fairly quickly." He sighs, "I must not have been very good, since he stopped me so fast."

"But you were able to offline a few hydrolizards?"

Sighing, Optimus leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "I'd say more than a few. I never bothered to count them. If you brought one of the hydrolizard's core processors in to any of the factories nearby, they'd give you a few credits for proof of termination, and I managed to turn in at least a hundred or so of them that I can remember." If the processor was too small or too large, or if it had any damage to it at all, it didn't count, as the factory would claim they had salvaged it from some other mechanimal or from a hydrolizard that was already offline. It had been a pain in the aft, but sometimes he needed the extra credits, and sometimes he just wanted to stop the hydrolizards from expanding their territory out of the sludge ponds and into slumbot neighborhoods.

"At least a hundred...." The mech sounds... disbelieving. "Amazing."

But he's used to bots not accepting that he's as good at what he does as he is. As such, he isn't actually offended. "Yes."

Galvatron says, "I'd love to see you do such a thing some sol, Oracle."

That's not happening. "I could describe a fight to you? I don't think you'll find it terribly interesting, but I could attempt it."

"... Yes, please tell me. I want to hear about this."

He laughs a little, and settles into his chair to explain about the hydrolizards on Haydon.

Chapter 5

Summary:

i'm sorry if some of this looks funny, i'm not doing well and wanted to do SOMETHING productive

Notes:

i'm just super dizzy, sorry it's so weird. i've been dizzy for weeks now and am only not when laying down.

sometimes not even then. i'm sorry if this update looks weird

it is hard ot edit when you can barely focus onthe screen. sorry

edit: okay, tehre was a bit all crunched together, and i think i fixed that, i hope this works

Optimus scribbles onto the datapad as Elita sits next to him, muttering to herself. Sentinel stands up, "Optimus."

"What?"

"Let me use those crystals you bought."

He looks up, ".... why?"

"I want to make a crystal cake."

He perks up, "Okay!"

"I can help," Elita offers and Sentinel gently but firmly puts his servos on her shoulders and pushes her back into her chair. Elita once set the only dormitory oven on fire while trying to reheat some energon crisps.

"You can keep Optimus from eating everything while I make it," Sentinel informs her, and holds out his servos to Optimus, taking several cubes of crystals. "And you, Optimus, are going to keep her company and not try to secretly add so many sweeteners that one bite of this cake sends a bot to the medic."

He grumbles, "But it's good like that."

"No," Elita pokes him. "It makes it inedible."

"I love it, though," he grumbles.

"You might, but all of us are eating it, not just you," Sentinel says. The mech nods, "I'll go make fuel, you keep studying. Like you always do."

He pouts, "I don't always study."

Elita laughs as Sentinel walks off to cook, "Yeah, sometimes you're at work." She bumps against him lightly, "Or at classes with us. We really should go do more things together. You're just so focused, all the time."

Venting out, he leans into her side. "I have bills and I don't have the luxury of retaking any of these classes if I fail. It's hard for me to remember a lot of these things, and I have to study more than you two."

She kisses his cheek. "When we get our half-decacycle vacation for the stellar in an orn or so, you should take it off of work too. My mamas already said they'd pay for the three of us to go to one of the spas down south, near the rust sea."

He pauses, thinking about it. "That sounds.... very nice." Five sols off, and just... spending it relaxing. The break would help. "I should be just fine, doing it."

"Good!" She grins at him, "Very good. I want both my mechs to be with me as I go. That's the main reason my mamas agreed to pay." She pokes him, "If they had just paid for me, I'd have not gone at all."

He shakes his head, "If they only want to pay for you and Sentinel-"

"You're coming with."

He laughs softly, "I'll come with. I'll arrange it."

He shouldn't even need to request it off of work, other than just notifying Blurr that he'd be gone for a few sols in a row, since he can easily manage the ten megacycles minimum on the other five sols, even with his classes.

A spa. He's never been to a spa or anything like one before.

"They have protoform masseuses, and a natural solvent spring that has rust sea minerals in it," Elita tells him excitedly. "I'll have them book us a room with a big berth for us and-"

"A fold-out or something else for me," he says firmly, despite her pout. "I am not sharing a berth with you two when I know you'll try to frag me."

"But we should be your first."

"No. I'm going to get bonded before I interface, and you know it."

She leans on her elbows, giving him an exaggerated frown, "Prude."

"Yup," he agrees easily. He's not explaining how he isn't, since she'll take it as an invitation. Especially since she'll claim he's been lying about his job. He isn't, and it isn't his fault that they don't want to know enough to ask more questions.

And he even has such fun technically the truth answers. Like some of his coworkers are bootcamp dropouts. A few Primes also use it as a second job. Things like that. But they don't want to know, so they don't get told anything.

He manages to get through another pad by the time Sentinel comes back with the crystal cake, a beautiful square thing covered in whipped energon frosting. Sentinel is scowling over his shoulder and shouts, "You slaggers don't get anything because this isn't for you!" and slides the door shut, locking it firmly. "Aftheads think they get a piece of cake, they're dead wrong."

"What'd they offer you this time?" Elita asks, perking up visibly.

"Blowjobs," Sentinel snorts, setting the cake down on the desk. "As if I'd let any mech other than Optimus pay for something that way." He waves a servo, "And no, I'm not saying you're paying for this with a blowjob. But if you want to give me one, I won't say no."

"Not happening," he says without missing a beat. He looks at the cake excitedly, "I see you made the frosting."

"I'm pretty sure that's why you gave me the powdered crystals."

He grins as Elita slices the cake up, "Maybe."

She snorts, "No maybe about it, that's absolutely why you did it." She give him the first slice, and Sentinel the second, "Just don't-"

Optimus puts more powdered crystals over it, layering it thickly.

"... do that. Primus, Optimus, how does your frame not rust out from the sweets you shove in it?"

Because, according to Galvatron, he needs it for nutrition in a way a lot of bots don't. "Just lucky, I guess."

He has noticed that ever since he started taking more crystal powder supplements in his energon, he's felt more alert, and his paint colors have brightened a bit. That's probably a sign that he really does need it in his diet.

"Ugh," Elita says, watching him take a big bite. "Well, at least the rest of it isn't ruined. Just your piece." She bites hers and starts chewing. It's the one thing that Optimus doesn't like about Sentinel's crystal cakes--the mech heats them until the crystals are so soft they just melt more than crunch.

It's unfortunate, but also probably for the best. When they crunch, his broken dente turn, and ache. He kind of wants to go get them fixed, but looking up the procedures... worries him. Especially since Galvatron has been talking to him about how gear dente help. the fact that the Autobot medics will remove them entirely, including the mounting is.... He prefers them broken, and kind of hurting to that. Not scarred off and unable to get fixed some sol in the future.

Since when he's a Prime, he'll be able to go unmonitored into other planets in neutral territory near Decepticon space. He can pay for an actual fix then.

And he's seriously considering it.

"You're so good at this," Elita praises Sentinel leaning over to give her mech a kiss, and he smirks at the both of them. "When I make Prime first, I want you to make a three-tier cake and I want Optimus to put out in the berth."

"Nope," Optimus pats her servo. "You can have Sentinel ride your spike like usual, okay?"

She pouts at him.

--

"-surprise Inspection!" a mech announces, the soundproofing abruptly turned off of his cubicle. Optimus turns in his chair to face a rather pompous looking cyclebot, wearing a Tax Inspection badge on his plating. The soundproofing is off on a few other cubicles nearby, but not all of them. "Open your desk drawers immediately!"

He knows these things happen, but he's glad he's not with a client right now. Opening his drawers, he moves out of the way to let the mech inspect everything. The bot instantly rifles through his small amount of snacks, but pulls out all of his datapads.

"Filthy writing, huh?" the mech sneers.

Bot's going to be surprised. That's his required datapads for the Academy. Even if he had filthy stories, it doesn't count against an inspection. Only toys. Since 'facing toys aren't allowed in the premise at all, he'll be mighty surprised if they ever actually find anything.

He leans against the cubicle wall lightly, since the things aren't that solid, and watches as the mech looks more and more frustrated. He sighs when the bot drops them on the desk, but doesn't argue as the bot says, "I'm checking on the com."

He waits for the mech to try to open the notes on the clients, and says, "I'm going to need to stop you there. Those are protected under confidentiality. You wouldn't find anything illegal in it, anyway."

"I'm not looking at the files," the mech blatantly lies, and then clicks on another folder index, checking for any kind of vid files or video recording software. While they are allowed to look up videos for background noise or for reference, they cannot send any images of themselves, so the consoles have all had their video recording software and hardware completely removed.

"Done?" Optimus asks, bored, noticing that there's a request for a client ticking at the bottom of his screen. If he doesn't accept it within two kliks, it'll go to another bot. "I have a client waiting."

The mech glares, "Fine. Nothing illicit. But looking at you, I wouldn't be surprised."

He watches the mech stomp off, and flips back on the soundproofing. He glances at the notes for the client, and accepts eagerly, "Havoc! Husband! I'm so sorry that I couldn't come to the door as fast as you wanted, I just got distracted!"

Havoc sounds genuinely happy as he says, "It's not a big deal, Sweetspark. I knew you wouldn't leave me wantin’."

"Never."

--

The next sol has something... odd in his client's notes. All it says is, 'Ultra Magnus. Yes, that Ultra Magnus.'

What the frag?

It's got to be a joke. Ultra Magnus wouldn't call in to a place like this, would he? Optimus saw him once, during a troop inspection in Bootcamp, but the mech had been in and out in two kliks, barely looking at them. He's heard the bot's voice though, many times, in announcements and on the news.

He looks over the mech's request, which seems pretty simple. 'Must be a truckbot modeltype. Must be sweet, a little coy, and must allow himself to be convinced to let me spark him after enough gifts.'

Simple for Optimus at least.

He's a bit surprised at the convinced to spark after enough gifts part, but whatever gets a mech off. He's all for being pampered and gifted good things.

So he accepts the call, saying, "Hello, this is Sweetspark-"

"Are you really a truckbot?" and that is... Ultra Magnus's voice. it is very odd to hear it, and he's momentarily caught off guard.

Forcing himself back, he says, "Yes. I am.'

"What kind?" the mech sounds ... distrustful, and disbelieving.

"Oh, I'm a clearplated truckbot. I'm a little smaller than most of my modeltype, but perfectly healthy." Moreso now that he knows he needs to fuel how he is.

"... Fine. I'll believe you for now."

He wonders who lied to the mech before this to be so touchy. "I would not lie to you, my Magnus," Optimus says dutifully. "I am a truckbot. I could tell you my paint colors if you like, or you can tell me how you imagine I look."

There's a pause, and then the mech lets out a sigh, and his voice is much softer and kinder. "I would know what you truly look like, Sweetspark."

"I'm red and blue, with blue chest glass, and a few yellow accents," Optimus informs him. "Am I a good mech for you, my Magnus?"

Another pause, "Please, call me Ultra. The mech I wish to spark with would not use my titles in our berth."

"Ultra," he purrs, testing how the mech will respond to it.

It works well, since there's a soft rev, "... very good, Sweetspark." The bot hums softly, "Is it okay if I call you something other than Sweetspark?"

"Of course, Ultra. What would you like to call me?"

"How about... hmm... I want to say Silk Glossa, but that isn't going to work. A single word name, one that wouldn't be an endearment. Since while there are bots named Sweetspark, you wouldn't have given that to me if it were your real designation."

"Whatever you choose, I will respond to." He hopes the Magnus doesn't choose something another mech has chosen. It kind of helps separate out the stories in general. Sweetspark works just fine for some clients, though. But personalized usually means the bot is coming back.

"Zephyr," Ultra hums thoughtfully. "Do you like the sound of that?"

It's much nicer than some of the names bots have given him. Quite nice, really. "I do, Ultra. So, I am your lover?"

"My bondmate," Ultra Magnus corrects. "My sweet Zephyr, bonded to me for vorns now, and I have spent all that time trying to convince you to let me spark you."

Why on Cybertron would a bonded mech want to wait that long for a sparkling? Optimus doesn't understand at all, but he doesn't want to question it. "And now I'm ready to let you?"

"Yes."

"So I've been reluctant this entire time?"

Ultra sighs, "That is... usually how this goes."

Now he has to question it, since it isn’t adding up. He adjusts how he's sitting, "Is it okay if we discuss this a bit more before we get into it? It sounds more like you are... not happy with the scenario."

"... I'm not," the Magnus admits.

"Tell me what is wrong."

"I want a truckbot who just wants to be sparked. I want one that I'm in love with and happy, but I'm not going to find one."

He smiles, "Well, from the notes I have here, you haven't commed in since before I was hired. Would you like to know what my preferences are?"

"Go ahead. It won't hurt anything."

"I like to be praised, to be told how good I'm doing, for one."

"I can do that," the mech doesn't sound any more enthused, but also not at all reluctant.

"But another thing is, and I'm sure this is why I got you, due to your request; my other preference is that I like sparking kink. I would very much like you to try to spark me up. The fact that you want to do it in a bond? That's all the better. So, instead of it being vorns that we've been bonded. How about we shorten that up?"

There's silence on the other end, and he's about to ask if the mech is there, only for him to hear the telltale sounds of a spike being taken out. The Magnus saying slowly, a little longingly, "Our bonding night?"

"Oh, that's a very good thing, since I still have my seals, Ultra. I saved them. Just for you. I want to be bonded, and you love me. Just like I love you." He can hear Ultra in-vent loudly, so he seals it with, "My darling and amazing husband."

"It would have been incredibly difficult for me to let you get all the way to our bonding night with your seals intact, Zephyr," Ultra rumbles, engine revving. "If you are half as lovely as you sound, I would have been pressured every time we were together near an altar."

That's . . odd. "Well, we managed it. I'm sealed for you, ready to be yours in every way. Are we bonding in a Temple?"

"No," Ultra almost snaps, and Optimus startles a little, because that's a very strange and a bit alarming of a reaction. "No," he repeats, calmer this time. "Because if I were to bond to a truckbot in a Temple of Primus, my bonding night would belong to Primus instead, and I would have only the haziest memories left over."

That's... very odd, and doesn't sound very likely, but he's not going to argue. "Then we are just bonded. In the berthroom, then?"

"Bonded off of Cybertron entirely."

"Ah, so we eloped. Perhaps because I asked you to go on vacation on me, and we bonded on the planet we chose?"

Ultra hums a little, "That... works. Yes, that's just fine."

"Are we in a hotel, then?" He starts to look up fancy hotels in various Autobot controlled planets.

"No, we'd be in one of the houses for the Magnus on whatever planet we visited."

He scrambles to look up what those look like, but all he gets are images of the actual Magnus Manor on Cybertron. So he specifies other planets, and gets very blurry exterior shots. "How about the one on Elba?" Autobot, not that important, but the home seems nice enough? Not nearly as blurry as the others. It’s visible.

Ultra magnus hums softly, "I've never been there. Let me go check on that." There's a pause and Ultra says, "Ah, there's a reason for that. That's the prison planet."

"Huh. This is... harder than I thought."

He laughs, "Yes, it is. How about," Optimus can hear scrolling through a datapad, "Athenia? Just a normal sort of vacation planet. I've heard good things about it, even if I've never been there myself."

He checks it, and there are no images of the home for the Magnus, but maybe bots just don't know what one it is? "A good place to go, then."

"It doesn't matter much, really," Ultra sighs. "Though every Manor has good security, and plenty of large berthrooms."

Optimus giggles, "Plenty of berthrooms for plenty of sparklings? How many do you hope to have with your Zephyr, hm?" Galvatron has told him he wants a dozen or so, which really isn't that many for a wealthy bot to have and support, so long as there was some spacing between them at least midway through.

Another helpless engine rev, "How many would you give me, Zephyr?"

"Short of spark health problems, I don't see a reason to stop." He doesn't like the idea of constantly resparking all that much, but bots live a long time, and the more a bot interfaces, the more likely a sparkling is. And if he’s healthy, resparking is fine.

The mech revs heavily, "As many as there are berthrooms in the home?"

"I don't see why not. That sounds like a worthy goal to me."

The Magnus revs louder, and he can hear the bot settling down wherever he is, "Very good. I'd like that a great deal. Now then, what are we doing?"

He wishes he knew what the house looks like, but he'll do his best. "Well, you carry me into the berthroom, the both of us excited to be on another planet, and just bonded. I cling to you, and press a few kisses to your face before moving to your mouth, opening up to let you deepen in happily."

"... Go on." The Magnus sounds interested, if slightly skeptical.

Rolling his optics, he continues, this time purring out his words, "Ultra. My husband. Put me on the berth. I need you."

"I'll give you what you need," Ultra promises him. "You look good spread out on my berth. I put the softest meshes out for you, so you won't get scuffed too badly when I take you."

Optimus huffs quietly, "I don't need them, but it was very kind of you to think of me, and they are very, very soft. I want to rub against them, but I want you on top of me more. Will you join me in the berth, my love? I made bonding promises of satisfying you, and I long to fulfill them."

Ultra Magnus still comes across as a bit hesitant, but eager. "You made me many bonding promises. Do you remember the rest?"

Laughing low in his vocal processor, Optimus smiles coyly, knowing much of his expression comes across in his voice. "I promised to give you sparklings, my love, but I can hardly give them to you if you won't put your spike in me."

"I..." Ultra Magnus sounds like he's searching for words, finally saying, "You mean it?"

"I do." When Ultra doesn't say anything in response, Optimus realizes that Ultra... is not very good at this. Likely just comming in, unsatisfied, and the fact that it happened just a sol after them being raided is telling.

Bot probably only thinks about the Blue Flash when it's brought up by the more prudish Council members. Then calls in the hope of having his fantasy fulfilled, just to have that come crashing down unhappily. Optimus will do his job and fill in the gaps.

"As you put me on the berth," he says, helping out, "I press kisses to you again and again." He giggles softly, "You don't need to be so gentle. I'm a truckbot. I'm tough!" Ultra makes a rev at that, so he continues, "As you lean over me, I put a servo to your sparkplates, smiling up at you. When you pause, I move a little, pushing up my chest, and drawing back my clear blue chestplate, and slowly slide open my backplates." He pauses, seeing if Ultra will say anything, then, "Since we're sparking, it only makes sense that you get to see all of me, husba-"

He's drowned out by Ultra Magnus's roaring engines, and he is a little stunned at how loud it is. When it calms down, the Magnus says, "I reach closer and touch your spark."

"It feels so good to have your servo on me, I can't help but shove up against it, wanting more. No one has ever touched me like that, and I look know I want you to take my spark every sol now." Ultra Magnus keeps revving, and Optimus smirks a little, "Your fingers are so big they rub all over my spark, and I'm so close to overload already that I have to shove your servo away. I don't want to overload from my spark without yours against it."

"I'm going to frag you so good," Ultra Magnus growls, and Optimus can hear the mech's servo pumping hard on his spike. "I pin you down under my frame and kiss you, letting your spark crackle against my plating."

He gasps and moans, "Ultra! Please. I want you to break my seals."

The mech revs loudly, "Right. Right. I... I pull back a little and let my spike out." There's a pause, and that's the pause of a mech realizing he has his spike out now and didn't think about it until mentioning it in the call. "I press it against your valve plating."

"I slide my plating open, and my seal is bulging with fluid. You can tell just how much I want and need you. My spark full and needy, and I keep pressing my hips up, my body not able to stop showing just how needy I am."

"I slide in entirely, breaking the seal, and spiking you hard."

Well, there's nothing wrong with a mech who gets a little caught up when they're revved up. Optimus has several clients who can barely string together sentences when they have their servo on their spike. It just means that he does most of the talking, which is fine. That's what he's paid for. "I squeal and struggle just a little bit, before my valve starts to relax and welcome your spike the way it should," he purrs, making his venting go harder. "It feels . . so slagging good I can hardly think, but I know I want more. I want your spark against mine. So I beg for it. Please, please, Ultra, my husband, my love," he whines needily, "Put your sparkling in me, please!"

Ultra doesn't even manage to say anything else, overloading with a choked noise and a roar of engines. Optimus makes sure to sound like he's joining the mech on that, and lets his engine purr in soft satisfaction.

After a little bit, he says softly, "Did you enjoy it, Ultra?"

"I... yes. I did." He can hear the mech's resolve. "In fact, this is the best time I've ever had using the service."

"Good.

The mech sounds a little awkward, "What's... the procedure for calling again, and getting you?"

"You just answer the questions like usual, but request 'Sweetspark,'" Optimus answers automatically. "You'll be notified if I'm not able to take your call, and you can either accept another specialist or call back later."

Silence for a klik, "What's your schedule, so I can call the next time you work?"

Definitely a no-no. "We're not allowed to share that, but-" well, he's the Magnus. If Blurr were to break the rules for anyone, it would definitely be his ultimate commanding officer. "Well, you could always ask our manager, and he might tell you more."

"Only might?" There's more than a hint of a whine in that, but Optimus doesn't comment on it.

"It isn't up to me. If he chooses to tell you, then that's up to him, not me. I can't tell you."

"Ah," he's certain the Magnus is nodding, "I understand."

"Good. Now-"

"He'll set the schedule, and you just don't know it yet."

The mech does not understand. He wants to correct the Magnus, but instead, he sticks to the rules, and ignores the comment, just going back to what he wants to say, "Since you want to do this again, how would you like to discuss what we do for our next session? Or we can talk about more specific things you want, and if you're up to it, we can go into another one once you're ready." He doesn't mind extending the com time.

"I want your com frequency," Ultra Magnus says bluntly.

"You already know the frequency for the Blue Flash, and who to ask for, don't be silly," Optimus plays it off, because they are absolutely not allowed to give that out. He knows that Blurr wouldn't even share that with Ultra.

Probably.

There's another very long pause, and then a sigh. "Very well. Maybe you'll feel comfortable with sharing it with me later. Maybe our next call, you can be nice and heavy with our sparkling, and I'll pleasure you with my mouth and have you do the same? Then I can give you what you need for the sparkling."

"That would work very well. Where would we be in that case? Would we still be on Athenia, or back on Cybertron?"

"... Cybertron, if you're heavy with sparkling."

"You don't sound very happy about that."

"I'd have to share you with Primus if we're on Cybertron," the Magnus says, sounding sad.

"Well, it isn't as if this is actually happening. How about we just... stay on Athenia? Just you and me, and our future sparklings? Maybe do some research on what the home there looks like, and tell me about it after our next session."

"You'd want a retired Magnus for your bondmate?" Ultra asks cautiously. That would be the only way a Magnus would live off-planet so long, of course. After they choose to retire.

"I would bond for love," Optimus admits freely and easily. "What job you had or have means nothing so long as we love each other and you can help raise our sparklings comfortably. I don't want them to have to work like I did so young. I'm sure as a retired Magnus, you would still get good retirement pay from the Commonwealth."

"More than enough to raise a family, certainly," the Magnus says, sounding happier. "I think I'd like that."

"Then research the home. Of course, if you find a different one you like more, we can go there instead. i'd be happy anywhere, as long as it is with you, Ultra."

"... I'll do my research, Zephyr. I'll find what I like, and what the home looks like."

"And I look forward to you describing it all to me. Tell me all you can. What the berthrooms look like, what the common room looks like, and make sure to figure out about the yard. Is there room for a garden? Maybe a play area for our sparklings? If there isn't, see if there's a park nearby. We wouldn't live there after you're retired, raising a family, if there's not a good school and places for them to play."

"You'd be such a good creator," Ultra Magnus sounds wistful, maybe? "You don't have a bondmate and sparklings already, do you?"

Optimus laughs, "No! I told you, I'm still sealed, Ultra. Though I suppose Zephyr isn't anymore."

He expects the bot to laugh it off the way all of his clients do, because none of them believe that a mech who works in a place like this would still be a virgin. But he doesn't. There's just silence, and then when Ultra speaks again, his voice sounds . . . off. Strange. "Keep those seals safe then, sweetspark."

"That's... already my plan, Ultra. I'm going to be bonded before I interface."

There's more silence, and Ultra sounds normal again, "I'm going to research Athenia, and see how I feel about it. Could you look up any you think that you'd like?"

"I was doing that when I tried suggesting the prison planet. It was the one with the best photo of the home there, that's why I said it. If I'd realized it was because of the prison, I would have chosen another. And all the other pictures are little more than smudges on the edge of the horizon. Not even really worth looking at. There also isn't a list of where they are."

Ultra hums, "And the full list wouldn't be easily accessible anyway. We don't want just any bot to know." He can almost see the mech nod in this little pause, "I will figure it out, Zephyr." The mech makes one last attempt, "You know, it'd be easier for me to send you images of it, if I had your com frequency."

"Naughty," Optimus chides him, and disconnects the call to make a point. They don't share com frequencies.

He probably just had whatever tip the mech was going to give him cut back because of it, but he can't just let the mech get away with thinking he can get anything he wants from Optimus.

He checks on the next call waiting for him, but it's some random, so he ignores it to write up the notes for Ultra. Unless the bot who shows up is one of his regulars, he's not going to deal with them when he has important information for next time to write.

Chapter 6

Notes:

You get chapters when i'm up to giving chapters for now, i guess

Optimus hums happily as he lays on the massaging berth. The masseuse is professional as he takes off Optimus's armor, checking his frame for damage but not even saying anything about removing his plating on his 'facing equipment. He went to a cheap place once, and they were very focused on that. But the mech is just doing what he should for a protoform massage.

The bot looks him over, saying, "I'll need to do some maintenance."

"Sounds good." The bot already has a large tip from Optimus in reserve, he's just going to see how much he's adding. He has more in solvent funds than he'd planned, since Ultra Magnus tipped him more than twice what Galvatron's usual is. It makes him wonder what he did to get it, but he's not at all upset.

And being at the spa for his break with Elita and Sentinel is just... a great time to spend some of it.

Thank Primus they're in a different room, getting a 'couples' massage,' whatever that means. Elita had muttered something about crystal roses, and Optimus had sort of tuned it out after that. Crystal roses always look like a snack to him.

It was so rude to eat them, apparently.

"We'll start with your front and then move to your back, does that sound alright to you?" Optimus nods his answer and lets the mech adjust how he's laying.

The mech checks over his wiring, fixing various problems. There's a soft touch to a sore part of his protoform, but when he hisses, the mech doesn't probe. In fact the bot avoids touching anything he's gotten hurt from training.

Must be used to bots who get this sort of damage. Which makes sense, since it is popular with the various Autobot academy students and other in the line of work. It's one of the reasons they're here. It's highly recommended.

The mech finishes up, and Optimus flips over, exposing his back entirely. The mech hums, touching him lightly on his backstrut, just above his aft, "You have a protoform mark here."

He shrugs, "Does it matter?"

"No, it's just good luck. Sometimes bots don't know about them, and like to find out."

Optimus hums, "I knew. It's something my papa had, and his papa had."

"Ah, blessed on down your line. Primus likes you, then."

Personally, he finds it a little offensive to claim that a simple CNA line mark is a mark of Primus's favor, but it would probably also be offensive to tell the mech he's wrong, so Optimus just shrugs a little. Protoform marks don't mean anything. They're just part of a bot's protoform. Then the mech starts to rub his protoform, servos moving purposefully over him, and Optimus just melts, forgetting everything the mech had said, in favor of just enjoying the bot's skillful touch. Every line he didn't realize was kinked was straightened, every bit of wire lying crooked was adjusted, and then the mech used just the right pressure to align all of his struts, finishing off with a gentle rubbing all the way down his frame.

Ooh, he could learn to like this kind of treatment.

The mech asks, "Is there anything else you need?"

He hums, seeing how his frame feels, and says, "No, it seems good to me." It's nice to be asked if there should be more. What if something is damaged, and the mech doesn't catch it? Or the bot specifically avoids it due to not wanting to aggravate injuries. It's a good service.

"Very well. Do you need help putting your armor back on, or can you do it on your own?"

He moves a little, sitting up. "I'm good."

"Very well. I hope you continue to have a good time here, sir."

Optimus nods, and beams the correct tip amount, adding more on due to how thorough and polite the mech is, and a little more for that last offer.

What a nice bot. Optimus slips his plating on a piece at a time, almost regretting it. He quite enjoys being in protoform when there's no risk of being damaged, and the bot's servos had been so gentle and sturdy on him. The next thing they have booked for him is a hot oil soak through, and he needs to be in his plating for that, as the protoform can get damaged in hot oil without something to help control the direct heat of it.

Soaking is such a rare indulgence for him even in solvents. Getting to do a hot oil soak sounds like Primus's embrace itself, and he's looking forward to it.

He stretches as he stands up, his frame settling just how it should. Aches and pains just missing now that he's better maintained. He even does a few transformups, and they're smoother than they've ever been.

He walks to the soaking room, and easily allows himself to be led to a room with a large tub. Following the bot's directions, he sits in, and just.... relaxes.

About half a megacycle later, Sentinel and Elita are lead in, and come into the soak as well. They both curl up next to each other, humming happily. It's another klik before they actually notice him clearly too buzzed on how relaxed they are, and Sentinel finally says, "It was really nice, wasn't it, Optimus?"

He hums in agreement, then onlines his optics. "It was. I don't have that odd hitch in my knee now, and I should see how many transformups I can do when I get back to my berthroom."

"You are not going to ruin all this good work by doing transformups," Elita orders him, but it lacks the usual heat. She's loose-framed and relaxed against Sentinel. They do look really cute together, he has to admit that. When they're not trying to frag in front of him or drag him into their berth. "You will . . recharge and rest and then go back to your boring job."

Optimus just smiles at her, because he wouldn't call his job boring at all. He knows what Ultra Magnus sounds like when he overloads.

He's not explaining that to her. Ever. He's pretty sure that she will attempt to set him up with the Magnus, and that won't ever actually work out.

The Magnus wants a fantasy, and Optimus is not going to be the actual bot to fulfill that in his real frame. He is fine with it on the job, though. Especially since from what they're discussing sure sounds like he'll only want to be with the Magnus if he actually retires. And that won't be happening anytime soon.

Same with most of his clients. Most of them want the fantasy of a lovely, sweet bondmate who gives them sparklings and loves them. A pretty bondmate, not a boring, plain truckbot like Optimus, who would make a terrible bondmate.

He sighs, relaxing in the hot oil. It feels so good, sizzling under his plating just enough to warm him all the way through. He could do this for many megacycles at a time, he's sure.

It would be nice to get another call from Galvatron. Those calls excite him more than any others--he really gets into them, every time, probably more than he should.

He hums softly, settling in, and feeling himself almost but not quite recharge. WHen their time is done, they'll be expected to get out. For now, though, he can just... sit.

--

Optimus leans back in his chair, saying happily, "Ultra! I missed you!"

There's a bit of a pause, and then Ultra says, "I'd thought you were... ignoring me."

"What gave you that idea?"

"I commed back, and they said that you weren't accepting coms at this time."

"I was busy, Ultra," he chastises very lightly. "I can't be at work at all times. I have a life. When friends say that you must go with them, then you go with them if you're able."

"Oh?"

"Yup, They paid my way for spending time at a spa! How can I refuse that?"

There's silence and then a thoughtful hum, "Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh yes, it was wonderful," he sighs happily, remembering it. "I've never had a proper massage like that, and the oil soaks were so good. I could have spent megacycles just soaking in those hot oils, you know. My friends didn't let me, since they had a whole variety of things booked, but I definitely like the oil soaks and the massages best."

"Hm," Ultra doesn't sound pleased by that for some reason, his voice a little tight when he talks. "You enjoy having strange mechs put their servos on you, Zephyr?"

He raises his optic ridges, "I enjoyed a professional doing their job, and keeping me in good repair. For the first time in a long time, I can walk without feeling any residual ache. For all that the medics do, they don't have the experience needed to put a bot in working order like a bot trained for it specifically."

"... Residual ache?"

"I.. I did not grow up in a safe place. But due to living on Cybertron, I now get the medical care I need, am able to fuel as much as I want every sol, and get all the nutrition I require. In the last half decacyle, I had so many problems I didn't know were problems on my frame be removed."

"Where did you grow up?" Ultra sounds... protective, voice rumbling a little dangerously, but not at all directed at Optimus.

"On a neutral planet on the outer rim. Nowhere near the commonwealth." He can't keep the bitterness from his tone, "Unfortunately."

"You are safe now?"

"Very safe, my love," he tries to get the conversation back on track. The Magnus didn't call in for chitchat with him. The Magnus called in to get his overload. "I'm sorry I was away for so long, will you forgive me?"

Ultra Magnus stays quiet, and then sighs, "Of course I forgive you, Zephyr. There's nothing to forgive, though I freely admit that I do not like knowing that other mechs touched you so intimately. If you were sparked, I would massage your frame and let you soak in my solvent and oil baths, and I would not let some stranger put their servos on you."

"Oh, so the home on Athenia has hot oil baths?"

There's the sound of Ultra grabbing a datapad, and looking through it, "No, it doesn't. Another does, but Athenia actually has all the best things for raising sparklings. A top rated school, easy distance to any number of parks, most with play equipment. There's also easy places to go order fuel, or to buy various fuel additives, if we got tired of just from the dispenser. It's honestly the best place. If we live there, I'd have... I'd already have the hot oil soak installed, before the bonding."

Optimus makes notes of this, moving to add them to the com quickly. "And are you skilled in protoform massage, husband?"

"Of course I am. No mech ever graduates ninjabot training without being an expert at protoform massage."

Optimus blinks. "You had ninjabot training?"

"Every Magnus does, though some do not make it as far as others. Most Elite Guards take at least a few lessons in it, because it teaches many very useful skills that the

Academy does not." Ultra Magnus hums thoughtfully, "Though I certainly do not hold to the ninjabot belief about interfacing."

Which is good, especially since the mech is pretending to be bonded to him. Not that Optimus is above teasing the mech, "Of course, husband."

Ultra chuckles, "Exactly."

He stretches a little, "Husband, I want to know more about our home, or, perhaps, you can tell me after. Since we are together, and I was thinking..."

Ultra's voice is happy, eager, "Yes, Zephyr?"

"Our sparkling needs energy." He affects a slightly tired voice, "I need energy. I can't just go without you, Ultra. I love you too much."

"I would never deny you or our sparklings," Ultra promises, sounding so very sincere that it almost hurts. The mech wants sparklings so badly, surely there's some bot out there worthy of giving them to him? He's a good mech. "Would you like me to take you in our solvent soak? I already have it filled up."

Optimus smiles to himself. "The solvents will flood my sparkchamber. Sparklings don't like that, my love. Though I would be more than eager and willing to take your spike in the solvents, I would not share my spark, for fear of upsetting them."

"Then I will take your spark after, in the dry berth. But the solvent soak does have a draw. It's hot, relaxing, and should help you feel better as time with the sparkling goes on."

"How big is the solvent pool, Ultra?"

"Large enough for the two of us, and three younger sparklings if they decide to join us later."

"Oh, hoping we have triplets?"

There's silence, and a rev of engines, "Triplets?"

"It is possible. You're the retired Magnus, and I'm," part of a class on his original planet considered far too, "fertile." He realizes it's a long pause between the words, but he has to censor himself, or he'll call himself a slumbot, and there will be a discussion about words and meanings and, ugh. He knows. Kup sure loved talking about that in the beginning of training.

"How fertile?"

"Since we sparked with our first interface, husband, I think that answer is obvious."

"Do you think you would," Ultra cuts himself off, venting hard, "no, nevermind."

"What is it, husband?" Optimus asks coyly, coaxing the answer out of him. "You need keep no secrets from me, nor feel any shame asking me something. We are bonded, my love, and I am sparked for you."

The silence goes on for so long he nearly starts to speak again when Ultra finally lets out a shuddering vent. "Do you think you would allow me to respark you, Zephyr?"

What a silly question. "So long as our medic says it is safe, of course. This is my first time carrying, so I may need to rest my spark after, but if it is strong and healthy, there is no reason for me not to carry again for you, if you want me to." In the Autobot Commonwealth, keeping a bot purely for breeding purposes, taking them until their spark extinguished was so very illegal and forbidden that he'd had to wipe his memories of the descriptions of what the punishment was for a mech who treated a carrier that way was. From how Galvatron talks, it must be wrong in the Decepticon Empire as well, so he has little fear of talking about resparking with any of his clients. Even those in neutral areas tend to have laws that forbid such a thing. Haydon IV is a disgusting place.

Ultra Magnus revs helplessly for him. That's part of what he loves about this job. It's proof that he's good at his work. So good that mechs truly want him. "I would never risk your health, but I want so many sparklings with you, Zephyr."

"I know you wouldn't, Ultra." The mech is the Magnus. If anyone wants a carrier safe, that's who he'd know it just because of Primus's blessing. "I want so many sparlings, too. As many as possible."

Ultra revs excitedly, managing to calm down to say, "I'm going to spike you as we are in the solvent pool now."

"Oh good. I kiss you, and I slide my valve panel out of the way so you can frag me. I want you so much, Ultra."

There's the sound of... splashing? Oh. Ultra is climbing into an actual solvent soak as he says, "I kiss you back, rubbing your plating."

"Your servos make me so hot, my love," Optimus moans, imagining the mech pressing just right, the way the masseuse had. "I'm so very wet for you, but I don't suppose you'd be able to tell in the hot oil. Everything is already so slippery and warm."

"I can tell because you're grinding your valve against my thigh, too eager to have me," Ultra revs, and then growls, "So I grab your hips and pull you where you need to be, so I can press my spike into you. You're always so tight for me!"

Smiling, Optimus moans low and soft, venting hard, "It's because you're so big, you fill me right up. I won't have to worry about any of your fluids spilling out of me in the oil."

"Even if they do, they can be cleaned after," Ultra rumbles low, and Optimus can almost imagine how that feels against his frame. Warm, vibrating his frame a little. "I slide my fingers to your node, rubbing and squeezing as I start to thrust."

He mewls softly, and voices what he's thinking about Ultra's comment, still pretending Ultra is actually fragging him, "I... I just don't want, nngh, the transfluid to be wasted. I need it for our sparkling."

Ultra revs louder, harder, "Then I'd just need to give you more. Over and over."

A good sire was very diligent in providing fluids and energy for their sparkling, and Optimus can tell that Ultra would be a very good sire. "Promise me that you'll give me twice whatever we waste," he moans, listening to Ultra's servo splash in the oil. The mech is very excited right now, and so quickly too.

"That and more," Ultra promises darkly, and Optimus knows he's sincere. He shivers a little and moans for him.

"I don't even need your servo on my node," he vents harshly, whining his engine. He's had a lot of practice making noises, and they're sometimes even sincere. "Your spike is so big inside me that it's rubbing all of my inner nodes, and I'm still sensitive from the last time you fragged me. You keep me full of you all the time and I love it."

Ultra groans, "I want to. I like how you tighten up even more as I rub it."

He wants to argue that Ultra shouldn't bother, but this is Ultra's fantasy, not his. He likes the idea of just overloading on his bonded's spike over and over, but he knows what the client wants, the client gets. In this case, anyway.

So he whines needily, "Okay. I love you so much."

"My sweet bondmate," Ultra Magnus is venting hard now, and the engine noises he's making are ones that Optimus has come to recognize as a mech about to overload. "I want you to overload on my spike!"

Optimus lets out a long, shuddering vent, "I keep grinding my hips down, wanting your spike deeper inside where it belongs, and your fingers keep pinching my node so good that I can't help myself at all. I catch your mouth in a kiss as I overload for you." He lets out one of his best 'overload' noises himself, choking off moans and shuddering in-vents. Blurr had rated it ten out of ten, so he knows it's good.

"Yes," Ultra hisses, and he reaches his own, real overload then, oil sloshing noisily.

He pants a little with the mech, calming himself down. Humming softly, he says, "You seem worked up, husband. Do you want to talk about it?"

Ultra sighs, "It's work, and I really don't want to talk about it."

"Yes, talking about that won't make it any better. How about we talk about our home instead? I want to know about the school, and the parks."

That has Ultra sounding more cheerful as he says, "Right! I'll grab the datapad, and I can explain."

Optimus smiles, and gets ready to take notes. Absently adding the resparking kink to them, so he has that in easy to see format.

Notes:

for some reason when i've been copy/pasting from googledocs to here, it strips out the spacing between paragraphs. it's... deeply frustrating. Anyone know what's causing that?

Chapter 7

Notes:

Happy new year! Happy new chapter!

Optimus leans on his lecture desk, one elbow on it as he props his head up. Kinda boring this sol, but he just hopes this next section is interesting.

They've had three guest lecturers already this sol, and he's nearly ready to pass out. Not that he would. He took very good notes. Elita-1 passed out for a breem in the middle of Heavystrike's discussion about the health properties of oil shale and how it could be cold-pressed into all sorts of useful things for a mech doing survival training. All Optimus could think of was that the mech had very clearly never had to actually survive on oil shale, and what sort of circumstances would leave a mech with no fuel but oil shale, but also access to a cold press? Still, he'd taken notes.

Like a good mech.

Sentinel hasn't fallen into recharge at all, but Optimus is fairly certain the mech is playing processor games.

He blinks as the bot that's introducing the next lecturers says, "Now, I hope you all give a warm welcome to our surprise guest!"

Optimus isn't ... really thinking much, just watching the mech walk to the podium. Tall, blue and white paint, pretty handsome. He kind of stares as some of his fellow students start murmuring in excitement.

Then the bot says, "I have come to do the special lecture I always give to new Academy students," oh slag, that's Ultra Magnus, Optimus knows how the mech sounds in overload. He's blushing wildly as the mech continues, "How dangerous the charisma of some Decepticons are. How their lies are not to be trusted." His processor kicks back on to full power then and he can hardly contain the raging fires in his faceplates and the way his servos start to tremble a little. A fight-or-flight instinct kicking in at the worst possible moment. His only saving grace is that when the Magnus looks over the room, his optics don't pause for more than a moment on him. The bot doesn't know or care about him. So long as Optimus doesn't say anything, he won't be recognized.

But how on Primus is he supposed to stay silent the entire time? He's going to melt with embarrassment.

"Many bots claim that we have fully defeated our enemy, but at the Academy, you know that is false. The Decepticons have been successfully kept out of Cybertron, and they have made no successful raids on Autobot territory in some time, but we still see border skirmishes at times." Ultra Magnus sounds so grave and serious. He's never like this on the--no, he can't think about that now! "You will be exposed to Decepticon propaganda at some point in your life, and you must know how they try to convert you with their lies to stay strong against it."

Okay, this is important, so he can focus on it.

"I am going to show the heavy hitters first, and part of the problem is how they look. Megatron chooses bots to lead his armies and strike forces for a reason, and by knowing what they look like, you can brace for it. I will begin with the one most of you will have the hardest time with."

And on the screen is a... gorgeous femme. Beside her is a clear mockup of what an Autobot is sized like next to her, and all his processor can think is, 'Oooh, big pretty femme. Pick me up.' It is... exactly why he's being warned, but a chunk of him does not give a single frag.

There's a lot of helpless engine revving in the room, and Ultra Magnus doesn't look particularly forgiving of it. "Yes. You may see General Strika, leader of Team Chaar, and let your processor give in. You can not. She is a brutal warrior, responsible for the permanent offlinings of countless Autobots and civilians. Please brace yourself for the next image." It's jarring, the difference, but Optimus has seen images like this before, many times. It's a processor image taken by some mech and then downloaded, of the femme splattered with processed energon and oil, holding the ripped-off arm of some mech, her free servo clutching a massive axe. The revving has all stopped completely, and a few of the mechs look like they might purge.

It's not weakness to purge over horror like that, but it's something that a bot has to get over. Sergeant Kup had forced them all to get over it during one particularly awful decacycle.

Elita hisses softly next to him, and he glances over in surprise. A look at Sentinel shows that his friend likely onlined her, possibly when Ultra walked on the stage. He reaches over, patting her arm softly, and she snags his servo, frowning but not saying anything as shse holds it tight.

Ultra Magnus looks them over, "We do not have any recordings of her voice available. Otherwise, I would have you listen to her next. Instead, this," an image of a tall and menacing figure, one red optic glowing from a black and otherwise blank faceplate, "is Shockwave."

Optimus frowns a bit as he looks at the mech. This bot fuels on crystals? How?

"He is said to be a frameshifter, though this is without corroboration, as no footage has ever been found of his other frame. It is safe to assume that if it is true, he must be about the same size, though what weapons he might wield or how he might fight is unknown." Ultra Magnus takes a deep vent and then lets it out, and Optimus's processor goes to the horrible place of going 'oh, he makes that sound when he's pumping his spike sometimes' and nearly dies. "He is most dangerous to any mech of a minibot model, as he has botnapped and forced many minibots."

But Galvatron had told him that force like that wasn't allowed in the Empire, but . . well, he's just a client. He could easily be lying.

"We have a few clips of his speech," Ultra Magnus clicks a button, and the room fills with sound. Music, and glasses clinking ... a bar? "-it is useless to fight, you know. I've put so many chemicals in the fuel you just drank you're as weak as a cyberkitten. Just relax and let me take you-" and then the music again. Optimus shivers.

It's horrible. He hates the idea of being compared to a mech like that. Just because he likes crystals.

"As you can tell, he is incredibly dangerous. Do keep alert, and any minibot who wishes, can get an audio overlay for playing over the mech's voice, should they need training that might have them come in contact with the bot."

Ultra sighs, and Optimus is half opening his mouth to say something encouraging, only to slam his mouth shut. Not on the job, that means not required to help a client.

The Magnus, some distance is smart right now, says, "Now, the next bot is Oil Slick. Perhaps better known as the zombiemech. Since I'm sure that all of you realize the inherent danger of Shockwave, and I'd really prefer not to show the image of the mech ripping a bot apart. I got yelled at for showing it last time."

There's nervous laughter that cuts off when there's a video clip of Oil Slick in a field somewhere, surrounded by offlined bots. It's only obvious who it is, since the whole pile is grey, especially as he gets up, and walks towards the bot recording with leeched grey optics. Optimus can only stare in horror at his empty sparkchamber, ripped open and gapingly dark.

The footage goes dark, thank Primus himself, and Optimus isn't the only mech trembling.

"Most of the footage of General Blitzwing is considered too violent to show, as well as that of General Lugnut, consort of General Strika. However, we do have several clips so that you may identify them easier." There's a few kliks of very heavily edited footage, with images blurred. General Blitzwing, cackling almost madly to himself as he stamps a ped down on a blurred shape that appears to be a living mech. General Lugnut shooting off a set of bombs that knock several civilian buildings down. And more. Optimus is glad now, for once, that Sergeant Kup had forced them to watch much worse things.

There's mention of some other bots, and a few clips and videos, but Optimus hardly notices them, aside from logging them and taking some notes. He's gotten so caught up in what Galvatron had been telling him that he'd forgotten all of his lessons. Though Galvatron may have never done anything like that at all. Most Decepticons weren't actually warriors, despite the mech's mention of his supposed weapons.

He comes back to himself more firmly when the Magnus says, "Now, for the one I'm certain all of you have been waiting for." The mech pauses, looking at them all with a calm expression, then saying in what might be a bit too dramatic manner, "Megatron."

Optimus stares at the image of the mech, already knowing full well what he looks like. It's the image he has of Galvatron, since the bot is obvious about it in the sessions they're having. Likes mentions of the sharp edges and points on his armor, of his fusion cannon. Things like that.

The Magnus says, "The leader of the Decepticons is the most dangerous bot you'll ever have the misfortune of seeing, should you ever have it happen. Luckily, that is incredibly unlikely. Reclusive, far away, and generally doesn't get into any fights, certainly none on the border. Megatron is dangerous." Ultra Magnus shakes his head, "If you ever do find yourself facing off against him, you are to stand your ground and fight if you are defending the lives of other bots, and you are to flee otherwise, unless you have fully completed your training and obtained a rank of Prime."

That's been in many of their lessons so far. Only Primes and those of equivalent rank are to engage in direct combat with Megatron himself, unless they are fighting in the defense of something. Then their almost assured offlining would at least offer those other bots the chance to escape.

It's not something a bot wants to think about--having to flee, but it is necessary at times.

"Now, the clip of Megatron may be distressing. I want you to brace yourselves."

Optimus steels himself, knowing this will likely be harder on him than others. The image of a mech he's been entertaining talking dangerously will not be any good for him.

The video clip is of Megatron standing in the midst of a battle, voice clear, "Surrender Autobot. I will have you crushed-" Optimus's processor freezes, and he stares at the video, not even hearing it, and only vaguely seeing it.

He knows that voice.

"Oh, Primus," he mumbles, and his processor just keeps flashing the sounds of the sound of Galvatron talking to him, interspersing that with sounds of the mech overloading.

"-perhaps the most dangerous part of Megatron is that he is an incredibly devious mech. He can convince a mech to join him through words alone, and his lies have led many good, loyal Autobots astray in the past." Ultra Magnus shakes his head, but Optimus is still barely processing. "I will play a heavily edited bit of one of his speeches as an example."

"-no longer oppressed by those with power and no sense of how to utilize it-" Megatron begins, and his voice is pleasant, charming, almost elegant. It sounds like a mech who might be sipping a vintage highgrade at the end of the bar, smiling down at a mech at the other end. There's a skip and then "-a Decepticon is powerful, and our justice is swift and strong-" Another skip and, "-there is a place in the Empire for every mech and femme, especially you," the voice so deep and purring that it sends a shiver of remembered pleasure down Optimus's backstrut.

He buries his face in his servos, and very carefully does not make any sound.

He isn't sure how to even process this, other than to do nothing but sit here, making notes. He checks through them, and offlines his optics when he can tell some of his notes mention, 'Oh no, I've heard him overload so many times.' It's... really unprofessional, for one.

He's just glad he's the only one who will see these.

He needs this lecture to end and to escape.

Unfortunately, a glance at the time shows there are going to be several more megacycles of this, and he is in the Pit.

--

Optimus stares at the call, thoroughly debating just... refusing it. But then he thinks of how sweet the mech is. Galvatron deserves the chance to defend himself. Deserves to be allowed to talk to him and explain things in his own words.

Oh, sure, the Magnus said that isn't a good idea, but he knows Galvatron. Their talks, their com 'facing, their... it's the relationship, and he wants things to be mended.

So he takes a calming in-vent before accepting the com. His voice might be a touch cold as he says, "Galvatron."

"... Oracle? Did I do something wrong?"

"Mm. I suppose that depends on how you define wrongdoing. I'm sure you don't consider it wrong." The videos and clips they had watched . . they still haunt him. "I suppose we should start with this--would you prefer to stop pretending and have me simply call you Megatron?"

A pause and then a hesitant chuckle, "Well, seeing as that is my designation, you may use it if you like. I use Galvatron more for your sake than mine. I am aware that your call center is in Autobot space, on Cybertron itself."

"As you are aware, I am in the Academy." The only client aware of it. He learns his lessons well, and doesn't let that slip, not since the once with Galvatron. ... with Megatron.

"Ah, it is about that time, isn't it?"

"What time?"

"Where they do the scary lecture about all the horrible things Decepticons are and what they do. Do they show that picture of Strika first? She says she just doesn't see anything good about it. She'll tell you how shes an average looking femme-"

Optimus gasps, unable to let that stand, "No! She's a beauty! My fem-friend. My friend said she's gorgeous, and would happily go to her berth if only she weren't a Decepticon."

"Hm, well, I see that they do still use her images, then," Megatron chuckles, and the noise sends a shudder of pleasure down his backstrut. That's the same laugh the mech uses when he's calling Optimus a good mech for letting him spark him up. "I am not claiming that my Empire is innocent of everything they accuse us of, Oracle. I do not even claim them innocent of most. But I can promise you that while our culture is more physical than yours, and more swift to justice, my bots do not harm innocents. If they do, they are punished."

"You conquer planets," Optimus grits out, because countless innocents are offlined in such things.

"Yes, when their populace begs for our control, or when they are being so mishandled and abused that to leave it as it stands would be a far worse injustice than the regrettable loss of life that will come from a quick takeover."

That he doesn't believe at all. No matter what, there is no energonless exchange of power when fighting is happening. And it is always the poor who suffer the most for it.

But this isn't what he needs to focus on, so he says, as calmly as possible, "You say consent is important."

"More than important. It is paramount, Oracle," Megatron says, his voice that firm commanding tone when he's truly serious. A tone he never uses otherwise.

He wants to believe. He wants to more than anything. To keep thinking that Megatron wants him safe and wanting, not just stuck and forced to accept. That the Mech enforces it so those in his Empire do the same. "Then explain to me why one of your top generals did this." And he plays the clip of Shockwave drugging that mech, glad he's not the type to delete recordings until they're actually rather old.

"Ah, I had forgotten how much they love dragging that out. Shockwave was rather furious, to know they had cut it that way, to defame him." Megatron has the nerve to laugh a bit. "They of course removed the bit after, where he informs Oil Slick that he will be carrying him back to his lover and bondmate Blitzwing, who was really, very sorry for accidentally insulting his aft-size. And the part with Oil Slick screaming at the top of his vocal processor about his plans to burn Blitzwing's aft off of his frame for the insult."

That sounds ... convenient, but it has the ring of truth to it. It's too ludicrous to be a lie. "If that's true, I want the full, real recording."

"Mm. Demanding tonight, Oracle, but I understand. Give me but a moment to request it from my General."

"I want to be able to know what you've been telling me isn't lies. If our situation together is based on lies, there is no telling what else you've lied about. I don't want the Rite of Primus to be a lie. Not when it is so important." The idea of Megatron lying about that is painful for him. The mech's insistence that he'd swear to Primus on an altar more than enough to convince him. But if it's wrong? What does he do?

The idea hurts, and he finds himself clutching at his chest, where his spark aches from the betrayal, even if he knows it isn't actually one. It isn't.

But emotions don't care for logic.

"Oracle," Megatron says, serious, no teasing, no laughter, "I would never lie about the Rite of Primus. Never. I will get that recording. Just hold on."

He barely notices as he tucks himself up into a slight ball, one knee under his chin as he sits, hunching over, "... Okay, husband." He doesn't even notice he uses the word.

"Thank you, Oracle," Megatron then goes quiet for nearly five kliks, before speaking again. "My General was a bit confused about why I needed the recording, but as always, he was obedient in providing. I will play it for you now."

"-relax and let me take you back to your bondmate-"

"I would sooner let you take me back to a . . to a . . something worsh than a bad thing!" a very, very overcharged voice slurs, hissing his words angrily. "And your sl. . slag won't work on me!"

"It's designed to work on you. The Doctor made it to knock you out, you fool," Shockwave grumbles. "Stop fighting me. If you scuff my paint anymore I'm going to charge Blitzwing for bringing you back to him. He'd be here himself if you hadn't actually managed to sever one of his leg struts."

"He deserved it, callin' .. callin' my aft fat," the other bot, Oil Slick? hisses again. And then he screams over the noise of the bar, "I'll burn his slaggin' aft right off!"

"He insists he was complimenting you, but you can have him explain it," Shockwave says. There's angry screeching, and then a sound of armor colliding, "Take your bondmate, and never ask for such a thing of me again."

"Meine Oil Zlick!"

"I'll murder you!"

A sigh that can only be from Shockwave, "Right, you two have fun." And the recording stops.

"As you can hear, Oracle," Megatron says, "the context changes a lot. Doesn't it?"

He blinks, thinking for a few astroseconds, then says, "It does." He pauses, then adds, "You said he was a crystal fueler! He has no mouth!"

That startles a laugh from Megatron, "... Right! He does have a mouth, Oracle. He really does. It's just very well hidden. His gear dente are black, as well. He just doesn't open his mouth in general, since he wasn't onlined with it. He does need crystals, though. He uses his antlers to fuel, but the mod was for tasting fuels in a new way, and because lovers generally prefer something to actually kiss. Or for interfacing, of course."

Optimus flushes a little. "Interfacing? Isn't that . . dangerous with gear dente?"

Megatron laughs again, "Only for one who intends to harm their partner. Otherwise, a slow, gentle roll of gear dente over a spike is quite pleasurable."

He's supposed to be angry, and really, he's supposed to stop this now and report it but . . . he just can't. There's no harm in this. He's not sharing any secrets about the Commonwealth, and Megatron isn't trying to sway him to become a Decepticon. The mech is just a client of the Blue Flash, wanting to get a bot to help him overload. It's harmless.

"Do you want me to call you Megatron now?"

"I would love to hear my name from your lips, Oracle, but I would not ask you to do something you find uncomfortable, and I ask that any files you put in your system still refer to me as Galvatron."

He makes sure to have a reminder to proofread his notes, to be sure he doesn't do it accidentally. "I will make certain of it."

"Thank you, Oracle."

"Of course... my love."

Megatron sounds pleased, his voice lighter, "Now, is there anything else you'd like to talk about first, darling?"

He relaxes, and blinks when he realizes how hunched he is. Scowling at his legs, he takes the one off the chair and firmly plants both peds on the ground. Sitting up, he says, "Well, last time, you said something about how we should be adding a new type of soak?"

"Yes, the hot oil with a specialty mineral and nutrient melter to add to it. It better helps the armor and protoform absorb it. Even better if my beautiful Beloved is in protoform to better get the fluids a growing sparkling needs to build its own protoform. Of course, you have on the clear backplates I mentioned."

"They are secondary backplates. Just because they are clear doesn't mean they are exposed all the time," he reminds, smiling and shaking his head. Galvatron loves to tell him that he would be shown off with no backplates at all to show off the sparkling.

He does not care. He will not be doing that. Not even in fantasy.

He heavily suspects that Megatron likes this defiance, since it implies Optimus will eventually try it. And he likely will. Just... not now. It isn't near enough time to get used to the idea. Besides, Megatron won't pressure him into it. He mentions it once, and then lets it go. If Optimus wants the bot to stop, he just needs to tell Megatron to drop it. The mech is very, very consistent about consent. If both he and Megatron are not eagerly and enthusiastically consenting to something, then it is stopped. Optimus is also expected to abide by this of course, though it hasn't come up, seeing as he's already very careful to keep his client satisfied.

"On New Kaon, you would be praised for having such clear plates, to display your sparkling so proudly," Megatron informs him, and Optimus still wonders--is that true? The mech has no reason to lie to a pleasurebot he's never even seen, so it probably is. "A sparked carrier is one of the loveliest things any bot can see. Any Decepticon warrior would defend you with their life."

Most bots would protect a carrying mech or femme, save those bastards on Haydon IV, but Optimus hates to even consider them as bots, so he turns his thoughts away, and asks teasingly, "Would you defend me, husband dear?"

"If you were carrying my sparkling, Oracle, I would destroy anyone who so much as scuffed your paint with ill intent."

"They wouldn't, and you know that."

"I have no assurance of such a thing, not when I have enemies. It is best for everyone to know, and not have you hurt, than someone hurting you on purpose."

He laughs softly, "Now, about that nutrient soak?"

"Yes, of course. Let's get you into protoform, Oracle."

He relaxes in his seat, "I unlatch my armor, and tilt my head at you, inviting you to take it off me." Since Galvatron loves to pamper him, and part of that is removing armor safely.

"I take each piece of your armor off and lay it to the side of the solvent pool, exposing your protoform a little at a time. With each piece I kiss whatever I've bared. You are so beautiful like this, my beloved." Megatron's voice is a soothing, deep rumble, and Optimus has come to love his comcalls. No one else makes him feel like this. He's sure that if his valve or spike were unsealed, he'd have to use the private washracks after a call with him, like so many of his coworkers. Except for Stonewave, who has told him that he views interfacing as nothing more than a different type of physical exercise that he doesn't mind doing, but doesn't actively seek outside of his job.

Optimus giggles, making it come across as a little nervous, his venting catching a bit, "I've never been exposed this way before, not completely like this, but I trust you, and I love what you're doing to me, so I let you take all of my armor, and don't protest at all when it's put outside of my easy reach."

"It isn't outside of easy reach. I can grab it easily."

"You're larger than I am. What is in reach of you isn't the same as me," he reminds the mech. Megatron is likely used to much larger lovers, so isn't used to having this sort of thing pointed out.

The mech hums thoughtfully, "Well, even if someone comes in, I will keep you safe. No matter what. You're my Beloved, and I will defend you. Not that I wasn't already planning that, since you are carrying our sparkling."

"Of course, my love. But I am okay with you doing this. I already realize you'll keep me safe. I wiggle a little on your lap when all the armor is off me, looking up at you needily." He sighs happily, needily, "Aren't you going to frag me, Megatron?"

"Our sparkling does need fluids, hm?" Megatron chuckles low, and Optimus imagines how it must make his plating rumble and vibrate a little, and how nice that might feel against his bare protoform. "I will give you what you need, Oracle. And what I want." There's that lovely, familiar sound of the mech taking his spike in servo, and Optimus feels so satisfied whenever he hears that, because it means he was good and got his client nice and revved. "Look how hard you've gotten my spike, Oracle. Are you ready for me, still slick from the last time I took you?"

"Even if I'd washed, my valve would be soaked with want now," Optimus murmurs shyly, and then whimpers, "Please frag me, my love."

"I slide my fingers inside you, rubbing at your nodes before pulling out slightly, and teasing your external node." Optimus can hear something slightly odd, a bit like the mech is touching something close by, "I press and squeeze, rubbing it, tell me how good it feels."

Different than usual, but he gasps and mewls, "W-wonderful. But I don't want your fingers. I need your spike inside me, my love."

"And you will get it, but only when I'm sure you're ready, Beloved. Not until then." Megatron likes to tease his lovers until they are desperate sometimes. "When you've had a good overload for me, I'll put my spike where it belongs, so I keep pinching your sweet little node while I thrust my fingers inside, feeling your valve grip me tight." And Optimus can hear something thrusting, wetter and different. Is the mech fingering himself? No, it must be a . . . a toy of some kind. Something he can spike?

"Please," Optimus whines, and immediately looks up interfacing toys that a mech can put their spike in, and flushes bright purple.

There are ... a lot. But he highly suspects that someone like Megatron will have a more expensive toy. So he doubts it will be just an artificial valve, but also he can't see Megatron with the most expensive toy, either. That, uh, 'toy' is fraggin' creepy. A doll that kind of moves and sighs as a bot frags it. He's sure there are better ones, with more movement and so on, but the doll ones that are more on par for Megatron's budget look like they have a long delay for getting shipped.

So he suspects the toy is... something that is the torso of a bot, with valve and spike exposed. Probably a more expensive model that can have retractable plating and have the spike put away.

Instead of saying anything about it, he focuses on Megatron saying, "I want to hear you overload, Oracle. I'm pressing my fingers inside of you, and rubbing your beautiful sparkplates, careful not to allow them to open and get the soak inside and disturb our sparkling."

Optimus wonders for a moment if Megatron thinks he really overloads for him during these calls. The mech probably knows he doesn't, but maybe he thinks 'Oracle' is rushing off to frag himself with a toy afterwards? It doesn't really matter. So he moans and rocks his hips against his chair to make the right noises and pitches his voice up in a whine, "Oh, oh, yes, more, more please!"

Megatron's engines rev loudly and he growls, "I fit another finger inside you, stretching you wider," and Optimus lets his voice break as he overloads for him. He pants as Megatron purrs, "Such a good mech for me." The flush of pleasure at that isn't faked at all, and he sighs happily. There's a soft sound like a patting, but not really? "I pat your aft," the mech is patting the toy's aft. Look like he's right about it being a more expensive toy. "I love how you're such a wonderful mech for me, Oracle. I slide my fingers back inside of you, spreading them slowly." THe mech hums, low and rumbly, "Yes, you're all ready for me. Aren't you, Beloved?"

He sighs happily, "I am. I want your spike to fill me up."

"Good." A bit of movement as the mech says, "I lift you up, and position you over my spike before slowly lowering you down so you take me fully down to my base." Megatron groans loudly in pleasure, "Slag, you're so tight."

Megatron wants him so much that he's fragging a toy he bought, pretending it's Optimus. Oracle. Whatever. Optimus feels like his faceplates might melt.

"You're just so big," Optimus whines, imagining how thick and huge Megatron's spike must be. He's seen how large the bot is in comparison to the average Autobot. He'd known that Galvatron was a big mech, but now he knows exactly how big. "It always feels like you're filling up every mechanoinch of me."

"I am," Megatron growls, and Optimus can hear him start to move the toy. "I've got you by the hips, and I drag you up and down my spike slowly, making you feel each thrust nice and deep."

He moans for the mech, "I squeeze my calipers extra tight, just for you, since I know how much you love that." That gets a needy sort of grunt, so he continues, "I reach up behind me, tugging your head down just a bit, kissing you, glossa pressing in, open mouthed and wanting. I move my hips, trying to get you to thrust into me, faster and harder." He smiles as he can hear the sound of the mech fragging the toy harder, "Megatron," he mewls, "I need you. I love you."

"Beloved," Megatron almost growls. "You're a very good mech." There's a smacking sound, and Optimus squeaks in surprise. "Mm, Did you like that, Oracle? Did you like when I smacked your sweet little aft?"

The thought of being taken like that, being bounced on the mech's spike and then having the bot smack his aft sends a shiver of real pleasure through him, and he moans honestly, something he rarely does.

"Oh, I can tell you like it," Megatron rumbles in satisfaction. "Such a good mech for me, taking my spike in this sweet, sweet aft," another smack, and Optimus whimpers and whines through an 'overload' for the mech, another shudder going down his backstrut when Megatron overloads too, growling like a mechanimal.

He sighs happily, and says softly, "I press a kiss to your lips. Reaching up and pressing my servo to your helm." He lets his actual happiness roll entirely into what he's saying, "I like being with you, Megatron. What we do is part of that, but our conversations make me truly happy."

Megatron's engines rev excitedly, and Optimus jumps a little, startled. Is he... going to go through more fragging? He's not opposed, but that reaction is a massive surprise. He sits up a little more, ready to start again, when Megatron says, voice gentle, "Oracle, I think... our next session should be more... substantial than the current one we're doing."

He blinks, "Oh? How so?"

"This started with you already botnapped, and in love with me. I think the next one should be... me botnapping you, and you working towards falling in love with me."

Optimus smiles to himself, "You'll want me to give in to you quickly, right? Your sweet Oracle, wanting your spike so bad he can't help himself?"

Megatron is silent for a long moment, and then he sighs, "I want you to treat it however you would act were it really happening. If you would fight me, then fight me. If you would refuse my company and my berth until I proved my love to you, then do so. Be yourself for me. That will please me, my sweet Beloved."

Cheeks flushed, Optimus bites his lip when he replies, "You're so . . . good with your words. It's why I love talking to you." He ducks his helm, even though he shouldn't, since there's no way to hide from a mech's optics, no need to hide when the bot can't even see him. "It probably makes me a bad Autobot, but I've read quite a bit of your poetry, you know?"

There is a long pause, and Megatron says, "It's likely just the heavily censored versions. I could send you the full versions, if you want."

He laughs, "They didn't look censored to me, but it is entirely possible."

"If you gave me your com, I could-"

"Ah-ah," he rebukes, lightly. "No, my love." He pauses, "Oh. I should probably stop calling you that, if we're going to do another scenario. We don't want me to fall into a bad habit, and ruin things."

There's a shorter pause, and Megatron sounds a little sad, but also very determined, "You're right. We don't want that. If you call me that, it would be further along. When you've fallen in love with me. I don't want it to be false."

That's so sweet. Optimus smiles to himself and rests his chin on his servo on his desk. "So, how does this supposed botnap go for you, hm?"

"Well, I would need to know a few things about you. You know some of the layout of my home now. Where do you live? Would it be easier to take you from your home or from the street as you went somewhere?" His voice sounds almost like he's about to laugh, and Optimus thinks that Megatron must really want this scenario, but probably knows he'd never bother with a bot like Optimus, so all these things are just some starting fluff for the scenario.

Still, it's not like he can safely give out his details. Nor that he would. "I'm in a campus dorm apartment, so unless you had a way to get onto Cybertron and into the Autobot Elite Academy, that's not an option." There are hundreds of dorms, and that won't give the mech any real idea. There are also three Elite Academy locations, in other cities, with even more dorms. And the Blue Flash has an 'official' address that doesn't actually exist when bots look it up.

Megatron hums, and Optimus has to shake his head and roll his optics with a small smile on his face. The mech is probably realizing it is futile, so will suggest something else. Which seems to be true, since the blot says, "We will contrive to say that you're on a training mission on another planet when this happens, I think. Easier for me to take you there."

He starts up a new notes section, "What kind of training?"

"You would know better than me in this case. Perhaps a mock battle, since you enjoy tactics?"

He nods slowly, "I could see that happening. I'll warn you now, If it were to actually happen, my friends would defend me to the point of being badly damaged." His voice turns severe, unable to help it, since the idea of Elita or Sentinel hurt freezes his spark, "If they were hurt badly, I'd never forgive you. No matter what."

"I would not seriously harm your friends, Beloved. Were they around, I would knock them out and lay them aside to get to you. As fresh cadets, even three of you would stand no chance against me, and I would have no need to use true force, but we will say instead that I find you alone, so you needn't worry."

He's very, very sure that three cadets wouldn't be able to stop Megatron from doing whatever he wanted. Maybe delay him a little. "Thank you. My friends mean the world to me." No matter how pushy they sometimes get.

"And, if I'd been planning on botnapping you like I would in this scenario, I'd know that. I'd not harm them in any way that can not be easily repaired, if they were there. Which is why I'd be capturing you when you are alone, Beloved."

He smiles, "Good. Now, as my Devoted-"

"Yes?" Megatron just sounds so ... pleased, and Optimus has to stifle a chuckle.

"As my Devoted, I know you'd take care of me, since you've told me this, but would the me in the scenario know that?"

"Yes. You would. All the information you know now, is information you'd have in this. Nothing hidden from you for you to stumble on and have to find out, unless it is something I forgot to tell you already."

Good, then he has most of what he needs already. "So, we fight a bit and you take me," he hears the mech rev and grins to himself. "You take me back to your ship? Does the botnap start then, or when you bring me to New Kaon?"

"It starts the moment I have you secured away," Megatron informs him. "When I have you as mine. Then I have a decastellar to show you that I love you, and to show you that I am worthy of your love as well. Of course, should Primus bless us, after you choose to allow me to give you pleasure, then we would be Bound, but the botnap might be extended, should you choose not to acknowledge the sparkling as mine until they online."

That's . . . very odd. "What do you mean?"

Megatron lets out a vent, almost coming across as reluctant to share this information. "By Decepticon law, we are bound by Rite of Primus if either of us were to spark. However, if you were the carrier, you could refuse to acknowledge me as the sire, and I would not be allowed to claim you as my bondmate until our sparkling emerged from your chamber, at which point the sparkling would know me as his sire."

"Why... why would they refuse?" The idea is baffling. If they're willing to frag, but not accept that the sparkling is the one who sired the sparkling, why did they agree to interface at all?"

"I.. I do not know, Oracle. The idea of it happening to me would be like a blade to the spark. I can't imagine it."

He notes that down, but adds more notes of his confusion why anyone would do such a thing. "I can't, either. If the Devoted truly loves the Beloved, then there would be no forcing, and they should be happy and not feeling forced." He shakes his head, "It doesn't matter. It won't happen here. I don't see why this even matters to us, since It won't happen."

"Then you won't just give in because you know I'd like you to interface me?" Megatron asks, voice firm.

He snorts, "No." The bot clearly wants him to push and be more defiant. Just like with the clear backplating. if the mech doesn't want it, they can discuss that next time, and fix problems that come up.

"That's my good mech, Oracle," Megatron's voice is husky.

Pleasure shivers all along his backstrut.

"Oh, it will be much harder to resist if you say things like that," Optimus warns him. He's a mech, not a sainted templemech. "Though I will resist you, since I am sealed."

Megatron chuckles, "You know, I do not care if you are sealed or not, Oracle. If you like the idea of me having them, then I am pleased to oblige, but I do not need you to pretend if you don't. A mech is not worthy or less worthy because of how many berth partners they may have had. I would love you no matter the number."

Flushing again, Optimus has to bite his glossa to keep from saying something stupid. Only when the urge passes, he manages instead, "Well, seeing as I do have my seals, I think we'll keep them for the scene, unless you want them gone."

"If you have them, we keep them."

He takes a calming in-vent, and says, "Now, I'm going to assign you homework for this."

Megatron chuckles, low and warm, "Oh? What would that be?"

"You need to design the rooms I'll be in, and where I will be. Knowing what I know, I'll be disappointed if it is the exact same rooms we've been in in the other scenes. I want to know what my private area looks like. I know you want me, so I want to see you show that in our next comcall."

"... I see. Is there anything specific that I should have, but I don't?"

"I am a sealed mech, and I have a Primus blessing mark on my protoform." Since if the bot doing the massage insists on it, he may as well say it. Something he's not said to Megatron before, but now will admit to. "I deserve an altar to Primus in my rooms."

There's a small rev, "Are you devoted to Primus?"

"I pray to him every sol, and I visit the temple whenever I can." Not as often as he wants, but when he can. He is too busy to do the sol long prayer he would love to do, and can't get away with more than a few breems at a time.

"Then I would have an altar for you, of course."

Optimus smiles at that. "What exactly would I be allowed to do, as your Beloved? Would I get to contact my friends, to let them know I'm safe? Could I use the console to speak to bots on the boards?"

"No." Megatron sounds quite firm on that. "It is expected, though not required, that I inform one of your superior officers or family that I have botnapped you. Until you accept my offer of a bonding, you are not allowed contact with them, except for true emergencies. No Devoted would deny their Beloved the chance to see a newly onlined sibling, or to speak or even visit a creator who was about to offline."

"I severely doubt that will happen to me. My friends are in good health."

"And your creators?"

He knows his voice closes off, harsh and forbidding, "There is nothing to worry about there."

"... Do you not get along with your crea-"

"They're offline," he says, voice cold. "They've been offline for a long time."

"I... I see, Oracle. This is a conversation we can have later on. Once you feel more comfortable. I will not press you for more."

"Thank you," he says, trying not to sound as harsh as before. He... doesn't want to think about it.

"On to more pleasant things," Megatron purrs. "What are your favorite fuels? Your favorite snacks? I would give you all the things that please you as often as you like."

That brings a little smile to his faceplates. "I like anything sweet, really, except for gelled energon." He'd had so much of that as a sparkling and teenbot just the sight of it made his tank churn a little. "And I suppose I'm not enormously fond of condensed energon bars, though if they're sweet enough I don't mind them."

"Oh, not gelled energon?"

"None."

"Very well, I won't have any of that. What about crystals?"

"I love crystal cake now. If you could, I'd prefer the kids with huge chunks, not the kind that just dissolves in your mouth. I prefer something to chew."

Megatron sounds pleased, "I will happily get you that, Beloved. If you want, I have some specialty crystals I can order for you. If you want, I could send some to the Blue Flash for you."

"I'm fine with you describing them to me," he lies, even if he really wants that now. The idea of it makes him almost willing to give up his com, just to possibly set up an off site mailing box to get it.

"Whatever pleases you, my darling," Megatron hums. "Many Decepticons fuel on crystals as a primary part of their diet, so we have many crystal gardens and cafes here. I would bring you the finest samples of all the crystal hybrids they have made on New Kaon. Then, when I knew your favorites, I would have them grown in one of the fortress gardens."

"Gardens?" he perks up, because he's always wanted a crystal garden of his own, though the reality of having a place with anything more than a porch or rooftop patch in the main cities of Cybertron is impossible on his budget, even as a future Prime. "Is there a garden attached to your rooms?"

A moment of silence and a sigh, "Of course, you would desire the one thing I cannot provide there. My quarters are nowhere near the outside of the fortress, and not adjacent to any gardens, though I supposed I could have them install an indoor garden, for those crystals that grow best sheltered inside."

He shakes his head, "No, it's ... it's best that you don't, then. I wouldn't know how to care for it, anyway."

"I'd be the one caring for it, Oracle. It would be attached to your rooms, but it would be clear it is a spot for the both of us."

"It's okay," he says easily. As much as he would love that, it is fine if the fantasy doesn't have it. This is for Megatron, not him. "Besides, I'd prefer it after sparklings more."

"Oh?"

"Yes, spending time in a crystal garden, a sparkling on my lap, and the others running around playing. Perhaps on my spark as it happens."

Megatron revs, "How many do you think we'd have?"

"As many as possible, of course." Then, because he's not sure the mech would understand, since so many mechs don't- "No more than we could provide for, obviously. A bot should never have more sparklings than they can support and care for. That's irresponsible." And why anti-sparkling protocols existed. A bot used them when they couldn't support a potential sparkling that might come in the next vorn.

“Oh, that won't be a problem, I'm sure of it," Megatron promises, voice deep and rumbling. "I want many sparklings with you, Oracle, and we will love and support them all."

Optimus shivers but smiles, "Thank you. I can't stand the thought that any of our sparklings might end up in an orphanage."

There is a very long pause for some reason, and he's trying to figure out what to say when Megatron asks, in a dangerous voice, "Orphanage?"

"... Yes?"

"Oracle," Megatron's voice is a growl, "are there orphanages on Cybertron?"

He blinks, "Uh... not that I know of?" He searches on the com quickly, "No. None."

The mech's voice is slightly less dangerous, "Good. Why would you think that our sparklings would go to an orphanage?"
The
Oh, frag. His ... prejudices against richbots have come out it seems. Even if he truly doesn't believe that Megatron would do this. Nor would Ultra. Or any of his more expensive clients.

He tries to change the subject, "So, let's keep talking about the berthroom. I think that I'd like a weavermade metalmesh. Perhaps out of spiderbot silk, and-"

"Oracle," Megatron says, voice flat and disapproving, "we will get back to that. Right now, you will tell me about orphanages."

Optimus vents out sharply, "I really would prefer not to talk about them, thank you. I spent enough of my life inside of one, after all." From the time his creators had offlined until the time he was old enough to earn enough credits to rent an apartment he'd lived in Primus's Embrace, a crumbling old orphanage that never had enough fuel or berths. It wasn't the fault of the caretakers there. They tried their best, but there were never enough credits, not even with the sparklings bringing back fuel, and the few older bots who could afford to donate doing so as much as they could. Optimus had donated as much as he could to, later on, because he remembered nights curled up tight against three or four other sparklings, his fuel tank aching so much that he couldn't fall into recharge.

He realizes there's been a very, very long silence. Had Megatron hung up on him? The timer is still counting on the call.

"Megatron?" he asks tentatively, worried that he might have disgusted the mech somehow.

"Oracle," Megatron replies, and his voice is different. It's not cold or hard the way it had been before. He almost sounds like he's speaking to a bot about to break down into tears. "Oracle, my love, where did you online?"

His processor flashes back to the earlier part of the call. Of how Megatron and the Decepticons Conquer planets, and he offlines his optics, unable to keep his voice from wavering, "It doesn't matter."

"Beloved, please," the mech is gentle, caring, and it is so hard to refuse.

But he manages it, barely. "N-no. It's fine. I'm no longer there, and-"

"What about those still there, Beloved? What about them?"

Damn the mech. Damn him. He doesn't notice how he tucks both knees under his chin, staring blankly at the com screen, "Haydon. It's... It's Haydon IV. I grew up there, and I will never return. I do not hate it, but I do not want anything to do with it. Not anymore. Never again." Even as he says it, even as his spark aches, he knows that's not entirely true. If there was a way to stop the suffering there, and he could do it, then he would do it in a sparkpulse. He tries not to think about it too much, because it hurts so badly, but he still sends some of his credits back to the orphanages there, though he's not sure they make it at all. Too much corruption. "There are good bots there, I promise, but . . . I can't think about it too much."

"Of course, Beloved," Megatron soothes him. "You are so good for me, letting me know about this, so I can fix it for you."

Fix it. He means to conquer the planet then. "Bots will offline," he says, his voice flat and lifeless. But how many innocent bots will offline if nothing happens?

"Some will," Megatron admits, still soft, still gentle with Optimus. "But I promise you that the streets will run with the energon of those who allow orphanages to exist in times of plenty like these."

He offlines his optics, shaking, "I guess." He doesn't know how to feel, but he hates that there's this... energon line deep ache of jealousy in him. Why did this have to happen after he's off the planet? It's not fair. Why couldn't he be saved as a sparkling? Why now?

But also... pride? Pride that all those sparklings will be safe now, and the richbots will get what they deserve.

He tightens his arms around his legs without thinking about it, "Don't let the ones who hurt me get away with it. My papas offlined in a smelter. Working together because the bot who owned the company insisted they had to. I hate him so much."

"There will be justice, and it will be swift and sure, Beloved," Megatron promises. "I swear to you in Primus's own name, that justice will be served. I have already sent the preliminary orders to my Generals." Megatron vents out slowly, and then asks, "Will you give me your name, so that I may inform them that they have been conquered for you?"

"Optimus," and it slips out of his mouth before he can cut it off, and it snaps him immediately out of the grey fog of misery that he'd been sliding into. "No, slag-"

"Optimus," Megatron says softly, respectfully. "I will treasure your designation, Beloved, but I will not use it in these calls unless you allow me to."

He shudders unhappily, "Oracle." He has to keep that, or else he'll fall out of character during scenes. "Call me Oracle."

"Oracle," Megatron says, "I will stick with it. Would you be willing to tell me what factory your papas worked in?"

His optics offline, and he says softly, "The Gear Grind Foundry. It's owned by high noblebot Rhinostop." It's ingrained into his processor, with him swearing vengeance he never got to do. He's just glad that swearing was to himself, not Primus. He doesn't want to go after the mech. He is just happy to escape.

"Thank you, Beloved. I won't ask any more questions, because I can tell how much pain it is causing you." Megatron lets silence sit between them for a few kliks before speaking again. "I think it best for us to finish our discussions at my next call to you, do you agree?"

Optimus certainly can't have a playful conversation about anything right now, "Yeah."

Notes:

Thank you very much to ASOBlueRose for reminding me paste as pain text exists. No more bunched up paragraphs. Hell yeah~~~~

Chapter 8

After spending a lot of time with Sentinel and Elita, Optimus has learned that sometimes the pair needed alone-time. That meant leaving them alone, or risk having them try to drag him in the berth with them, so he's taken to going to the cafe near the Academy that caters mostly to students and staff. They keep a news station on in the background, visible on a few vidscreens around the place, and they don't complain about students spreading all their datapads out on the tables, so long as they order a few things during their study-time.

So he's studying for an upcoming exam when he hears it. It's been nearly a decacycle since Megatron's last call, and Optimus had taken that long to convince himself that it had all just been an act. It's not like Megatron, Emperor and Warlord of the Decepticons, would actually go and conquer a planet just because some whore told him they had orphanages. The Decepticons hadn't conquered any place since-

"-the last Great War!" some newsbot exclaims, and Optimus looks up at the vidscreen, attention drawn there by the way the cafebots had just cranked the volume up. Everyone is staring at the vidscreens. "This is just in, and this is . . this is confirmed by optic-witnesses and reports from nearby planets," the newsbot, some pink mech that Optimus has seen before, but can't recall the name of, is waving his servos about, his optics wide and almost mad. "The Decepticons have conquered a previously Neutral planet!"

There's muttering around him, most of it worried. One mech exclaims, "I wasn't expecting that!"

"I was," Optimus mumbles softly, too softly for anyone to notice.

The com shows a picture of a terrified looking sparkling, covered in energon. But Optimus isn't worried, even if the bots clearly intend for them to think this is a sparkling menaced by Decepticons. He knows what an Enforcer's leg looks like, and it is clearly one rearing up to kick the bitlet. He can only imagine that whatever Decepticon shows up kills that bot.

There's several still images of various Decepticons looking dangerous, but he notes that there isn't a single one of Megatron. He does see one of Oil Slick, in normal paint, holding a chain and laughing, though. He's surprised they let that get out.

"-pray for those poor sparks on Haydon IV, who now suffer under Decepticon control," the newsbot has his servos clasped in front of him. "Pray that they grow strong and resist, and that we are able to save them in time."

And to Optimus's bafflement, half or so of the in the cafe do just that, offlining their optics, resting servos on sparkplates, saying prayers to Primus. For what? For bots that they never cared about before, and won't care about again after they forget about this? No, that's needlessly cruel of him. They hadn't even known about Haydon IV. None of them knew what it was like. Except him. And none of them know what Decepticons are like. Not really.

Well, perhaps a few have some idea, the ones that are career soldiers, whose curious optics had studied the images and found the clues to see that something else was going on.

He doesn't comment on it, though. If bots want to talk to him about it, he might answer, but he likely won't. He can feel a heaviness in his spark lighten. His home planet is safe now, and no one will need to grow up like him. Not anymore.

He settles back into studying, feeling more relaxed and at ease than in a long time.

--

Optimus looks around the room. Oh, he won't be officially fighting this until he finally graduates, but bots are allowed to practice on a schedule before that. Which is why he peers at the bot in front of the HoloMegatron curiously. This and another mech are before him, but it is good to know what tactics the test will involve.

The mech who is net looks determined, and focused, likely making notes in his processor to better fight. He has to ask, "So... have you done this before?"

The mech scowls, "Twice now. Haven't done well, but I'm working on it."

Hologram Megatron is one of the Academy's best training tools, made from a bit of Megatron's own coding, stolen by one of their best spybots in the past. Optimus isn't sure how the bot managed it, of course. Top secret. But it means the hologram fights like Megatron, thinks like Megatron, and to some extent is Megatron. But only a little. The way a reflection in a funhouse mirror still does all the things that its maker does, but twisted and odd in unexpected ways.

Even imperfect, it's incredibly difficult to fight. To graduate, a mech must withstand and survive for at least five kliks of time. To graduate with honors, a mech must make a breem. Few bots do.

Optimus watches as the much bigger truckbot hefts a pair of heavy lasercannons and walks into the training room. The protective energy shield goes up, and the fight begins. The truckbot fires a few shots but HoloMegatron is already moving, each shot missing him, the Decepticon's swords twisting into his servos, and it's not even two kliks before the truckbot has been slammed to the ground, a massive ped pressing down on his chest, his guns well out of reach.

The truckbot must send the signal for giving up, since the hologram shorts out, letting the bot rollover, coughing. A medic walks over to the bot, and helps him out. The up next grimaces, but walks to take his turn.

Optimus watches curiously, saying nothing, but notes that the Hologram seems unneededly aggressive. Not at all what he's used to. So when he makes his attempt, he'll need to keep that in mind.

The bot stiffens when the energy shield engages, which gives the hologram time to get closer. but the bot's experience seems to help, since instead of instantly engaging, he backs up, doing better with projectiles than the truckbot before him. Ultimately, it's not effective, but the bot lasts three and a half kliks, which feels impressive to Optimus.

The mech also gets pinned down by the hologram's ped, but can get up when it is turned off without assistance.

And now it's his turn. Optimus vents out slow and steady and readies his axe. Close quarters combat with Megatron is generally described to be done best as 'don't do it', but this is his best weapon. Best allowed weapon, at least, since he's still not allowed the daggers, though he keeps a good half-dozen in his subspace at all times. As he steps into the arena, the outside noise dims when the shield goes up, and-

Is he imagining it, or did the hologram just look him up and down like . . . like he was optic candy? He's imagining it. He has to be. It's because of his own special . . . connection with Megatron and nothing more. The hologram did not just optic-frag him.

The hologram lunges at him and Optimus has to jump back--it hadn't done that to any of the previous bots! An enormous sword slashes down, and Optimus catches it on the edge of his axe, but the force behind the swing nearly knocks him off his peds, and it's all he can do to disengage and slide off to one side, putting distance between them. His axe isn't going to so much as put a scratch in the mech's thick armor, and HoloMegatron's optics are glowing a deep, fiery red, the hologram wearing a smirk and Primus below, the thing had definitely nothing been doing that with the others.

Optimus swallows around a dry intake as the hologram comes after him again, and he barely avoids a sword slice across his chest plates, jumping back in time, his own axe clanging down against the blade to no avail. The bot's second sword starts to come at him--and he reacts on instinct, servo swiping and slinging a crystal dagger at Megatron. HoloMegatrons optics widen and his helm jerks, so the dagger doesn't go straight into his optic, instead slicing a thin line through the thinner plating of the edge of his helm. That makes the mech hiss and slash hard with a sword, hard enough that it impacts with Optimus's plating, leaving a stinging line of fire across his side, but his servos have already reacted again, and flung another dagger, and this one hits--though it only manages to sink into a chest armor seam, not close enough to the sparkplates to matter, and the tiny, tiny trickle of energon that leaks out means it barely penetrated protoform.

And then he's on the ground, a yelp shocked out of him as the hologram physically pins him down, one servo over his neck, the other pinning his wrists over his helm, the bots' weight holding him down--and then it's all gone, the hologram vanishing in glittering motes of light.

He vents hard, forcing himself up, only to be grabbed by the medicbot, who urges him onto a stretcher. He lays down on it with a scowl, "I'm fine."

"You took a full blow to the side with those swords, and he looked like he was going to do something horrible for damaging him." The mech turns away from him, "Gather up the weaponry! I'm shutting the fights down for the sol! Someone get a technician in to scan the damned program!"

Optimus tries to crane his neck to see what's going on, but the medic holds him down, taking him to the medical bay attached to the training rooms. Optimus groans more in irritation than pain, even if there is pain, as he moves to a medical berth. Laying there, he stares at the cracked tiles of the ceiling, letting the bot scan him. "So... what's the damage?"

"Nothing as bad as if the thing were the real deal, thankfully. But your armor has microfracturing all over it. Thank Primus you're not one of those idiots who refuse to fuel on crystals, since you clearly have been, and it might have saved you a great deal of damage."

He freezes, staring at the mech, "Uh... what are you talking-"

The medic shakes his head, "You think my scan doesn't catch those broken dente of yours? You need crystals, and you're eating them. Keep eating them. In fact," the bot does something on a different datapad, "I've prescribed them so when you go to a dispensary, it will automatically add some as part of your free ration. Can't have a future Prime get sick."

He flushes, but this is in pride, not embarrassment, "Right."

"There's nothing wrong with your frame needing different kinds of fuel," the medic continues, and then pauses. "Where did you get those daggers?"

Optimus flushes, "I uh. . . well, I grew up using them, and I guess I just fell back on instinct and threw them? It obviously didn't work out very well." He'd made the hologram furious and barely managed to even injure it. Of course Decepticons would have much thicker plating, and his daggers were short, to lessen the risk of them breaking off inside a hydrolizard.

"It's the first protoform-deep injury I've seen on that hologram in more decavorns than I can remember," the medic shakes his head and huffs. "But it looks like there's something wrong with it, so don't get too proud about patting yourself on the back over that accomplishment, young mech."

Optimus just blinks. "I . . . wasn't going to?" He'd managed a lucky hit, if one could call it that, considering that it did no real damage at all. Nothing more.

"Good." The bot looks him over, sighing, "I'm going to need to take you off of combat training for an orn."

"An orn?!?"

"I can make it two," the mech threatens, and Optimus flinches. "You need to heal. You can get back into fighting fit after. The most you can do is basic exercise, and that is only the stuff in the datapad I give you. If you go more than what is allowed, I'll let the medic who scans you to check knock it even further."

He groans, "My teachers are going to offline me."

"No, they won't," the medic says, matter of fact. “We have all your teachers listed, and I will be contacting them. All of them are bots I've treated before, so you have nothing to worry about." The mech looks at him with a concerned frown, "Go get another cube of energon. I want you fueling to heal."

He sighs, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now go, and do not go fast."

He wants to make a nasty gesture, but instead, he salutes and walks carefully out. At least he's not stuck here, even if he probably should be.

He'll heal better with his friends with him, anyway.

--

Optimus accepts the call from Megatron, rubbing his side, and says, "You know the graduation test to be a Prime?"

"Oh, that... illegal scan of me made into a hologram? It's distasteful."

"Yeah, well, guess who has microfractures all over his armor due to how dangerous you are in a fight?"

Megatron's voice is unusually tight and tense when he replies, "I swear to you before Primus himself that I would never harm you that way, Beloved."

Optimus snorts out a laugh, "You would if we sparred, I bet. It's fine. Your hologram-self had reason to be angry with me. I cut a line in your helm plating and then got a dagger between your chest armor plates enough to get your protoform a little. And I was stupid enough not to keep moving, so you got me with a sword, and then felt the need to slam me down and pin my wrists to show how little it really affected you."

There's a long, long pause, and then Megatron lets out a vent. "Did your . . . instructors inform you of how that scan was obtained, Oracle?"

"No, why? Does it matter?"

A long, slow sigh. "They skimmed some of my coding from a medical pad, after I was injured during a round of sparring with willing partners. I do not know how much you know of Decepticon culture, but if two bots agree before, there are sometimes prizes given to a victor in a sparring match. In these particular ones, it was the right to . . . frag the loser."

Optimus flushes. "Oh."

"Yes. So I apologize for the way that errant bit of my coding treated you, though I have no control over it, of course. I would never treat you that way in-"

"So you're saying that I almost got fragged by a hologram in front of all my fellow students and teachers?"

"I can only hope that those in charge would never allow such a thing. Not to you, not to anyone. I would never-"

He sighs, and then winces when it makes his entire frame ache, "I get it. I know. Husband, you are never one to do something like that without consent."

Megatron's engine rumbles, deep and comforting, Optimus can almost see the mech's smile, "Yes. But, Beloved, we are not bonded yet."

He flushes, and curses himself, "Ah, right. I apologize, Megatron. You said you wanted a new scene. Did you do your homework?"

"Oh yes," the mech purrs, "I did. You have three rooms to yourself, attached to our rooms. The one closest to our rooms is the antechamber, your own private commonroom. So even if you invite me in, I wouldn't go further than that. Connected to that is your berthroom, which has a very nice closet full of clothing and dresses. I know you didn't say anything about that in our conversations, but I've since learned that all but the very poorest of mechs had clothing on Haydon IV. And even then, you'd have tried to have something to wear."

"Ah, well, you may have noticed that there wasn't much clothing on Haydon IV," he says, feeling longing fill him at the mention of clothes. Fancy clothing. He wants it, and it would be so nice to just pick something up and wear it, like he's some prosperous middle class bot. Or even upper lower class. "It used to be a winter planet, but global warming put paid to that."

"Yes, but you can wear whatever you want, Oracle. Anything at all for my Beloved." Megatrn pauses, waiting for him to respond, but he's just too busy touching his face and imagining it. "Connected to your berthroom is a washrack. It has three soaks. One for solvent exclusively, another for hot oil, and the third is one you can fill just for recharging in."

What a waste of solvents, but he loves the idea of it. It brings a smile to his lips and lightness to his spark. "How could I ever need so many luxuries?" He giggles, "But thank you, I'll take advantage of all of them, I'm sure. Do I have lots of datapads to read?"

"As many as you could possibly dream of," Megatron promises him. "And more. I will give you whatever you want to show my devotion to you, Beloved. I have already given you a planet."

"Did you really?" he asks, his smile dimming a little. "What I've seen wasn't good, though I know it's twisted by the bots reporting on it."

Sighing, Megatron answers him. "If you allowed me the honor of having your personal com frequency, I could send you true footage if you like. I would swear to Primus not to use your personal frequency without asking first, during these calls only."

He wants to refuse, but so much more of him wants to know how his home planet looks. How it is. Not some nonsense filtered through propaganda. So he says, ".... Swear it."

There's no hesitation, "I, Lord Megatron, swear to Primus, that should you give me your personal com frequency, I will only use it during these calls, unless you give me permission to do otherwise. Be it revoking permission entirely, or allowing me more access."

He's amused by the conditions, but he does understand. If he revokes it, it means that Megatron won't be tempted to keep trying, or if he decides to allow more, Primus won't punish Megatron for doing what Optimus allows. And so, he tells Megatron his frequency.

Megatron says, "I'm sending you the news now. Here."

And Optimus casually saves the entire amount of files, and when it ends, he says, "I'll watch them later." Mostly since he wants to be able to be comfortable as he watches them. Being on the clock and doing this invites Blurr looking in and asking what he's doing. As such, "Tell me about my berth."

"It wasn't easy, but I got Scalpel himself to weave your meshes from spiderbot silk. He complained the entire time, saying it isn't even worth it, but I know it is. You are worth it, Beloved. My precious Oracle, who deserves everything."

He smiles, shaking his head at the sentiment, but unable to keep his spark from warming, charmed at it. "And the pillows?"

"Metalcoat and stuffed with a controller to warm or to cool depending on what you'd prefer."

"Indulgent," he comments, knowing he sounds happy, and is unwilling to hide that. "What is in the antechamber?"

"It has the shelving for datapads. Not yet filled with much, but as time goes on, I'll have more of what you like to read put in it for you. For now, it is my poetry, since you like that. All uncensored, and the ones I know the Autobots never allowed in full view."

Optimus blushes, and from how hot his helmfins feel, he's sure it's spread all the way up to them. "Your works are very motivational. I understand why they make some hard to find, but so many are just innocent poems and essays. I wish I had more to read now."

"If you allow it, I would send you some to your personal frequency," Megatron offers, and it's so, so very hard to say no, but he manages, just barely.

"I can't. What you've sent is already breaking the rules here. Thank you for offering."

"Would you accept the two poems that I wrote about you?"

His audios glitch. "Sorry? I think I misheard that. What did you say?"

Megatron chuckles, "Would you accept the two poems that I wrote for you? About you? I was a bit rushed, so they are hardly my best work, but you deserve them as their muse."

He smiles, shaking his head, "I think it would be best if you read that to me instead." If he likes them, then he will ask for them. "But I think that might be best for later. Right now, I would like to know about the datapads on the shelves."

"I just told you. It's only the poetry. I don't know what else you'd like, so you need to tell me."

He hums softly, "I like, well, it isn't like it matters, since it is you. I typically hide this from my friends, since I don’t need them harassing me, but I read a lot of erotic romance fiction. You can get a lot for free if you don't mind fanfiction. In fact, I generally prefer it since it focuses more on character interaction than on epic plots."

"You like naughty stories, then?" Megatron teases a little. "Do you have a favorite series to read about?"

 

Optimus ducks his helm, feeling his cheeks heat. "Well . . . the Metalmist Saga always fascinated me, and I admit I've read quite a lot of fanfiction for it, since Glosswings never lets anything more than a kiss or fade-to-black happen in canon."

For some reason, Megatron almost growls, "That trash. You shouldn't bother with it, you know? Ultra Magnus is a terrible author."

"... He what now?"

"He can't even write! His editor is the only thing saving it from the incinerator. Barely disguised propaganda trash that-"

Optimus just kind of blinks at his screen, listening with half an audio as Megatron rants, but mostly is just stunned that one of his clients is his favorite published author. He flushes, realizing something one of his favorite published authors, and he's on the com with his other one.

Oh, Primus, what even is his life?

As Megatron starts to wind down with, 'And he wrote my stand in as having a crush on his stand in! How dare he do such a thing? I'll have his servo chopped off for the insult!" Optimus coughs softly. "... Yes, Oracle?"

"So, clearly, these won't be on my shelves. I did specify I liked fanfic, you know. Would I have access to the comnet to get more of it?"

"Oh... uh, yes, but not allowed to send anything out to contact them."

"Not even to tell them how good their latest update is? That seems very rude, Megatron."

"The point of a botnap is to give the Beloved time to decide if their Devoted truly loves them, and if they love them back, without the influence of others that might push them one way or another. So no, you would not be allowed to communicate with others that way, at least until you promised me your love and your spark." Megatron sounds so calm, so rational, that Optimus finds himself nodding along. "Though I'm certain if it meant so much to you, I could have Shockwave design something to keep your comments anonymous, so that the authors could not contact you back. I'm afraid the content of your comments would need to be monitored as well, at least at first." Megatron sighs, "It is not a matter of trust, you see, so much as a simple truth that many Beloveds were swayed by their friends and families and even strangers to not accept the love of their Devoted."

Well, he can certainly imagine the things that some bots would say to him if he were able to talk to them while he was botnapped. While Oracle was botnapped, he really needs to keep this game straight in his processor.

"I see. Well, it would depend on how I felt, but sending anonymously would be better than nothing."

"Then that is how it will happen."

He leans back in his chair, "So, what is the altar?"

"As you said, it is a heavily blessed altar, large enough to lay on. Unfortunately, it does not fit in your rooms, so it is actually in the common room, but can be moved to our berthroom at a later date. I just know you wouldn't want to use it if it is there."

"How big?"

"The both of us can lay on it comfortably, Oracle. It's been carved by blessed bots, and has many fine details. I can send you a picture of what I mean."

Optimus giggles, "Did you look up some available on the net somewhere?"

"No, I can simply take an image capture of it. I would only need to move from my berthroom to the common room."

. . . "You truly have an altar that large?" That's amazing, and enviable. Optimus wishes he had access to proper altars more often, and Megatron has a blessed one in his own quarters.

"I do now," Megatron chuckles, and it's like a soft caress to his plating. "I've always had a small one, but it was necessary to upgrade."

"Show me." He wants to see it.

"Very well." He can hear the mech get up, and there's silence before the bot returns, and his private com has beautiful pictures of the altar.

He hates how much he wants to use it. It's amazing. "It's perfect," he says softly, unable to keep the longing from his voice.

"I'm glad you approve, Oracle. It shows I chose well."

"Any bot would feel Primus's Grace, worshipping at such an altar," he says humbly, but can't keep the want from his voice. Perhaps he should skip work the next full sol off that he has and go visit a temple instead, to make proper prayers and offerings. A full Litany of Primus takes well over eight megacycles to recite, and he would need to perform the Four Blessings first, which take another megacycle each, so he would have to make sure to free up his entire sol.

"That is my hope," Megatron answers him. "And I hope it will please you, and show both my devotion to Primus, and my devotion to you."

As Oracle he's pleased, but as Optimus he wants it so bad he's sure Primus can feel it under his peds. But he forces himself into Oracle's headspace, "It does. I love it deeply." He pauses, and says, "I run my servos reverently over the top of it, and my fingers press against the soft cloth you've put on top of it."

"That's made of cushioned metalcoat weaving. Again, Scalpel made it for me. If you sit on it, it feels a bit like laying on air."

"Well, with an invitation like that, I sit on it. Unable to help it, I lay down, and roll on it a bit, saying some prayers to Primus as I do so. It is disrespectful to do this without prayer."

"I am pleased by your enthusiasm, Oracle, but we haven't even begun our scene yet. How can you enjoy our altar without me botnapping you and bringing you to it first?" Megatron gently chides him, and Optimus jerks in his chair, suddenly incredibly embarrassed by how his desire for the altar had made him ruin the scene they were setting up.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, trying to keep the pathetic little whine out of it. Good mechs don't act like this.

"There's no need to be sorry about being enthusiastic. I am very pleased that you want this as much as I do."

"I still shouldn't have done that."

"You're just enthusiastic. Oracle. I am happy to know how much enthusiasm you have for it. Now, it seems the reviewing my homework portion of this is over, so how about we start from the botnapping?"

"Okay," he says, still chastised. Even if Megatron says it is fine, it isn't.

"Now, I know that you're currently alone, training in a more deserted area, so I stay near the edges, watching you practice. You are beautiful. Exactly what I want, a perfect truckbot, with your clear chestplate and aft I want to squeeze."

He smiles, shaking his head, knowing his aft isn't that nice, but not contradicting the narration. "Not noticing you at all, I put my axe to the side," to better entice the mech into grabbing him, and sit down, facing away from you. Stretching my arms, I bend from side to side, trying to get them more limber. I'm stiff from practice, and am now starting to cool down a bit."

"I don't want to give you the chance to slip back towards the other bots on the mission, because they would interfere with your botnap. But it's so difficult to stop admiring your frame. I've wanted you since the moment I saw you, and I am going to have you as mine forever. You are distracted, and easy prey, hardly expecting anyone to come out from the cliffs nearby. When you try to grab for your axe, I catch you, slipping your servos into the stasis cuffs I brought to make your capture quick and painless. I would not seek to start your botnap with a fight."

Optimus shivers a little, sighing gently. "I don't understand what is going on at all. One moment, I am stretching, the next, I'm in stasis cuffs, slung over the shoulder of a mech I could swear was Megaron, but could not possibly be. I can't so much as squirm in these cuffs, their power too strong for me."

"As much as I would prefer to keep hold of you on my own, I don't want others to be alerted here, since it would be too easy for others to notice you and hurt you. If you were on a Decepticon or even a neutral planet, it would be fine. But you're on a planet too close to Autobot space."

"I focus on attempting to escape, but am still unable to, the cuffs just much too strong. I attempt to look around, but mostly I can't see anything other than what is behind you. I watch unhappily as you leave my axe on the ground, carrying me away."

"I adjust how I'm holding you once I'm certain you will not be discovered, and take to the air, making my way to the personal ship I'm using to make my way to an actual usable ship, further into neutral territory. Once we're using an automatic pilot to make our way through space, I go check on you, where you're laying on a berth. unfortunately, the room is not as large as I want, but I make sure that there is space for you, and we will not be sharing space without your permission."

"Of course, I know none of that," Optimus tries to imagine being captured and slung over a big mech's shoulder and then dropped onto a berth. "So I am imagining the worst, and when you take off my cuffs, I lash out in fear, pulling a dagger from my subspace. I manage a shallow cut in your plating, nothing more."

Megatron rumbles with audible pleasure, "You are fierce and your attack shows how right I was to take you, but it takes only a moment to have you captured again, your wrists pinned in one of mine, while I take the weapons from your subspace. It was foolish of me to uncuff you without doing this first, but I was so taken by your beauty that I forgot your danger."

He draws in a deep in-vent, and hisses, "Let me go. My friends will find me and you won't have anywhere to go." He speaks normally, "I can tell you look like Megatron, but I am certain that you're likely someone pretending to be Megatron." Mostly since the idea of the mech actually trying to botnap him is very laughable. "As such, I'm on guard, but probably not as much as I should be."

"I smile at you, patting your bound servos," Megatron's voice certainly sounds pleased, "Your friends and the bots teaching you will not find you. We're well hidden now, and well on our way to Decepticon space. Would you like some energon, Beloved?"

He can't help how his spark warms at that, but he forces himself back into Oracle's perspective. He scowls, "No. Let me go."

"You have been botnapped, Beloved," Megatron informs him simply. "You are mine for the next decastellar at least. Would you like some energon?"

"I test the bonds you've tied me with--some kind of simple cuff that I could slip out of with a bit of a struggle, but not while you're watching. So I watch you, confused. I only know a little about Decepticon culture, but this doesn't make sense to me at all. You've captured me, taken me to your berth, and you're offering me fuel? I can't trust that at all, so I don't." Optimus vents out slow and steady, "I won't take any fuel from you until you free me."

"I look at you, and my smile brightens. I reach over, and take off the cuffs. Of course, Beloved."

"I pull away, and attempt to attack you."

Megatron laughs, "I grab hold of you, pulling you into a solid hug, and sitting down so you have to sit on my lap. I hold you tight enough you can't attack me, arms pinned, but also not enough to hurt you. I rest my head on your shoulder, but ready to move so you don't slam your head against mine."L

"I keep struggling, pulling my arms, and kicking my legs. Let me go!"

"I keep hold of you, and shake my head slightly. Do calm down, Beloved. I can wait until you're feeling less angry, and I can give you fuel to-"

"No!" He hisses angrily, low and upset, "Let go of me! You don't even know my name! I'm not your beloved."

"Oracle," Megatron hums, and it makes Optimus melt a little. "I know your designation. I heard the other Autobots call you that. I heard them tease you when you told them not to step on the growing crystals along the path. I know you have a kind spark, and a beautiful frame, and I saw you fighting off that hydrolizard that you found in the caves. I know you, and I will have you."

By now, Optimus's faceplates are flushed and his own venting has quickened a little, and if this were real, he'd probably be turning on Megatron's lap to kiss him hungrily, but this is a fantasy about Oracle, not really about him at all. "You won't have me!" he hisses it, and shivers. "I won't be your berthtoy!"

"I jerk a bit, and my hold on you tightens a bit too much, only to loosen almost as quickly back to the same amount as before." Megatron sounds unhappy, "You are not my berthtoy, Oracle. I don't know why you would think that. You are my Beloved, and I want to bond to you."

"I struggle harder, trying to get free." He wants to kiss away that sadness, since a part of him thinks of Megatron as Husband, but the scene is different now. "Like frag you do. I know how Decepticons are. I'm not a bot you keep in the berth and-"

"No," Megatron cuts him off. "I carefully stand up, and walk to the door, setting you down, and walking out, locking the door behind me. I lean against the door, shaking my head." Megatron's voice is a sort of unhappy rumble, "I am not keeping you in a berth, Oracle. It is clear we've gotten off on the wrong ped. I will leave you be, and get you to my actual ship as soon as possible. I know the area you're in is far too small, but it is temporary. Do you want me to get you energon?"

"I won't take any energon from you," he hisses. "I start to search for some way to escape, but there's nothing in here that might be useful. Just a berth with meshes and pillows, which are far too comfortable, but I can't allow myself to even notice them. Why would you take me, if not to make me your berthpet? What I know of Decepticon botnap doesn't make sense here. Decepticons botnap mechs they want to bond to, not random Autobots that they don't even know."

Megatron's engine rumbles, "You will learn soon enough that I am already devoted to you, and that I have made up my mind, Oracle. You will be mine."

"Go away!" he says loudly, frowning unhappily.

"I sigh, and turn away, leaving you to do what you want. I know this will take time, even if it is... hard to have you reject me like this, when I adore you so."

His spark aches, but he focuses on being Oracle. "I don't notice you leave, but I also don't yell at you, too focused on trying to escape." He coughs, "Ah, how long will you be flying the ship to the bigger ship?"

"It would be several megacycles. I'd be well out of reach, and the smaller ship I'm using is not my fastest, not by a long stretch."

"So, after awhile, I'm hungry, and tired, worn out from being vigilant, and from my previous training. Eventually, I curl up in the corner of the room, avoiding the berth entirely, but I drop into a restless recharge."

"When we get to the actual ship we're taking to New Kaon, the ship we're in shudders as it lands, but I walk to the door, knocking on it. Do you online?"

He hums, ".... No. I do not. Too tired at that point. I'm probably all curled up, propped up against a wall."

"Then I have to pick you up carefully, to avoid waking you. A botnap is always stressful, and I am glad you were able to get some recharge. Several of my warriors and staff see me carrying you to our quarters, which will serve us for several sols until we return to New Kaon, but none of them say a single word, not wishing to disturb you. This way, I manage to get you into our quarters, where I have a room prepared for you. The door will even lock for you, to keep me out, though if any of the sensors detect that you are in danger, I am able to force it open."

"Sensible," Optimus hums, "though I won't appreciate it after I online. I've been accused of being stubborn a few times, you know?"

"That much is clear, Beloved."

"So you put me in the room, and when I online, I'm on the berth?"

"Yes, do you want to be online when I'm putting you on it?"

He thinks on it, tapping his dente in thought, "I think that makes the most sense, just from an interaction perspective. Are you tucking me under the metal mesh?"

"Under a blanket, made of turbofox metalcoat."

"I blink online, staring up at you in confusion, only to jolt a bit, and scramble to sit up," he shakes his head a little, since him as Oracle is being very silly, even if it makes sense. "Get away from me!"

"I see that you are upset, Oracle," Megatron says very carefully. "There are two datapads beside the berth. I ask that you read both. They explain what you need to know about botnap. They are standard for any neutral or Autobot taken, and will hopefully set your spark at ease." He vents out slowly, "I leave you in the room to read the pads alone, to help you relax."

Optimus giggles, he can't help it, "I'm very stubborn, so I spend half a megacycle looking for a way out before giving up and picking up the pads."

"They will confirm what you already know from what I've told you, and have personal information about me. One pad with the botnapping information, and the other talking about me."

"The one that says you are Megatron instantly has me on guard, since I still won't believe that's truly you. Why would Megatron want me, Oracle? I'm just some random mech." He pauses, saying, "Oracle does not work for the Blue Flash."

There's a long pause, and he can imagine Megatron nodding, "I see. Then we wouldn't truly know each other. So I'll be... working from scratch. I would prefer that Oracle be working at the Blue Flash and know who I am."

He blinks, "Oh, well.... okay. I can do that. Then, since I'm calmer now, I'm going to be worried. You sound a lot like Megatron. The one I know. So I'll be especially worried about you being a fake. Some Decepticon or neutral who found out about me, and knows of our connection somehow."

"I will reassure you with some shared knowledge when I see you next. I give it two megacycles before I come back, knocking on your door. May I come in, Oracle?"

Optimus smiles--so polite, even in games like this. "You may, but if you try anything, I will attack you!"

Megatron chuckles, "It would be no less than I deserved, were I to try and harm my Beloved. I come in with a tray of energon sweets, since you always loved them in our talks. I won't allow you to starve yourself or fuel on anything but the best."

"I sit on the berth, staring at you with a scowl. My body language is defensive, half ready to bolt."

"I walk closer with care, and sit on the floor, holding the fuel." Megatron sounds loving, "Oracle. Beloved. I have crystals for you, and energon sweets. Would you like some."

"I stare at you distrustfully." He drops his voice, making sure he sounds unhappy, "No. I won't touch it. I want to go home."

Megatron sighs, "I won't poison you. Here, let me show you the fuel is perfectly save." The bot moves a little in his seat, "I pick up one of the crystals, and break it in half. Choose which part you'd like me to fuel on, beloved."

"I stare at you, and point at the larger piece."

"I eat it easily. There, delicious. I offer you the other half."

Optimus shouldn't be charmed by Megatron, he really shouldn't, but he always is. Smiling, he answers, "I take it, chewing and biting very carefully. It's very sweet and not too hard, and I like it more than I should."

"I brought the ones you said you liked best, in our calls," Megatron promises. "I want to please you, Oracle. I want you to know my devotion to you. That's why I had to come and take you. I needed you to be mine truly, not just in our calls."

"I stare at you, frowning. Scooting away a bit, I frown at you." He lets his voice drop dangerously, "I don't care what you've heard from whatever Megatron has said. I don't trust you."

"... I stare at you in shock for a few astroseconds, clearly not sure what to say in response to that." Megatron clears his vocal processor, "I am Megatron, my Beloved. I wouldn't lie about that."

"I cross my arms, looking away; Anyone can fake being Megatron. Let me go home. I have things I need to do that aren't indulging your lies."

"I start to reach for you, only to let my servo drop. Setting the fuel on the berth, I stand up." Megatron takes an in-vent, "No one would dare pretend to be me, Oracle. No one."

"I stare at you distrustfully. Prove it."

"I cup your cheeks with my servos and gaze directly into your optics and ask you, What would prove it to you, Beloved?"

Optimus stalls for a moment, because what would he believe? Oracle wouldn't have the same experience he had, fighting the hologram, to know him that way. Well, there's always one surefire way--"Swear it on an altar of Primus, and I will believe that you are my- . . that you are Megatron, and not an imposter. Swear it and make an offering, and if that offering is accepted, I will know."

 

"It will be done, Beloved," Megatron informs him seriously. "I stand up, and take your servo, leading you along. ... do you follow me?"

"Yes, I do. I don't even fight, since I want to have you prove it, or be struck down by Primus for lying."

When we get to a smaller altar, I place both servos on the top of it, staring at you." Megatron clearly straightens up, his voice deeper, "I swear to Primus himself, I am Lord Megatron."

"When nothing happens-"

"There is a small flash of blue light blessing. Primus would not leave such a declaration unannounced as true."

"When the light flashes, I stare at you in silence for a long moment. Finally, I tilt my head, optics offline," he lets his voice drop, low and calm, "You should have left me in training. You only know me from my job. You don't even believe me when I tell you I'm sealed. You just... want the idealized version of me that I am in your pricessor. Let me go home, and we can keep doing what we were doing. Find someone else."

"I reach over, taking your servos in mine." Megatron's voice is serious, "I want you. I love you. No one else acts how you do. Do you not want a bonding? To have sparklings?"

He can't help how his venting catches, and his spark throbs with want. He can't disguise how his voice trips over itself, "I... I just... I ... I do." He hates how his voice cracks a little, "But I am not the beauty you say I am. I'm just me."

"Now I know you are being false," Megatron teases him gently. "And if you would send me an image capture of yourself, I could prove it, but I won't ask for one. So I tell you, I have fallen for you, Oracle. I have come to know you and have come to love you, and I have taken you to give you the chance to decide if I deserve your love in return. I take your servos and kiss them. Primus approves of my choice. Every time I worshipped at his altar, I heard your voice in my processor."

Optimus sucks in a sharp in-vent, "Don't . . don't joke about that." Claiming that Primus may have inspired him . . that's not something for a game like this.

There's a hiss of an in-vent, "It isn't a joke, Oracle, but I will back down. I kiss your servos again, and rest my forehead in your palm. I love you so much already, Oracle. tell me what I need to do to have you bond to me."

He shakes his head, optics offline, only to realize he needs to narrate this. Licking his lips, he forces himself to say, "I pull away, my head shaking, optics only a sliver to keep my sight on you." Oracle doesn't trust Megatron like Optimus, if only because Oracle is in front of the mech. Optimus has the benefit of not being face to face with a bot. And never will be face to face. "I want to go home. I'm going to be a Prime, and-"

"New Kaon will be our home. I conquered a planet for you."

He hisses angrily, snapping out, "I never asked for that! I may be happy they're safe now, but I never asked you to do it."

"You need not ask for those things that matter the most," Megatron promises him. "I claimed the planet in your name, but had I hated you, I would still have taken it into our Empire to protect those innocent bots who were suffering. That it made you happy was a very pleasant side-effect. I will always make you happy, Oracle, if you let me."

Optimus's cheeks are hot, and he presses his servos to them. "You don't know me. You know an idealized version of me from our conversations. You'll see. In a few sols, you'll hate me enough to drop me off somewhere."

There's an angry roar of his engine, and he flinches violently, yelping in fear. Instantly, the roar cuts off, "Oracle? What happened? Are you okay?"

He winces, hating how he's breaking character. "I'm okay fine. It just... You were very dangerous sounding."

"What did you do?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine. I know you-"

"Tell me."

He sighs, shaking his head, "I... I flinched. You're very big, and I'm... not. It means that you can be scary sounding when you're angry. I know I need to get over my ... my attachment to you, but hearing you like that when I keep thinking of you as 'husband' makes me think of some of the richbots hurting the bots they were in relationships with in the slums." Since too good to bond to them, but unwilling to commit or let them go. "Or the unhappy bondings, with the shots that happened and-"

"That will never happen between us, Oracle," Megatron's voice is kind and soothing.

"Why were you so angry?" he asks in a small voice, worried about the answer. Was it something he did?

There's a very long silence, and then a sigh. "You claimed that I would be so faithless as to abandon my Beloved. Any Decepticon to abandon their Beloved is faithless. A failure of a mech, who does not know their own spark or the will of Primus. I'm sorry for making you feel that I might be such a mech."

"You're not," he assures the mech, "I didn't . .. it's not you that I would doubt. Oracle. . I would not doubt you--but um . . me. I really don't think you understand what kind of a bot I am, and as soon as you figured it out, why would you waste any more time on me?"

"Or as soon as I figure it out, I will be more in love with you. I take your servo in mine again, holding it softly. Let me find that out, and you do not assume that I'd just throw you away for being you."

Why would Megatron be different than pretty much anyone else? he's just not that good, and no one will want him. the ones who want him are Sentinel and Elita, and they don't want to frag him, not really. And he can't trust anyone else to come to an actual relationship, since all anyone wants is to frag. Not bond. And the worst part is, if they do want bonding, sparklings are a distant thought in their processor, and they'd be upset at him for wanting them so soon.

"Oracle?"

He blinks, "Ah... what?"

"You didn't say anything. Credit for your thoughts?"

He shakes his head, gathering up what Megatron last said. "I will give you time to get to know me, but I will understand if you find I am not what you want. Should it happen, I will make it clear to everyone it is me at fault. Not you. At the end, and should you not want me, I will be put in some neutral planet, to be discussed later. the Autobots will not want me after this, either."

His whole plan crashing to pieces around his audios, and he's glad it's fake.

"I would never abandon you," Megatron rumbles, his voice low and hard. "A bot does not commit a Botnap unless their spark is sure, and their vision clear. Most, like myself, pray to Primus for guidance before, and to ignore the will of Primus is . . . no. You are mine, Beloved, and you will know by the end of our decastellar together that I deserve your love in return."

If it's such a serious thing, he wonders why Megatron wants to roleplay it with him . . is there some mech out there that Megatron is seriously considering doing this to? Is Optimus a practice game for him? The thought sends a shard of ice through his spark, and he has to bite his glossa to keep from making a noise of pain.

Stupid Optimus. Stupid, stupid Optimus.

He clears his vocal processor and tries to get back into the game. "It's alright. What happens if I manage to . . escape, or the Autobots rescue me?"

Megatron's engine grinds, but it does not sound dangerous, at least not directed at him? "You will not try to escape, because you know how important botnapping is, but should an Autobot attempt to steal you from me, their lives are forfeit." There's a small pause, and Optimus can only imagine Elita or Sentinel offlining, and he can feel terror grip him. Thankfully, Megatron says, "Should it be your friends who attempt it, then I will make certain that they are just hurt enough to be forced to retreat. Others will not be so lucky."

It's not as good as he wants, but it is better. "I see." He rubs his chest unhappily, "But should it happen?"

"I would spend that entire decastellar in search for you." His voice is much deeper and harder than before. "I would recapture you, and our decastellar would begin anew. Would it truly be so awful that you would seek to flee me?" and here he sounds almost miserable. "You like me, I know that much. You could learn that I am worthy of your love, in time."

"Maybe," Optimus says reluctantly, though every mechano-inch of him wants to shout that he knows Megatron is worthy of love, just from someone better than him. The mech has been tricked into thinking that 'Oracle' is a better bot than he really is. He hasn't had to deal with Optimus's stubbornness. He hasn't needed to put up with his odd personality quirks, or the way he wants to spend many megacycles praying sometimes. He doesn't know Optimus. He doesn't even really know 'Oracle.' "And--please, I am not questioning your worth or faith or anything, but . . what if you realize you don't love me after all? Why would I try and trap you in a loveless bond?"

"Trap me in it? Me? If you loved me, it would not be loveless."

"But you'd be miserable!"

"No, because I'd chosen you and you were happy. I wouldn't ever be unhappy if you were happy. The idea of choosing you, and you wanting me back, then being miserable is just..." He can almost see the mech shake his head, "No. Don't be ridiculous, Oracle. I would never. Not if I have you."

He can see this isn't getting through to the bot. So he takes an in-vent, and says, "If, at the end, I love you, but you don't, I'd want to know. In fact, I'd want you to swear to Primus that you loved me with all your spark before agreeing to stay." Since trapping someone like that? No. Not when he, himself, is stuck in the situation. He won't trap another in addition to himself. While he'd be happy, his parnet's unhappiness would break it all down and hurt him too badly.

He never discusses sparkbonds in calls for a reason. It's what he wants. While trapping a bot to him forever is not what he wants. He wants happiness, eternally. Forever.

"As you wish, Beloved. Though I can assure you that I have already made such oaths before Primus himself, and he took them as true."

Optimus hisses--he can't stop himself, "No! You can't lie about that! Not even for this." He's never been so tempted to end a call.

"I am not lying," Megatron sighs, "but I will not mention my oaths to Primus if you do not bring them up again. Do not test me and expect me to act like some newspark who does not know their own desires and truths, Oracle. Now, would you allow me the honor of holding you on my lap? I want your frame against mine. I have dreamed of it for so long."

He offlines his optics, and says, "Not right now." It takes a lot for him not to grit it out of his dente, but he manages it. Somehow.

"But later?"

"Not. Right. Now."

"... Ah. I've upset you. I think... this is enough for now, Oracle. I will leave you be. I exit your temporary room, and close the door behind me."

"Is that all you wanted, Megatron?"

"Yes," the bot's voice is warm and gentle. "I do want to say that you should not bring up Primus, not if you want to be certain how certain I am. Because when it comes to botnapping, I am that certain."

His spark softens a bit, since it sounds very genuine. "I just... got too caught up, I'm sorry, Megatron. I should calm down, but Primus is incredibly important to me."

"I understand."

Optimus decides to test the waters, so to speak, but telling him a little more of just how devoted he is. He knows that this level disturbs Elita and Sentinel a little, who think that only priests should do these things. "I intend to recite the Four Blessings and the Litany of Primus when I have the opportunity to soon. I try to manage it at least a few times a stellar." There, that ought to be enough to prove to the mech that he-

"You have them memorized? That's quite impressive. I admit that I am a bit remiss there myself. I have only ever recited the Litany before a major battle."

"But you know it?"

"I have the notes of it in my processor, but I should be more devout."

"Not... not many even have the notes. I'm told those are more suited to a priest than-"

"Oracle, I am technically a priest. Anyone I bond to should know these things, and should be pushing me to do the same."

He blinks, "O-oh. I'll keep that in mind for our scenes. ... Perhaps you should knock on the door as I'm praying in the next one?"

"A possible start, but it might be best that we start a later one with that. Where you're at the common room's altar, and I walk in on that. So I am not invading your privacy."

A tiny smile sneaks onto his faceplates. "Very polite of you," Optimus pauses and then asks, a little nervous, "Are you sure you don't want something . . more from this session? I mean, you didn't get an overload."

That startles a laugh out of Megatron. "Oh, sweetspark, you're too good for me. No, I am very satisfied with the start of this. It will only make it all the sweeter when you give in and allow me to have you. You will give in only when you think I have earned it, of course."

So strange, and yet, it makes his spark flutter a little in his chest. "You will have to work hard. I have been assured that I am quite fertile, and if I give in and let you frag me, we would certainly end up sparked after just a few nights together, so I would not let you have me until I was sure I loved you."

"That's exactly what I want, darling."

He flushes, feeling warmth suffuse him, "Was I... a ...." He bits his lip, unwilling to say it. What if he is a bad mech this sol?

"You were a very good mech, Oracle."

He shivers happily, and mewls a little, "Love you, husband." He yelps, realizing what he said, "Ffff... Sorry. I know, I know. It's different now. I'll get used to it."

Megatron laughs, "I look forward to you saying it later."

"When you've earned it."

"When I've earned it," Megatron purrs, voice deep and dark with promise.

Chapter 9

While there's no rule about what he does in the office between calls, he's always felt a little weird bringing his assignments here, but he has an exam in two sols that he's really not sure he's going to pass without some extra reading, so he has four library pads spread out, a stack of note-taking pads nearby, when he gets the call request.

Optimus huffs, because he'd just gotten in the groove--but he settles himself quickly, since this is his job, and work comes first here. Ultra Magnus is called again. Blurr had sidled up to him in the breakroom just a few sols back and winked and nudged him, telling him he ought to offer advice on how he was getting so many repeat calls from such high-paying callers, but Optimus hadn't really had anything to say.

Ultra has included a very brief outline of his request, and it's mostly in line with what they discussed last time. Their established 'family' has five sparklings now, of varying ages, and Zephyr is supposed to decide that he's ready for another.

He accepts the call, "Ultra! My love!"

"Zephyr," Ultra says, sounding tired. "It's just so good to hear your voice."

Just like all the times he wants to ask what is wrong, he cuts it back. While his general clientele are happy to unload about their sol, Ultra never is. He also makes sure never to think about Megatron during the calls, so the fact that Megatron sometimes allows it doesn't even cross his processor. "Husband," he puts all the love and caring he can into his voice. "I reach over to you and hop up into your arms, kissing you softly when you catch me. Putting my arms around your neck, I rest my forehead against yours, and just let you hold me. I let my energy mingle with yours, relaxing you, soothing you, reminding you how much I love and need you."

Ultra lets out a long and relaxed sigh, and he can hear the sound of armor relaxing down on a berth. "Zephyr, the day I bonded to you made my life happier than you know."

"You're too sweet to me," Optimus giggles, "I nuzzle against your plating. The sparklings were good today. They didn't get paint on any of the walls or even on the floors. Of course, that might be because I had them paint outside in the garden. I'm afraid that your favorite cluster of crystals is lime green and fushia now."

Ultra chuckles, "Whatever makes them happy. The paint will wash off, I assume?"

"It should. Probably." Optimus vents out raggedly, and drops to a whisper, "I kept that toy inside my valve all sol, husband, because you said you wanted to see if I could manage it. I did, but I'm so wet now, and I need you."

Ultra revs loudly, "I kiss you deeply, and carry you swiftly to the berthroom. I kick the door closed behind us more than anything, but it does latch and click shut automatically. Our sparklings can be watched by our nannybot for a bit."

He laughs happily, "He won't like that."

"He's being paid well enough to. Besides, it isn't like we won't spend time with them afterwards. I love them as much as I love you."

"I wrap a leg around yours, showing how I'm stuffed full of the toy. Let's not talk about that now, husband. I want you to frag me."

"Good, because I'm going to frag you. Look at how wide you're held open by this spiketoy. I can hardly believe you kept this in all sol. No one else saw it, did they?" Ultra's engine revs a little, but his voice sounds full of warning.

Optimus cheerfully replies and moans, "Ooh, oh, no, no one saw me. I kept my panel shut tight, just like you told me to. Mm. But I think our nannybot might have guessed."

"It doesn't matter," Ultra growls a little, "since he's sparkbonded and panel-locked. Even if he wanted you, he couldn't have you. Not like I have you."

He still thinks that's an absurd requirement for a nannybot, but it's what Ultra wants for the fantasy, so he doesn't argue it. "I know, Ultra." He mewls a little, "You know I'm not interested in him, anyway. You're the one I want, and I love you."

"I press my fingers inside of your valve, slowly removing the toy. I know you do, that's why the current one is shaped like my spike."

"That's why I love it so much," Optimus moans, and flushes a little, thinking about going around all sol with a replica of a lover's spike inside him. How would he manage to focus on anything like that? "But husband, I, I have a request," he makes himself sound shy and a little coy, like he's embarrassed to be asking.

"What request?" Ultra asks. "I fit another finger inside your valve to stretch you wider, wanting to make sure you're ready--the toy I gave you is my spike, but a little smaller, so you can enjoy having me more at night."

Optimus bites his lip to keep from giggling, since it's not the right mood at all. "I . . husband, our youngest sparkling is going to be two vorns next decacycle."

"Mmhm. We'll go to the museum for his party. Did you want somewhere special for dinner after?"

Optimus moans long and low, and then whimpers, "I . . the medics made us wait, said I needed two vorns to recover before our next . . and it's been two vorns now."

Ultra revs happily, "They did. Is there... something you want to say, Zephyr?"

"I press my hips up to encourage you to keep touching me." He gasps a little, "I.... Ultra. I want to have another sparkling. We need another sparkling."

"I kiss you passionately, rubbing your node just how you like it." Ultra is revving hard now, excited and pleased, "I want nothing more than to spark you up, my love. I extend my spike, and rub at your chest, "Do you want a spark overload first?"

"I want all my energy devoted to making our new sparkling," Optimus whines. "I push your servo away, wanting your spike inside me where it belongs. The medics were so cruel, making me wait two whole vorns when my spark was longing to be heavy with a sparkling again, my love! Please, spark me!"

Ultra growls, his engine revving high and hard. "I pin you under me on the berth and push your thighs further apart and sink my spike inside you slowly. I'll get you good and sparked, my sweet, perfect mech."

Optimus shivers, pleasure racing through him. He loves being a good mech for his husbands. "You're so big, I love it."

Ultra groans, and there's a sound he's more used to with Megatron. It looks like Ultra has a toy now, too, but it sounds different than Megatron's. Smaller? So a different toy, possibly one of the ones just shaped like a valve. It's good that the bot finally has something other than his servo, since he's not going to be leaving Optimus's clientele.

"You're such a good mech, Zephyr," Ultra tells him, the slick sound of the bot fragging the toy loud. "I press our sparks together, slamming inside of you. You always feel so good around me, but you feel even better since we're sparking again."

Optimus whines, not having to fake it at all, because it gets him so hot whenever one of his husbands tells him he's a good mech. It's so good. "I want to carry so many for you," he pleads, "I ripple my valve around you as much as I can, wanting to milk out your transfluid, to give us a big, strong sparkling!"

Ultra never lasts long during these kinds of sessions, and the mech is already overloading, cursing a little, and Optimus mimics it, venting hard afterwards.

"Mm. I pick you up and carry you to the washrack," Ultra says, a little shakily. "If we want to make sure that we spark, you'll need as many loads of transfluid as I can give you tonight."

"I wrap my arms around you, cuddling you close, and pressing kisses to your mouth. I want as many as you can give me, husband. I love you."

Ultra clearly shudders in pleasure, due to how the armor on the berth sounds, "I love you, too, Zephyr."

He laughs happily, settling into his chair for their session. Ultra is so nice of a client, and he truly enjoys this. He just hopes he does well enough in his test.

--

Optimus rubs his head, feeling tired. His last client was... pushy. He makes his notes as... polite as he can, but it's hard not to let his frustration that the mech loved calling him a whore and slut and other nasy names go through in his tone. He can deal with it, but that's not what he's supposed to be doing!

He's not supposed to be told nasty things, he is a good housemech and loves his husband. That's what they want Sweetspark for, damn it.

He sighs unhappily, and attempts to edit the notes more, but then he sees his next client. He barely notices he saves the notes midword rewrite, and closes it down just as he accepts the call. "Megatron!"

"Oracle," Megatron purrs.

Optimus laughs when he gets a picture of the mech laying on a couch in what he knows is the bot's very extravagant common room, his panels open, spark beautiful and very exposed. Not at all uncommon now, since Optimus is... encouraging it. If only because Optimus wants it, even if Oracle in their scenes isn't ready just yet. "Hello, my Devoted."

"Good sol, Beloved," Megatron sounds so very pleased with himself. "How have you been?"

"Good, I suppose. I passed my Ancient exam, though not as well as I would have liked. Instructor Flashfire said my accent was horrible." Optimus sighs dramatically, "But I suppose all that matters is that I passed."

"I'm proud of you, Beloved. You're such a good mech, studying so hard."

"Thank you," Optimus blushes, and wishes that he was brave enough to maybe send an image of himself, even just smiling for the other mech, but that would be a great way to ruin everything. "How have you been since our last call?"

Megatron chuckles, "Oh, exceptionally good, Beloved. The special ship I commissioned from Swindle arrived last sol. It will make things much easier."

He pouts, "Are you sure you can't tell me what it is for?"

"I've told you before, that the only ones who know it exists are me, Swindle, and you. In fact, now it is just us two. I paid Swindle well to have that erased entirely."

He gasps, "That's dangerous!"

"No, he has some special mods that make that an expensive but very real possibility. I just paid for them at the beginning. As such, only the two of us know and you are lucky I've told you about it."

Pouting again, he huffs softly, "I want to know."

"If it makes you feel any better, darling, you're the very first person who gets to know what it is and what it is for before I reveal it to my Generals."

"Does that mean you're going to tell me now?" he perks up a little, but sinks back into a pout when Megatron refuses again. "I don't understand why it has to be such a big secret. I promise I won't tell anyone." Even if the ship was for . . Decepticon war stuff, he wouldn't say anything. It wouldn't feel right.

Megatron just chuckles, "When you see it, you'll know, sweetspark. My Beloved."

Ah, so he wants to go into their scene. Optimus tries to hide his sigh of disappointment. He really enjoys just talking to Megatron, though he knows he shouldn't, and that it's not fair to the other mech. Megatron has to pay to just talk to him.

But he slips into Oracle's headspace, and says, "Megatron, you're home."

"I am, Beloved."

"I missed you, you know. I walk over to you, tugging you onto the couch, and climbing into your lap. Resting my head on your chest, I offline my optics, and just press against you."

Megatron's engine rumbles comfortably, and Optimus relaxes into his seat. "I rub your back, kissing the top of your helm." Something Optimus is certainly allowing, since in a few sessions, Oracle has been kissing Megatron. Getting them initiated certainly isn't something to refuse. "I missed you, too. If I could, I'd spend every single sol with you. Some sol, when you're ready, instead of me leaving you in our rooms, you'll come with me to help me with my Empire."

He flushes happily, and says, in his badly accented Ancient, "I love you." He doesn't want to admit, this is why he's really taking the class. It's to make Megatron happy. He knows basic amounts, but he looked up how to say he loves someone in it.

Megatron gasps, startled, then says, "Ah, no, you mean," and then the mech says it in a different way. "The way you said it means you love me like a pet."

He winces, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"You're learning from datapads in this case, Oracle. I understand what you meant. I'd just prefer you to say it correctly. If you want, that is."

He is certain he mangles it, but he says it to the best of his ability. Megatron guides him on how to say it, and finally, he manages a passible, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Megatron says, sounding deeply pleased.

Optimus feels like his plating is melting. He does not record that clip of audio for playback, though he desperately wants to. "Will you kiss me, please?" Optimus likes being kissed--he's done it a couple of times at bars, when he's had too much high grade, and it feels really go
od.

"Your wish is my pleasure," Megatron purrs, "so I take your mouth with mine, letting our glossas touch. You melt so sweetly against me that I can't help but cup your sweet aft in my servos to pull you closer, tipping your helm just right so I can claim your mouth the way I desire."

Optimus moans and squirms in his chair, "I love when you kiss me like this. I find myself rocking my hips against your thigh, pressing back into your servos on my aft." He feels his cheeks burning. "I unlock my interfacing panel with a loud click."

"I hold still, not moving for an astrosecond, then slowly keep kissing you, my servos moving away from your aft. I don't want to keep-"

"I grab your servos and very purposefully push them back onto my aft." Primus, his cheeks are so hot, and they shouldn't be. It just... it feels far more intimate now than it used to be. "I press a kiss to your mouth, and pull away slowly." He takes an in-vent, bracing himself as he says, "I want this, my Devoted. I ... I want this a lot. I ..." He knows that this should be Megatron's fantasy, but the mech keeps insisting he do things how he wants them, so he says, "I am sealed. You know this. I... I don't want it broken on your spike."

"You want my mouth on you, my sweet?" Megatron practically purrs his pleasure at the thought. "I would love to have you that way, but we will need to move to the berth. If I am going to take your seals, I want you to be able to lay back and enjoy yourself."

Optimus squirms more in his chair, and he's aware that if he weren't sealed, he'd probably be so wet right now that he'd be leaking out of his panel. There's just something about Megatron that makes him like this. "Take me to the berth, my love. Take me there and then have me."

Megatron's engine roars. "I pick you up and carry you to our berthroom, kissing your neck cabling, biting you hard enough to leave little dents."

He moans and gasps, "I press against you harder, unable to stop how my hips keep jerking needily."

"I set you on the berth, pressing you into the cushioning, kissing down your frame."

He gasps at that, almost feeling it, even if he knows he doesn't. The only reason his plating remains shut, is because he does realize he's actually in a public space. But that doesn't mean he can't for Megatron. "My chestplates just slide open entirely for you, and my back plating cracks open as you kiss me. I hold a servo to the back of your head." He pants a little, squirming, "I need you."

The loud rev he gets is very worth it. "I am going to give you all you want, Optimus."

He gasps, not sure how to feel about his actual name being used. He... has to admit, though. If it were anyone but Megatron, he'd shut off the call. .... Maybe not Ultra Magnus, but absolutely not Megatron. He lets it go.

"I . . .I want you to spark me," Optimus whimpers, and feels that desire all the way deep in his spark. All this talking about sparklings has made him want one so very, very badly.

Megatron's engines almost drown out his words, "If I spark you, then you are mine by Rite of Primus, Beloved. Be very, very sure."

"I won't. . . I won't let a mech spike me without bonding anyways, so it's alright," he promises, and has to yank his servo away from his chestplates, where he'd been rubbing absently to soothe the hot ache of his spark.

"If we don't spark, I will bond to you, no matter what. I love you, Optimus."

He shudders, "I push your head down, pressing my hips up demandingly. Then show me how much you love me. I need you inside of me, and you can start with your glossa. Showing me what I've been missing."

Megatron revs loudly, but also chuckles, "I have every intention of doing that, Beloved. I lick down your frame, and kiss your external node."

Optimus squirms, pressing his thighs together. He's only brushed his fingers lightly over his external node before, but it had felt so good he knew he shouldn't do it. So he had stopped, but the urge to play with it never really went away. "I can't help myself and I grab onto your helm, holding you in place. Please, more!"

"Oh, Beloved," Megatron vents out a sigh of pleasure, "I will give you everything, I promise. I let my glossa flick over your node, holding your hips when they try to buck against me. It's easy to hold you still while I tease your sweet little node, tracing my glossa in little circles around it, listening to you cry in pleasure, until I can't wait anymore, and I suck."

Optimus shudders and whines, hips rocking against his imaginary lover. "Y-yes!"

"I play with your seams, rubbing and pressing. When it seems like too much for you, I start to lick your valve, pressing long broad and wet strokes, and slowly, very slowly, I press further against it, only to stop."

Optimus whines, "Megatron!"

That gets a chuckle, "Overload and then I'll break it, Optimus." At Optimus's second protesting whine, the mech continues, "I go back to your node, licking it again, and then returning to sucking on it."

Optimus bites his lip and pretends to overload, moaning and letting his frame tremble a little, but since it's just a game, the charge building up in him stays so very high still. He wants Megatron here right now, between his legs, looking up at him.

"Perfect mech," Megatron praises him. "So pretty in your overload. I let my glossa press into your valve again, teasing you, loving the way you shift and squirm for me. Your seal is bulging with lubricant now, and I know you'll make a mess when I break it, so sweet and innocent and new. You pull on my helm again and I can't help but obey, thrusting my glossa hard enough to break that fragile seal. Mm, you taste just as sweet as I imagined."

He moans in pleasure, unable to actually help himself. "I need you."

"I keep thrusting my glossa inside of you, and add a finger, stretching you open as I do. I'm going to frag you when you're looser, and fill you full of transfluid for our sparkling."

He whines needily, "I need you to frag me. I need you so much."

"You beg so prettily," Megatron praises him, and Optimus can hear him using one of his toys. "My fingers are big for you, but you take them so well, pressing against me, trying to get them deeper inside. It takes all my control not to simply mount you like your frame is begging me to. I will make this so good for you."

Optimus whimpers, "You already are, please, I want your spike inside me. Please, I want your spark against mine."

"Optimus," Megatron groans, and he can hear movement, probably the toy being readjusted, "I line my spike to your valve, and slowly slide in, making sure to go slow so you can adjust. When I'm finally inside of you entirely," the mech vents loudly, "I slide open my sparkplates." He can hear the bot doing just that.

He mewls needily, rocking in his chair, "I open up my own sparkplates for you, exposing my spark for you to finally see. Frag me, Megatron. Frag me."

Megatron growls and he can hear the bot working the toy fast now, slick thrusting noises that make his spark and his sealed valve ache even more. "I press my spark down against yours, holding myself still while we touch for the first time. It's so hard not to take yours in a bond the way I want--"

Optimus chokes, optics going wide at that. A sparkbond?

"-but I resist, and I grind against your spark as I start to thrust inside you, drawing my spike out slowly before thrusting back deep. I reach between our frames to pinch your node, to watch your hips buck and feel you grind against me." Megatron is starting to vent hard now, gasping between words occasionally, and Optimus is torn between shock and arousal. "Tell me what you want."

Optimus bites his lip and blurts out the first thing that genuinely comes to his mind, "I want you."

 

Megatron roars in overload, the noise sending thrills down his backstrut, making his spark and valve ache even more. His seal probably is bulging now, and there's nothing he can do.

Primus, a sparkbond?

Megatron pants slowly, and Optimus pants with him, even if his is more from how much he wants the mech. Now, more than ever, he does. Oh, he knows he can't, and he's never revealed where he lives. But he is so tempted.

Sparkbond.

Why is it the bots that he likes and want what he wants, just aren't in any realm of possibility. Whoever Megatron is pining for is so lucky, and it hurts knowing he can't ever have this.

He somehow gets his vocal processor under control enough to say, "You want a sparkbond?" It isn't completely under control, unfortunately. The longing is plain, and it's just pathetic. He is pathetic.

"I do, Optimus," Megatron says, in that seductive tone Optimus adores so much. "I take it you are not opposed to it?"

He offlines his optics, "Not at all." He hates the bare longing so much.

"Very good," and that sends a shiver through him, heat licking at his backstrut again. How does Megatron do that to him so easily? "Mm. You were very good for me this sol, Beloved. That's why it's very important that you make a promise to me."

"What?" he asks, absently, trying not to think about the mech or femme that Megatron really wants.

"Do not be upset with me when I cannot call you for the next few decacycles."

Ice stabs at his spark, causing him so much pain he hunches up and presses servos to his plates to try and stop it. "Oh. . . I . . did I do something wrong?"

"No, no," Megatron reassures him, soothingly. "You were perfect for me."

As comforting as that is, he still feels a failure. "O-okay."

"Optimus," Megatron soothes, "You did amazing. In fact, this was exactly what I needed before I left. It reassures me that what I'm doing is exactly the right thing. I'll be talking to you before you know it. Just you see."

He twists his fingers a little, "I know." Even if he doesn't know. He must have given Megatron that push to find the bot he likes, and now Optimus will possibly find out from the news instead. Maybe be commed by one of the generals, how useless Optimus is, and he can go offline now that Megatron has someone better than him. Someone he can actually touch.

"Be a good mech while I'm away, Beloved. I will see you soon."

The call disconnects and Optimus sits there, thinking about that. See you soon. Speak to you soon, probably. Maybe. If he even bothers with Optimus again after this.

Notes:

I got a surgery tomorrow, so update today. Who knows if I'll feel up to doing so on Tuesday lmao

Here's hoping it'll go better than my last ones!

Chapter 10

Shoulders slumping, Optimus walks out of the Blue Flash. It's been more than two decacycles, and Megatron hasn't called in at all. Not even a call missed while he was off at the Academy. He needs to face the fact that Megatron found someone better and decided to ditch the whore.

He rubs at his stubborn optics, which keep trying to leak optical lubricant. They've been doing this on and off for a few sols now, and his spark aches. It's stupid. He's acting like a newspark who just got dumped by their first mechfriend.

Megatron is a client, and he's lucky to even have had the mech as one. The bot never called regularly before Optimus, so it's just... going back to every few orns, maybe. If at all. Ever.

He knows he'll never hear his mech's voice again. ... Megatron's voice again. Megatron isn't his mech. Not his Devoted. He's not Megatron's Beloved. It's just like how he's not Ultra Magnus's husband. Not a lot of bots' husband.

He just hates how this hurts. He'll be unhappy if Ultra Magnus stops comming him, but he knows there won't be a spark deep ache like with Megatron is causing now. He rubs his chest, only to force it down.

He knows he's not good enough, he can stop hurting now.

He takes a deep, shuddery in-vent, and tries to stand straighter. Unfortunately, it doesn't work, and he finds himself hunching again, walking past one of the many alleyways he passes when going home. He doesn't so much as glance towards it, not even when he hears the sound of pedsteps--lots of bots work in this area, and they are out and about at all times, though the streets are empty right now.

Which is why he doesn't get any further than a startled in-vent and an instinctive reach for a weapon when a servo grabs one of his wrists and another cups tightly over his mouth. Optimus shifts, trying to get the leverage to throw the mech off of him, but the other bot is too large and he's too confused and upset, his frame not ready for this, so he ends up pinned against the alley wall, his wrists caught in a servo over his helm, the other still covering his mouth to keep him from screaming. He goes to open a com for help instead and then stops, freezing, optics going wide.

Megatron.

No. No, it can't be.

The servo over his mouth drops, and the mech leans down to press a soft kiss to his mouth, glossa flicking in. Optimus is too shocked to respond, and Megatron pulls away, only to shake his helm, and curse softly in Ancient. Optimus only knows that word, since Ultra knocked something heavy on his spike and screamed it very loudly in a call.

He squeaks in shock as Megatron scoops him up, and hurries to what looks like just a hole to a room hanging in the middle of the alleyway. Megatron steps in, revealing an entire ship's interior. The door closes behind them, and Megatron says, "I am sorry, Optimus. I just... I never should have kissed you like that. You just looked so sad, and I-" The mech shakes his head, setting Optimus in a chair, and sitting in a much larger one behind the driving controls. "Anyway, I'm sorry it took so long, but I needed to get through the patrols without harming anyone, and figure out where exactly you worked. our route back home, and... Well, you're with me now, Beloved."

It occurs to him, as he watches the screen, dazed and confused, that this might not actually be a stress-induced hallucination.

He pinches his plating. It hurts.

Touches the chair. It feels solid.

Offlines his optics, counts to ten, and onlines them, to find Megatron staring straight at him, concern in his own red optics.

Oh. Holy. Slag.

This isn't a hallucination. This isn't a hallucination! That means-

"You . . . botnapped me?"

Megatron gives him a pleased look, "Yes, of course. I'm sure you'd already figured out my plan the moment I mentioned the ship, but-"

"What?!?" he yelps in confusion. "What plan?"

Megatron gives him a cautious look, "To... botnap you? I've not been subtle about it. In fact, you honestly have far more warning than you really should have."

He stares at the mech, not sure what Megatron even means. Megatron must take his silence as acceptance, since he watches the viewscreen showing them lifting off and carefully navigating them through a convoluted path.

After a bit, he finally says, "So... you didn't find some pretty bot to botnap?"

The look he gets is indescribable. After being stared at in silence for a klik, his shoulders start to hunch up, and then Megatron answers him, "I have botnapped the most beautiful mech that I have ever laid optics on. But beauty means nothing when our processors match so well, and I am certain our sparks will match too."

Optimus feels faint, and is glad he's sitting down. None of this seems real just yet. He's . . he's probably dreaming, right? Fell into recharge at his desk?

"I do admit to being pleasantly surprised by your lack of struggle. I had worried that you might fight me for real and that I might cause some accidental harm to you," Megatron is smiling now, and his dente are sharp. "I am very glad I was wrong. I do hope it is a sign that you will accept me as your bondmate sooner rather than later."

Optimus jolts upright, optics wide. "This isn't a dream, is it?"

"No, Beloved. This is real."

He shakes, "It can't be real."

"It is Optimus. I love you with all my spark, and-"

Optimus offlines his optics, curling and hunching up again, "I'm never going to be able to go home and talk to Sentinel and Elita again. They're going to say I'm just a traitor."

"It will be well known that you are my Beloved, and that we are bonded when you're out in public Optimus."

He shakes his head, "I know how the news will spin it."

Megatron sighs, looking fond, "I can arrange to have them botnapped, too. It just won't be a romantic botnap, unless you think that they-"

"They're together, and please don't do that."

The Decepticon Warlord shrugs, "Then I won't. However, if they are truly your friends, they will understand after we are bonded and have a sparkling on the way. Primus will bless us as soon as you allow it."

Optimus blinks. Sparkling. Megatron is . . . holy slag. Megatron is really doing this. The mech wants a real bonding and family with Optimus, a mech he hardly knows. Though . . many bots end up bonding after much less interaction. He knows of lots of bots who met on the com boards and ended up together successfully. So it happens.

But it can't with . . with a mech like him and Megatron. "I won't bond to you if we're at war with my best friends."

A strange expression twists across Megatron's faceplates, "You . . . are you making that part of your requirements, Beloved? That I attempt some sort of treaty?"

"I'd like that, yes. But it is specifically my friends I don't want the war with. I can't expect you to make nice with Ultra," he rolls his optics when Megatron makes a face at the name, "even though he's just a sad mech who wants a bonding and sparklings."

".... A sad mech who.... Optimus, you talk like you know from experience."

Optimus flushes, not looking at the bot, "You're not the only client I had. You're just the only one that .... overstepped his bounds."

"I love you," Megatron states plainly, though it makes Optimus choke. "Primus lets me hear your voice every time I pray at his altars for guidance. So I simply made the choice of catching you, so you might have the chance to learn to love me back." His expression twists, "And if you have been playing games like ours with Ultra, it would have only been a matter of time before he found you and made a toy of you, like he has with so many others. I am glad I caught you now."

Those words really shouldn't make his spark flutter and pulse in his chest. "I wouldn't have let him. I told you, I'm sealed, and I won't share them outside a bond. At all."

Megatron stares at him in silence as the ship moves in the air. Finally, Megatron says, "You weren't just saying that?"

He glares, "I told you! Over and over! It isn't my fault no one believes me!" He scowls, "If you truly loved me, you wouldn't doubt me on it."

"... I see." The mech focuses on the vidscreen, moving between some ships Optimus knows have amazing scanning tech, but they don't even garner any attention. They're starting to leave the atmosphere safely as Megatron says, "When we recharge tonight, do you want to share our room or-"

"I'm taking my room." Mostly since he wants to be angry, and if he gives in and lets the mech hold him, he'll be too tempted to do more. More he shouldn't be doing, since they aren't bonded how he wants before he interfaces.

And he knows, just from how his spark no longer aches, that he's going to bond to Megatron.

Optimus is certain that pain in his spark was from thinking of being unloved by the bot he adores most. But he can't just give in. He knows what Megatron wants, and Optimus.... Optimus would actually like to see how Megatron acts with someone just living with him. If the mech is unbearable, he doesn't want to be stuck with him.

It's a decastellar, but if he isn't falling in love before that, it won't work out anyway. Besides, it is just a decastellar. Not even a vorn.

"I don't want to have to cuff or restrain you," Megatron says cautiously, and Optimus knows what he's looking for. At this point, there's no realistic chance of escape for him anyways. He's on this ship, which seems to be undetectable to Autobot sensors. He has his weapons--three crystal daggers and his energy axe in his subspace--but the only real chance he has against a mech like Megatron would be to do things he's not willing to do. Sure, Sergeant Kup had said that when it came down to it, if a mech raped any of them, there was only justice in waiting until the mech was in recharge and then stabbing them straight through the spark without warning.

But Megatron won't do that. And Optimus can't do that.

"If I make an oath to Primus that I won't actively try to escape until the decastellar is over, will you let me keep my weapons?"

Megatron gives him a genuinely startled look, "... Y-yes. Yes, Optimus."

"Where's the altar?" he asks flatly.

The mech taps a few things on the console, and Optimus thinks that's just assuring of their trajectory towards New Kaon. Might not be, he doesn't know. Standing up, Megatron extends his servo, but Optimus ignores it to stand on his own two peds. When it is clear that Optimus will not take it, the servo drops, and Megatron says, clearing his vocal processor, "Ahem, right. This way, Optimus. It's in the common area, not that it is terribly large."

He walks after Megatron, letting his optics linger on the bot's frame. Handsome, indeed.

The altar is not too large, but will work just fine. He puts a servo on it, and drops into a rough and ready version of the processor state he prefers for prayer, "I, Optimus, formerly Orion, swear that I will not make an attempt to escape from Megatron's botnapping, so long as my weaponry is not removed from my easy access, according to what I consider easy access."

That startles a laugh out of Megatron, who then places his servos on top of Optimus's servo on the altar. "And I, Megatron, do swear that I will not take Optimus's weapons, unless I fear that he may do self-harm with them, so long as he does not attempt to flee."

A flash of heat and blue light flares, bright enough to blind him for a moment. He blinks, startled, little sparkles of light blurring his vision for a moment, and when he looks down, he gasps.

Megatron lifts his servos and turns them front and back. "Oath paint. It has been a very long time since I have witnessed Primus give mechs oath paint."

"What . . what does it mean?" There are lines in his plating. They look like the ceremonial engravings that some priests of Primus still wear.

"It means that Primus has witnessed our oaths and bound us together through them. It is not a bond, if that worries you, not truly. Something like an ancient version of one, perhaps, when mechs were less worried about love and society, and more concerned about not going into recharge to have their partner stab them in recharge and run off with their sparklings."

He stares at the mark, and says, voice feeling very far away, "... I see."

"I look forward to proving to you that I am worth this mark we now share, Optimus."

"... Okay." He pulls away, not really sure how to react to it. Right now, he kind of wants to scream, if he's honest. Instead of doing that, he walks away from Megatron, "Where is my room?"

Megatron walks over to him, and points to a door, "There, darling. It's there. Would you like-"

"I will not run," he says, walking to the door. He opens it, and stops in the doorway, looking up at Megatron, "As soon as we get to New Kaon. The first place we must go is the medic."

That gets a startled and worried look, "What's wrong? Did I hurt you? Do I-"

"Since we are likely to be bonded, even ignoring Primus's.... insistence, there is no reason for me to wait on the repairs you long since convinced me to take. I just... don't need to wait until after the Academy or be on a neutral planet."

"Your dente?" Megatron reaches towards him, like he wants to touch, and Optimus is tempted to let him, but he can't.

"Yes. Along with anything else they find that might need repairing. You said it's a Devoted's duty to make sure their Beloved is in the best health possible."

Megatron nods, dropping his servo awkwardly. "Of course. My medics will repair you, and should you desire any mods, we can discuss those as well."

Optimus flicks his optics to Megatron's massive peds and back up. "If I am taking this seriously, I'll need to consider some way of flying with you and our sparklings."

Megatron's in-vent is sharp, almost needy, and Optimus knows the sound well. "I... I look forward to that, Beloved."

He nods once, taking a step back into his room. "I will be out later for energon. I look forward to fueling together with you. But we will not touch. Your kiss was not something we're repeating until I give permission," he chastises.

He's gratified by the embarrassed flush that creeps along the entirety of Megatron's faceplates. "I apologize deeply for that, Optimus. I greatly overstepped my bounds."

He knows that, it's something he gets the impression he'll be teasing Megatron about long after they're bonded. Smiling at the mech, he says, "And you won't do it again," as he closes the door.

As soon as the door shuts, he turns his back to it and slides down to the floor, staring blankly into space in front of him. Primus below, this is all real. He's been botnapped, and now he'll be with Megatron at least a decastellar--will the Autobots even allow him back afterwards, if he does manage to reject the mech? There's no way they'll take him back.

And this mark on his servo?

He stares at his servo. The mark, the oath mark as Megatron had called it, is engraved slightly into his plating. Just enough that he can see the indent, and feel it if he rubs his fingers over it. It feels like a minor plating scrape, but does not hurt at all. The engravings are lined with gold paint that shimmers in the light, and it almost looks like a very fancy bonding mark with glyphs in what looks like a primitive form of Ancient.

It's immensely beautiful, in a way that only blessed marks can be. And it also scares him. He can't check the comnet for information on it, no way to contact anyone. Whatever Megatron has the ship lined with is very effective. But it sure as frag doesn't help him stop being terrified.

Is he bonded for real now? No true choice on his part?

No. Megatron isn't acting like it, so he will accept it is just... some sort of approval marking by Primus.

... He also has to admit, it gives hope to him that they could do the Rite of Primus. The idea of it is... compelling. First night interfacing, and a sparkling on the way. He rubs his chest, staring without seeing at the wall. What if Primus blesses them with twins. He doesn't dare hope for triplets, but twins would show just how favored the bonding is.

He shakes his head, forcing his thoughts away, "Right. Get it together Optimus. Stop freaking out."

Besides, it's foolish of him to act as though Primus is favoring him. A nobody. Primus is clearly showing his favor to Megatron, if he's showing favor at all. Optimus pushes himself up and takes the time to look at the room. It's very small, but this ship must have needed to be small to be so well-cloaked. There's a very luxurious looking berth, large enough for Optimus and Megatron both, which takes up most of the room. There's a little desk, with a shelf above it with some datapads on it, and there's a small door that leads to a solvent spray washrack big enough again for himself and Megatron to wash in.

He calls it small, but it is truthfully larger than the dorm apartment he lives in, if only because the massive berth needs so much more space than the two smaller berths that he and his friends used.

He walks to the datapads, and it is... filled with Megatron's poetry. The stuff Megatron had read to him before leaving. His frame perks up excitedly, and he tucks it away, grinning. He peeks at the washrack, and notes a door on the other side of it, so they're probably going to need to share it. Understandable, even if part of him insists that a Beloved deserves their own washrack. He consoles himself by remembering he'll get one on New Kaon, like is proper.

But since he has to share the washrack, he is going to be reading the poetry on his berth. Climbing onto it, he sinks into the soft cushioning on the top and just... relaxes, luxuriating in the comfort. It's very nice, indeed.

Curling up a little, he pulls out the datapads, and lets himself get absorbed.

Notes:

My surgery went awesome :V

Significantly better than all the steps of failure that I had to do before they finally went, "Okay, surgery time." (Said steps had me curling up in bed crying a lot, but with this surgery, I had it yesterday and I'm already up and moving and I cleaned my room. This one is SIGNIFICANTLY better, and I'm doing great! Don't worry)

So You guys get two updates this week, since I am perfectly fine and can update on my typical Tuesday, not just on emergency Sunday

Chapter 11

Notes:

Guess who has emergency surgery!

It was me.

I'm doing pretty bad. In addition to the surgery, my dizziness kicked up even worse so I'm having trouble typing. I edited this chapter on the phone.

It's my birthday, by the by. Just wanted you guys to know I'm not dead, and that even if I'm down, I'm not out.

Optimus onlines slowly, stretching a bit from the most comfortable recharge of his life, and blinks a bit, trying to figure out what is going on.

Ah, right. Botnapping.

Shaking his head, he makes his way out to the common room, and blinks when he sees a ped shuffling Megatron with a wavering smile gesture to the table. "Hello, Beloved. I've gotten you the candies you like."

Optimus blinks at the table. There's too many things to count, but he can see four cubes of fuel and five trays with various sweets just to start. "There's no way I can eat that much."

Shrugging, Megatron pulls out a chair for him, standing there awkwardly while Optimus looks from his servo on the chair to his face and back again. Megatron lets go of the chair.

Optimus sits then, scooting it back in himself. "You know, I've never tried most of these things." He's had a few good sweets now and then, but mostly they've always been too expensive to consider, and it felt selfish buying them recently, even with his greater amount of credits from his job.

"Then you should try them now, and see what you think."

He pokes at one that looks especially extravagant. A sort of crystal that has a deep, heavily pigmented blue, copper and gold flaked through the entirety of it. "What is this?"

"It is a gold embedded moissanite crystal. Sweet, as I know you love."

He hums, poking at various others, and getting names in return to each inquiry. Finally, he picks up a crystal cakepop, that is on a thin stick and shaped like a servo with bonding paint on it. He takes a firm bite, making a point of snapping the fingers off and looking Megatron in the optics as he does so.

He smiles when the mech winces ever so slightly, then offlines his optics to sigh happily as he savors the flavor. He does love sweet things, more than he should. He'll have to make sure to pick up an exercise routine to stay in shape and work off all the extra energy from the sweet fuels.

-Or share Megatron's berth and work it off in a more pleasant fashion--his treacherous processor whispers, but Optimus tries to ignore it, picking up a small energon treat. It's been coated in some kind of crystal glaze that crunches pleasantly when he bites it, and he's licking crumbs from his fingers before he knows it. Oh, yes.

"You . . like it, then?" Megatron asks, sounding strangled for some reason.

He hums softly, looking at Megatron with half dim optics, and flicking his glossa on his lips to catch any stray crumbs, "Huh?" He focuses back on the fuels, searching for what he wants next, and says voice low, since he doesn't want to focus much on what he's saying, "I do. It's good."

Megatron makes an odd noise, and a glance at the bot shows the mech crossing his legs for some reason. Ignoring that, Optimus picks up a thick and long one, licking it from the bottom of it to the very top of it, and humming happily. Yes, this will be good. He sucks on the end of it, letting it melt in his mouth, optics offline, but when he can't stand it anymore, he bites it, crunching happily.

He blinks, still chewing as Megatron yelps for some reason. Narrowing his optics, he asks, suspicious, "What?"

"Are you ... doing it on purpose?"

He scowls, "Doing what? I'm eating. Like you want me to." He takes another bite, smaller this time, because the big one had hurt a little, as his broken gears tried to engage. The smaller bite is better. "If you're hungry, you should fuel too."

Megatron gazes at him for a klik, and then takes the twin of the crystal candy he'd just had and stares at him, gazing straight into his optics as he drags his glossa slowly from base to tip before taking the crystal into his mouth, sucking on it. Optimus stops chewing, staring at him as Megatron bobs his helm on the crystal just like a . . like a--and then the mech bites the tip off.

Oh. Ouch.

"Ah," he says. "I... did not do it on purpose."

"I hope you didn't, since you've been making noises that distinctly remind me of our calls."

He frowns, "I have not."

"I can demonstrate that."

He frowns, shaking his head, and takes another crystal. Only this time, he can tell he's making noises, and he feels... ashamed. He flinches, and forces himself to stop, shrinking in on himself, and making sure not to look at Megatron. He sounds like he isn't a good mech if he does it, and he won't do it again.

Megatron looks at him, and reaches for him, only to pull away. "Optimus."

He doesn't look at the bot, "... yes?" He hates how miserable he sounds.

"You're allowed to make those sounds if you want. I don't-"

"I won't," he says shortly, curling up a little more. "I just... I won't. Never again."

"I like the sounds, Beloved. If I didn't like them, I'd never have kept talking to you. Your voice is the only thing I knew about you for the longest time. Do you really think I'd ever want you to stifle it?"

"I'm not," Optimus swallows and looks away, "I'm not a bad mech."

"You aren't, sweetspark. You are very, very good for me. If you don't want to make those lovely noises, then you can stop them if you want, but I love them. I love hearing your pleasure that way, Beloved." Megatron reaches over and takes his servo, and Optimus does not protest it at all. "If you desired, I would show you how much those noises please me."

Optimus can't help the little smile on his faceplates at that. "I know how much you like hearing me moan."

"I truly do."

He carefully takes another crystal, and nibbles on it. He relaxes a little, and focuses on just enjoying it, even if he can tell that he's going to get full eventually. For now, he's just going to let himself eat what he likes.

About four later, he finally forces himself to stop, and pulls away, "That's enough." Even if his gaze lingers on a crystal shaped like a bow, all ruffled and over decorated. He bets it will crunch and shatter in his mouth, delicious and tempting.

Megatron clearly does not care he'll get fat, since the mech picks up the treat, and presses it to Optimus's servo, "If you're still hungry, have more. You're fighting trim, but you don't need to be, when you're with me."

The sweet looks so good. "I'll take it, if you promise you'll spar with me later. If I'm going to end up as your bondmate, carrying your sparklings and raising them, I want to be able to fight to protect them."

That makes Megatron's engine roar, his optics flashing with heat, and oh, it's so much harder to ignore the urges of his frame with Megatron right there. It would be so easy for the mech to just bend him over this table and have him, and Optimus wouldn't even protest much. Maybe complain about wasting the fuel.

But the bot is good, and doesn't do more than nod sharply, saying, "I would be happy to spar you, Optimus. I want to see how good you are with your axe and those crystal daggers you've told me so much about."

He beams, "I'll enjoy it, too."

Megatron moves closer, only to freeze, and take a small step back, "Good."

In their games, this is when Megatron would have kissed him. Optimus thinks about it for a klik and decides it's too soon. He really needs to know what kind of a mech Megatron truly is to consider this. He knows a lot already, but not what the mech is like when he's not trying to charm a bot into his berth. How is Megatron when he's angry? What does he do when he gets upset? What makes him laugh?

Those things are important. He can't just bond without knowing that.

Assuming he even bonds, that is.

He licks the crystal, and then bites it. He's right, it shatters incredibly satisfyingly in his mouth, and he eats it happily. "How about you and I watch a movie on the vidscreen together? Talk about it afterward?" It gives an easy topic, and he can see how he feels about Megatron's opinions.

"Sounds good, Optimus." Megatron moves to the vidscreen, pulling up a selection of shows, "Let's do something like..." Megatron hums, scrolling through the selections, and pulling up something with cover art that looks like a serious mech blasting at nothing and a smaller mech against him, looking serious. "This? It's a spy movie, mostly action."

He doesn't recognize the title or the actors. "Sounds good to me." As Optimus really only went to movies when his friends paid for them, he didn't see many. Sometimes they'd show them on the coms, but usually not on the free channels. Optimus doesn't like spending credits on things he doesn't need to.

Megatron drapes an arm along the back of the couch, and Optimus doesn't say anything about it. This is what bots do when they're on a . . . a date? This isn't really a date, but maybe it would be best to treat it like one. As much as he still can't really believe this has happened, it did, and some not-so-small treacherous part of him is rejoicing.

He settles into the seat, and carefully does not touch Megatron. He might get closer as they watch, but that isn't right now. Megatron just glances at him, but doesn't look disappointed, so he relaxes.

The movie is kind of generic, if he's honest. More violent than he's used to, but not bad? He just can't call it original or good. It's honestly just a safe movie to watch when with someone they're trying to get to know.

So, when it finishes, he's still not near Megatron, but he is somehow nibbling on more crystals. He stares at the bowl of crystal shards in confusion, ".... when did this show up?"

"About halfway through, I saw you were glaring because Sharpbolt was monologing when he shouldn't have. So I got you those to make you happier."

He blinks, ".... huh."

That was very kind and thoughtful of Megatron. Optimus decides to relax a little, letting his frame shift just a little bit closer.

"So, what exactly are you hoping to get from me, Megatron?" he asks bluntly, because it's best to know these things up front. The whole 'romance' part of botnap in Decepticon culture varies a lot from bot to bot, if Megatron himself is to be believed on it.

Megatron's fingers brush his plating lightly. "I want you as my bondmate. I want to create and raise sparklings with you. I want you to love me as I love you. Anything beyond that is up to you, my Beloved. It would please me if you took an interest in our Empire in some manner or another. Whether you choose to wield the power of our Empire or not is up to you, after you are more comfortable with our culture."

He has a sudden urge to shove Megatron's servo away, but he ignores it. He knows that urge is because his entire frame is lighting up in warmth, and he doesn't want Megatron to win him over so easily. But it isn't like he doesn't know Megatron, anyway.

If they'd been face to face for as long as they've been talking, then he'd already be bonded, and he knows it.

He nibbles on more crystals, and says, "I'm gonna get fat if you keep feeding me when I get upset about something."

"You just won't be as-"

"I'll get fat. Protoform bulging out. You'll feed me too many good things. You'll see." He doesn't say that Megatron won't want him after, since that's insulting. The mech will not take such an insult lightly, not when he knows that saying such a thing is horrible. The only reason he'd get away with it, is because he's Megatron's Beloved, and even then the mech will be very hurt. So he continues, "My protoform will spill over my armor, and I'll need to go around without any. Just you see."

The sudden roar of Megatron's engine makes him startle hard enough that he spills a few crystals from the bowl. Optimus looks over, alarmed, and then freezes, frame going cold and then hot. Megatron is just looking at him, but it's like the mech wants to devour him.

"Should you bless me by going around with your protoform soft and ample, begging for my touch, I would truly be honored, Beloved," Megatron manages, sounding half-strangled with lust. His optics are burning hot, and Optimus notices now that the mech has a servo over his interfacing panel, almost like he's holding it shut. "I would worship at the altar of your thighs with as much devotion as any true priest."

Optimus flushes and looks away, stuffing a servoful of crystal crumbs into his mouth to keep from saying anything. He knows Megatron would happily keep that up. At least, going by what he says in the calls. However, Optimus just... can't say anything in response to that. He forces himself to change the subject, since the silence is getting uncomfortable, "I didn't like Firebot very much. He was trying too hard to be cool for Landcloud, and the movie clearly thought it landed instead of just made him look bad."

"Really?" Megatronthankfully takes the change easily. "The reviewers generally think they worked well. It felt believable enough to me, as well."

He makes a face, "It made me think of some of the idiots when I went to bars with Sentinel and Elita."

"Who are Sentinel and Elita? From context, I'm assuming those are the friends you never told me the name of."

He nods, "Yeah. My best friends. ... I likely won't see them again." He chews on the crystals, not looking at Megatron. "But the bots at the bar kept trying to prove how amazing they are, but I could pretty much do everything they could as well or better. Or they just were boring to look at. I don't care how good of a sharpshooter a cyclebot is."

While modeltype isn't everything, and Optimus knows he could fall in love with any bot of any modeltype if their personality was right---well, he's allowed to have preferences. He likes bigger bots with thick, strong armor plating and broad shoulders. Any modeltype is fine, but big bots? Oh yes, he likes them a lot.

The size difference between himself and Megatron is just perfect for him.

Optimus bites into his crystals. "I have to admit, I like sappy romance movies better, but only if they have happy endings."

"Then we'll watch those next time. Would you prefer if I get a new one, or-"

He shakes his head, touching Megatron's arm to silence him. "No. No, I don't want another movie. They aren't really... something I care much about. I genuinely prefer reading more."

Megatron frowns, then sits up, "How about I read a story to you? Would you like that?"

"I.... I might. It would be nice, but if I'm listening to something, I prefer to do something with my servos." He looks at the mech in the optics, "And this is not what you're thinking. When at work, I was working. So I was too occupied responding back. While if I'm listening, and just listening, I need more to do."

"Such as?"

"I listened to an automated reader in my processor when I was doing factory work as a sparkling."

The noise that escapes from Megatron sounds like it was punched out of him. "You . . . my Beloved, I am so happy that you told me about your homeworld, so that I was able to claim it. You know, the bots there wanted me to put up a statue of you, after I told them they were claimed in your name."

Optimus flushes, "Oh Primus, and you told them no, never right?"

Megatron shrugs a little, "I will not lie to you. I found it impossible to say no to that many sparklings all begging and pleading at once. I told them it would wait until you were properly mine."

"... Of course you were planning, even then."

"I already loved you, and then I found out more. I knew, even if I never bond to you, I'd need to save the sparklings."

He offlines his optics, and says softly, "When you told me, a part of me had wished you'd done it before. Done it when I was a sparkling. Wondering why you didn't before. But I know it was because you were never told." He sighs, leaning back, optics online, "Enough of this. I prefer not to think of my past, and instead look to the future."

Megatron takes his servo in his, holding it, and Optimus lets him. He likes being touched this way. "I want you happy, Beloved. I will tell you only one thing more until you ask, or it comes up otherwise. Shockwave was able to find the specific orphanage you grew up in. Of course, there are no orphanages now, and no need for them, so after all the bots were taken care of, we tore the building down." That sends a bolt of pain through his spark--he had hated the place for what it stood for, but he had grown up there. They just tore it down? "The Temple is almost completely built now. A Temple of Primus dedicated to any bot who needs a safe place to stay for a while, no matter the reason."

Optimus bites his glossa to keep himself under control. Megatron built a temple because of him? That is the sort of bonding gift he would have never even in his wildest dreams imagined a bot might give him.

It takes more than he wants to admit to not just throw himself at Megatron and kiss him. As much as the mech might like it, Optimus knows he'll feel bad after for doing it.

He takes an in-vent, and says, "That is good. It's very good." He pulls away slowly, "I'm glad there is safety for those who need it, in a place I grew up in."

"I was hoping you'd like that, Optimus."

Pulling away slowly, Optimus says, "I do. I really do." He looks at the mech, tilting his head a little, "You were going to read to me?"

"I can, yes. We can figure out what you'd like to do as I read first, though. I have some jigsaw puzzles if you'd like to try those?"

"I think I'd prefer something constructive."

"I have puzzles that are more sculptures at the end. Not just a flat picture."

That sounds rather boring still, but Optimus nods. "I'll try it." The pieces are odd and dimensional, meant to stack together and build up in layers. He spreads them out, trying to figure out how to sort them when Megatron begins to read--

"Officer Lightspark was beautiful, tied to the berth the way he was, his legs spread eagerly to accept Gigatron between them-"

His faceplates flush, "You can't just read smutty fanfiction to me!"

"You recommended this one to me!"

"Yeah, but that is not the same sort of thing at all! You can't just..." He shakes his head, "Besides, this isn't even the start of the fic, if I recced it to you. I made sure that I had told you about the ones with a long story long before they started to interface." He crosses his arms, "I even found one with the Beloved Lightspark and Devoted Gigatron!"

Megatron pouts at him, "That one was nice, but this is the one with Lightspark being sparked with triplets."

"No."

"Optimus, can't I-"

"Megatron, no. I don't want.... Don't taunt me with the hope that when we bond, we might get triplets. It won't happen. Choose a different thing to read."

That earns him a very sulky frown, but Megatron vents out and flicks his fingers over the datapad he's using. "Fine. This one is pleasing too. 'Gigatron had thought that love was a lie, that it was no more than a pretty lie used to convince bots to bond and create sparklings for the continuation of the species. He had thought this all of his life, minus a brief sol where too much high grade had led to an unfortunate accident with Metalmist of all mechs--and he would have continued to think this, had it not been for the chance meeting with a very special Officer on a neutral planet."

"I like this one more already," Optimus tells him, and then settles back to listen, while Megatron reads to him about Gigatron falling for Officer Lightspark, who had been--for some completely unknown reason--sent undercover to work as a stripper at a local bar.

He is about three fourths of the way through the puzzle when Megatron finishes the chapter. "Good stopping point. You're hungry."

He blinks, "I'm what?" He looks at the mech, and flushes when his tank growls, "... ah."

Megatron moves closer to him, offering a servo, and Optimus takes it without thinking about it. It's when he's standing that he realizes he could have gotten up on his own, but honestly, it's fine. It's just being helped up.

The mech puts a servo on his back, just a faint touch of fingertips, looking at him, "May I?"

He hums, and nods, "Very well." He wants to see what the plan is.

Megatron's servo presses against the small of his back, and gently leads him to the dispenser, "You do need energon. Help me choose what you'd like best."

"I'm really not picky," Optimus says, but lets his optics flicker over all the options on the touchscreen. There's an option for crystals, but ground into a crunchy paste that could be eaten with a spoon. . . no, that's too indulgent, even for him right now. So he taps the screen for a sweetened midgrade, with a few crystals mixed in. That's plenty for him.

But Megatron apparently had been tracking what he'd flicked through, and orders a smaller cube of the paste. "You should try it. I've been told it's quite good if you like crystals a lot."

He looks at it longingly, "I will bulge out-"

Megatron carefully places servos on his seams, making him freeze, "Is it truly so bad to do that? To be so full of fuels you can just relax and be safe? I would love to show off how well I can provide for you. It is hard for a crystal fueler to bulge their protoform from crystals. Having that is a sign that they can afford to over indulge to an astonishing degree. Let me brag how well I can care for you, just from you fueling on crystals with every single meal."

Optimus shakes his head, "I can't." It would be so unseemly for him to just . . do that. "But I'll try a few bites, to see if it's good." He can't resist that much. He likes fuels too much to just . . not indulge now and then.

They go back to the couch, but this time Megatron pulls Optimus against his side. He's stiff for a moment, and then his whole frame relaxes, melting against the bigger mech. It feels so good, so warm and safe, to be tucked against his side like this. Like nothing in the universe matters except for them at that moment.

The midgrade he has is okay. The crystals are clearly the best part, and he savors them happily. But he finds himself devouring the small cube of the pastes. His engine purring happily, optics offline as he licks his fingers clean as he finishes.

When he onlines his Optics, Megatron is staring at him hungrily. He flushes, looking away. "Ah.... I did it again." He wants to lick his lips, but stops himself. "I probably shouldn't eat in front of others, if you give me fuel like that."

"Beloved," Megatron says, touching him with gentle fingers, "no one will ever stop you from enjoying your fuel. Ever. You are allowed to fuel however you want in public once we are bonded."

Optimus bites his lip, flushing deeper. "You say that because it's okay for Decepticons to just . . . frag in public."

Smirking, Megatron squeezes his servo a little. "While that is true, no bot will object to you enjoying your fuel as you like, Beloved. You will be encouraged to be happy, so long as it does not harm another. Your pleasure harms no one here." Megatron lifts his servo and kisses his fingertips. "And while I admit I have fantasized many times about having you sit astride my spike and ride me during a council meeting or general assembly, I have also accepted that it may not ever happen, if you do not want it as I do."

He shakes his head, "I can't... I don't see myself doing that." Maybe many decavorns down the line, but certainly not now. He knows sparkbonded bots, if they've been sparkbonded for a long time, get up to some reallyodd things.

"Then we won't. Whatever you want, is what we will do."

He takes out a cleaning cloth, wiping his fingers off, so they aren't so sticky. "I want to clean up."

"I will wait for you to get finished. I'll be out here, Optimus."

He almost tells Megatron to join him, but Optimus honestly shouldn't. there may be room for the both of them, but he's not going to share the washrack at the moment. Besides, the idea of a cleaning has too much of a draw. He wants to take off his armor, clean up the inside, and remove all the grit from his seams.

Now is a good time for it, since he's been distinctly neglecting his self care due to Megatron's taking off and not comming him.

He hops off the couch, and touches Megatron's fingers before walking to go get cleaned up.

Notes:

If you didn't read the author notes up top. TL;DR Not dead, had emergency surgery, it's my birthday, edited chapter on my phone.

Chapter 12

Notes:

Another fic edited on the phone

I'm very dizzy

Optimus walks beside Megatron as they go from the ship to a dock that is weirdly placed. He looks around, "So... you had this specially made, didn't you?"

".... yes." Megatron has the grace to look embarrassed, at least.

"I see. So, I take it, there's going to be a hallway or something we go in so that others can't see me?"

"Exactly," Megatron doesn't sound embarrassed by this part, at least. "Were I a normal mech, I would simply carry you into my home, and no bots would think twice about it, but the media here have been hounding me to find a bondmate for a very long time, and they would not respect proper botnap etiquette with you."

Optimus finds this rather silly, but doesn't say so. Instead, he just reaches over and lets Megatron take his servo, linking their fingers. He likes this. Not the whole botnap thing, but the closeness with Megatron. It feels good to be with him like this.

The mech leads him along a rather short hallway, and opens a door. When they walk in, the first thing Optimus notices is the altar.

His servo drops from Megatron's, and he walks over to it, fingers touching it reverently, "You actually have it. You actually fraggin' bought this ridiculously extravagant altar for me. Didn't you?" He looks at the bot, who seems to be playing innocent, but is far too smug to pull it off. "You did! Megatron! It had to cost a fortune! A planet's budget just for this!"

"Not... quite that much, Optimus," Megatron says, shrugging. "It's worth it. You wanted it, so you got it. And, besides, it is our altar. Primus favors us, so why not have something that shows how we support him in turn?"

This is too much, and yet Optimus cannot fathom giving it up. If he manages to go the decastellar without bonding to Megatron, he's going to have to figure out a way to smuggle this altar back to Cybertron with him. It's too beautiful for words. He goes to kneel to start a prayer, but Megatron catches him by the arm and pulls him back up.

"Not yet, Beloved. As I told you, Primus has shown me favor several times, and has pushed me to take you, and he marked us both. The first time you worship here, I do not think I should be in the room, lest he try to . . . encourage matters along quicker than you might like."

Optimus stares at him, confused for a moment, and then he flushes. Is Megatron really implying that Primus might force them to interface? "He . . wouldn't do that."

But Megatron just shrugs, "I would rather not risk it, Beloved. I will have you when you love me as I love you, and not a moment sooner."

He sighs, nodding, "Very well." He looks around, "So... where is the medic?"

"We will go to the medic after the tour of the rooms, Optimus." At his look at the altar, Megatron gently tugs him along, "I'm having things arranged so that you won't be seen, and you'll be cared for properly. I want you healthy, and part of that is having everything set up. Now, I need you to touch the dispenser, and let me set it so you can get whatever you want from it."

He does as directed, watching Megatron tap various options on the screen, "Why do I need to be keyed in?"

"If the access is too simple, I've had assassins attempt to offline me through it. This rejects anyone who doesn't have permission, and alerts me when it is touched. You don't need me knowing you're getting a cube of fuel, just because you're hungry or offering something to Primus. That's just invasive and rude."

It seems odd to Optimus, but if it works for Megatron, then it's fine. Of course, if that sort of assassination risk is so high, he's not sure he would trust the fuel around here with any future sparklings of his. Something to discuss with Megatron's security later, maybe. He wants his sparklings to be able to at least trust the fuel they get from their own dispenser or from whatever kitchens are around.

He shouldn't be thinking about sparklings with Megatron so soon. Not in this context. Not in real life.

"Of course, you will not be able to leave these rooms without me, and I will warn you that until you love me as I love you, you will not often leave these rooms at all," Megatron sounds regretful, taking Optimus's servo in his. "I long to show you New Kaon in its true glory, not in the ways that Autobot propaganda has painted it."

He smiles, patting Megatron's servo, "We'll see how that goes." If it happens, then he'll find out. If it doesn't, then he goes home.

Megatron nods once, "Now, choose the fuel you would like."

He glances at the dispenser, but he honestly isn't that hungry. Megatron takes joy in fueling him way too much. "I'm fine."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. I just ate a bit ago."

Megatron doesn't ask again, just leading him to another room, "This is our berth room. You are welcome to join me there at any point. You are not expected to, of course."

He looks around, and it does look very comfortable. He steps in, and touches the berth, pressing down on it curiously. "I was expecting it to be firmer."

"Optimus, just because I'm a war mech doesn't mean I don't like comfort."

While that's true, it's also true that most larger models tend to prefer firmer berths since they support their much heavier weight better, but Optimus isn't going to point that out. If Megatron wants a comfortable berth, then he should have a comfortable berth. It's not like Optimus is going to crawl into his berth just because it's soft and pliant.

"And my berthroom?"

Megatron lets out a little sigh and then leads him to the room directly beside. It's very nice, really. The size of an apartment, really. The berth here is also big enough for Megatron to join him for obvious reasons, and it's just as soft and lush. He has a com console--it must be restricted to receiving information only, and a small vidscreen. There's a door leading to a small washrack with a solvent soak and two solvent sprays, and another door in the main room that leads to a . . . closet?

"What are these?" he asks, touching the soft materials hanging from the hooks and bars on the walls.

"... I thought you'd know instantly. Clothing."

Optimus stares at it blankly, and then very carefully pulls down one piece. Holding it up, he accesses some very old information in his processor he's never had the spark to erase, and he doesn't notice how his servos shake. He blinks slowly as he relistens to his papa's voice explaining how to put on a chestwrap like a big bot, and jerks in shock when large servos touch him.

Looking up, he opens his mouth soundlessly, only to close it. Megatron is kneeling next to him, and says, "Beloved? Beloved? Please don't cry." Optimus stares blankly as the mech wipes away optical lubricant from his face, "I can get rid of it. You don't need-"

"No. No... I..." He hugs the chestwrap to his frame, "No. I just... I have a... My papa had me record how to properly wear clothing when I was... very very young. And it's something I just... I couldn't ever give myself an excuse to listen to it. But now... Now I get a real reason, other than I miss them."

"May I hold you, Optimus?" Megatron has his arms outstretched and open, and Optimus can't help it. He leans into Megatron's touch, hiding his faceplates against the warm chest armor in front of him. "I am sorry that I brought sorrow to your spark, Beloved, but I hope you find some joy in it too."

"I do," he promises, muffled against his plating. He takes advantage of Megatron's kindness and just lays there in his arms, relaxing against him. Does it make him a terrible Autobot that he really wants this? That he really, really wants to be able to just share frame comfort with another bot--no, he can't lie to himself. He wants this from Megatron. He wouldn't let just any bot hold him while his optics still sting. After a few kilks more, he pushes away gently, wiping at his faceplates, sniffling a little. "You'll have to forgive me if I wear any of this wrong."

"Even if you do, I doubt I'll know the difference. But if it bothers you, I will have pictures taken to show how to wear them properly on your home planet." Megatron looks at him cautiously, "But I now realize how you were one of the poorest bots on the planet. Since you didn't even recognize a chestwrap at first." Optimus flushes, unsure how to respond, but the mech just continues, "I'm glad I get to pamper you and have you wear everything you've missed out on, and more."

This time he's blushing not from embarrassment, but because the mech is a flatterer. He pushes lightly on the mech's chest, "I'm going to get dressed. You move."

Megatron laughs, standing up, and offering a servo to help him up. Optimus takes it easily, and looks through the clothing, trying to decide what to wear.

There's all kinds of things in the closet. Wraps of varying sizes, robes, dresses, and tiny scraps of cloth that he can't really fathom the purpose of. He holds one of the tiny scraps up and examines it. There are two holes and it's a stretchy sort of material and . . . it looks like it's meant to be worn over the pelvic armor? Oh. He flushes a little, realizing what he's holding. These are interfacing things.

He shoves them back into the drawer they came from and pretends not to hear Megatron's sigh of disappointment from behind him.

He settles on a chestwrap, crisscrossing the fabric back and forth over his plating, wrapping partway down his arms as well, and a sort of skirt that wraps around his hips twice and pins in place with a little clasp made of gold.

Megatron moves close when he's finished, and says, "You look beautiful, Beloved. Do you want to see more of the rooms?"

He looks around, "... Yes." Megatron leads him to his washrack, and then to another common room, just for him. He looks at Megatron, then says, "You know, you didn't say that the berthrooms were connected in our sessions."

Megatron coughs, looking away with a very faint blush dusting his faceplates, "Ah, well, the door is locked so only you can open it now. It's pretty standard, as well. Mostly since a Beloved's berthroom does eventually convert into a sparkling's berthroom."

"Hm." Optimus arches an optic ridge at him, but says nothing more on it.

Being confined to these rooms won't be so bad, he thinks. He knows it won't be too bad when Megatron shows him the small reading room, filled with datapads in massive racks, with comfortable chairs and couches for reading, and he can imagine just sitting in here for megacycles, sipping from a cube, reading all the pads he can handle.

"-suppose I won't be getting much of your attention for a while," Megatron chuckles, drawing Optimus's attention back to him.

"What?"

That gets another laugh, and Megatron waves a servo, "I know what has your attention. It's good you have something you enjoy when I'm unable to be here." The mech touches his shoulder, "Even if it means I'll likely come here and not get to talk to you until you're more interested."

He blinks, "I... I'll be happy to talk to you."

"We'll see how likely that is once we actually have you staying here longer."

He forces himself not to keep staring at the many datapads, "Is there anything else I need to see?"

Megatron smiles at him, lifting his servo to kiss it. "No, Beloved. You have seen everything important, I think. You may explore as much as you wish, though know that there is no way out of these rooms unless I allow it. If you wish to deny me your presence, you may stay in your room and lock the door to me, though you will be monitored to make sure that you are healthy, and you must allow me to see you at least once every other sol. Aside from that, consider these rooms as yours now."

"Thank you." He probably shouldn't be thanking his captor, but it feels right. And this is all . . well, it's not really the same as just being botnapped by some random bot, after all. "Have you informed anyone of my botnap?" That's his only true worry at the moment. Sentinel and Elita must be panicked over his disappearance.

That brings a frown to Megatron's faceplates. "Not yet. I still have several sols before I have to."

"Can you," he almost cuts himself off, but forces himself to continue, "can you please tell someone on Cybertron this sol? I don't want my friends thinking I might be offline in the Well."

"... I suppose I will. I'll do it as you have your medical checkup."

He wants to protest, but he supposes he's not supposed to be seen. Still, he has to know, "Who are you telling?"

Megatron looks put out, "I'll be informing Ultra Magnus."

Optimus gasps, "Oh no... Oh dear, if you do that, you must give him my message."

Megatron scowls, "I do not need to-"

Optimus ignores the mech's protests, "You need to inform him that the next time he contacts the Blue Flash, he needs to ask for Hot Rod since I won't be there. He knows me as Zephyr, and Hot Rod will work just fine, even if he isn't a truckbot. Primus will just need to live with it, since Ultra is planning on retiring anyway, and Hot Rod wants a family, so he'll likely end up with Ultra anyway."

There's a very, very long pause in which Megatron's faceplates undergo a number of changes that Optimus couldn't describe even if he tried. "I . . am not going to share that message in your botnap announcement, Beloved. I can send him a," Megatron's faceplates twist in disgust, "private com afterwards with that, if you insist."

"I do. It's best to let him fixate on another mech anyways, so he stops thinking about me. Not that he knows it was me. But if he hears me speak at any point, he might realize in the future."

"He can't be near you, if that's the case! I love you, and-"

Optimus moves close, touching Megatron lightly to silence him, "And that is why he should fixate on Hot Rod. I realize you'd attempt to offline the Magnus for even looking at me funny, so let's just head that right off."

Megatron frowns, looking confused, ".... I suppose. Still, it will not be in my message of how I've botnapped you."

He smiles, "Good. I'll be honest, the best bots to know about me are probably Blurr Prime, Kup Minor, Sentinel Minor, and Elita-One Minor, not really the Magnus. I just understand if you don't know their com frequencies."

"I don't think I..." Megatron frowns, "Oh, I do have Kup's frequency." The mech looks confused, "Why do I have that?" Shaking his head, Megatron says, "It doesn't matter. I'll have him and Ultra both informed, just so they know. But now, you need to visit the medic, and we'll go through the back hallways for that."

It's silly, the way that botnap apparently requires other bots to see as little of the Beloved as possible, but it probably developed as a side-effect of bots trying to steal them back, or convince them not to agree to bond. Limit contact with potential 'bad influences' that might lead a Beloved astray. Optimus has to fight not to laugh.

Thinking about the medic kills the urge well enough. No bot likes going to the medic, Optimus least of all. Medics are just . . . even the best ones aren't good to go to. He's not looking forward to being scanned backwards and forwards and every way in between.

Megatron takes his servo, and leads him out of the rooms, and into a small doorway. They make their way along it, Megatron ducking and grumbling about the low ceiling the entire way, and they finally come out to a medical bay. Megatron slams his head on the door jam, and curses softly under his venting. Rubbing at his forehead, the mech says, "Hook. Optimus needs his scanning."

A cranebot comes into the room they're in, and frowns, "... Yes, my lord." The mech does not sound happy. But when the bot turns to Optimus, he sounds more pleasant, saying, "I'm told you might need dente repair?"

He nods, "Yes."

"Very well, sit on the medical berth, and I'll get you all scanned, seeing what all you need fixed. Lord Megatron says you haven't had that hack job they call repairs that Autobots do, so that's going to help a great deal."

He supposes that it must be easier to repair broken gears rather than completely replace them after they've been stripped and modded away, but admittedly his knowledge of frame repair comes from first-aid classes and nothing more. Well, and a bit of information from his sparklinghood, like how to cauterize the wires of a lost limb and how to force-patch over missing pieces of plating. Not actual medic work.

"Open," Hook orders, and Optimus obeys, letting an access panel on his arm slide open for the medic to plug into. The crane is an odd medic--not done up in the typical red-and-white paint job that most medics choose to recolor to. Instead, he's greens and yellows and purples. His visor dims a little as he reads the screen. "Well, I suppose that explains your size. You were malnourished as a sparkling. Thankfully, you've been taking enough good fuel lately that your protoform and plating are nearly fully recovered, and while there's some mild scarring in your intake and tank, it's nothing that won't continue to heal on its own with more good fuel."

Optimus bristles a little at the size comment. It's not like he doesn't realize that he's smaller than normal for his modeltype, thank you very much. It doesn't need to be said like that.

The medic's visor brightens and he smirks a bit, "Yes, you're quite strong for your modeltype, I can tell that too. Now, let me look in your mouth please."

He glares darkly at the mech, but opens his mouth. He is incredibly tempted to bite the mech when fingers are stuck in his mouth, but he manages to rein himself in. The mech shines a bright light in, looking them over, and hums.

Megatron says, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, my lord. It just looks more damaged than I'm used to dealing with, since he's not one of the crystal fuelers that joined as soon as they could. The damage is.... extensive, but fixable." The medic looks at his medical datapad, and Optimus can feel a stronger scan focusing on his mouth, "I do have good news. I can have these replaced and fixed in about a megacycle. We do have the correct parts, and they won't need to be machined to fit properly."

Optimus perks up a little at that, because that's a much faster fix than he ever thought possible.

"-Though his damaged fangs will need a bit more work."

Fangs?

He doesn't have fangs.

Megatron looks at his dente curiously. "I was unaware that you had-"

"I don't," he interrupts, though the words are garbled a bit by the medic's fingers in his mouth.

"You do," Hook insists, tapping on six of his front dente. Two on top on each side and one on bottom on each side. "These dente in particular are all meant to be naturally sharp, but they have been broken, and are not the kind of dente that will regrow their shape without assistance. I can attach a few caps to each dente with the proper metal nutrient mix to allow them to reform, but it may feel a bit odd for a decacycle or so while you adjust to them. The dente themselves will take two to three decacycles to regrow, and the caps will fall off naturally afterwards."

Fangs. Huh. The medic removes his servos and Optimus closes his mouth, rubbing his glossa over those dente. Well, if they're a natural part of him, he wants to see what they're like. If he hates them, he's sure he can have Hook mod them away later on. "Alright."

Megatron is looking at him funny, and Optimus narrows his optics at the mech. Hook doesn't notice, just turning away as he says, "I'll add the caps as I do the gear dente fix. You'll want to be offline for it, since it might get painful otherwise."

Optimus is still looking at Megatron with narrowed optics as he says, "Very well. And Megatron can go inform Kup about my botnapping, and give Ultra my message."

Hook pauses, ".... Ultra.... Ultra Magnus?"

Megatron scowls, crossing his arms, "I'm not getting into that with you, Hook. I'll be back in a megacycle, and he better have his dente fixed. You're the only one allowed to see him, and I'll have you severely punished if anyone else comes in."

"Of course, my liege," Hook bows to Megatron, who takes Optimus's servo and presses a kiss at the back of it.

"I will return as soon as you awaken, Beloved," Megatron promises, optics hot. Hook takes the opportunity to tap something into Optimus's code, and his optics grow heavy and he slumps back into a deep, deep recharge

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed

I'm not sure how steady updates will be, I'm still not doing well. Just... doing my best. You know how it is.

Chapter 13

Megatron watches as Hook gently lays Optimus back on the medical berth. "I was not joking, medic. Should any other see him, I will punish you."

His medic smiles a little, "I am aware, my liege, and I respect your botnap rights. No one else will come into this private room while I work. You can deliver your messages without worry. Should I willingly allow another to see your mate, I will accept your punishment with grace."

"Good, because it will be a quiet execution."

Hook's expression doesn't change, "It's good that I won't allow anyone to see him, my lord."

He nods shortly, and heads out to go contact who he must. At least he might be able to find out why he has Kup Minor's frequency. He can't see why he would ever need such a thing. Or how he even has it.

The private com he decides on has him debating just.... not comming at all. He doesn't have to inform anyone for a stellar, and he is certain that by that point, he will be bonded already.

But he shoves the temptation away. Optimus wants him to contact them, so he will contact them. At least he can make it a private message for Ultra, and he gets to brag how he's gotten to Optimus first.

Feeling better, he contacts Kup, leaning back, feeling pleased.

The com is answered by a beaten up old teal truckbot with rust spots, smoking an expensive cygar with a cheap label on it, and ..... what has to be Reflector disguised as a racecar sprawled across the mech's lap. ... He now knows why he has this mech's frequency. For how smart his spybot is, Reflector sure can be an idiot.

He gets to enjoy the sight of Reflector toppling off the truckbot's lap to land in a heap as the truckbot leaps up to his peds, choking on his cygar. "Megatron!"

Megatron glances down at himself and then back up, as if checking if he's really who he says he is, just to mock has spybot a little, "Yes. I presume I am speaking with Kup Minor?"

Kup is spluttering, and he takes his cygar out of his mouth. "Why the slag do you have my frequency and why the slag are you calling?"

Megatron smiles the patient smile of a mech used to soldiers blustering at him. "I am calling to inform you of my botnap of Optimus, who I intend to make mine, Primus willing."

Reflector puts his servo to his face, shaking his head, and looking despairing, while Kup shouts incoherently and angrily. Megatron waits patiently, and Reflector sits back on the sofa, looking at Megatron with a bemused expression. When it is clear that Kup isn't calming down, and is in fact, just cursing Megatron out, the bot sighs and puts a servo on Kup's hip. "Darling, it's clear he has more to say, perchance we should get more information on this... Optimus?"

"I don't need information! He's why Optimus went missing after work a few sols ago! Now he's being raped and-"

"How dare you!" Megatron yells, slamming his servos on the com, unable to keep his calm at that insult. "He is my Beloved, and I will be bonding to him."

Reflector grabs hold of Kup, keeping him from yelling again, and saying, "Right! Of course! How about you explain what is going on.... Lord Megatron?"

"Don't call him Lord, he ain't your lord," Kup grumbles, glaring at him.

Megatron raises an optic ridge at Reflector, who gives him a pained and apologetic look. He is.... very tempted to break his spybot's cover, but the mech is well placed, and valuable where he is, that much is clear. As such, he lets the bot's bad taste slide. "I have been courting him for a little over a stellar cycle." Technically less than that, but he wanted to keep the mech after the first call.

"Ain't no way," Kup growls, and jabs his cygar at Megatron through the comscreen. "You listen up, you slagheap. Yer gonna return Optimus to Cybertron immediately, and yer gonna turn yerself into the Stockades for hurtin' him."

He wonders if it's possible for his optic ridges to lift so high that they might levitate off his faceplates entirely. "I'm sorry, you expect me to what?"

"Turn yerself in and bring Optimus back. Iffin you don't, I'm gonna come to New Kaon myself and bring him back along with yer offline shell." Kup looks like he might try, actually, which Megatron finds rather impressive.

He tilts his head, smiling, "You're welcome to make an attempt." He taps his arm with a finger, saying, "You won't be able to, of course. But this was my informing com, to let you know of my intentions. Optimus wasn't sure that I'd be able to get into contact with Sentinel and Elita-one, since they're in a communal dorm where a great deal of bots share the com console. You were the one he suggested instead."

"Now I need to get a new com number," Kup mutters. "Mech shouldn't have given out my com."

"I already had your com number," Megatron says, smiling a little cruelly. "I just never needed nor wanted to use it before. But do inform those who need to know. He also mentioned Blurr needing to know."

"I'm fraggin' telling everyone!"

"Then inform the ones he wants to know first." He shoots Reflector a severe look, and he knows his spybot gets the message. Optimus's friends and boss will be the ones that Kup first informs.

He shuts off the com, and, ugh, contacts Ultra. No matter how little he wants to.

Ultra lets the com go for far too long, and Megatron is considering hanging up when the bot finally answers. The mech is dull and grumpy as always, leaning back in his office at Autobot Command, arms crossed over his chest. "Megatron. To what do I owe the displeasure of this call this time?"

Knowing just how sweet this will be, Megatron leans back, relaxing in just a little bit of a slouch. "Ultra Magnus. I am calling on behalf of another. Trust me, I would rather speak to anyone but you right now."

The other mech's faceplates twist, "Then hang up and speak to anyone else. Unlike some bots, I have work to do."

"No, I must speak to you."

"You don't need to do anything. In fact, we are done talking now."

As the mech moves to disconnect, Megatron smirks and says, "Then you don't want to hear what Zephyr has to say?"

The mech's servo spasms in what looks to be in a painful way. Good. He grins meanly as Ultra looks enraged, "How dare you even say his name!"

"That isn't even his real name, Ultra. I know his real name, and have known for orns now." He is not mentioning that he found out due to his spybots telling him, and they only gave him a long list of possible names, not certain what it truly was. Then Optimus confirmed it, and so technically he has known for orns.

It counts.

"You're lying," Ultra hisses at him, but there's true worry in his optics now, and his servo is shaking a little. "But even if you aren't, it doesn't mean anything, it-"

"I have botnapped him," Megatron hums with satisfaction, dimming his optics. "I have held him in my arms and he is mine on New Kaon by right of Botnap until he agrees to formally bond."

"No!" Ultra is practically snarling now, and Megatron enjoys it very much. "You . . you couldn't have. Not him."

"Oh, but I have," Megatron's engines rev with pleasure. "Optimus is mine now." He can't help but brag. "He was so easy to take and I look forward to our future sparklings."

"He wouldn't! He.... He…."

"I'm certain you want to say he only wants you, but he has a suggestion for you."

Ultra gives him a nasty look, "I don't believe that at all."

"He mentioned that the next time you com the Blue Flash, that you ask for Hot Rod. He also has a sparking kink, and would like to be with you. He is, however, a racecar-"

"I can't be with a racecar, Primus would be furious. Why didn't you take Hot Rod?"

Ignoring the outburst, Megatron continues, "He said you do plan on retiring, and Hot Rod would be fine with being with you for love."

Ultra rubs his optics and shakes his head, "You know I can't let this stand, Megatron. You have botnapped an Autobot from Cybertron. Setting aside how you possibly managed that, you know that we will attempt to retrieve him."

Megatron shrugs, "You can certainly try, though I know it is only a matter of time until Optimus agrees to be mine completely. Should you wish to throw Autobot lives away by tossing them at New Kaon, you may. It would be wiser simply to wait, of course. If Optimus does not wish to be mine, he will be returned in a decastellar."

"I will be getting him back, and you had no right to botnap him."

"I all but told him my plans, Ultra. I let him know I had a ship that only me and him knew about, we'd been role playing the two of us together from botnapping to him agreeing to bond, and on that very sol where he agreed, I told him I'd not be contacting him for a few decacycles. He didn't even fight when I lead him to the ship." He can see how angry Ultra is, and decides to be... kind, if only for Optimus's sake. He knows his mech will not want others to offline in vain due to an idiot's vanity. He holds up his servo, with the Primus blessed markings showing clearly, "He swore not to run, and I swore not to take his weaponry, Ultra. I will be bonding to him."

The other mech stares blankly at his blessing mark. He rubs his optics again. "Primus damn you, Megatron. Fine. Swear to Primus that you will not harm or rape him, and I will not send any attempts at rescue unless you do not return him after the decastellar."

Megatron arches an optic ridge, "I will swear that I will treat him as my Beloved, bringing him no harm, taking no advantages with his frame without his explicit consent, and you will swear not to send rescue attempts. Should he not bond to me, I will release him on a neutral planet of his choosing. Should he bond to me, you will not try and steal him back."

"Done," Ultra manages between gritted dente. "So I am sworn."

"So I am sworn," he agrees. With that, they both flash blue, and he keeps from smirking at the bot. He's won, no need to grind it in. He can do that after Optimus bonds to him.

"... Hot Rod?"

He nods once, "Hot Rod."

Ultra Magnus frowns, "I will talk to him, and see what he wants. Since Primus has decided that Optimus may end up with you, then Primus gets to live with who I choose instead."

He... does not care. "You do that, Ultra." He cuts the com, and grins. He can gloat now, since it isn't rubbing Ultra's face in it. Optimus won't be upset with him for this.

His beautiful, sweet Optimus. Who is going to be even more of a temptation after he gets cute little fang caps installed, to let his natural fangs grow in. How is Megatron meant to resist kissing the mech at every opportunity if he smiles at him now? Well, Optimus seems to respond well to simple touches, so hopefully he will soon be eager to sit on Megatron's lap and accept his kisses. And more.

Rubbing a servo over his interfacing panel to relieve a little of the tension there, Megatron imagines his sweet mech taking his spike, his frame already heavy with their sparkling growing inside, and he has to immediately think of Starscream demanding they spend the cost of maintaining a military squadron for a vorn on a single tin of polish in order to calm himself.

He stands up, and checks the time. He can go take a cold solvent wash before the megacycle is up. Maybe relieve himself instead. He knows he won't have much free time before this, and it is best to not get too pent up, and be tempted to go further than his Beloved wants.

And his mech is such a temptation.

--

Optimus blinks online, his glossa feeling weirdly heavy, and groans a bit. Megatron looks.... very shiny next to him, the mech even smells like fresh polish for some reason. He's not sure who the bot is trying to impress, but whatever.

He sits up, rubbing his head, and says, "Wath going on?" He stares at the mech in horror, then says, forcing himself to say it properly, "What's going on?" Right, fangs.

Megatron looks at him with a weird expression, and then holds up a plate with what looks like a solid chunk of crystal carved in the shape of a cake, "Are you hungry, Beloved?"

It looks very good.

"Not yet," Hook grumbles. "The gears need to be calibrated and then he will need to take nothing but liquid fuel until the next sol, unless you want him to break one by accident." The medic makes him open his mouth and then lifts what looks like an energon lolly, but made of some kind of rubber. "I need you to chew on this with all of your gears and you need to inform me if anything catches or if you feel any pain at all."

Optimus does as ordered, even though it feels both silly and weird. The rubber thing feels odd between his gears, because it wiggles and squishes but doesn't rip up, but it lets him test them all. He winces as two gears catch, and Hook is quick to reach in and adjust the pair of gears, before having him test them again. No pain anymore.

Megatron holds up the cake behind Hook, and Optimus stares at it hopefully, but unfortunately, Hook notices. The mech turns around, snapping, "Oh, no, you don't! Do you want him unable to fuel on any crystals for an orn? Since if he tries to eat that, it could snap them clean off until they're better integrated. That doesn't get fed to him for a decacycle. Give him liquid fuel this sol, thinly crushed for half a decacycle after, and then normal sized for his mouth crystal fueling for the rest of the decacycle. After that, he can eat your absurdly expensive monstrosity that I know Shockwave will be crying on his minis about not having you offer it to him."

"This is Optimus's," Megatron huffs. "But I will wait the decacyle, even if he deserves to have this and more."

The cake gets tucked into subspace and Optimus wants to weep for a moment. It had been so perfectly lovely, and had made his mouth lubricate with want. Now he has to just fantasize about it for a decacycle. What torment.

"Now, I've taken the liberty of disabling the tracking chip tucked under his plating-"

"What?" Optimus asks, startled. A tracking chip? Why on Cybertron would he have a tracking chip in his plating?

Hook huffs, "As I was saying, I have disabled and removed the tracking chip that had been tucked under his plating, though I suspect it was not able to broadcast anything due to the security of your ship, and the securities of New Kaon. Better safe than sorry." The medic shows a small chip on a tray and . . oh, that's an Elite chip, used for tracking bots during deep missions. "As you can see-"

"Blurr must have done it," he blurts without thinking.

"... Your boss?" Megatron asks. "The playbot?"

"He's Blurr Prime, the Elite Guard," Optimus looks at the mech in the optics. "He knows what he's doing."

Hook frowns, "The playbot?"

"See? That's why he's so good at his job. Bots think he's all frame and no processor. He runs a business in addition to modeling and working for the Elite. He's brilliant. Anyone who thinks he's useless is just playing into his servos."

Megatron looks at the tracker, and frowns, "I'll make sure that's more known to my Decepticons, then."

But Optimus is pretty sure that it won't make a difference. Bots look at a mech like Blurr, smiling coyly at them, his interfacing panel bare, flickering his optics and telling them how much he wants them and they don't notice that he's reading private datapads, hacking into their coms, and stealing from under their noses. Blurr could probably walk up to a Decepticon, giggle and snuggle into their frame and then stab them and the Decepticon would just stare at the dagger without any idea of where it came from.

He wonders if Blurr has ever done anything like that before.

Seeing how Hook still doesn't look like he believes it, Optimus is going to go with, 'yes, Blurr has absolutely done that.'

He looks at Megatron, "Can we go back to our rooms?"

Megatron looks at Hook, "Are you done?"

Hook sighs, and says, "Open up, I'm doing another scan."

He scowls, but opens up an arm port, and waits as the mech scans him over. Making a face, he sticks out his glossa, "It tastes funny when you scan my mouth so deeply."

"Don't complain. That just shows that it isn't missing anything."

He pouts but the scan doesn't last too long. Hook detaches the pad and waves at Megatron, which apparently is a 'take him away, I'm done with him,' sort of wave, because Megatron does just that, taking Optimus out of the medbay and back down the tiny halls.

They're safely back in Megatron's rooms when Megatron finally speaks again. "You were a temptation before, Optimus, but I have to admit that seeing you smile now makes me fight my every instinct."

He flushes a little, "You're ridiculous."

"I am being honest. When I see you I already wanted to kiss you, but now.... Primus, you are beautiful. Even more than before. Gorgeous fangs, gear dente, and your armor shines so brightly without a single bit of polish."

He's flushing even more now, and he has to look away "Flatterer."

"I'm telling the honest truth, Optimus. And I'm so lucky that you're my Beloved."

He pushes on Megatron's face, unable to handle all this flattery, "Stop."

Megatron opens his mouth against his palm, only to freeze and pull away, "Ah. Excuse me, Optimus. I'll stop." The mech gently pushes his servo off his face, "Are you hungry?"

He frowns, thinking about it, and shakes his head, "No, not really. I'm fine." Especially since what he wants is crystals. Not boring plain energon.

"Hook said you cannot have crystals, but he said nothing about whipped energon," Megatron coaxes him, and Optimus's tank rumbles embarrassingly loudly at that. He's not hungry but his stupid greedy frame wants sweets.

"No thank you," Optimus manages, but when Megatron brings him a cube of whipped energon, it changes to a, "maybe just a little bit."

Megatron smiles broadly, "As much as you want."

He ends up tucked under Megatron's arm, fueling on the whipped energon, curled up on the couch. The mech is warm, and the fuel is delicious. He lets his engine purr his happiness as he slowly eats through the cube.

And then another, since Megatron places it in front of him, and he can't say no, that just won't happen. He hums happily, finishing it up. But by the time Megatron offers him a third, he pushes it away, saying, "No more." More would be too much. It isn't like crystals, where he can just eat so many, not really feeling full. Energon fills his tanks, and he is more than full of that.

"As you command, Beloved," Megatron's optics are hot, watching him, and Optimus knows he must have been making some rather embarrassing noises, enjoying his fuel. "I am truly blessed to have you here with me."

Optimus would refute that claim, but well, Primus himself had marked them. Perhaps it wasn't a true bonding mark, but Primus would not have put that oath mark there if he hadn't wished Optimus to give Megatron a chance. Though he's still unsure what purpose he will serve. There are dozens of bots that would be better at convincing Megatron to find peace with the Autobots, and countless more with better frames, processors, and sparks than his own if Primus simply wished to bless Megatron with a mate. He pushes the thought aside and stares down at his servos for a moment. "How did," he trails off, not sure how to ask. "How did Sergeant Kup react?"

"He was upset, of course, but Ultra will be talking to Hot Rod, not interfering."

"But will Kup inform Sentinel and Elita?" He's glad that Ultra will be fine, but he has to focus on the important things.

"Reflector was with him, so I'm certain he will."

".... Reflector? What is the famous spybot doing with my bootcamp sergeant?" It doesn't make any sense.

"Dating him, it seems."

Dating Sergeant Kup. "My Sergeant would never date a Decepticon." Kup would drag any Decepticon to the Stockades himself. "Not unless the mech defected."

Megatron waves a servo, "Branded bots do not defect. Reflector is on Cybertron, performing routine surveillance. As I understand it, he primarily functions as an early warning of any potential war threats from the Autobot Commonwealth. Your Sergeant is at no risk from enjoying himself with my spybot, I promise you that."

There's just no way. He pulls up his files on Reflector. "I haven't seen any bot even remotely like Reflector near Kup at any point."

Megatron looks amused, "Of course not. Reflector is amazingly good at disguising himself, Beloved. Here, this is what he looked like with Kup."

Megatron's beamed picture has him frowning, "That's Slip, the stripper."

The mech rolls his optics, "I'm not at all surprised that's where he's choosing to work. Loose lips and all that. He might be faking being a prostibot in some places, too. It won't surprise me if that's the case."

"... How many jobs does he have?"

"As many as he wants. The mech gets bored easily, from what I remember. Makes him a good bot to have in the job I've assigned him."

"Oh." Optimus is pretty sure that it's going to be disastrous whenever Kup finds out. "You promise me that he won't be in danger?"

"I promise. Since you chose Sergeant Kup as your contact, the one who should be first informed of your botnap, he is exempt from any botnap attempts himself until you either agree to be mine or the decastellar passes. So even if Reflector decides his fling has turned to love, he won't be able to take him." But there's an odd pause at the end of Megatron's words that Optimus notices.

"But?"

Megatron sighs, "While he is not allowed to be taken, there are no rules against Reflector simply choosing to ask Kup to bond as any other bot might. Though he is no fool, and I do not think he would risk his position as a spy when he's already getting what he wants from your Sergeant."

He gives Megatron a severe look, "So if we were interfacing, you wouldn't bond to me?"

"Optimus, I want to have sparklings with you, of course I want to bond. I wouldn't have botnapped you if-"

He holds up a servo, silencing the mech, "Stop." He doesn't want this conversation. He already knows Megatron wants to bond to him, but it still upsets him. He also doesn't want to argue about it, since he gets the impression that Megatron won't understand why he's upset, and explaining won't fragging help. He looks away, changing the subject, "So, you suggested embroidery?"

After a klik, Megatron sighs and nods. "I think you would do well with it, but I will support any hobby you might find pleasure in while you are under my protection. I want you to be happy, Beloved."

"I'll try it," he promises, because the idea of embroidering the blessed glyphs of Primus around a little chestwrap sized for a sparkling makes something in his processor swoon. "But if you want me happy, then I want to be able to spar with you. I want to learn to fight at your side."

That makes Megatron's engines roar, and the mech looks like he wants to throw Optimus to the ground and take him, just like that hologram did. "I . . yes, we will, but later. After I am more accustomed to your physical presence."

He gives the mech an amused look, "What do you mean by that?"

Megatron's expression is needy, "If I fight you, I will want to kiss and touch you the instant we are done. You haven't given me permission, and I don't know how good my restraint will be, so it is best that we do not."

The idea... has merit, but he won't agree just yet. "I see. Perhaps later on, then." He sits up, looking Megatron in the optics, and he pushes his urge to kiss the mech down. He doesn't want the mech to assume he's encouraging more than he is, "I think I'd like that big chunk of crystal you had now."

Megatron is reaching into his subspace automatically, only to yank his servo away, "No. No, Optimus. Beloved. I .... I will not have you hurting yourself like that."

He holds out his servos. "I would like that big crystal now, please."

Megatron actually takes a step up and away from him and the couch, putting physical distance between them. It leaves his frame cold and puts a frown on his faceplates. "I have sworn to not allow harm to come to you, and that means I cannot disobey Hook's orders in this. No crystals. Not right now."

Optimus takes a deep in-vent, and then lets it out slowly. "Alright. If I can't have that, could you give me a crystal treat that I can suck on instead?"

Megatron's optics go slightly vacant, and the bot stares at him, head slightly tilted. Blinking, Megatron shakes his head, "Beloved... you can't just say..." The mech sighs, "You do realize the ones I have like that are all long and cylindrical? If you suck on them like how you were the few times you had some in the ship, I'm going to need to go hide in our berthroom and hope you don't open the door."

He kinda wants to watch Megatron do that. He can't help his grin, and finds himself biting the tip of his glossa between his front dente, likely showing the very tip of it sticking out between the capped fangs.

Megatron groans, hiding his face behind his servos. The bot's voice is muffled, "Please don't do this to me."

"Do what?" he almost singsongs, getting up to move closer, grinning up at his Devoted.

"I can tell that you want to ask to watch, and it is unfair to ask that of me when I can't even kiss you."

"You know, we've gotten quite intimate over the coms before," Optimus hums mock-thoughtfully. "I've heard you fragging something, pretending it was me. Would you go into your room and frag that toy while I was out here?"

Megatron's engines rumble with a warning, which Optimus gleefully ignores. "I would, as I would not ever violate you. I will take my satisfaction-"

"In your own servos?" Optimus purrs, dimming his optics. He knows he's playing with fire, but he can't bring himself to care. There's a dark part of himself that has always wanted to see Megatron pleasuring himself, and now he might have the chance? "Doesn't a Beloved get to see what sort of services he might be getting out of a bond?"

"... This is typically not what that sort of thing means," Megatron says, sounding strangled.

"You've shown me your spike, spark, and valve, my Devoted," he says, stalking closer, rolling his hips. "Aren't you going to show me what I want to see, and how you use them?"

Megatron's engine rumbles, and he looks pained, "Optimus, I...."

He pauses, looking at the mech, tilting his head, "Do you not want to do this?" He doesn't move away, "Just tell me no, and I stop." He will want to see, but Megatron is allowed to refuse him. Just because he's the Beloved doesn't mean Megatron can't say no.

"You haven't-" Megatron stops, gritting his dente, looking away, his servos clenched. "You haven't so much as given me permission to kiss you properly, and you wish to see me perform for you?" Optimus startles a little at that, losing some of the sultry look he had been going for. "If you insist, I will, but I will only do as you command. I will not attempt to coerce you in any way."

His nose wrinkles. Coerce him? How exactly would Megatron be able to coerce him by masturbating? "I don't understand."

The other mech still won't look at him. "By engaging in interfacing acts when you haven't given me explicit permission to reciprocate, it could be seen as attempting to coerce you into acts you're not ready for."

He moves closer, touching Megatron's servo lightly. When the bot still doesn't look at him, he rests both of his servos on top of Megatron's single clenched fist, "I'm the one telling you that I want to watch you. Let me finally see what you look like when you overload due to me. Not just hear it."

"I ..." Megatron's venting hsses sharply, and the mech says, "You won't let me kiss you, and I already kissed you. I shouldn't be doing this. You-"

He can't help it, he giggles. He puts one servo to his mouth, not hiding his smile very well, but happy Megatron looks at him, startled. "It was very bad of you to kiss me, but that isn't important right now. We can discuss that later. Right now, I want to know if you want to self service as I watch you, since I want to watch as you self service."

Megatron's optics are confused, the mech looking over his faceplates, trying to find something there. "I won't coerce you. I won't force you into things you aren't ready for."

He scrunches his nose again, "You aren't-"

"I would. To give you this, I would." Megatron vents out unsteadily, looking away again. "To give you what you want, I would request something in return, and I cannot do that."

Oh. So Megatron wants something. Something he feels like he can't ask for. "So long as it doesn't break my seals, I'll consider it." He doesn't really feel ready to suck spike either, but he has always been interested in it.

Megatron looks into his optics, his red ones blazing. "That is exactly why I can't ask, Beloved. I would be the lowest scum of a mech to make you do something you did not want to do, in order to get something you wanted in return."

He frowns, "I guess I could do more than my planned kiss after-"

"You planned to kiss me afterwards?"

"Well, yes, of course." He looks Megatron in the optics, "It's already very hard not to kiss you as it is, since you're my Devoted, and... What's that look about?" Megatron's optics are blazing now.

"I'd thought you wouldn't want to kiss me for a long time."

He looks up at Megatron, and asks, ".... How long have we been talking together? How long have we been talking about sparklings, Megatron? How long?"

"That doesn't matter," Megatron growls, but his optics are brighter and there's a smile on his faceplates now. "Those were games, not true consent, Beloved. I would never take anything from your frame without your permission."

"Then you have my permission for kissing-"

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than Megatron has him in his arms, his mouth pressed against his, glossa sweeping over his lips. Optimus gasps and that glossa presses inside, stroking over his glossa, tracing over his fang caps. His optics offline and he leans into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Megatron's frame, drawing himself closer. Megatron's servo cups his helm and tilts it, letting him deepen the kiss.

Optimus just rides and enjoys it. It's better than drunken kissing at the bars with strangers by such a wide margin, it can't really be compared. It's Megatron kissing him. It's his Megatron. His mech. His Devoted. His bonded-to-be.

His frame shudders in pleasure as Megatron kisses and rubs his frame. Unfortunately, he can feel his interfacing panels heating up, and he pushes on the mech to stop. He doesn't want to frag yet, and if Megatron keeps going, he'll have a very hard time remembering why that is.

Megatron pulls away slowly, looking at him with lust, his frame hot and needy, "I will go self service for you, Beloved. Watch me and tell me what you want me to do, just kiss me afterwards."

He perks up excitedly at that, "Yes!" He trails along behind Megatron as the mech goes into his berthroom. Megatron pulls several things from a storage cube and Optimus stares at them blankly for a moment, before realizing. Lubricant in a fancy bottle, a small vibrating dildo colored blue and red, and a . . . an interfacing toy clearly based off of Optimus. It looks like a mech's aft and valve, done up in his colors.

"Do you want me to do anything special?" Megatron asks, tracing a finger along the vibrating toy that looks to be sized roughly the same as a normal truckbot's spike.

"I wanna see that inside you," he blurts and then flushes, embarrassed by how eager he sounds.

Megatron picks up the fake spike, and says, "For you, Beloved. I've been thinking of you as I use it at night, now you just get to see as it happens."

.... Megatron wants Optimus to frag him?

"... You have?" he asks, feeling uncertain.

"I have." Megatron sits on the edge of the berth, and Optimus moves closer to watch eagerly. The mech spreads his legs, "How would you like to watch me? Should I be on my servos and knees? Laying on my back? Sitting like this-"

"On your back. I want to lay on the berth next to you as you use it."

"Of course, Beloved," Megatron lays back, propping himself up on some pillows and his legs spread apart slowly. "I have spent many nights after our calls just like this." His interfacing panel slides open, revealing a beautiful interfacing array. There are no wires out of place and the biolights are perfectly aligned. His valve looks so tempting that Optimus wants to lean into it and taste him, but he restrains himself, only to almost lose it again when the mech's spike pressurizes up into his servo. That spike is huge, already wet at the tip, and thick and ridged--Optimus licks his lips without thought.

"Lick your fingers," he orders, and Megatron smirks a little and swipes his fingers across the tip of his spike before bringing them up, lapping at them slowly. "Put those fingers in your valve for me."

Megatron looks pleased, and does as ordered, rubbing at his valve and spreading it open to better let Optimus watch. Optimus climbs onto the berth, and moves so he is laying now, but he's between Megatron's legs, head propped up by his servos, elbows on the berth. Megatron's valve clenches visibly, and the mech groans, "Beloved, you do not know what seeing you there does to me."

Seeing as the mech's valve is leaking visibly, he says, "Oh, I think I do." He grins widely, and he knows that the mech can see the tip of his glossa poking out between his dente, since he needs to bite it to keep from leaning forward and licking. If he licks even just a little, he knows he'll end up eating the mech's valve out and then taking that spike down his intake too, and that's too much for this sol. No matter how much he wants to. The bot's exterior node is all swollen and needy and he wants to suck it properly.

Megatron pumps another finger inside himself, hips starting to rock into the motion. Optimus huffs a little, because his view is getting partially obscured by the bot's servo, so he pushes at the mech's other servo with the vibrating dildo. "Mm, already? I usually tease myself for a while longer," Megatron purrs, but Optimus has no patience for that right now.

"Put it inside," Optimus orders, watching greedily as Megatron pulls his fingers free and rubs the tip of the toy over his valve lips. "Do it," he hisses, gripping Megatron's thighs to keep his own servos away from that tempting valve and spike.

Megatron slides it into his valve firmly, groaning beautifully, "Ah... that's... going in far easier than it usually would at this point."

Optimus watches Megatron's valve clench needily, hips jerking up and down, and says, "Turn it on. I want to see you filled with pleasure as you think of me and frag yourself." When Megatron's fingers fumble a little with the switch for it, he guides them a little, then moves away to clutch back at Megatron's thigh. If he keeps it on the mech's fingers, he'll be too tempted to slide them inside, fragging the bot with the toy.

"Mm, oh, yes," Megatron groans, helm falling back against the pillows, optics dimming in visible pleasure. "It feels so good being open like this," he rocks the toy in and out of his valve slowly, groaning as it goes in deep. "It's not as good as being stretched by a real spike, but I like it still."

Optimus wants so badly to toss that toy aside and put his spike inside instead, but he bites his lip and just watches. Megatron's valve is clenching so tight around the toy--how would that feel on his spike? "Go faster."

"Greedy," Megatron almost teases, but he does as he's told, pumping the toy quicker, his venting growing labored.

"Not greedy," he protests, but his optics don't leave Meatron's valve. "I deserve to see this."

"You do," his mech agrees, hips pressing up to each thrust of the toy inside of him, venting speeding up. "I want you to frag me."

Optimus wants to frag Megatron, but he's thankful for his seals, since without them, he'd be fragging the mech already. "Not yet."

Megatron moans a little, "Not... not yet."

He feels better at that, his servo no longer clenching as hard on Megatron's thigh. "Can you overload just from your valve? Not from your spike being touched?" He can see the bot's spike, pressurised and leaking heavily. It looks like a temptation made physical, and his servo clenches back up on the bot's thigh, even as his other servo starts to rub his own chest.

"Not with a toy," Megatron admits, sounding a little ragged. "I can from a real spike, if it's good enough." His servo keeps moving the toy, rocking it nice and deep.

That's a little disappointing, but Optimus supposes that's probably normal for bots. "What if I just rubbed your node a little? Could you do it then?" That's innocent enough, just playing with that pretty external node a little bit.

Groaning loudly, Megatron grinds the toy in deep, venting hard, "I . . maybe."

Optimus slides his servo along Megatron's thigh, letting his fingertips brush over Megatron's servo and the dildo, before finding the bot's node. It feels hot to the touch, and slick with his own lubricants, and it's so easy to just rub a tight little circle over it, the way he's imagined so many times. "You're so pretty," he murmurs, entranced, and is startled enough to jerk back when Megatron overloads loudly, his spike twitching and spilling transfluid up his abdominal plating, valve clenching around the toy.

Optimus stares as Megatron flops on the berth, loose limbed and beautiful. He takes several high quality pictures of that before giving into temptation, and climbing up the mech. Rubbing his fingers in the transfluid, he curls against Megatron's chest, licking his fingers clean, just to know what it tastes like. A little bitter, but overwhelmingly sweet. He blinks, "Most of the things I've read say that transfluid is bitter, not-"

Megatron looks at him, optics firmly on his mouth, "I... had a mod done, so that my transfluid will always be sweet, but is still viable for sparklings. I wanted it for you."

Optimus moves close, kissing his mech, glossa pressing in, and shuddering in pleasure as the mech kisses him back, arms wrapping around him. When he pulls away, he says, "It's a good mod, my Devoted."

Megatron groans, hips jerking, "If you keep acting how you are, I'm going to want to go again, and I really shouldn't."

"I didn't really get to see you make good use of your spike," he teases, giving in to the urge to reach down and trace his fingers along the mech's plating, mere mechanoinches from his softening spike. "You made a mess with it, though." A mess that he really, really wants to clean up with his glossa. "Can I lick you clean?"

Just like that, the soft spike isn't soft anymore, rigid and surging with charge again. Optimus blinks down at it--he's never seen a spike stiffen that quickly, not even in the porn he watched for references.

Megatron groans, "You... you shouldn't. I'll be far too tempted to push your head to my spike, and I won't-"

He kisses his mech softly, pulling away, "Right." He slides away, and moves out the box with the 'facing toys. Pulling out the valve and aft toy, he flips it over, and blinks a bit when he can see that the spike panel can retract. Not really thinking about how Megatron is clearly watching him, he slides it open curiously, and out pops a spike. It is much smaller than the toy still in Megatron's valve, and he snorts. Wrapping his servo around it, it barely even escapes his palm. "I severely doubt I'll be this small."

Megatron moans a little, "Beloved... what you do to me."

Optimus glances at him and then strokes the cute little spike a couple of times. "Why does it even have this, it can't be to be used?" He drags a fingertip over the tip of the spike. "Is it just to play with? That's kind of insulting."

Megatron takes the toy away from him, his optics a little wild. "Do not torment me, Beloved."

He would hardly call it torment, but maybe this is just a little unfair to Megatron. "You should use the toy and let me watch. Show me exactly how you would take me, if I were heavy with our sparkling and needed your fluid."

"Optimus," Megatron says, looking even more turned on and pained, "I told you not to torment me."

He grins at the mech, "Is it tormenting when I told you to frag the toy for me? I want to see you use it."

Megatron throws his head back, groaning a little, "Give me the lubricant."

Optimus moves a bit, tucking himself against Megatron's side, wanting a different view this time. "Here." He puts it on the mech's abdomen, and rubs his fingers in the transfluid, moving them to his mouth to lick slowly. "I want to see how you'll frag me."

"Beloved, you will be the cause of my offlining."

He laughs a bit, and presses a kiss to Megatron's mouth, happily opening up as Megatron's glossa presses in.

Oh, he loves kissing. Optimus offlines his optics and moans, letting his frame press even closer to Megatron. Their mouths move together and Optimus forces himself to pull back a little, to online his optics again and get a better view of Megatron's frame. "You look good like this." It's true. Megatron looks decadent, sprawled out with his interfacing equipment bare and satisfied, streaks of fluid and lubricants on his plating. "Now, show me how you'd take me."

Megatron groans and offlines his optics for a moment, "Primus below, you little berthminx." He vents out raggedly and shakes his helm. "I have a dozen different ways I want to frag you, Beloved. Do you want to see me with the toy underneath my frame, to watch me pound into it, or would you rather I move it like you were riding my spike instead?"

As nice as it will be to see Megatron pound the toy hard, he doesn't want to move from where he's cuddled against his mech, "Like I'm riding your spike."

"Very well." Megatron takes the lubricant, and drizzles it on the toy's valve, using fingers to slide it in, wetting the toy so it is slick. "Do you want me to show how I'd use my fingers to pleasure you, or would you prefer I just frag it?"

"Pleasure that spike on it? No. Just frag it."

"I wouldn't just play with your spike," Megatron rumbles, optics dim, and Optimus watches as the mech's fingertips circle around the very pretty external node the toy has. "But I can see that you want me to get on to the main act for you, Beloved." Megatron shifts his grip on the toy so he's holding it a bit like he might hold onto the hips of a bot above him and slowly fits his spike tip against the valve opening, pressing so slowly inside. Optimus realizes he's clenching his servo on Megatron's arm and relaxes his grip, staring greedily at the toy. It looks so good, opening up for Megatron, and the bot's groan as he penetrates into it makes Optimus shiver with pleasure. "You're so good for me," Megatron praises, and Optimus jerks a little, biting his lip.

"Does it feel good?" he asks, trying to regain his control, despite wanting to do nothing more than pull Megatron on top of him and beg to be fragged.

"It isn't as good as a real valve, but it is a good recreation of one. It doesn't respond like a real valve does, not able to react properly, and I didn't bother getting one that had the programming to do it. It would have added decastellars to the waiting time, and would have been far more expensive. And even then, it likely would have been modeled off a playbot's valve, not yours. I wanted your valve, not some other bot's." Megatron carefully moves one servo to rub Optimus's side, squeezing his hip softly, "And since we will be bonding, I'm very glad I never bothered with something other than this. It wouldn't be the same, and I won't be tempted to throw the toy out, since it is very clear that you'll want to keep the things for when we do interface."

He flushes, but that likely is true. Since he likes seeing this a lot, and he also isn't opposed to fragging the toy for Megatron if his mech will want him to. "... Yeah."

Especially since Megatron seems to enjoy it. He watches as the bigger mech slowly lifts the toy and then lowers it just as slowly, watching as the false valve ripples around the ridges of the mech's thick spike. His own thighs press together as he imagines what that must feel like. Then Megatron groans and bucks his hips without warning, driving his spike deep and hard into the valve toy, startling him a little. A quick glance down reminds him that yes, Megatron still has the dildo in his valve, buzzing away, though not as strong now. He wants to reach down and frag Megatron with it, but he manages not to. Just barely.

"I imagined having you everywhere," Megatron admits easily, voice deep and ragged as he frags the toy. "Having you on my lap on the throne, your frame leaning back against mine while you took your pleasure from my spike," he shudders and frags a few hard thrusts.

The idea is... not really what he wants, the throne thing. Leaning back on Megatron as he takes his spike is fine, but not on the throne. "I don't want to interface in public."

"You don't have to," Megatron groans as he keeps fragging the toy. "I know that you are not raised to accept public 'facing."

He may as well explain something that he'd thought before, "I might later on in the bonding. Just not until we've been together for a long time." Mostly since he knows that eventually bots get bored in the berth, and having more places should help. Especially since there's something he does want very much.

He reaches over and starts to rub Megatron's chest, right on his sparkplates.

He should talk about the possibility of a sparkbonding. Just... not right now.

Megatron shudders and removes one servo from the toy to reach up and grab his servo. "That is the one thing I will not share with you until you are ready to share back with me, Beloved."

He reluctantly withdraws his servos, respecting Megatron's choice. "Alright." He wants to see that spark at some point. Wants to touch it and maybe lick it. Primus, it's hard to resist Megatron. Why isn't he willing to just interface the bot? Oh right, the bonding thing. Optimus finds it very hard to think about that right now.

"If you were sparked, I would give you as much transfluid as you could hold," Megatron rumbles, watching Optimus's faceplates rather than the toy he's using.

Optimus very deliberately licks his lips, "And if I wanted to swallow some of it instead?"

His mech groans, "Beloved, what you do to me."

He grins at Megatron, who's optics drag over his capped fangs before groaning again, and Optimus can see the bot thrusting harder into the toy. He can't help but tease a bit more, "Well, when we bond, I'll be doing a lot, won't I?"

He kind of wants to reach down and rub as Megatron's spike, but he stops himself somehow.

Optimus vents out slowly, resting his servo on Megatron's thigh instead. He can feel the mech's frame working as he thrusts, and it makes his spark pulse faster in his chest. There's a smear of transfluid left on the mech's abdomen, and he does give in to that urge, leaning down to lick his plating clean. Megatron roars and overloads, slamming the toy down to thrust deep as he spills his transfluid. Optimus shifts a little to watch, lapping at the plating he can reach for every trace of the sweet fluid left behind.

The toy gets tossed to the side and Optimus yelps a little as he's dragged up on top of Megatron, the mech taking his mouth again, glossa thrusting demandingly inside. They kiss, making his frame heat up, and he doesn't protest as the mech rubs his all over his frame. But he does eventually pull away, and moves a bit to reach between his mech's legs, and gives into temptation. He slides his fingers into Megatron's valve, and pulls out the toy, turning it off. He puts the dildo to the side, licking his fingers clean before saying, "If you kept that in you, I'd be too tempted to have you keep it in you for the rest of the night."

Megatron's hips buck a little, "Would you be willing to do the same later on?"

"I don't think I could deal with one that vibrates all sol, but but a solid one, maybe. But I'd possibly be able to work up to it." Since the kink is not an uncommon one in the play he did at work.

So long as he's not doing anything that sol or night that might damage him with a toy inside, there's no reason not to play a bit. Especially since 'Con culture is so much more open about that kind of thing.

Megatron tugs him back against his side. "I would have you overloading as often as I could get you to." Optimus snuggles against his frame, though he knows he should retire to his own room soon. He's not supposed to just give in to Megatron. He's still positive that Megatron is going to realize what a bad match he is and dump him, and he would really rather not have it happen after the mech frags him and sparks him up.

Megatron kisses him again, and he pulls away slowly, not really wanting to stop kissing, but knowing if he doesn't, he's going to do something stupid. "I am going to my berth," he informs the mech.

Megatron looks disappointed, but accepting, "Of course, Beloved. Is there anything you'd like when you online?"

He hums, sliding off the berth, "I can have crystals tomorrow?"

"Thinly crushed ones, yes."

"I think I'd like that for breakfast."

"Of course, Beloved," Megatron looks so good laying on the berth, sated from his overloads that Optimus nearly goes right back to him. It takes all of his willpower to leave the room and go to his berthroom instead. Primus, it's unfair.

He sits on his berth, cold and miserable in comparison to a berth with Megatron in it. He slumps back against the meshes and pillows and blushes, thinking of all that he'd just done. He'd licked transfluid off another bot's plating.

But he can justify it. If Megatron doesn't get rid of him, they will be getting bonded. He wants very much to be bonded, have sparklings, and be happy. He just doesn't want Megatron to feel trapped with him.

He curls up in his berth, tucking the metalmeshes and quilts up around him, and tries to drop into recharge. When he does, it's an uneasy rest.

Chapter 14

Notes:

I ATE'NT DEAD

Optimus onlines to a buzzing sound, so he gets up to find out what's making the noise, one of the quilts tucked around him, on top of his head and shoulders. The noise is his door to the common room, and when he opens it, Megatron is there with a cube full of finely ground crystals, saying, "Good morning, Beloved. I hope I didn't online you too early, but I got you fuel."

He checks his chronometer and shakes his head. "No, I'm usually up earlier than this." Laying about in the berth is the habit of mechs who will fail their classes and fail to pay their bills. Optimus usually onlined early, no matter what the sol has for him, but he's still disoriented. New Kaon time has been several megacycles off what his frame is used to, and he's adapting now.

"Your fuel," Megatron offers him the cube, and Optimus takes it, arching an optic ridge. Dry crushed crystals?

"Do you have some energon to mix in with these?" They look delicious, but he should really probably have something to help lubricate his gears.

Megatron pulls out a small cube from subspace, and Optimus can smell how sweet it is, even before the bot pours some of it into the cube. "Specialty honey highgrade. It isn't high enough energy to get you overcharged in the amount I've added."

He takes the cube, and flicks his glossa across the top. The crystals all but melt in his mouth, and the honey highgrade is slightly sticky. He licks his lips, "It's okay."

Megatron's shoulders slump slightly, "Just okay?"

"I like a thicker chunk."

"Unfortunately, that won't be for a few more sols, since this is the safest consistency for you right now."

He's disappointed, seeing as he's had fuel exactly like this before--though not as nice and sweet. Anyone could eat crystals crushed up like this, to barely more than fine powder. "The medic knows best." Probably. He sighs and takes another bite, enjoying the way his gears turn without any pain at all. They don't really need to work on these crystals, but they turn anyways.

It makes him wonder if those rather naughty things bots always said about gear dente and spikes were true. Would it feel better for Megatron now that he had gears he could gently roll and tease against a spike?

He glances at Meatron's interfacing panels, and flushes a little, focusing on his fuel. Megatron doesn't seem to notice, saying, "Come, how would you like to fuel in the common room, instead of standing in the doorway?"

He nods, "Right," since it's the smarter way of doing this. Following Megatron, he finds himself moving closer and tucking himself against the mech's side, one arm around his mech's waist. "How did you recharge?"

Megatron's servo rubs his shoulder, "Wonderful. The best recharge in a long time. Filled with wonderful dreams of you with me."

Oh, he can imagine the kinds of dreams that Megatron must have had. His own dreams had been rather less lucid, though he remembers very distinctly being held by dozens of blue tentacles at some point, which is odd, as he's never had any interest in Quintessons before. Then again, dreams were just random things, not really meaning anything.

"Was your recharge pleasant, Beloved?"

Optimus shrugs, "I recharged deeply and soundly. The berth is very comfortable."

"Good." Megatron sits down, and then reaches for him, "May I hold you as you fuel?"

He hums, thinking it over, then nods, "Okay." Megatron carefully pulls him close, tucking him against the mech's chest. He leans on the bot, blinking a little, and says, "This is nice."

"Good." The mech watches him fuel for a bit, then asks, "Are you cold?"

"Huh?"

"You have one of the quilts on. Do you need me to turn down the cooling? Make it warmer for you?"

He blinks, looking at the quilt, "... Oh. No, I'm not cold. It's just soft and comfortable."

"You do have clothing you can wear for that."

He hunches his shoulders, tugging the quilt around him tighter. He's already making mistakes. "I can go change into something." Obviously Megatron wants him to wear something nice and not cart around a mesh like a sparkling. If he were to ever actually bond to Megatron, the mech would expect his bondmate to look good and know what he was doing.

He hopes the com has access to tutorials. That way he won't make a total fool of himself.

Megatron kisses his helm through the quilt, "Do you want to? I just don't want you to be cold. Clothing helps make sure you'll be warm and safe."

"Safe?"

"Well," Meatron's servos slide under the mesh to touch his frame, "clothing will heat your frame up and- ... huh."

"What?"

Fingers drag along his chest, "You are still wearing the clothing from when you put it on last sol. I'd thought you had taken it off after our time in the berth."

He blinks, ".... oh. I'd... I'd forgotten I was wearing it." He stares at the ground, miserable. He's not good at this at all, and he probably is too huge of a mess for Megatron to want anything to do with.

"If you find it comfortable enough to wear for long periods, then I am happy it fits you so well," Megatron soothes him, tipping his helm up to look into his optics. "Though I must admit that you could choose to wear a crystal-sack that you cut a few holes in, and I would still find you madly attractive."

He flushes and tries to look away, but Megatront won't let him, "Liar."

"I do not waste lies on such things, Beloved." Megatron kisses him, gentle and sweet, and some of the anxiety in him melts away. "Now, I feel as though I should give you a gift. Traditionally, I would court you with a gift each sol, building up to the best gifts at the end of each stellar, but after our discussions and our oath bond, I feel Primus would forgive me for giving you this gift early." He pulls a box from his subspace and Optimus draws in a sharp in-vent, recognizing the carvings and glyphs on it. It's from Haydon IV.

Optimus stares at it, optics tracing over the scrollwork carved into the metal. He knows that design. It's from one of the weapon shops in the businessmech district near where he grew up. He'd modeled his own crystal daggers off of a pair he'd seen on display in the front window.

He lifts up one of the crystal knives, and holds it to the light. It's so much better than the ones he's made, and he turns to stare at Megatron. "... When?"

"When did I get them?" Optimus just nods quietly, unsure if he can truly say anything. Megatron smiles at him, saying, "The sol after Haydon IV was freed. I saw them, and knew you had to have them. They are meant for you, my fierce truckbot, taking down hydrolizards."

He shifts it in his servos, inspecting them as he'd use them. The balance is perfect, not awkward like his own. He can see how sharp they are, and he pushes away the urge to test them by cutting apart his very nice quilt. Putting them back in the box, he tries to speak, only to be unable to find the words. He ends up flinging his arms around the back of Megatron's neck and kissing him.

No one has ever given him a gift like this before, not in his entire lifetime. It's the kind of gift that a bot would give as a bonding gift, not as some random thing to just give to a mech who might not even bond to them!

"Mm," Megatron hums with satisfaction, stroking his backplates, optics dim. "I take it that you approve of the gift, Beloved? I had hoped you would like them. They remind me of you--beautiful and dangerous at the same time."

He buries his faceplates against Megatron's chest to keep from doing something stupid like crying or begging to be spiked.

Megatron rubs his frame softly, "I look forward to you using them in a spar with me. I want to see how well you use them."

He might actually cry from happiness. He wants that so much. He wants to spar, and he wants to show he's not just some prostibot. He can't ever be a Prime now, but this way he's not thought of as some processorless mech Megatron is fragging for sparklings.

Once he calms down, he pulls away, managing to say, "I look forward to when I'm able to spar. Since I imagine the medic will be very unhappy with me for trying before my dente are fully healed."

Megatron actually shrugs at that. "So long as I don't try to claim a victory of your mouth, I do not think he would care. I am more than capable of avoiding hitting your jaw or mouth, but it still might be best to wait."

Heat floods his frame at the thought of fighting against Megatron and Megatron shoving him down and making him pleasure his spike as a reward. He should not find that attractive or arousing. Stupid frame.

"Of course, he would have no complaints at all about you practicing with them, or throwing them," Megatron gestures at a wall that does have some kind of dartboard-like thing hanging on it.

He looks at it, "It doesn't move?"

"This isn't the shooting gallery, Beloved. Stationary is the easiest to deal with right now."

"Do you use that?" He can't see any damage to it, so he doubts it.

"I have to replace it every so often when it breaks. That's just a recent one."

He pulls out a different set of knives from his subspace, and tosses it at the dartboard. It hits easily, but isn't the bullseye, but mainly since he's not really aiming. "I might use it later on."

"Use it as you please," Megatron watches him with obvious interest. "I will make sure you have time in some of my training rooms and shooting galleries each decacycle if you wish. I want you to be happy with me."

He is, more than he should be, though he desperately misses Sentinel and Elita, and even Kup and Blurr. Primus below, Blurr probably thinks he's an idiot though, if the mech went reviewing any of Optimus's files.

He... does not want to talk to Blurr until he's either on a neutral planet, or bonded to Meatron. It's just luck that is the soonest it will happen. And if he's bonded to Megatron, he wants to avoid the mech until he's sparked, since at that point he can point out he is bonded for love.

He hopes the racecar isn't too scathing of Optimus if he's asked about him.

But he should focus on now. He looks at Megatron, "I'd enjoy that." He takes what is left of his fuel, and finishes it off. He doesn't actually feel full, so he says, "I should get fuel with more energon in it."

"I suppose I should actually follow Hook's recommendations on which crystals are best for you too," Megatron sighs, "though the sweetest aren't on his list. Shockwave might be able to offer some suggestions as well."

Optimus really doesn't think he wants to eat anything that Shockwave suggests. "I'm happy with any fuel that keeps me going," though he certainly likes sweet fuels best, as he's learned. Sweet treats and candies, and his love of sweets is so well-known by Megatron that the mech had his transfluid altered to be sweeter for him. He flushes a little, remembering how good it had tasted, and his mouth lubricates a little. He can't help but glance down at the mech's panel and wonder what it would be like to take that spike properly into his mouth.

Meagatron puts an arm around him, moving him closer, and Optimus leans against the mech. "I will get you what you need, and what you enjoy. There's no point in fueling on it if you actively dislike the taste of the crystals I give you."

"Well, I'll let you know what I think when I try new ones."

"Good." Megatron moves slightly, and kisses him slowly. When the bot moves back, Optimus wraps his arms around the back of the bot's neck, keeping him in place until Optimus is done kissing. He could get used to getting kissed like this all the time. Maybe he'll crawl onto Megatron's lap the next time they're sitting together and just kiss him until they're both unable to stop themselves from wanting more. That's probably a bad idea but he can't bring himself to regret it.

"So," Optimus leans against him, resting his helm on Megatron's chest. "How much time should I be expecting to get from you? You still have an Empire to rule."

Megatron's big servos stroke his back plating, one of them resting on his aft, but not squeezing it the way Optimus wants. "As you are newly botnapped, I have taken two decacyles to be with you, barring an emergency. After that, I will spend whatever time I can with you. Mornings, evenings, and nights, and at least one full sol a decacycle."

"One sol?" He hates how unhappy he sounds. Typically, there's at least three sols off in a decacyle, preferably four.

"I rule the Decepticon Empire, Optimus. You were called on the little time I had to myself, and sometimes when I'd just tossed everyone out to be left alone to do what I wanted to do." Megatron kisses him, "Now I get more time with you, just how I want to."

Optimus pouts, "I won't want you gone that long."

"There's not much I can do about that, Beloved. I won't let Starscream run my empire into the ground like he's so determined to do." The mech rolls his optics, "That seeker seems to think that just by looking good, it will be enough to run things how he wants. He's very good at the jobs I set him to, and is a brilliant scientist besides, but he's too vain by half, and more problems, besides."

It's at that moment that Optimus really understands that Megatron wants him as a consort to an Empire. Megatron wants him and no matter what the mech might say, he must want a consort that will help alleviate his leadership duties at least somewhat, and Optimus is absolutely not qualified for that. This is such a bad idea.

Optimus nuzzles against his plating, thinking hard. There's not much he can do about it, other than try to learn what he might need to know to be more useful.

This all hinges, of course, on Megatron going through with the whole 'botnap bonding' thing, and not realizing that Optimus really isn't worth it partway through.

He bites his lower lip, and thinks on what he should do. Probably focus on things that will make him a better consort so Megatron keeps him, while those things have a secondary of letting him survive on some neutral world if the mech realizes how useless he is. With that in mind, he says, "I ... I need datapads with education for what you'd need me to do as your consort." Since he can't know specifically what it is until he has guidelines. He can pare it down to what he can use once he has all the information.

Megatron blinks down at him, ".... Are you sure? If you're doing this because you think you have to, don't. I will not protest if you plan on lounging on the berth all sol, reading datapads."

"That sounds.... boring." He likes doing things.

"I do not expect my Consort to do anything specific," Megatron rephrases, watching him carefully. "Should you wish to rule at my side, it would please me. Should you wish to do nothing but help raise our sparklings, it would please me as well. And should you desire to open and run a shop in the city, or fight in the arenas, so long as you accept the safety measures we would need, that would also please me. I desire your happiness, Optimus, no matter what form it may come in."

Optimus pinches his arm lightly, just to make sure he's not actually dreaming all of this. There's no way a mech like Megatron exists. Well, there is, but there's no chance he would be interested in Optimus. "I want to make an informed choice, which means I need research materials," he finally says, stickin to his decision He would like to try, even if he fails, at least he’ll have some more information.

"Then I will get them for you, I'll have..." Megatron frowns, looking away, a thoughtful expression in his optics, "Blitzwing get them for me. He'll have Oil Slick to help him not get sidetracked, and there won't be the wailing that Lugnut or Shockwave would have."

"... Wailing?"

Megatron shakes his head, "Lugnut hopes I will join his and Strika's bond, and Shockwave hopes I'd bond to him. I'm going to bond to you, and they know this now. I'm not going to grind that fact in their faces by having them bring me information you will need. They will accept you, but right now they are in... not quite mourning, but they aren't happy."

It's hard to hide his wince. It's a reminder that bots out there want Megatron and there are surely dozens of bots more worthy of the mech's attention than Optimus is. But he has that attention, and he will give Megatron a fair chance, even if that does make him a bad Autobot.

It's hard to imagine Oil Slick, the zombiemech, doing anything good.

"Does," he stops, thinking, "will it be safe for our sparklings to be around bots like them, later on?"

"Yes." Megatron's answer is instant, absolutely certain. No hesitance or need to think about it. "Our sparklings will be safe and loved. No matter what."

He isn't sure about how safe, but he can agree with loved. Mostly since he's not sure if Ultra Magnus or some of his previous clients will react well to him with Megatron. He knows stories from Haydon IV about obsessive past lovers and the violent offlines of sparklings due to wanting to claim a bot as 'theirs' entirely. And a family with another gets firmly in the way of that.

... But... he knows of next to no stories of that nature in the Autobots, and he trusts Megatron to keep any Decepticons in line.

"That's good. I want our sparklings to be safe." He'll be teaching his sparklings how to use some basic daggers as soon as they're old enough to hold them safely. Blunted ones at first, but something to protect themselves, even if only from a mechanimal attack. He thinks, then, of the Kaonite Hounds that Megatron keeps. "Will your Hounds be safe around our sparklings too?"

Megatron laughs at that, kissing him deeply after. "My Hounds will defend them to their own offlinings, sweetspark. Kaonite Hounds are deeply, instinctively protective of sparklings and younger mechs."

"Good." He slides off the couch, the quilt on his shoulders falling on the seat, but the clothing he's still wearing catching him a little so he has to tug on it to stand up. He frowns at his clothes, "I'm getting changed." He looks at Megatron, tilting his head, "Help me get dressed?"

Megatron's engine revs, and Optimus grins, which makes the revving get louder. Megatron looks at him, optics hazed lustfully, "Beloved, you tempt me."

"I'll let you dress me in whatever you want this sol." It should give him a better idea of what Megatron might expect too, and he's willing to try anything on, even some of the 'naughty' things in the closet, if it makes Megatron happy.

That earns him another rev, and he's guided to the closet. Optimus takes a seat on the little bench there and watches as Megatron sorts through a surprising variety of clothing before settling on something that looks a bit like a crystal cake in black and red. Optimus arches an optic ridge at it.

"How exactly am I supposed to wear that?"

Megatron chuckles and shifts the frothing mass of fabric, revealing holes for his helm and arms. It's obvious this outfit was tailored to fit his frame, and Optimus wonders how the mech had his measurements before coming to get him. "Oh Primus," Megatron in-vents sharply, and Optimus looks up at him, confused. "Oh, this was a bad idea," the mech lets his optics roam over Optimus's frame, and Optimus can feel the hungry lust in that gaze. "You are too tempting now."

Optimus stands and spins in place, the frothy, frilly skirts flaring out, and decides he likes it. Looking at Megatron, he says, "What do you mean?"

Megatron groans, "You said you're going to learn embroidery, and I just put you in that."

Optimus runs his servos down the skirt, flarin it out a little, then twitching it a bit so that it looks more aesthetically pleasing, "What do you mean, my Devoted?"

Megatron drops to his knees, looking at Optimus, "Beloved, if you wear clothing, this is what I'd have you wear for foreplay, but there's certain things missing."

He hums, "What am I-"

"If you wear it, I will need to leave, or I'd be too tempted to do more than you will allow. Do not ask. Please."

Optimus really needs to know. "Why don't you leave everything else in a box for me, and I'll put it on after you leave the room?" Surely he can figure out how to wear any accessories by himself.

Megatron makes a strangled noise and rises to his peds, shoving the rest of the things he'd picked out into a small storage cube. "That . . yes." he turns and leaves the room, leaving Optimus in his very fancy dress all alone.

The cube sits beside him for a moment, and Optimus reaches into it, pulling out a golden chain. A necklace? He clips it on, and there's a heavy red gem resting against his chestplates through the dress now. A set of helmfin clips with the same red gems attach neatly to his helmfins, and then there's a bit of cloth that he stares at for a moment before flushing, realizing. Panties to wear over his interfacing array. He tugs on the cloth and corrects himself. To wear over his bare interfacing array, as these are too tight to go over his plating.

He debates on it, and decides to leave them off. He doesn't want it to be too tight, and he's not risking any damage to his seals. Oh, it likely won't do anything, since that's kind of silly, but he's still not doing it.

But another few that are some sort of tube that goes over his peds, and up his legs. He needs to find the name for them, since it's clear they should have a name, even if he doesn't know it. He then puts on ped covers over those, which feel... odd, yet surprisingly nice? He steps down on the floor, and there's this super satisfying clacking sound. It's a little difficult to walk in, since it's like badly modded heels, but he's enjoying them. And then there are gloves, they go up to mid upper arm, and he has to walk out of the room, saying, "I need you to fasten these, since they won't stay on otherwise." They tie tight, since they need to be wide and open to get his forearms into them in the first place.

Megatron chokes and drops the datapad he's holding.

Optimus flushes, shifting in place, "I . . did I put something on wrong?" Everything had seemed so obvious, but maybe he did it incorrectly?

"I had not thought it possible for you to look any lovelier," Megatron says, sounding half-strangled as he approaches. "Clearly, I was wrong." His servos shake a little as he ties the strings at the top of the gloves, and then one of his servos comes to rest on Optimus's waist, stroking the fabric lightly there. "Did you . . put on the-" he trails off, looking down at the skirts where his interfacing panel is hidden away.

"No," he blushes, looking away.

Megatron offlines his optics, and nods, "Likely... for the best."

"Why is that?"

Megatron shakes his head, "I would be too tempted to crawl under your skirt. It's.. best not to. Especially with how they're supposed to be worn."

He flushes, imagining it, and nods, "... Right." He moves his arms, testing his movement and flexibility, "What are the tubes for my legs?"

"... the socks?"

"Oh! I thought socks only went to the ankle?"

"No, they can be as long as you want, really, as long as they don't connect together. Then they are called tights."

"Weird." He fluffs his skirt and the bodice of the dress, "Should I try to embroider now?"

Another strangled sort of noise, and Optimus studies Megatron for a moment. This kind of outfit really seems to please him for some reason. It's strange, as it never came up in any of their calls at all. But Megatron seems to agree with him starting his hobby, as the mech gives him a cube of supplies and then sits stiffly on the couch, watching him.

Optimus rifles through the cube, pulling out metal cloth, metal hoops, thread, and needles. There's also a tutorial pad, thank Primus, with videos preloaded on it.

He looks at Megatron, and pouts, since he realizes trying to demand to be allowed to sit on the mech's lap will be cruel, so he forces himself to just adjust the quilt still on the couch as he watches the tutorials. He follows along with the instructions, getting everything started, and follows along.

He hates how bad his efforts look, especially since the bot explaining has it so beautiful.

He forces himself to keep going, but the flowers are crooked, and uneven. A part of him wants to push it away and say he'll never be any good at it, but he forces it down. It takes time and effort before someone can be more than bad at what they're doing. He didn't start out offlining Hydrolizards with his knives, he got hurt and and mostly damaged the things at first. It is only after a lot of trial and error he could actually collect bounties.

So he keeps going, only to blink in confusion when Megatron touches his servo, saying, "It's time to fuel, Beloved."

Optimus looks up and down, blinking again. His work is very sad looking, all uneven and irregular. He's stabbed his fingertips with the needles at least a dozen times, but he did make something. He'll take that victory. So he sets the fabric hoop aside and stretches carefully, aware of the dress he's in. Not even once did he feel too hot or too cold in it, so it must be made of very expensive fabric.

"What fuel do you have for me?" he hopes the crystals are a little bigger this time, but he's disappointed when they're not. Barely more than a crystal slurry again.

Megatron presses a kiss to his temple, "I know you aren't enjoying it, since this is more crystals for a flat dente fueler, but it's only for a few more sols. Then it will be actual fuel after that." At Optimus's clearly dissatisfied look, the mech adds, "Just think about how you get an entire crystal to just fuel on when you're all healed."

He pouts at that, "I want it now."

"I could crush the-"

"No! Don't ruin it!" The idea of that delicious looking crystal cake has him protest the destruction loudly. What a horrible thing to do to something that looks so delicious.

Megatron laughs, kissing him properly then, pulling away with a smile still on his faceplates. "I won't ruin your crystal, Beloved, but you must wait for it."

He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, feeling like a fussy sparkling, but unable to stop it. "You shouldn't have shown me that treat if you weren't going to let me have it." Maybe he could just lick it a little? Just to get some of the flavor?

"I'd hoped that you could have it. Sometimes, a medic lies about how damaged a bot is. I've... looked it up, and you're on the accelerated timeline. Normally, a medic would be especially cruel and force you to wait an orn. But since Hook wants to check you before you get switched to the better fuel, that won't be a problem for you."

He eats his fuel unhappily, "I guess. It just melts right on my glossa to nothing."

Megatron frowns, looking at him, "May I try a little?"

He shrugs, letting the mech take the cube. The mech puts a little in his mouth, and Optimus can hear the crunching as the bot chews on it. Which is... weird.

"Beloved, I don't know what you mean? It doesn't melt at all. It's just ground crystals."

"It melts in my mouth. Listen." He takes the cube back, and clearly just swallows the liquid down. Since the crystals are just liquid now.

"... That is... incredibly odd," Megatron says. "I'll... I'll send a message to Hook and Shockwave to get information about that."

Optimus hopes it's not something dangerous. "It didn't . . . hurt when I licked you, did it?"

Megatron cups his jaw and tips his helm up to look into his optics. "No. Whatever is going on only applies to crystals."

Good, he would hate to have some sort of acid-saliva that might harm things.

"Well, I'll pick some slightly larger crystal pieces for you next time," Megatron promises, "but only slightly larger. I will not risk harming you, Beloved, not even if you beg me."

"I just want something with a crunch to it," he protests softly.

"I'll do what I can, Beloved. I need to get confirmation with Hook and more information from Shockwave. With luck, by tonight, you'll have something you are able to chew. If they say no, I don't want you hurt."

He sighs, and just finishes the cube. "If this is all I get, I may as well just fuel on mostly energon. I'm still hungry."

"I'll get you as many cubes as you want."

"Whipped energon?" he asks hopefully, remembering how light and fluffy and sweet it had been. He won't feel like he's missing out if he's fueling on that, since it's just so different in texture.

"Of course," Megatron promises, and brings him three cubes of whipped energon, each one topped with a sprinkle of something. "With a dusting of Lacewing on each for you, Beloved."

He jerks a little, "You can't use that for normal fuel!" It's too expensive! it's the kind of crystal topping used for desserts for fancy anniversaries!

"This isn't normal fuel," Megatron informs him, taking his servo and kissing the back of it, "it is fuel for my perfect Princessmech, who needs the best of everything."

".... I'm not a princessmech?"

Megatron slowly kisses up his arm, "You certainly look like one, Beloved. And you're my Princessmech. I'm so lucky you allow me this."

He stares at Megatron in confusion, but since all the mech seems to be doing is nuzzling and kissing his arm, he just starts to eat the whipped energon. When one of the mech's servos rests on his knee through the skirt, he shifts his leg a bit, watching for a moment as Megatron slowly pulls at the fabric, inching it up. "Trying to get a servo under my skirt?" he teases, and Megatron freezes, as if suddenly made aware of what his frame was doing. "That's a very naughty thing to do."

"My apologies," Megatron shifts back a little, but Optimus rests a servo over his, keeping it on his knee.

"I didn't say I minded."

"..." Megatron opens and closes his mouth for a moment, then says weakly, "If I do that, I would try to do more than you will allow."

"Really? Since last I knew I am the one who decides what you are allowed to do, and you aren't telling me what you'd do." He leans back a little on the couch, "What would you do?"

Megatron stares at him, then shakes his head, "I can not suggest them, Beloved. Putting the ideas in your processor-"

"Is this like when you kept protesting when I wanted to watch you self-service, only to finally accept what I wanted?" At Megatron's conflicted look, he pulls his arm free of the mech's grip, and very deliberately tugs his skirt up to expose his right leg up to mid-thigh. "Tell me."

Megatron stares at his thigh and swallows hard. "I . . would touch you. Slide my servo up until my fingertips were resting against your interfacing panel, and then I would coax you into opening it for me. I can't do that."

Optimus looks at him and spreads his legs a little wider. "Did you want to see my interfacing array? Everything is sealed, but I suppose it's only fair that you get to look if you want, after what I got to watch last night."

Megatron makes his soft whining sort of sound, then says in a sort of grinding voice, "You'd let me look at you?"

"You will not touch," he warns. Since he's going to allow the mech to look, but he can't justify allowing Megatron to touch his interfacing array. Mostly since he knows he'll want the mech to keep doing more.

"I will not touch," Megatron agrees, and even moves so his servos are behind him. A glance around the mech shows that Megatron has his servos clenched together.

Nodding, Optimus readjusts how he's sitting, and spreads his legs, "You may get close and take pictures and even record what my array looks like. For when I'm not with you and you want to self service." He can hear the sound of a spike against the bot's spike panel, showing just how interested the mech is in this. As such, he moves so one leg is now resting on Megatron's shoulder, and slowly slides his skirt up, "Be a good mech, and in the future you will be allowed to do more than look." Oh he loves the way that makes Megatron whine for him, and it's hard not to smirk as he finishes pulling his skirt up and slides his panel back to expose himself. He knows he's not pretty like a Playbot there, but it must not matter to Megatron, who shifts closer to him, optics blazing with heat. "Do you like what you see?"

"I love it," Megatron growls, deep and low and vibrating his plating, sending a shiver through his frame. "You have no idea what you do to me, Beloved. I want to break those seals with my glossa and show you what true pleasure is."

He reaches between his legs, and taps Megatron lightly on the nose, "That, my Devoted, is not being a good mech. You will get to do that when I'm ready." He readjusts his skirt, spreading his legs just a bit more, and wiggles his hips, "But you are being very good by not doing that, and I like that you told me what you want, so you're being good, afterall." He slides his servo along his mech's helm, rubbing the sharp edges of it, "... You may... touch my legs."

It takes a few astroseconds, but Megatron's servos move cautiously to his leg, rubbing the sock covered armor, "What... what else am I allowed to touch, my Princess?"

He can't help how his valve clenches at that, and from how Megatron's optics stay on him, and the revving, he knows the mech notices. He licks his lips, "You can touch up to everything the sock is touching. No further." He looks at his mech, "I wish you had chosen thigh highs, not just to my knee. But perhaps another time."

Megatron chokes again, before kissing his stocking covered leg. "You are wicked, Beloved, but I would have you no other way." Megatron kisses his leg again, and Optimus shivers, imagining that mouth slowly moving up his thighs and to his array.

"You're the wicked one," Optimus manages, reaching down to touch Megatron's helm, stroking the sharp points of it. "You make me want things. Make me want to tell you to do things we shouldn't do yet."

Megatron rubs servos along his leg, "May I remove your ped cover?"

"Yes," he agrees easily, not sure why the mech wants to do that.

Megatron slips it off, and presses kisses to his ankle, “What do you want to tell me to do?"

"If I tell you, I'll be tempted to allow it. And it has been only a few sols. And I want my dente healed before I go and allow what I'm thinking."

Megatron pauses, looking at him, and then asks, "What sort of touch am I allowed to give you?"

".... Anything you want?" He's not sure what Megatron even means. "As long as it remains only to where the sock touches."

So he's incredibly surprised when Megatron licks from the tip of his ped up his leg. He stares in shock, not sure how to feel about that, then Megatron starts to nibble at his leg, soft and... very arousing, since one of the bot's servos is on his other leg, rubbing it softly, as the other holds his leg firmly on the bot's shoulder.

It shouldn't be erotic, but it is. Megatron kisses and licks him slowly, and each little flick of his glossa makes Optimus think about that glossa somewhere else. Makes him squirm and shift and think that this was probably a stupid idea. He's not supposed to be trying to berth Megatron as quickly as possible, but he wants him so badly.

It's so hard not to give in, just a little.

Optimus shifts and wishes that he wasn't sealed, just for a moment. Then he could let Megatron do things to him and not feel like he was doing it wrong.

When it gets to be too much, he puts a servo on top of Megatron's helm. His mech pauses, looking at him, thankfully not still licking him. He squirms a little, and reluctantly says, "No more."

Megatron doesn't argue, he just pulls away. "Of course, Beloved."

It is almost painful to close his panel, but he can't bring himself to sit up from where he's still flopped on the couch, legs askew, skirt up and exposing himself. Even if it's nothing that isn't always shown usually. It feels... a little naughtier, since he's wearing clothing.

His hips jerk a little, and he looks at Megatron, and spreads his arms, "Kiss me."

Instantly, Megatron is on top of him, kissing him how he should.

The mech's weight on him feels divine, and Optimus wraps his arms around Megatron, holding onto him while he's kissed over and over again. One of his legs wraps around Megatron's hip, the skirt bunching up awkwardly. He wants the dress gone, no barrier between them.

Optimus vents raggedly when Megatron stops, blinking up at him, dazed and aroused more than ever before. Why isn't he letting the bot frag him again?

He can hardly remember anymore.

Megatron pulls away, freezing when Optimus whines unhappily, but shakes his head, pulling away, "Beloved, I think we should let you cool down. You said you want your dente healed first."

He does, doesn't he? What a stupid time limit, even if he knows part of him wants to just not deal with a medic harassing him. And having fully healed dente means that they're less likely to possibly damage his mouth somehow.

He sits up unhappily, pushing down his skirt, "You got me all worked up."

"Beloved, when you are ready for me, I would be-"

He holds up a servo, "Hush. No telling me this. I'll just want to say now, even though I shouldn't." He scowls, looking at the blessing ring on his finger, "We will wait a bit, and then I will say if you should paint me now or not." Since frag waiting, when he just wants the mech to follow through with that promise of licking his valve.

Even if he knows that so much of him will be upset for not waiting.

"If you agree to bond with me early, I would be pleased, but I would be just as happy to wait for you." Megatron pauses, "Well, perhaps not happy, but I would understand and not love you any less for it."

Optimus vents out slowly and starts reciting one of the Dialects of Primus in his processor, about the sanctity of bonds and their value to Primus. It's nearly a breem long, and he only gets partway through when Megatron gently shakes him out of it. He blinks, "What?"

"Are you okay, Beloved? You've been glaring at the wall and mumbling for a few kliks, and-"

"Oh, no. I was praying." He sits up, "But I'm better now. I do want to wait until my dente are fixed, and ... I'd like you to paint me before we do any interfacing."

Megatron looks at him with a curious expression, opens his mouth as if to say something, only to shift up, and nod. "As you wish, Beloved. That's what we'll do." Megatron takes his servo and strokes it. "What were you praying for, if you don't mind my asking?"

Optimus tips his helm a bit, "Praying for? I was just reciting a Dialect." While there is nothing wrong with praying to Primus to ask for something, that should only be a small portion of what a mech prays for. Most of the time, they should be praising Primus and trying to understand him better. That's what good mechs do. "Did you," he bounces his knee a little, nervously, "did you have any bots look into the other temples on Haydon IV? I think there were some unsanctioned dialects and laws of Primus being taught there." Some of them had been particularly hard to unlearn after getting to Cybertron.

"I had various priests checking every temple. I've heard they had some very.... disgusting practices, and they're being fixed or are fired now. It takes time to reteach some of the problems so they're no longer cruel or incorrect. But when I last checked, things were being fixed."

So bots aren't being told that Primus loves the rich more.

That's .... that's very good.

He finds himself relaxing as he sits, and he sighs down at his leg, "I'm going to need to change my socks now." The one is very damp and has visible bite marks in the fabric.

Megatron looks at it with a far too satisfied expression. "Would you like me to choose another pair, Beloved?"

"Yes, but not thigh high ones, since if we do this again, I'm not giving you the excuse."

That earns him a cute little pout that Optimus hopes to see again soon. Optimus thinks that next time he'll maybe wear the panties with his panel pulled open, since that would put a barrier between Megatron and his seals at least. Make it harder for the mech to give in and break them open with his glossa and then have Optimus squealing on his spike moments later.

He vents out hard, offlining his optics to dispel that image. Too arousing. He needs to not think about how much he wants to frag.

Optimus watches Megatron walk away, and readjusts his dress, settling it so that his knees down are exposed, and he picks back up the embroidery hoop. He's working irritably on the flowers when Megatron comes back. The bot drops to his knees heavily in front of him, making him jump in surprise. The mech takes his servos, pulling them up to kiss, "What you do to me, Beloved."

He rolls his optics, "Don't be silly. You can change my socks now. If you want, my ped covers can stay off, since it's clear you like that."

His mech looks at him, "When we are bonded, I would like you in protoform, wearing a dress and accessories."

He blinks, tilting his head, "... When we are bonded." Since the idea has appeal. Especially since he realizes the mech will have that ending with him being fragged properly.

It's comforting to know he can trust Megatron not to let him come to any harm in protoform. A bot is at their most delicate in their protoform alone. Injuries to protoform take forever to heal compared to plating damage, and can turn fatal quite easily. A protoform is also exceptionally sensitive, and the idea of trusting a lover enough to be fragged that way is delicious.

Optimus watches and Megatron takes off his pedcovers and then switches his socks. These ones are lacy, looking more like something a Playbot might wear.

He wiggles his peds when the mech finishes, and says, "... So... we are going to bond?"

"The instant you let me."

He stares at his embroidery, "... I... I want to sparkbond." Now to see the reaction. He just... can't bring himself to look up from his bad needlework. He doesn't want to see the refusal before it happens. He knows Megatron wants sparklings with him, but who would agree to sparkbonding, too?

So he's surprised when Megatron says, "I do, too. When do you want to do it? The sol we bond?"

His servos freeze for a klik, and when he manages to get them moving again, he has to vent carefully to keep from saying anything rash or stupid. "I believe sparkbonds should come naturally. I would not try to stop one any time we merged, and if it happens, then Primus means for it to happen." A bot should only share sparks with another that the intend to share everything with after all, and if Primus wills a bond between them, then it was meant to be.

"Then I would share your spark the sol we bond, and pray that Primus bless us and bind us completely," Megatron replies, totally unaware of the stabbing pain his declaration sends through Optimus's own spark. It's wrong. Wrong of him to try and trap Megatron in a bond with him, just because the mech got obsessed from naughty roleplays.

"... Okay," he says instead. He doesn't think he should refuse it, not if Primus does say they should. But still, he isn't going to push for a bonding. Not now. Not until he knows that Megatron wants him for him, and not just the idea of him.

Megatron takes one of his servos, and kisses it softly, "Whenever you want to bond, know that I am more than willing. I adore you, Optimus."

He flushes, looking away, unable to bring himself to yank his servo back, not when it is nice to just have the bot hold it. "Not yet, though."

"Whenever you want."

While it shouldn't play a part in his decision-making, the very knowledge that Elita and Sentinel would certainly think he was a traitor if he bonded so soon to Megatron is enough to make him determined to wait. He can wait. Maybe he can even convince Megatron that this is a mistake, and that the mech would be better suited binding himself to a better bot.

From the way Megatron talks, it's not going to be an easy task.

"I did not think to ask, but do you want decorative facepaints and powders? You hardly need them, as Primus himself sculpted your faceplates so lovely, but I know many bots enjoy them." Megatron shakes his helm, "Starscream in particular has an entire table covered in them in his quarters."

"Uh..." He blinks in confusion, "I... I don't need them? I don't know how to apply them, really. Other than the very basics. Like lip paint and optic shadow." Since the talk around the office has him absorbing things through osmosis, and they all declared it a damn shame if he didn't at least know how to apply lip paint. The optic shadow is just because he thinks it is pretty.

Megatron's optics drop to his mouth at the mention of lip paint, and Optimus is very tempted to lick his lips. He keeps himself in check, and just watches the mech instead. Megatron is the one who licks his lips before saying, "Would you like them?"

".... okay?" He can tell Megatron wants him to have them, and it won't hurt to know how to put them on. Especially once Megatron tosses him out on a neutral planet. Maybe he can take up something that he can use, and looking nicer than he actually is will always help with job interviews.

"If you don't enjoy it, please don't put them on for my sake," Megatron keeps staring at his lips.

Optimus nods slowly, watching him back. "I don't mind trying them, though I'm sure I'll look like a sparkling who got into their creator's paints for the first stellar or so." Delicate paints and powders like those took effort. He's seen a few 'tutorial' videos when surfing the console and while it looks simple, he knows there's no way he won't mess it up and look like a particularly bad version of a sparkling's first theater project.

"It just takes practice, and if you like it, you'll eventually have it perfect," Megatron assures him.

He knows that, but he feels a bit like he's being thrown into the deep end when it comes to incredibly fancy things. He looks down at his embroidery, and sighs, "I'll do my best."

The mech kisses him softly on the helm, "If you dislike them, just tell me, and you do not need to touch them again."

"I'll try it," he insists. It doesn't hurt anything to attempt it.

And if by some chance he does end up bonded to Megatron, he'll be able to make himself presentable enough for anything important. Not that it's likely, since he won't accept Megatron's offers. He can't.

"You will forgive me if you become too beautiful for me to control myself around," Megatron says with a teasing smile on his faceplates. "If all I can do is think of kissing you."

Optimus likes kisses. "I wouldn't mind that at all."

"... Ah." With that, Megatron is kissing him again, and Optimus eagerly kisses back. He's about to pull away, when Megatron does it himself, humming happily. "I would like to do more, but I can not."

"Like what?"

Megatron shakes his head, "No. I am not allowed to suggest things, Optimus. I will get you information on what I'm allowed to do. You are the one who must choose what to do and how far we go. I am not going to-"

He kisses Megatron softly, "Then go get the information."

Megatron vents out slowly, "As you wish, Beloved." He gets up and heads towards the door, stopping to look back at Optimus. "I will be back shortly, Beloved, with your rules." Then he's gone, and while there's no audible sound of the door locking, Optimus knows that it has been locked so that he cannot escape. Not that he would try, as he'd made his promises.

The bit of fabric he's been working on is pathetic, but he endeavors to keep going, to improve to the point where it's not an embarrassment to him.

He still puts it to the side now, though. Standing up, he readjusts the dress, so he no longer looks as ruffled due to Megatron's servos on him. The gloves are even rumpled, so he fixes everything the best he can.

He's resettling back on the couch, stretching out his legs, when the door opens, and Megatron walks in, saying, "Here, I have the..." The mech stares at him, then shakes his head, "Ah, you look even more beautiful. I will never get used to it."

He snorts, letting his legs tuck under him as he reaches for the bot with one arm, "Don't be silly. Now, give me those rules." The pad is well-worn from many servos holding it, and Optimus flicks it on and starts to skim through the content list. He skips past everything in favor of 'The Rights of the Devoted.'

'Touches to the arms, legs below the knee, the back, the waist, and the helm are allowed so long as a Beloved does not expressly forbid them. Kisses that are close-mouthed may be placed to the cheek or servo unless a Beloved forbids them.' So Megatron had definitely broken the rules there, several times. Not that he really minds. 'At all times, even if a Beloved forbids it, a Devoted has the right to protect their Beloved's safety, even and especially from themselves. A Devoted has the right to repair their Beloved or take them to a medic for repairs for their safety.' So even if he'd not wanted to see Hook, Megatron could have taken him. 'A Devoted may not attempt to force a Beloved into an interfacing act by suggesting it or encouraging it to the Beloved.'

He looks at Megatron, and part of him wants to demand to watch Megatron self service for him again, just from the mention of interfacing. He shoves that urge down and away. Patting the couch next to him, he says, "I want you to sit with me."

Instantly, Megatron sits on the couch, and looks very much like he wants to do more, but is restraining himself. His mech says, "Just sit with you? Or should I perhaps do more?"

"Like?"

"Read to you? You liked that earlier."

He tilts his head, and then climbs onto Megatron's lap, "We'll both just read right now. I want to see what all is in this, and you can maybe catch up a bit on work."

"You're too sensible," Megatron lets out a long sigh, and then pulls out several datapads. "But so long as you stay in my lap, I can suffer through these documents, I suppose." Megatron's free servo rests on his waist, and Optimus thinks about what he's read so far. He would very much like Megatron to touch and stroke him more, but that would mean he'd have to ask for it, and he can't do that. Not yet. Not so soon. He's not a. . . a slut.

He flicks to another part of his pad to get his processor away. There's a lot in there about what he's allowed to do as a Beloved. And what he's not supposed to do. Contacting other bots or trying to escape seem to be the biggest no-nos.

Generally, it's all stuff that seems like what he already knows. He nibbles on his bottom lip, trying to figure out why, only to realize. He knows, since Megatron genuinely was teaching him everything he could about Botnapping in the roleplays.

He moves a little, getting in a more comfortable position, and relaxes as Megatron's frame warms him. He'll see if there's anything he's missing in the datapad, and just... enjoy spending time with his mech. His... Devoted.

He glances back at Megatron, who is scowling at a datapad, and his spark flutters happily. Even if Megatron doesn't truly want him, he can just enjoy what he has now.

Chapter 15

Optimus blinks online, and sits up. This is the sol. It is finally the sol.

He stands up, hurrying to his closet and putting on the dress and other things before heading out of his rooms. Walking to his and Megatron's room, he opens the door, and strides in, "Up! Up, up, up! You promised me that crystal this sol, and you will get up!"

Megatron jerks online, staring at him in confusion before relaxing and laughing, "I should have expected this."

He climbs onto the berth, and kisses his mech, "Yes, you should have. Gimme."

Megatron sinks back against his pillows and looks up at him with dim optics, "I suppose I could be coaxed out of this comfortable berth for you, Beloved."

He narrows his optics at Megatron. "You promised me crystals, and you'll give them to me, right now."

His mech chuckles and cups his aft with his servo for a moment before letting go--definitely not allowed, but Optimus isn't going to say anything about it, not when it feels so good. "Well, I can hardly get up with you on top of me, precious."

"You pulled me on top of you," he reminds the bot, kissing him again. "Up." But he does pull away to let Megatron get the leverage he needs.

Megatron sits up slowly, "I'm up." The mech reaches for him, and he easily lets the bot tug him into another kiss, their engines purring happily, and Optimus can feel how warm Megatron's spark is. "Do you want to fuel in here?"

"No." Mostly since he is all dressed up, and he knows if it comes to fueling in here, he might demand a show with the fuel. And he's not going to do that in the morning. And he has enough control not to demand to watch Megatron self service for him every sol. Even if he really wants it to happen this decacycle. "Up."

Megatron smiles, and slides out of the berth, still holding him, "Only for you, Beloved."

"Thank you," he remembers his manners at the last moment. "I really want those crystals." He keeps dreaming of them.

Now he gets to have what he's been wanting for so very, very long, and his dente won't hurt! He can feel them now that he's thinking of them, and rolls them just a little to test them--no pain whatsoever, and it feels right in a way he's never felt before. Optimus loves it.

"I know you do, Beloved." Megatron carries him to the common room, and walks to the couch, only to pause. "Do you want to fuel here, or..." Megatron turns, showing him the decadent altar, where Optimus really should pray more than that one sol where Megatron had to work all sol, even though his mech said he should have been free. But maybe Primus meant for it to happen, since he needed Optimus to pray? That still feels right, so Primus probably just felt neglected.

He bites his lip, and says, ".... I'll fuel on the altar." Since that feels right, even if it is slightly blasphemous. He's only accepting, since the Altar is glowing at the mention of it.

Megatron looks at him and then at the altar, "I do not think it wise, Beloved. Not unless you intend to offer your seals this sol to Primus."

Cheeks hot, Optimus shifts in his arms, "Don't be ridiculous, Megatron." He's not some blessed Virgin of Primus, raised to devote himself to their god. Primus wouldn't want him that way. He wouldn't reject such an offering, of course, so long as it was truly meant, but he wouldn't want it.

"I am not, Beloved. I simply warn you that with an altar as blessed as this, if you lay upon it and enjoy your crystals, I know that Primus will either attempt to seize control of me, or he will manifest enough power to create a cable to take your seals that way."

"Control you? ... like the Magnus?"

Megatron makes a face at being compared to Ultra, "Not as forcibly as him, but yes. He will take over, pushing for more than you will allow me."

He doesn't want that. He wants to be bonded if he's going to interface. And he doesn't want to trap Megatron in a bonding he won't want. "The couch, then."

"Of course, Beloved." Megatron places him on the couch, on top of a very large cushion that Optimus knows is part of some Princess fantasy of the mech's, and then goes to finally get the crystal cake.

Optimus tucks his legs under him, spreading out his skirt of his dress how Megatron likes, and waits as patiently as can be expected.

It's a good thing that Megatron doesn't mind that he's a little greedy at times, because he's nothing but pure greed now, watching as Megatron brings not only the cake over, but a set of small cubes with various types of sweet energon in two-swallow amounts. "These all go perfectly well with the crystals. Shockwave assures me of it."

Optimus frowns, his processor momentarily distracted by that. "He drinks liquid fuel as well?"

"When he chooses to fuel that way, yes." Megatron smiles oddly at that. "Now, please, my darling, enjoy your fuel."

He grins excitedly, and happily snags the cake, holding it easily and biting into it. It breaks off in a very satisfying snap, the solid chunk of crystal melting slightly in his mouth, while his gear dente finally chew how they're supposed to. He sighs in pleasure, his entire frame just relaxing from how wonderful it is. He ignores the cubes of energon just to eat the entire slice by itself, licking his lips as he finishes.

Megatron carefully reaches over to him when he is done, and rubs his thumb on Optimus's cheek. "A little messy," his Devoted murmurs, and presses his thumb in Optimus's mouth. WHich is fine, since there's crystals on it, and Optimus happily licks it off, his dente grinding carefully. He flicks his glossa over his mech's finger, saying, "I want another."

"You're lucky I came prepared," Megatron teases him and then pulls out the most decadent thing ever--a tray loaded with big crystals, carved in the shapes of various mechanimals. "I had these made just for you to enjoy, Beloved. Made, because I tried my servo at making them myself and I will not subject you to the lumps I managed."

Optimus mutters, "They were fine, I'm sure," but he can't take his greedy optics off all of the crystals. So many different kinds.

Megatron sets the tray in front of him, and Optimus eagerly takes each one at a time, and eats them. The first is a delicate and rearing sleipnir, the many legs thin and so very crunchy. He licks his lips as he grinds it down, humming in pleasure. He takes a long tailed cyberlemur next, starting from the tail. It has a delicious and sort of fruity flavor. "What was that one made of?"

"Ah," Megatron clearly consults some sort of internal notes, "A pearcrystal. Did you like it?"

"Yes. I did. I think I'd like to try more of those."

"I will make sure to get you more," Megatron promises, and watches as Optimus works his way through the tray of sweets. When Optimus reaches a little turbofox treat that tastes absolutely awful, like bitter slag on his glossa, Megatron chuckles, "I will make sure to inform our chefs that you are not going to want any Kalosian crystals in your fuel."

Optimus grimaces and tries to fight the urge to scrape his glossa clean. "Thank you. Are there any others like that so I can avoid them?"

Megatron picks up three others, and moves them to the side, "They're all in the same general flavor profile, but you might enjoy them with the fuel I offered you."

He grabs the fuel from where Megatron put it and drinks osme. It does not improve the flavor any, but at least he no longer wants to scrape his glossa. "It still tastes bad."

"I won't have you fuel on it again."

He snags another crystal, and bites it. There it is, much better.

The plain, simple crystals are good, the sweet ones are best, and he doesn't mind the few that he finds that have a spicy flavor to them at all. But those bitter ones--all he can think of, when biting into those is the bitter tang at the back of his intake whenever he'd needed to take drone fuel to survive. So he'll not have any of those unless he has to.

The full tray ends up completely empty in an embarrassingly short amount of time, and Optimus is left staring, wondering if it would be considered rude to wipe up the crumbs with his fingertips and lick them clean.

It would probably be rude.

He shouldn't do it.

The crumbs taste good mixed together, as he shamelessly licks them off his fingers.

Megatron kisses him when he finishes, murmuring, "You tempt me, Beloved."

He kisses back happily, and says, "Should I get a scan from the medic to be sure everything is fine?" He tilts his head a bit, opening his mouth and licking the fang caps, "See how these are doing?"

Megatron groans, kissing him again, "You know what your fangs do to me."

He laughs a little, pleased. "I should still probably get that scan."

"I'll have him come here, since I don't want to take you out of the rooms just for a scan."

The rules for this botnap thing are too complicated. Since he's agreed not to try and escape, he really should be given more freedoms. Optimus would like to meet some of the bots around the fortress, to get a better idea of what Megatron is like when he's not trying to seduce a mech. No one knows a bot better than the serving staff that works under them, after all.

While Megatron coms medic Hook, Optimus watches and wonders if he'll be able to talk to whatever bots clean these rooms, as he can't imagine that Megatron does all the cleaning and maintenance himself, nor then the mech has enough specialized drones to do it either.

Sighing softly, he scoops up his embroidery, and works on it. It is still pretty garbage, but at least he's working on it. and sometimes, Megatron reads to him as he does it. Which is good, since otherwise he wouldn't be able to get as far as he is on it. Even if it isn't good, at least he's doing it.

He feels a weight on his lap, and he sets the hoop to the side, and taps Metatron's faceplates, "Hi."

His mech smiles up at him from where he's resting his head in Optimus's lap, "You're too tempting when you do this."

He snorts, "We're not going to the berthroom."

"I didn't say anything."

No, but only because Optimus knows what the mech would like to do. And if he's honest, Optimus wants to go to the berthroom and kiss his mech as Megatron frags himself. But that's not happening. ... right now. "Hook will be over to check on me, so no berthroom." Right now.

"It would hardly shock him, seeing me in such a state, though I would not allow him to see you so affected," Megatron hums thoughtfully, and he looks so good that Optimus has to lean down to kiss him, though he manages somehow to keep it brief.

"No berthroom stuff while the medic is over," Optimus says firmly, smiling at the little pout this brings to Megatron's faceplates. No bot would ever believe him if he said Megatron acted this way. "He'll check on my dente and make sure everything is good."

"And he will, since we've been following his directions," Megatron says, looking irritated.

He rolls his optics, "I'm the one who gets to be upset about that. It's only this sol you let me have the good fuel!"

"And I didn't get to watch you fuel on the good fuel until now. We both get to be upset."

He laughs, pushing lightly on his Devoted, "You're ridiculous."

"Only ridiculously in love with you, Beloved," Megatron teases him back, and then grumbles as he gets up, "Slagging medics are fast when you want them to be slow, and slow when you need them fast." He lets the medic in, and Hook immediately rushes over to Optimus.

"Are you in any pain, " Hook asks, pulling out several medical pads which Optimus dutifully allows the medic to attach.

Optimus sighs, "I feel fine, but my dente should be checked, I think, since I just got to try crystals."

"Nothing else to be checked?" and Optimus can see the way the medic tips his visor down towards his interfacing panel and then back up again, subtle enough that he could choose to ignore it if he wanted.

"Just my dente."

"Very well." The mech's scan is gentle, but he can feel how it does more than just his dente. It's annoying, but the bot only looks confused for an astrosecond before blanking his face. The mech is polite as he says, "Your dente are healed, and the caps will fall off on their own, Consort Optimus."

He debates protesting the title, but he can't bring himself to. Not when he can see how pleased Megatron is about hearing it. His mech moves closer, leaning over the back of the couch to wrap arms around him, "Is he healthy?"

"Yes," Hook says instantly. "I was worried, when I walked in, that his dente would be ruined. But I can see that you followed my directions." The mech looks at Megatron, confusion in his optics, but not in his tone, "Which is very good. Is there anything else I should check?"

Megatron waves a servo at him, "No. I simply wished for you to check on Optimus's dente. You may leave."

Hook shifts on his peds for a moment and then nods, taking his pads and leaving the room, the door sliding shut without an audible locking sound. Megatron must have very high quality security. Well, of course he does, seeing as he's leader of the Decepticons. There must be bots trying to assassinate him at least once or twice a vorn.

Optimus's glossa slides over the fang caps in his mouth. Have his dente really recovered so quickly? It's odd to think that under those caps his dente might actually be fangs now.

Megatron groans, and kisses him, glossa possessive. Optimus moans softly, and whines when Megatron breaks the kiss. His mech says, "What would you like to do, Optimus? Now that you have a clean bill of health?"

Optimus moves a little in the seat, thinking it over, and says, "I want..." He hums, thinking it over. Because a huge chunk of him wants to say Megatron can paint him now. Maybe their first time should be on the berth of an altar they have.

He blinks when the altar flashes a bright blue, and stares at it.

Megatron blinks, "Hmm. That's odd. I should probably avoid going near that."

Primus has shown several signs that he approves of Megatron and that he approves of Optimus being with him. If he were a better, more loyal mech, he would listen to Primus's will and give himself to Megatron, but it's still so soon. So he vents out slowly and tries to calm his pulsating spark. "Will you read to me some more?"

Megatron's shoulders slump ever so slightly, but then the mech is smiling at him again, "Of course, Beloved."

He kisses his mech, "I need to practice my embroidery, and you know it."

"I think your work is lovely," Megatron tells him, and moves to sit on the couch next to him, pulling out a datapad. "Now, where were we?' his mech mutters softly, then, "Gigatron pressed a soft kiss to the back of Lightspark's servo. The mech's armor shines in the light of his ship, and Lightspark doesn't think the bot could get any more handsome than this."

He smiles, settling in to listen. Oh, he knows this will likely devolve into something filthy, but Optimus can admit to himself that he does want to go to the berthroom soon enough.

Chapter 16

Notes:

Yesterday, I freaked out that it was Monday, read through the chapter for editing and fell asleep.

This morning I made sure it was okay, and now it's posted!

Megatron is scowling at his work, wondering if he can give it to Starscream, and make the seeker do the work. He shouldn't be working at all. He should just let his generals do everything, but he has to do this even if he doesn't want to. He should have at least an orn off, but he's just lucky he is back in his quarters early. Only gone for half a sol, instead of an entire one.

He glances up when there's the sound of a clearing vocal processor, and smiles in happiness when he sees Optimus. His beloved is dressed in a gorgeous multilayered gown, gloves up his arms, and a glance down shows stocking covered peds. No ped covers, since his mech doesn't care for them. Slightly disappointing, but he is certain that Optimus won't mind them at all in public, as long as Megatron holds him as he wears them.

Setting the datapad down, he asks, "Did you need something, Beloved?" He hopes so, since he doesn't want to work, damn it.

Optimus pads closer to him, "... I want to see your servos."

Confused, he offers them to his mech, "If you want to, Optimus, of course."

His Beloved sits on the desk he's at, pushing the datapads to the side to do it. His mech's legs dangle enticingly rubbing against Megatron's inner thighs, and Optimus holds his servos, looking them over. He's about to ask what this is about when Optimus says, "In one of our early-early role plays, with the sparklings, you mentioned you had hacking mods."

"They aren't mods, beloved. I onlined with them. They're just hacking cables."

His sweetspark rubs over his fingertips curiously. "What does it feel like, being hacked like that?"

That brings a smile to his faceplates, and he cups Optimus's cheek with one of his servos, leaving the other in Optimus's grasp. "When done by a skilled partner, with the intent of giving only consensual pleasure, it feels glorious, Beloved." His lips twitch in a grimace for a moment before he manages to smooth his expression out again, remembering less than pleasant things best forgotten. "When done under other circumstances, it is a violation of the greatest magnitude. I would sooner rip out my own spark than harm a bot that way, I promise you."

His mech hums softly, and rubs his fingertips a little more heavily, "I know you won't. Show them to me."

He lets them extend easily, "Of course. I take it you want me to hack you? It is far more intimate than you'd think, sweetspark. You-" his vocal processor stalls, since Optimus doesn't seem to be paying attention to what he's saying, and just licks his hacking cables.

His engine revs loudly, and his fans go full power as Optimus's glossa swirls around them one at a time. And it is clear Optimus knows what he's doing, since his tease of a Beloved presses three of Megatron's fingers down his intake, sucking on them before pulling off with a soft popping sound.

His Beloved blinks at him prettily, false optic lashes fluttering, and he should have realized what mood his bot is in. Optimus is dressed to seduce, even if he's not wearing any gems or jewelry. Megatron can feel his spike hit his spike plating, and his traitorous valve is wetting. Optimus says softly, "I missed you this sol, and then you went right to your stupid workspace in our home."

It takes every bit of processing power that he has left to manage words that won't offend his Beloved. "My work must be done, but it can wait." His free servo slides along Optimus's cheek and then presses over his neck cabling, fingers stroking there lightly, right where the cables would stretch if the mech had a spike down his intake. "What would you have me hack you for, Beloved? What are my boundaries?"

Optimus looks up at him through those pretty optic-lashes. "You can do anything to me that doesn't damage my seals or my spark and won't last beyond when you unplug from me."

He can think of many things he wants to do, but he can't do that without more information. "You give me too wide of a scope, Beloved." He stands up, scooping Optimus into his arms, and is gratified when Optimus moves a bit to cling to him, legs wrapped around his waist. A slight adjustment of the mech later, when they're bonded, will have this as a perfect position to frag his bot as he carries Optimus. For now, his mech is just warm and comforting. "What would you like me to do?"

Optimus bites his neck cabling, likely leaving fang shaped dents in it. "Wanna go to the berth, and have you hack me. Show me what it feels like. Impress me."

This probably comes down to the mech not truly understanding what a skilled hacker can accomplish, and it would be wrong of him not to explain, no matter how much he just wants to take the mech to the berth and drive him out of his processor with pleasure. "Beloved, I could make you feel like you were overloading for me without damaging your seals or spark. You need to give me limits."

And then his sweet mech looks up at him, optics hot. "I know. And I believe I just gave you an order to impress me."

Frag. His spike pops out, the paneling retracting without him telling it to. Optimus can clearly feel it poking at the mech's aft, since Optimus smirks at him before wiggling his dress covered aft firmly against him. He groans, staggering slightly, and his hips rolling to rub more firmly. "Beloved, you are a temptation, and I'm more certain every single time I see you of how perfect you are for me."

Optimus looks smug, "I told you to take me to the berth and impress me. You're just standing here, and not doing what I say."

He readjusts Optimus in his arms, and picks up the pace, quickly making his way to the berth. Laying Optimus down, he kisses his mech, and lifts his bot's silk covered legs up, slipping his spike between those tempting thighs. Pressing his fingers to Optimus's seams, he slides his hacking cables home with care, "Am I allowed to frag myself against you like this?"

Optimus hums, and squeezes his thighs together, "I said as long as it isn't my seals or spark." His Beloved rolls his hips, "And don't think I don't notice those stories about Gigatron ripping dresses off of Lightspark. I'm wearing the clothing I don't mind if you destroy."

Megatron groans, imagining tearing the dress from Optimus's frame, shoving his panties aside and thrusting into him, taking the valve he's been dreaming about for so long. "I . . will restrain myself, I think." If he rips the dress away it would be too easy to justify slipping his spike into places it cannot go yet, and he knows his own weaknesses. Just rubbing his spike between the bot's thighs is going to be more than he can handle for long.

"Are your cables in?" Optimus asks curiously, and it's not a surprise to Megatron that the mech can't tell. He's an expert with his cables, and the tips are so finely pointed that only an extremely sensitive protoform would feel him penetrating it when he's doing it with care.

"Yes," Megatron answers him, part of his processor already tracing out the connections in Optimus's systems that he needs to temporarily alter. Making a bot overload without their frame overloading is complex, and he won't let Optimus's spark overload because that would break his agreement with the mech.

Optimus relaxes, looking up at him, loose and languid. Kissing his mech softly, he slowly works the heat up in Optimus’s frame - not that it is hard, since Optimus is already immensely aroused. He slides his spike between his mech’s thighs slowly, adjusting his Beloved’s coding, and smiling in pleasure when Optimus starts to squirm a little. His mech is not used to this, but clearly interested. Optimus hums prettily, hips trying to press up a bit, “Makes me think of when I touched my node, then had to stop myself."

"Oh? When did you do that?" Since the idea of it makes him want to watch Optimus do it again.

"After one of our com sessions. Went to the washrack, touched myself, and realized I couldn't keep going."

"No?" Megatron sees nothing wrong with a mech enjoying themselves. As much as he looks forward to taking Optimus's seals, if he came back one sol to find that Optimus had taken his own seals in an act of self-pleasure, he would only be upset that he hadn't gotten to witness it. "You should do what you feel is right, my good mech," he praises, enjoying the way Optimus shifts against him. He bites at Optimus's neck cabling, and then growls in his audio, "Remember, I am not breaking your seals." And then he skillfully shifts Optimus's coding and makes the bot's processor believe that a spike, that his spike is being pressed into his valve.

Optimus cries out, arching against him, struggling for a moment, before settling down, moaning and whining desperately. "Wh. . . oh, oh Primus!"

"Just embrace it, Beloved. I'm going to make you feel even better."

It seems to be the right thing to say, since Optimus squeezes his legs together, making Megatron moan with his mech. He slides his spike into the silks of his Beloved's thighs, and adjusts it so that Optimus feels like he's being fragged in time to each thrust.

Optimus whines and his servos scrabble at the berth meshes before one starts to move down between his thighs. Megatron catches his wrist in his servo, stopping it, knowing that Optimus would be upset if he ended up breaking his own seals in his pleasure without meaning to. "You're such a good mech for me," he growls, thrusting harder, tweaking the code so it feels like Optimus's node is being pinched and rubbed in time with his thrusts. "So very good. I want you to overload now." And he adds in the sensation of a servo squeezing gently around Optimus's spark--and has to momentarily stop his own thrusts to keep control of the mech's frame as Optimus goes wild, shuddering and screaming for him. He keeps the bot's frame from actually overloading, only allowing the pleasure to exist in his processor, and then gently eases the mech down into an easy afterglow.

His own spike is pulsing with need, but he keeps himself still, refusing to take advantage. Optimus slumps against him, venting raggedly, his entire frame radiating pleasure and relaxation.

He can't help his whine when Optimus slides away from him, hating how he's no longer touching the mech how he needs to overload. His mech sits up slowly and looks at him blinking prettily, "That's what an overload feels like?"

He nods slowly, "Yes."

Optimus's optics drop to his still stiff spike, and says, "Oh, I left you wanting? I should have-"

"If I'd overloaded, it would have had the hack allowing your spark to overload. You said not to do that."

His mech hums, and gets on servos and knees, crawling closer. His mech takes him by his hips, and presses a kiss to his chest, then licks down his frame, saying, "I love you, my Devoted." With that, Optimus takes his spike all the way down his intake.

Megatron desperately grabs at the meshes on the berth and fights the urge to thrust. Optimus's mouth is pressed against his interfacing panel, his spike sheathed entirely down the bot's intake, and Optimus didn't even struggle with it.

"Mm," Optimus moans, optics only half-lit as he slowly lifts up off his spike, letting the tip out with a soft pop. "Oh, you taste so good," and the bot licks a long, slow stripe from the base of his spike to the tip before taking it back into his mouth, bobbing his helm all the way back down.

He can feel the mesh ripping under his fingers, and manages to grit out, "I'm not . . going to last long."

Optimus looks up at him and the expression of bliss on his faceplates, combined with the tight, hot squeeze of his intake and flutter of his glossa tips Megatron right over the edge, and his helm falls back as he overloads, hips rocking instinctively.

Optimus pulls away, clearly getting as much of the overload in his intake as possible, and when Megatron is done, Optimus, his beautiful minx, licks his lips, and says, "I think being more aggressive next time is just what I want."

"... What?' he asks, flopping down entirely on the berth, laying on his side.

His mech kisses him, "You should have grabbed my helm and fragged me."

Primus help him, he can feel his spike attempting to repressurize.

Optimus must notice, since his mech pushes him so he's laying on his back, and his bot's fingers rub on his valve plating. "I want you to-" He doesn't even have the mech finish the request, he just slides open. "Good mech," and the praise has him shiver happily. Optimus's fingers slide inside of him, rubbing and exploring in a way Optimus never has before. "Squeeze." He works his calipers, and his Beloved smiles at him, rubbing and pinching his node, "When we're bonded, I think I'm going to spend awhile just inside of you over and over."

He can't help how his valve reacts to that, "Optimus, you don't know how much I'm looking forward to that."

Since his Beloved slides in two more fingers, all four, he gets the impression Optimus is looking forward to it, too. Especially with how aggressively he's pleasuring Megatron's node, and thrusting his servo in and out of him.

"And when I've worn you out," Optimus continues, like the sultry berthminx he is, "I'll sit on your faceplates and make you overload me with your glossa until you've gotten the strength back to frag me again." Megatron groans and bucks his hips, and Optimus clucks his glossa, "There we go, this is what I want," and he leans down and laps at the tip of his repressurized spike, still pumping his fingers inside Megatron's valve. "Now, give me what I want."

Megatron grips Optimus's helm carefully, trying to keep enough control to set some boundaries. "You won't . . mm. . . If you need me to stop, you'll tap my hip twice, alright?"

"I likely won't want to, but yes, if I decide against it, I'll stop you." Optimus gives him an unimpressed look, and sends him a text, 'Even if this would work just fine.'

He reaches for Optimus's helm, adjusting the angle, "You'd be surprised how many bots forget about that in the heat of the moment. The tapping is more instinctive."

Optimus keeps fragging Megatron's valve, and slides down Megatron's spike. He takes the bot's helm in a better grip, and starts to pump in and out of that amazing mouth and intake. His first few thrusts are gentle and slow, testing how well Optimus can handle it. Each time Optimus's intake opens for him and the mech doesn't choke or struggle. Megatron strokes the bot's helmfins and Optimus moans, the vibrations feeling perfect around his spike. Filled with confidence, Megatron tightens his grip on the bot's helm and thrusts hard, groaning in pleasure as his hips snap forward.

He keeps an optic on Optimus, to make sure he's doing alright, but the expression of pure bliss on his faceplates lets him relax enough to just start enjoying it, moving Optimus over his spike at the pace he wants, quick and deep, rather than the coy tease he expects Optimus would do under his own power. With the bot's clever fingers still rubbing his internal nodes, it doesn't take him long to lose control and he snarls as he overloads deep in the bot's intake, holding him in place as his hips grind forward.

It takes a moment before he can relax and he strokes Optimus's helmfins for all of a few nanokliks before Optimus pulls off his spike to glower at him. "You didn't let me taste it."

Oh dear, he's fragged up. "It feels better to-"

"No, you don't get to do that next time."

He's mostly just glad there will be a next time. A Beloved being angry typically means that any interfacing stops entirely until the Devoted proves how sorry they are. And Optimus has every right to deny him entirely. While also having more leverage than a normal Beloved, since this is the first time Optimus has had an overload in their shared berth at all. "I won't do it next time."

Optimus gives him a severe look, and huffs softly, licking his slick fingers, "Good." His mech sucks on his fingers slowly, then says, "You're lucky I love you. Now, you are going to help me undress, and we are going to sit in the washrack. I will see if I want to do more in there later, but right now, we need to clean up."

He reaches for his mech, pulling him close and cuddling and kissing him, "I love you, too. I love you so much, Optimus."

Optimus pushes on him lightly, but he can see how pleased his mech looks, even through his beautiful purple blush, "I said undress me. I want to talk to you about hacking mods in the washrack."

The dress comes off easily enough, but the mech's silk-stockings are sticky from his spike and he has to carefully peel them off to keep from ruining them further. When every bit of clothing is gone, Megatron lifts Optimus and carries him to the washrack, where he'd already sent a remote command for the solvent soak to fill and heat.

They're settled in the soak, Optimus relaxing against him, when the mech speaks again. "I want to get hacking mods so I can hack you too."

The flinch is instinctive, and he forces his frame to settle just as quickly, hoping that Optimus didn't notice. "Ah. . . well, I am not opposed to you getting them, but it would have to be after our bonding, as you would need extensive training that I do not feel comfortable giving you myself." As little as he likes the idea of Shockwave training Optimus, it would be for the best.

"Why after the bonding?"

"Because in order for you to get the training, you will need to be interacting with a bot that isn't a medic and not me."

Optimus looks at him, frowning, "But I will get them?"

He nods, "Yes, but you can not hack me until you're fully trained and know how to do it safely."

"I wouldn't want to hurt you," his Beloved says, kissing him softly. "But I want to know why you sound so reluctant."

He winces, since he should have realized that Optimus would pick up on it. His mech is smart. It's one of the reasons why he chose him. "When I was younger, I was forcibly hacked repeatedly."

Optimus freezes and then looks at him, optics angry, "You've offlined those mechs long before now, haven't you?"

Megatron shrugs, "Some of them. Some offlined on their own." And a few fragged his files so badly that he can't remember names or faces. Though worse than that, of course, is the mech who still serves on the Autobot Council. Considering that the mech refuses to set ped off of Cybertron, and has not since Megatron rose to power, there's not much he can do until he claims Cybertron back again.

His sweet future bondmate strokes his chestplates, still looking up at him, "I want to show you the kind of pleasure you showed me."

If Optimus wants him to learn to enjoy hacking, Megatron is relatively certain he can manage it. The very idea sends a wave of complete and utter revulsion through his frame, but he should be able to overcome that with enough practice. "I know, Beloved."

Optims kisses his sparkplates, "We can wait on the mods for me, but I do want them. I can tell you aren't happy, but they can wait until you're feeling safer with me."

He holds his mech against him, "I do feel safe with you, Beloved." It's why he's not disagreeing to the mods entirely. He knows any former lover who came to ask him for this, he'd likely react with violence before even thinking about it. At least with Optimus, all he feels is a deep feeling of not wanting it over trying to destroy the potential threat.

Optimus moves a bit kissing him on the mouth, "We need clothing that looks good wet, so that we can enjoy clothing in the washrack."

He huffs a soft laugh, kissing his mech, "You will be the cause of my offlining, Optimus."

That gets a very smug look, "A pleasurable one for you, I'm sure."

"I would rather go no other way," Megatron confirms, pressing kisses to Optimus's neck cabling. "I will look into something for you to wear here." He can already imagine the mech in a garment of two fabrics--something that stays against his frame without clinging too much, and something that resists the solvents entirely, to allow a froth of lace from the mech's sleeves and skirt to float at the top. Mm, that would be lovely indeed.

"If I'm going to be dressed up so often for you, what will you wear?" Optimus asks, tracing fingers along his sparkplate seams. "You would look very good in clothing, I think."

Smiling, he tugs Optimus closer against him. "I have a few cloaks and wraps."

"Pick things that look good on you and will match me."

He may need to hire a bot who has experience in clothing fashion. Specifically clothing, so that Starscream doesn't get offended and violent for not being consulted about this.

"I'll do what I can." He kisses Optimus, "And I look forward to the both of us wearing them." He doubts New Kaon will be a clothing planet due to this, but it certainly will influence bots to start wearing more.

Optimus curls against him, "Should I work on the embroidery?"

"You should, yes. Do we want to get dried off and dressed first?" Since he is fine just doing this in the warm solvents.

"I think so, yes. And you will come into my rooms, helping me choose what to wear."

He grins, "Anything for you, beloved."

Notes:

I had a change in dosage in my medication, but I'm gonna post this fic, damn it!

Chapter 17

Optimus sighs sadly, curled up in his own berth. It feels too lonely in his and Megatron's berth when his mech isn't home, so the best place is his private rooms. Adjusting his skirts, he pokes forlornly at his embroidery. It looks nicer than his first attempts, but it still isn't what he'd call good.

Megatron has warned him that he will be away for two entire sols, called to another planet for a true emergency. There's been some kind of uprising, as several corrupt mechs began to take slaves, and Megatron has to go and make a statement by offlining those bots himself. Optimus understands, but he hates it.

Does that make him selfish? It probably does. He stabs at the fabric with his needle, cursing under his vents as the thread tangles and he has to pick out the knots. Stupid slagging thing. Stupid slagging room. Stupid slagging Megatron, leaving him all alone.

His servos shake as he works on fixing it, but he's too damned upset to do it well. He wants his mech reading to him as he works, not the stupid auto reader voice on the officially published works. He hates this so much.

The only good thing is that it is two sols, and he's not being left alone for decacycles. He wants his Devoted in their berth and under him shaking in pleasure. Where he should be.

He hisses angrily as all this thought process does is make him ruin his work even more.

There's a soft hiss of a door sliding open in the outer room.

Optimus freezes in place--Megatron will not be back for another sol and a half, and he cannot hear the mech's familiar pedsteps. Instead, he hears the soft tapping of a much smaller bot. It might have been a service mech, but Megatron had already told him, in answer to his questions one sol, that no mechs would enter his rooms until Optimus was bonded, and even then, they would be on a fixed schedule that Optimus would have access to.

So this is someone else. An assassin? Optimus knows that not every bot can possibly be pleased that their Emperor has plans to bond to an Autobot.

Optimus sends a text to the only bot he can actually get ahold of, and writes, 'Hook? I need you to come here now.' Since if it is a false alarm, the medic showing up won't be considered a bad thing.

And Hook is the only bot other than Megatron he's allowed contact with.

Just as he sends it, the door slides open, and a weirdly generic looking tankbot steps in. "Optimus Minor?"

He stares at the bot, "Just Optimus. Who are you?"

"I'm Sidearm," the mech says, pausing as if that's supposed to mean something to him at all.

Optimus watches him carefully, and wishes he hadn't decided to wear his skirts this sol. "No one is allowed in these rooms."

"I know, that's why now is the best chance that we've got," Sidearm enthuses for some reason, taking a step closer. "Get out of those clothes he's forced you into and change into this," the mech holds out a shapeless mass of burlap-cloth, "and I should be able to smuggle you into the ship."

He looks at the mech flatly, "And why should I trust you?"

"I'm an Autobot. You were botnapped, and I'm here to get you out."

He doesn't move, "You have a Decepticon emblem." Not that it matters too much, that's just paint. Not a brand. And if it were a brand, he knows the mech wouldn't be here.

The bot shakes his head, "It's just so bots don't realize what I am. Here, look," the bot offlines his optics, shaking his head slightly. When the bot onlines them again, they're now blue instead of red, "See? Autobot. I need to change them back to get you out of here."

"... I'm not leaving."

Sidearm hisses out a curse, "Slag, has he . . has he hurt you? Sparked you? It doesn't matter, I can still get you out of here and somewhere safe, I promise."

Optimus frowns at him and shifts a little. "Megatron has treated me with greater respect than you have so far. I've given him my word that I would not try and escape. I-"

"Fine, if that's what this is about, I can help with that," and the mech surges towards him, a pair of stasis cuffs being drawn from his subspace--and Optimus can't help it.

He reacts without thought.

Sidearm falls to the ground, shrieking as both of his servos are pinned in place with the crystal daggers that Optimus has drawn without even being aware of it.

He hisses at the mech, his venting releasing loud and angry, "I swore an oath to Primus not to try to escape as long as I was allowed to keep my weaponry. In response to that agreement, I have a mark from Primus on my finger, and my Devoted provided me with these. I'm going to use one of them to carve you to pieces for daring to attempt such a-

Hook slams into the room, "Consort Optimus! What is going on?"

He growls angrily, "This fragger tried to take me from my rooms. Hook, get the frag out."

The medic takes a quick step backwards, no longer in his berthroom, "Consort Optimus, you're understandably upset. How about I take this idiot, and give him to General Shockwave?"

Optimus glowers at the medic, but rational thought slowly comes back to him and he vents out sharply and turns away. The mech is an Autobot. An insulting one, and one that tried to force him to leave, but with what were probably good intentions. General Shockwave would likely torture him and Megatron might do worse when he comes back. He cannot condone that when he's being rational.

The mech seems talented enough, since he managed to hack through Megatron's security doors and go undetected all this time. Given the opportunity, he will likely escape on his own. Optimus vents as calmly as he can. "Toss him in a cell somewhere to wait until my Devoted returns." That would hopefully give him enough time to escape.

“I will do that, Consort Optimus."

He watches Hook carefully walk in, and the mech removes the crystal daggers, placing them to the side. He watches the cranebot start to pick Sidearm up and... he sighs unhappily, spark hurting. "Don't leave him hurting. Fix him here and now."

"Are... are you sure, my lord?"

Sidearm is shaking in clear pain. And Primus damn, and Unicron curse, he feels bad about that. "Yes. Fix him now. I'm going to go to the common room. Once you're done, bring him out and I will need to talk to you and him."

"Yes, my lord."

He steps out, and he can hear Sidearm say weakly, "Consort?"

Hook starts explaining, and there's the clear sound of repair work, so Optimus goes to the couch. He's about to sit down, but he can see his clothing is covered in processed energon, so he stays standing. He'll have the drones take the clothing to get it clean once Sidearm is gone.

After a bit, Hook leads Sidearm out, the tankbot in cuffs. "Consort Optimus, I'll take him to a cell."

He sighs, looking at them both, "He is not to go to General Shockwave or to be harassed or interrogated until my Devoted returns. I will speak to Megatron, and decide what to do from there." With luck, Sidearm escapes, and can explain to those in charge about his oath. To drive that need home, he says, "Sidearm." When the bot looks, he holds up his servo, "I gave an oath to Primus. My Devoted is a Priest of Primus, just as Ultra Magnus is. We take such things seriously in our family. Know this, and know this well."

"Y-yes, Consort Optimus. I understand."

He hopes the mech does.

"You tried to make me violate my oaths. My Devoted will not take kindly to that." A warning that the mech must escape before Megatron returns. Sidearm had gone about things wrong, but ultimately the mech just wanted to save a bot he assumed would want to return to Cybertron. That's not his fault, not really. He doesn't deserve pain or offlining for it. But Optimus knows that Megatron would have to set an example with the mech, even if Optimus managed to talk to him about it first.

So the bot has to escape.

He can't just say to escape, either, since Hook is here. But he hopes the mech gets the message.

Hook looks at him, and Optimus takes an in-vent before saying, "Take him away. I need to get changed, and have a drone fix my berth."

"... Ah, Consort Optimus?" Optimus makes a gesture to encourage the bot to continue, "You will need a replacement berth for that. I'll alert laundry of the damage to the blankets and meshes."

He curses softly and says, "And Scalpel won't fix it unless my Devoted is here."

"... Scalpel, my lord?"

"He made the majority of it, and only a weaver can properly repair such things." He sighs, "Well, it's good I have a different berth, I suppose." Even if he hates how his Megatron isn't here. "Go on, Medic Hook. I need to get changed."

Hook bows, forcing Sidearm to do it as well, but leaves. The door makes no locking sound.

He sighs, and strips out of his dress. Time to get changed into something else, and toss the clothing and bedding into the laundry chute. The cloth all goes down easy enough leaving him feeling oddly bare and exposed. It's strange how wearing clothes for a little while has gotten him accustomed to them. He rubs at his bare arms for a moment and then looks at the puddles of energon on the floor. The less evidence left behind for Megatron to see, the less for him to rage over, so he returns to the room a klik later with a cube of solvents and a rag, scrubbing at the floor to clean up the mess he'd made.

He can't smooth out the gouges his blades had left completely, but he manages to buff them out enough that they don't catch on his peds when he tests them.

Primus below, what had come over him, to react so violently to a mech just wanting to 'rescue' him? Kup had trained him extensively on how to disarm a combatant without harming them, and Sidearm had only been holding a pair of weak stasis cuffs. He hadn't been a threat, not really.

Optimus sighs and rubs at his optics, feeling a terrible processor ache coming on.

He goes to his closet, picking through it absently, and putting on a new outfit. He can get dressed, and do... something. He needs a distraction, and that can be something that isn't moping in his room.

--

Optimus is lounging on the couch, sucking absently on a crystal as he reads, when the door opens, and Megatron strides in. He instantly drops the datapad, hops to his peds, and rushes to the bot, "My Devoted!"

Megatron doesn't even pause, picking him up and spinning him happily before kissing him. Optimus is about to reach down a bit to grope at his mech when Megatron murmurs, "My Beloved. You were almost stolen from me, when I should have been here to keep you safe. I've failed you, and failed you horribly, since the mech who did it escaped only megacycles after being placed in his cell."

Thank Primus himself for that. Optimus keeps that feeling from his faceplates though, focusing on his Devoted instead. "You are not to blame. He took advantage of when you were forced to leave to handle slavers." Optimus vents out and shakes his head, "I doubt any other attempts will come, after the way I reacted. He'll probably tell Command that I'm a traitor and not worth their efforts."

Megatron catches his servo, the one marked by Primus and kisses his fingers, "You are a loyal mech. You are loyal to Primus above all else, and no mech worth anything should label you traitor over it."

"Autobots will," he says, knowing just how true it is.

"You are no traitor."

He laughs, kissing Megatron, "They will say I am, and I might be. I need to have my insignia removed."

"I'll get you paint remover. No need to-"

"It isn't paint, Devoted." He flashes it at his mech, "It needs to be removed by Hook. Not this sol, though. Later."

Megatron looks at him, then nods slowly, "You don't need to remove it, but I am happy you want to."

"I will need to remove it eventually," Optimus admits and watches as the meaning of that dawns on Megatron. "But it can wait, a little while at least." The longer he spends with Megatron, the more sure he becomes of himself. He's spent a good chunk of the last sol praying at the altar too, and Primus's will has been made very clear to him. Optimus cannot so much as offline his optics in front of the altar without a vision of Megatron appearing in his processor, and the overwhelming feeling of rightness at seeing bonding paint on their servos.

For whatever reason, Primus wants them bound. That he has not forced the bond means that Optimus can afford to take a little more time to make sure this is truly right for him. Though judging from their Oathbond already, he's sure that if he dawdles for too long, Primus may intervene.

He kisses his mech, rubbing the sharp edges and points of Megatron's helm, knowing his bot will be a little grumpy if he rubs his sparkplates, "But I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Beloved." Megatron kisses him, glossa pressing in possessively.

They stand there, Megatron holding him as they kiss. When he pulls away, Optimus says, "So, I think we should go to the berthroom."

Megatron's optics flash, "Of course. What would you like to do?" His mech carries him to their berthroom, "I'm open to almost anything you want."

Sparkplay is not allowed, but Optimus knows it will be when they bond. "Well, I do have some things I was thinking about," he admits, smiling happily.

Notes:

Only one chapter left! I'm sre you're all very excited :3

Chapter 18

Optimus stares at the blank spot on his shoulder in the mirror, and feels... oddly bare to the universe. He's covered in a frilly dress, long gloves, and thigh high stockings, but he feels naked.

Megatron walks behind him, kissing his neck, "Optimus, my beautiful Beloved."

Anything would be better than this bare spot of armor, so he looks up at Megatron, catching his gaze through the mirror's reflection. "Will you put your mark on me?"

Megatron's servos spasm against his armor. "My . . . you want the Decepticon insignia?"

Optimus nods slowly, and reaches up, catching one of Megatron's servos in his. "I want that, but I want your mark on me more. I know you have bonding paint ready." He wants to just ask Megatron to frag him, but he will not risk bringing a sparkling into this world without a bondmark on his servo.

"... Do you mean it?" Megatron looks and sounds hesitant, like he expects a refusal.

"I do. I want to be bonded. I want to bond to you. I can't imagine not bonding to you." He looks at the mech in the optics, "I want to spend the rest of our lives together, having as many sparklings as we can."

Optimus laughs softly as Megatron's hips jerk against him, "I'll paint you now."

"Do you have the paint with you?" Optimus teases, because he's learned that Megatron can be quite impulsive at times. Not that there's something inherently wrong with that, of course.

"I have had a bonding brush and paint in my subspace since the sol I got your designation from you," Megatron growls in his audio, and that makes Optimus shiver in pleasure, pressing back against him.

"Then take me to the altar and paint me, my love," Optimus pleads, wanting it more than ever now.

Megatron bites his neck, "The altar?"

"I want to have our first time to have the certainty of a sparkling."

"Through the Rite Of Primus we'll be bonded. Is that what you want or to be painted?"

"Paint me."

Megatron pulls out a bonding brush, which is a work of art, saying, "Then I must paint you here first. I don't want Primus to push me to interface before you're painted. I can feel Primus's energy, even through the wall, guided through the altar. I love you so much."

He moves so they're face to face, and kisses Megatron happily, "Then paint me."

Megatron's glossa tangles with his for a long klik, and then the mech pulls back, dipping his brush in a pot of shimmering golden paint. "Will you be mine, from now unto Eternity?" he asks, suddenly formal.

Optimus holds out his servo, the one marked with an Oathbond. "I will be yours, if you will be mine." The paint burns down to his protoform as Megatron strokes slowly and deliberately over his servo, tracing patterns that twin together with the Oath mark. His bond mark looks like something from an elaborate ceremony, and Optimus feels a moment of shame knowing that he won't be able to manage anything as beautiful for Megatron.

He takes the brush, and Megatron can see his hesitance. "Beloved, you could put a splotch of paint all over my servo, and I'd treasure it. Put how I belong to you. Anything you want. You could paint my servo, and then write on my aft how I'm your property."

He looks at his mech with narrowed optics, "Maybe I should paint a collar on you."

"If that's what you want, then do it. Even if you know that we can go out and buy one once we're done celebrating."

He snorts, "Yes, but I think..." He takes Megatron's servo in his own, "You said you wanted a sparkbond?"

"Oh... Of course! Do you want to do it this sol, or-"

"I just... I want to mark that we will have one, even if it isn't right now. A double band for you, and we will sparkbond later. Not tonight."

So Optimus carefully dips the brush into the etching paint and does his best to keep his servo from shaking as he paints a simple set of bands around Megatron's fingers, adding one decorative loop when he thinks he can manage it. It ends up just a little shaky at the end, which he counts as a victory. When the brush and paint are tucked away, Megaron takes his servos and holds them tightly. "My bondmate."

Optimus smiles at him and rests his cheek against their joined servos. "My bondmate. Take me to the altar."

Megatron wraps his arms around him, holding him with care, "Are you wearing anything you don't want damaged?"

"No, I'm.." He hums, "Ah, I know what I should do first."

"Yes?"

He pulls away, and reaches into his subspace, pulling out a pair of panties. Ignoring how Megatron revs, he reaches under his skirts, and carefully disconnects his valve plating, putting the panties on as well. Putting his plating in his subspace, he says, "I'm ready now." Looking his mech in the optics, "You will break my seals with your glossa. Not your spike."

"As you wish, Beloved," Megatron hums, and carries him to the altar, stopping in front of it to put him down. Optimus is about to ask what the mech is doing when he sees Megatron spread several meshes down over the surface. "There, more comfortable." Then he's lifted and laid out on the altar like an offering. Optimus shifts on the meshes, feeling a little embarrassed by that thought. If he's an offering, he's not something Primus will find very pleasing. So he makes promises to himself to offer better fuel and a full Litany of Primus after he is sparked as a thanks for his God.

Megatron crawls up onto the altar over him, optics hot, and Optimus reaches up to pull him down for a kiss. Megatron doesn't argue, just kissing him back happily. When Optimus pulls away, his mech presses kisses down his frame, pausing in clear shock as Optimus opens his back panels to reveal his spark. At his mech's look, he says, "We will go spark to spark, so you are more than allowed."

"Do you want me to lick-"

"No," he says firmly. "You have been told what you're doing first, and you will do it."

Megatron chuckles and continues kissing down his frame, growling a little as he gets to his interfacing array. "Beautiful." The mech rips the panties off of him, and Optimus is glad he chose a boring pair of them. "And mine." Megatron traces around his array with his fingers, and then leans in, letting his glossa flick over Optimus's node. Optimus squeaks in shock at how good it feels, hips bucking up against him. "So lovely," Megatron praises, and then sucks his node, and Optimus's thighs clench around his helm, trying to hold him in place while the mech pleasures him.

He whines when Megatron shifts away from his node and then shrieks as something pierces through his valve seal--but the tiny shock of pain is gone as quick as it came, while Megatron's fingers rub tight circles over his node.

He can feel Megatron's glossa pressing into him, and he mewls softly, hips rolling at how pleasurable it is. Not at all like the hacks to make him feel like a spike in him, but very good. His mech's optics are bright with lust as Optimus finds what focus he has to look. It's clear how much Megatron is enjoying this. He mewls in pleasure as Megatron pinches his node, and he reaches down, playing with his mech's helm.

"Love you," he pants out.

Megatron smirks at him and shares an internal com, ‘I love you too, Beloved.’ Then he shifts, glossa flicking over his node for a moment, before he feels that mouth press over his spike seal, glossa teasing him there until his spike pressurizes up and out, and Megatron starts bobbing his helm over his spike, glossa curling around it, while his fingers pump in and out of his valve.

Optimus arches his back and overloads with a cry, frame shaking with pleasure, and Megatron doesn't let off of him until he's slumped back down, quivering with aftershocks.

His mech slides above him, kissing him possessively, and rubbing his frame, "Beautiful. Always so beautiful."

Optimus reaches between them, his servos confirming what he can feel pressing against him is his mech's spike. he spreads his legs in a tired invitation, his clear chestplate retracting entirely to expose his spark. "Husband, you need to spark me up now."

Megatron shudders, almost looking like he'll fall on top of him, but Optimus lets go so that Megatron can slide his spike right where it belongs. Megatron groans, pressing into him entirely, easy due to how slick he is from both the bot's glossa and the overload. "I suppose it is only fair you finally see my spark in person, rather than just pictures."

When Megatron opens up, he reaches in with his fingers, touching it lightly, "Spark me."

He is not ready for the power of Megatron's spark, which presses against him so completely, so fully that he can't feel anything else. Optimus clings to Megatron as the mech rubs their sparks together, energy crackling wildly between them, his valve spread deep inside by the mech's spike, and he cries out in overload, losing himself to darkness.

--

Optimus onlines, feeling full and satisfied in ways he's never felt before. He shifts and finds that they've moved to a proper berth, and he's nestled against Megatron's side, tucked under several meshes that have him feeling warm and toasty. He snuggles closer and practically purrs as Megatron's servo strokes his frame gently.

"You know, I had not expected you to trigger sparkbonding protocols on our first spark interface, sweetspark," Megatron teases him.

He frowns, "I didn't." He knows he didn't. In fact, they should still be locked off. ... But a check of his processor says that he is sparkbonded.

Megatron hums, frowning, then looks to where the altar would be, if there wasn't a wall between them. "We probably shouldn't have had our first interface on an altar. I've heard of Primus forcibly sparkbonding his favoreds together, but I was expecting that not to happen to us."

"... he does?"

"He does."

He looks at his chest, touching it, and seeing about if he's sparked. He can't actually tell. But there is a glowing blue mark on his servo, and it isn't the oath mark, this one is around his wrist and winds up his fingers, looking surprisingly pretty with the mark Megatron painted. "And this means?"

Megatron looks smug. "Rite of Primus, and clearly we're favored by Primus, since it's not just a small bit of blue somewhere on the servo. Bots will know that you're sparked, and we are bonded. Even if we hadn't painted."

Optimus sighs, "Well, I did want a sparkbond with you eventually." If Primus willed it to be so, that meant it was right. Nothing can break a sparkbond. Even after they offline, they will find each other in the Well, and it is said that if one of them reincarnates, the other will follow and they will find each other again. "I wonder what kind of mech we've sparked."

Megatron kisses him deeply, rubbing his helmfins in a very distracting way, and Optimus squirms, feeling his valve ache with want. That's going to be very distracting now. His mech says softly, "Do you want to get scanned now, or should we wait? If we wait, we'll have a better idea of what we're blessed with." Megatron pauses, looking at him, "And we just got bonded. Do you want to ruin that with seeing Hook's ugly faceplates?"

He rolls his optics, "Let's get scanned."

"Very well." Megatron sits up, "I think we should put some new clothing on you, since your panties are ruined, and I want you to be in something nice, since I can finally show everyone how wonderful you are."

"You just want me in that frilly monstrosity I refused to put on the other sol." It made him look like a frosted crystal cake with so many layers of skirt that he feared he would get lost in them.

"You caught me," Megatron chuckles, and then drags out the mess of lace and petticoats. Optimus lets himself be dressed without too much of a fuss over it, though he draws the line at the corseting armor meant to go under the top.

"I won't have anything squeezing on my sparkplates anytime that I'm sparked."

Megatron looks at him, then puts it away, "That is a very good point, Optimus. We can do it when you aren't sparked."

"When the medic says we're taking a break from sparking."

Megatron nods, "You mentioned you want to do resparking?"

"I do."

"Then when we're told we can't respark, we'll do it." Megatron kisses him, "Now, the pedcovers."

He scowls, "... Fine, but only because you're carrying me." He hates them, but as long as he doesn't need to walk in them, he'll accept it.

The pedcovers are horrible as usual, but he does admit that they look nice. He looks nice, decked out like this, even if this sort of dress would be useless around their rooms. The skirts are too poofy, and the long, trailing sleeves look pretty draped down while Megatron carries him, but they would just get in the way trying to do anything. Optimus settles against Megatron's chest and relaxes. "I'm hungry."

That results in a cube of rich whipped fuel and a few crystals to munch on while Megatron carries him out of the room.

He happily eats it as Megatron clearly carries him down an open and wide hallway. Optimus blinks as various bots murmur things as they walk along the very busy hall. A glance at his husband's smug expression has him rolling his optics, but he knows what the bot wants him to do. He very deliberately starts waving at bots with his painted and blessed servo, and keeps fueling with his other.

It gets louder murmuring, clear excitement frizzling through the bots. One is bold and whistles at them. A glance around doesn't really reveal who does it, but Megatron just looks amused rather than annoyed.

Optimus gets the feeling that if it wasn't him with Megatron, there would be some yelling and congratulations going on.

It only takes a klik to remember that Decepticons are rather more . . . open about their interfacing habits, as he's carried along, seeing as there are four couples interfacing up against the walls. Megatron doesn't seem surprised at all, simply passing by them without comment.

Optimus isn't sure he'll ever be willing to interface in public like that, but he's not sure that he won't either.

He doesn't have to worry about it as they go into the medbay, and Megatron sets him carefully down on an exam berth.

Hook comes over almost instantly, looking pleased, "My lords!"

Megatron looks smug, "Hook. Optimus needs a scan. We'd like to know about our sparkling."

Optimus looks at his arms, "Uh, I don't know how to open a port with this on."

Hook chuckles as Megatron moves the sleeve so he can open a panel, his husband kisses him softly, "There."

Hook connects up, running a scan, and saying, "Should I do more than just the sparkling?"

Optimus is about to refuse, but Megatron says, "Yes. I'm certain that if there was damage, Primus repaired it, but be sure nothing is damaged in his interfacing equipment. I don't want him to possibly have a rip in his valve, or something breaking and hurting him."

"Or lacerating your spike and damaging him even more as it happens," Hook agrees, and the scan intensifies.

Optimus sighs, sure that he's fine. All he feels is a mild ache, and that's surely normally the sol after taking a spike as massive as Megatron's is. Still, he suffers through the process silently, willing to indulge in Megatron's overprotectiveness.

"No damage, my Lords," Hook reports, disconnecting the pads. "And allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your triplets. They look to be truckbots, and their coding is tending towards femme code already."

"... femmes?" Optimus asks, uncertain.

"I believe so, that's what it looks like."

Megatron laughs happily, picking him up and spinning him before throwing him in the air to catch him, "Triplets! Femmes! We're truly blessed, by Beloved!"

Optimus catches his bearings, and then kisses Megatron happily, "We'll be certain before we say femmes to the public, but we can announce triplet truckbots." Since he knows from how excited his mech is, Megatron won't want to keep this silent.

Well, he can certainly accept Primus binding their sparks together if it meant that they had triplets as a reward. Optimus rests a servo over his own chestplates, trying to send his love to his new sparklets. No matter what they were--mech, femme, or those rare few who were somewhere in between--he would love them with all of his spark.

"Oh, I will announce it to the Universe, as I announce our bonding as well, Beloved," Megatron promises with a grin. "We are blessed."

Notes:

And so it ends! I hope you enjoyed!

I'm still updating next week, but it's back to Worm A superhero fandom. Kind of a depressing one, if I'm honest, but my fic is... uh... weird. Yeah, it's weird. Anyway, read that if you want. Read the fics I already have up if you want to familiarize yourself with it, but certainly don't do it if you don't feel like you need to stick around!

I plan on uploading more TFA fic eventually, but that's not now. I hope you had a nice time with the fic.