[G1] Be My Escape
Mar. 9th, 2015 07:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: This is another one of the Valentines BDSM pieces from tumblr. I apologize for the somewhat corny title but my creativity is swamped right now. ;) This is also expanded from the original version to feature more fluff and smut.
Special thanks to Anon for giving me the prompt for this. It's NSFW, by the way.
Title: Be My Escape
Universe: G1
Characters: SkywarpxOptimus
Rating: R
Warnings: tactile, spark play, dom/sub, light bondage
Description: Here in this room, with the collar on, Skywarp was only Skywarp, and it was that much easier to surrender to the desires of his spark.
The vop of misplaced air woke Optimus from recharge, but no more so than the sudden appearance of weight on his frame. He cycled his optics, staring up at the familiar black and purple Seeker astride his abdomen.
“Looks like I caught you in a rare moment of recharge,” Skywarp said with a wicked tone, one hand twirling a pair of magna-cuffs. “I can go?”
Optimus' hands rest on Skywarp's hips. “No. Your presence here is most welcome. Especially tonight.”
“You're sure?”
“Absolutely.” He loosed his hold to produce the collar from his subspace. “Please?”
Skywarp took the collar from his hands. “Of course.” The cuffs were set aside and he tipped a knuckle under Optimus' chin. “Up.”
He tilted his helm back, leaving ample room for the collar to be clipped around his throat. Optimus' engine purred as the barely audible click traveled to his audials. Something inside of him slotted into place and the tension drained from his frame.
“Better?” Skywarp asked with a seductive dance of his hips atop Optimus'.
“Yes, Skywarp.” Not Master or Lord or Sir. Skywarp always preferred to be addressed by his designation which made it feel all the more intimate to Optimus and a lot less like he was betraying his ideals.
If here, in this room with the collar on, Skywarp was only Skywarp, then he was not Decepticon or Seeker or part of the Command Trine. It made it that much easier for Optimus to surrender to the desires of his spark.
“Good.” Skywarp purred at him, his hands flattening on Optimus' chest, plucking at his windshields. “Has it been a stressful week, my dearest?”
Skywarp's favorite ways to address Optimus also worked in his favor. Not toy. Not slut. Not slave. But always my dearest, or sweetspark, or cupcake, or some term of endearment that should have sounded ridiculous, but always came across as sincere. As if to say “I will always take care of you.”
Optimus' plating shivered. It was nice, it was intoxicating, to be the one cared for rather than the one caring.
“Yes, Skywarp,” he answered and he arched toward the teasing scrape of talons on his center seam.
His spark whirled with anticipation. His hands stroked a pattern on Skywarp's hips, though he did not roam further. He had not yet been granted that privilege.
“Poor sweetspark.” Skywarp's smile softened as his vocals smoothed from a purr to a croon. “I'll have to soothe those worries, won't I?”
“Please.” The request emerged more like a plea and Optimus couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed. Not when he truly needed it.
One of Skywarp's hands left his chest to cradle his helm, thumb stroking the planes of his battle mask. “As you wish.”
Optimus shuttered his optics, helm turning in to the caress. A shudder rippled through his frame, but relief followed in the wake of it. He ex-vented a long, slow vent. He worked his intake and let the calm roll through him like a fog bank.
“That's it,” Skywarp murmured, thumb sweeping over his mask in a steady pattern. “Focus on me. Only on me.”
A task more difficult than it appeared. Optimus was Prime. That shift was difficult to achieve and often accomplished in stages.
First, he listened. He measured the rhythm of Skywarp's ventilations. And then he matched them.
He reached out with his field next, found Skywarp's, and bid permission to connect. The edges of their fields came into contact and knitted together so that they pulsed and swayed to the same beat.
He tuned his audials to Skywarp's voice and only Skywarp's voice. There was an emergency channel that he redirected all potential comms to. If there was something his Autobots needed of utmost urgency, he would receive it. He would have to deal with the jarring dissonance at a later time.
A thumb dragged down the center line of his blast mask. “Open for me,” Skywarp said, his tone gentle but his words nonetheless a command.
Optimus didn't once think about disobeying.
His battle mask split, leaving room for Skywarp's thumb to trace the contours of his bottom lip. “So obedient,” Skywarp murmured and then his weight shifted, his hand lifting away from Optimus' face.
He onlined his optics in confusion, a question on the tip of his glossa, but Skywarp cocked his helm to the side. The stasis cuffs appeared in his hands.
“Your wrists, sweetspark,” he said.
Optimus offered them. He kept his silence as Skwarp wrapped the cuffs around his wrists and then pushed his arms over his head.
“Keep them here,” he instructed with a tap to the connector.
“Yes, Skywarp.”
Skywarp's lips curved. “I love the way you say my designation.” His hands circled Optimus' wrists below the cuffs, but as he sat back, he grazed his fingers down the length of Optimus' arm, igniting his sensor net in a long sweep.
Optimus' frame hummed with delight and he allowed his optics to power down again, surrendering to the sensation.
“Ah, ah,” Skywarp chastised with a click of his glossa. “Optics on me, honeybun. I want to see that pretty, pretty blue.”
Optimus shivered and obeyed, the blue glow filling the space between them as he onlined his optics and sought out Skywarp's face. The Seeker's weight shifted as he leaned closer, his hands tickling into the joint of Optimus' shoulders before sliding further inward until fingers splayed over his windshields. One plucked his left wiper with an echoing tink.
Skywarp's smile curved wider. “Your earth alt-mode has all sorts of interesting kibble,” he commented. “I don't know that I'll ever tire of playing with it.”
One talon slid down the seam of his chestplates. “Knock, knock,” he all but sang, close enough now that his ex-vents fogged up the glass of Optimus' windshields. “Can I come in?”
Humor teased at the edges of Optimus' desire. Skywarp's somewhat whimsical nature never ceased to amuse.
“Be careful,” he warned, though probably without need, as he allowed his chestplates to split aside, armor rearranging until the glow of his spark and matrix amalgam lit up Skywarp's face.
The Seeker swept a glossa over his lipplates. “Oh, I don't need to,” he said, one finger ever so gently resting on the rounded edge of the matrix. “It likes me, doesn't it, sunshine?”
As if in answer, the matrix pulsed a strong beat, one that sent a shock through Optimus' systems. He jerked on the berth, pleasure far more than pain, and his cooling fans clicked on with a roar.
“I thought so,” Skywarp crooned, as satisfied as a cat that caught the canary.
Both hands now cupped the artifact in Optimus' chest, not out of reverence, but respect. Around the matrix, tendrils of Optimus' spark reached out, curling over Skywarp's fingers.
Trust, Optimus remembered, had not even been the hardest part of this. It had baffled Skywarp at first, how Optimus had opened at the first request, half given in jest. Skywarp hadn't expected Optimus to obey but he had because more than anything, he'd been craving this.
And Skywarp had never betrayed that trust.
One hand cupped the matrix, thumb sweeping over the gold lattice. The other curled beneath, fingers dipping into the corona of Optimus' spark.
His ventilations hitched. His hands tightened into a fist, however briefly. The pleasure that radiated through his frame was more than physical satisfaction. It calmed him all the way through to his tense core.
“Oh, sweetspark, you really are tense,” Skywarp murmured and shifted weight again, his mouth now on the edge of Optimus' armor, where his spark energies licked out in a desperate bid for attention.
Against all odds, Optimus swore he could feel the heat of Skywarp's mouth, the pressure of his denta, despite there being no sensors present. Skywarp teased the hot edges, his crimson optics watching Optimus.
“It won't take much, will it?”
“No, Skywarp,” Optimus breathed and arched, pushing his chassis, his spark, closer to his master's face. His pedes dug at the berth.
His entire frame felt alight with charge, the initial matrix pulse as energizing as the most potent cube of high grade.
Fingers pushed deeper into the blue corona of energy and Optimus' spark responded, eagerly coiling around Skywarp. His spark swelled, brighter and larger around the matrix, and the artifact pulsed in kind. Another bolt of energy, stronger than before, flashed through Optimus' frame. His sensory net came afire with pleasure.
He moaned, twisting restless on the berth.
Skywarp's field slid against his, seductive and approving. He nibbled all around the edges of Optimus' spark, each tiny scrape of denta against the hot metal a jolt to his system. Optimus twitched, pushing closer and closer to Skywarp's mouth, unsure which he preferred. The hot lap of Skywarp's glossa, or the teasing touch of his fingers on Optimus' spark.
“Will you overload for me, sweetspark?” Skywarp asked, less a command and more a plea. “I want to see that pretty spark flash.”
Optimus squirmed, a low keen building in his vocalizer.
“Please,” Optimus managed. His plating ruffled, stirred by the charge building beneath, and he could feel the pressure swelling his chassis. His spark felt engorged, ripe with potential.
“So lovely,” Skywarp crooned and his fingers traced a vivid line around the lattice of the matrix, creating shadows on the wall behind him. “Especially in pleasure. I could watch you writhe beneath me all day. If only I had the time.”
If only. Optimus agreed on that much.
His optics flickered, but he kept them powered on and open, as Skywarp had asked. He watched Skywarp's optics darken in hue and watched that talented gloss leave the edge of his frame and dip further in, tasting the border of his chamber. It should have felt like nothing, but a lightning-bright shock of pleasure hit Optimus hard and fast.
He jerked, helm tipping back, spinal strut arching. His spark flared, the matrix twitched in its housing, and his cooling fans strained to dispel the heat scorching his frame.
“Please.” It was all he could say, the last word left to his vocabulary. He felt the sob on the edge of his vocalizer, threatening to leave him undone.
Skywarp was so very good at that.
“How can I resist such a plea?” Skywarp asked, purely rhetorical, and his thumb pushed harder against the matrix, as though it had sensors that could register the pressure.
And perhaps it did. For Optimus felt that touch as though it had been lain against a sensor nexus on his own frame. He vibrated from the pleasure of it, his spark trying to pulse free from the cage of his chamber.
Skywarp's denta nibbled the chamber edge and his fingers stirred a charged path through Optimus' spark, playing with the coils of energy that lashed against him. He stared at Optimus, their gazes locked, the push of his field a caress to Optimus' need.
“Come on, dearest. Let me see you in pleasure,” Skywarp crooned and he crooked his fingers just so, stroking both the curve of the matrix and the interior of Optimus' chamber.
The swell within his spark rose up and crashed down, like a wave against the shore. Optimus trembled as the pleasure radiated outward and he undulated beneath Skywarp, spark so bright as to light up his quarters and the pleased expression on Skywarp's face. Charge licked out from his spark, snapping against Skywarp's fingers and glossa, but he gave no sign that it injured him, though Optimus knew he would find singed plating later.
Optimus' engine roared at the peak of his pleasure and he thanked Primus that there were none within audial range who would question the noise. He couldn't have held himself back if he tried. His sensory net tingled with aftershocks, his spark humming with contentment. And the matrix, if it truly felt anything such as pleasure, all but echoed his spark.
Optimus slumped, fans whirling and vibrating the berth. Calm suffused his frame all the way down to his aching joints and he relished in it.
Better was the sight of Skywarp smiling at him, with a soft expression, as he nudged Optimus' chestplates closed and pressed a kiss to the seam when his spark was safely stowed. He removed the cuffs with the same care, and nudged Optimus' helm up to unclasp the collar as well, leaving a kiss in its wake as well. The back of one finger stroked Optimus' intake before Skywarp snuggled down against Optimus, half-laying atop him to accommodate his wings.
Skywarp never asked for anything else, but the hum of satisfaction in his field was evident. He felt as though he had overloaded, but Optimus knew he had not.
He did not question Skywarp as to the reasons why. Every mech was different in regards to what made him happy. So long as Skywarp was satisfied with the outcome, then Optimus would not pester him otherwise.
Especially since Skywarp could not stay for long.
What would it take to end the war? Optimus often asked himself this as he and Skywarp lay next to each other, stealing a moment of peace and certain that it could be their last.
He never had any answers. He had suggestions, solutions that did not sit well with his spark, but no answers.
“You're going to ruin all my hard work if you keep thinking that hard,” Skywarp said.
Optimus stroked over a wing, fingers finding a relatively recent weld line with much sorrow. Should he blame his Autobots or the Decepticons or perhaps even Megatron for this one? To ponder such things would only send Optimus in a further downward spiral.
“It is my nature,” Optimus said.
“Tell me something I don't know.” Skywarp snuggled closer, plating notching against plating, their frames humming in symphony. “I can't stay much longer.”
“I know.” Regret colored his words.
Optimus offlined his optics and counted ventilations, his and Skywarp's because they were still in tune.
He would take what time he was allowed until the next opportunity arose.
“Thank you,” Optimus said.
Skywarp hummed at him.
Gratitude was not needed. It never had been.
***
a/n: More Valentine's fics to come along with an update for Critical Mass, a sidestory for War Without End, an update to Apple A Day, a dragonship piece (bwa ha ha), and much, much more. Though I might end up foregoing Flash Fiction Friday this month. Work is hectic right now. We'll see what Friday is like when it gets here. ;)
As always, feedback is very welcome and appreciated.
Special thanks to Anon for giving me the prompt for this. It's NSFW, by the way.
Title: Be My Escape
Universe: G1
Characters: SkywarpxOptimus
Rating: R
Warnings: tactile, spark play, dom/sub, light bondage
Description: Here in this room, with the collar on, Skywarp was only Skywarp, and it was that much easier to surrender to the desires of his spark.
The vop of misplaced air woke Optimus from recharge, but no more so than the sudden appearance of weight on his frame. He cycled his optics, staring up at the familiar black and purple Seeker astride his abdomen.
“Looks like I caught you in a rare moment of recharge,” Skywarp said with a wicked tone, one hand twirling a pair of magna-cuffs. “I can go?”
Optimus' hands rest on Skywarp's hips. “No. Your presence here is most welcome. Especially tonight.”
“You're sure?”
“Absolutely.” He loosed his hold to produce the collar from his subspace. “Please?”
Skywarp took the collar from his hands. “Of course.” The cuffs were set aside and he tipped a knuckle under Optimus' chin. “Up.”
He tilted his helm back, leaving ample room for the collar to be clipped around his throat. Optimus' engine purred as the barely audible click traveled to his audials. Something inside of him slotted into place and the tension drained from his frame.
“Better?” Skywarp asked with a seductive dance of his hips atop Optimus'.
“Yes, Skywarp.” Not Master or Lord or Sir. Skywarp always preferred to be addressed by his designation which made it feel all the more intimate to Optimus and a lot less like he was betraying his ideals.
If here, in this room with the collar on, Skywarp was only Skywarp, then he was not Decepticon or Seeker or part of the Command Trine. It made it that much easier for Optimus to surrender to the desires of his spark.
“Good.” Skywarp purred at him, his hands flattening on Optimus' chest, plucking at his windshields. “Has it been a stressful week, my dearest?”
Skywarp's favorite ways to address Optimus also worked in his favor. Not toy. Not slut. Not slave. But always my dearest, or sweetspark, or cupcake, or some term of endearment that should have sounded ridiculous, but always came across as sincere. As if to say “I will always take care of you.”
Optimus' plating shivered. It was nice, it was intoxicating, to be the one cared for rather than the one caring.
“Yes, Skywarp,” he answered and he arched toward the teasing scrape of talons on his center seam.
His spark whirled with anticipation. His hands stroked a pattern on Skywarp's hips, though he did not roam further. He had not yet been granted that privilege.
“Poor sweetspark.” Skywarp's smile softened as his vocals smoothed from a purr to a croon. “I'll have to soothe those worries, won't I?”
“Please.” The request emerged more like a plea and Optimus couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed. Not when he truly needed it.
One of Skywarp's hands left his chest to cradle his helm, thumb stroking the planes of his battle mask. “As you wish.”
Optimus shuttered his optics, helm turning in to the caress. A shudder rippled through his frame, but relief followed in the wake of it. He ex-vented a long, slow vent. He worked his intake and let the calm roll through him like a fog bank.
“That's it,” Skywarp murmured, thumb sweeping over his mask in a steady pattern. “Focus on me. Only on me.”
A task more difficult than it appeared. Optimus was Prime. That shift was difficult to achieve and often accomplished in stages.
First, he listened. He measured the rhythm of Skywarp's ventilations. And then he matched them.
He reached out with his field next, found Skywarp's, and bid permission to connect. The edges of their fields came into contact and knitted together so that they pulsed and swayed to the same beat.
He tuned his audials to Skywarp's voice and only Skywarp's voice. There was an emergency channel that he redirected all potential comms to. If there was something his Autobots needed of utmost urgency, he would receive it. He would have to deal with the jarring dissonance at a later time.
A thumb dragged down the center line of his blast mask. “Open for me,” Skywarp said, his tone gentle but his words nonetheless a command.
Optimus didn't once think about disobeying.
His battle mask split, leaving room for Skywarp's thumb to trace the contours of his bottom lip. “So obedient,” Skywarp murmured and then his weight shifted, his hand lifting away from Optimus' face.
He onlined his optics in confusion, a question on the tip of his glossa, but Skywarp cocked his helm to the side. The stasis cuffs appeared in his hands.
“Your wrists, sweetspark,” he said.
Optimus offered them. He kept his silence as Skwarp wrapped the cuffs around his wrists and then pushed his arms over his head.
“Keep them here,” he instructed with a tap to the connector.
“Yes, Skywarp.”
Skywarp's lips curved. “I love the way you say my designation.” His hands circled Optimus' wrists below the cuffs, but as he sat back, he grazed his fingers down the length of Optimus' arm, igniting his sensor net in a long sweep.
Optimus' frame hummed with delight and he allowed his optics to power down again, surrendering to the sensation.
“Ah, ah,” Skywarp chastised with a click of his glossa. “Optics on me, honeybun. I want to see that pretty, pretty blue.”
Optimus shivered and obeyed, the blue glow filling the space between them as he onlined his optics and sought out Skywarp's face. The Seeker's weight shifted as he leaned closer, his hands tickling into the joint of Optimus' shoulders before sliding further inward until fingers splayed over his windshields. One plucked his left wiper with an echoing tink.
Skywarp's smile curved wider. “Your earth alt-mode has all sorts of interesting kibble,” he commented. “I don't know that I'll ever tire of playing with it.”
One talon slid down the seam of his chestplates. “Knock, knock,” he all but sang, close enough now that his ex-vents fogged up the glass of Optimus' windshields. “Can I come in?”
Humor teased at the edges of Optimus' desire. Skywarp's somewhat whimsical nature never ceased to amuse.
“Be careful,” he warned, though probably without need, as he allowed his chestplates to split aside, armor rearranging until the glow of his spark and matrix amalgam lit up Skywarp's face.
The Seeker swept a glossa over his lipplates. “Oh, I don't need to,” he said, one finger ever so gently resting on the rounded edge of the matrix. “It likes me, doesn't it, sunshine?”
As if in answer, the matrix pulsed a strong beat, one that sent a shock through Optimus' systems. He jerked on the berth, pleasure far more than pain, and his cooling fans clicked on with a roar.
“I thought so,” Skywarp crooned, as satisfied as a cat that caught the canary.
Both hands now cupped the artifact in Optimus' chest, not out of reverence, but respect. Around the matrix, tendrils of Optimus' spark reached out, curling over Skywarp's fingers.
Trust, Optimus remembered, had not even been the hardest part of this. It had baffled Skywarp at first, how Optimus had opened at the first request, half given in jest. Skywarp hadn't expected Optimus to obey but he had because more than anything, he'd been craving this.
And Skywarp had never betrayed that trust.
One hand cupped the matrix, thumb sweeping over the gold lattice. The other curled beneath, fingers dipping into the corona of Optimus' spark.
His ventilations hitched. His hands tightened into a fist, however briefly. The pleasure that radiated through his frame was more than physical satisfaction. It calmed him all the way through to his tense core.
“Oh, sweetspark, you really are tense,” Skywarp murmured and shifted weight again, his mouth now on the edge of Optimus' armor, where his spark energies licked out in a desperate bid for attention.
Against all odds, Optimus swore he could feel the heat of Skywarp's mouth, the pressure of his denta, despite there being no sensors present. Skywarp teased the hot edges, his crimson optics watching Optimus.
“It won't take much, will it?”
“No, Skywarp,” Optimus breathed and arched, pushing his chassis, his spark, closer to his master's face. His pedes dug at the berth.
His entire frame felt alight with charge, the initial matrix pulse as energizing as the most potent cube of high grade.
Fingers pushed deeper into the blue corona of energy and Optimus' spark responded, eagerly coiling around Skywarp. His spark swelled, brighter and larger around the matrix, and the artifact pulsed in kind. Another bolt of energy, stronger than before, flashed through Optimus' frame. His sensory net came afire with pleasure.
He moaned, twisting restless on the berth.
Skywarp's field slid against his, seductive and approving. He nibbled all around the edges of Optimus' spark, each tiny scrape of denta against the hot metal a jolt to his system. Optimus twitched, pushing closer and closer to Skywarp's mouth, unsure which he preferred. The hot lap of Skywarp's glossa, or the teasing touch of his fingers on Optimus' spark.
“Will you overload for me, sweetspark?” Skywarp asked, less a command and more a plea. “I want to see that pretty spark flash.”
Optimus squirmed, a low keen building in his vocalizer.
“Please,” Optimus managed. His plating ruffled, stirred by the charge building beneath, and he could feel the pressure swelling his chassis. His spark felt engorged, ripe with potential.
“So lovely,” Skywarp crooned and his fingers traced a vivid line around the lattice of the matrix, creating shadows on the wall behind him. “Especially in pleasure. I could watch you writhe beneath me all day. If only I had the time.”
If only. Optimus agreed on that much.
His optics flickered, but he kept them powered on and open, as Skywarp had asked. He watched Skywarp's optics darken in hue and watched that talented gloss leave the edge of his frame and dip further in, tasting the border of his chamber. It should have felt like nothing, but a lightning-bright shock of pleasure hit Optimus hard and fast.
He jerked, helm tipping back, spinal strut arching. His spark flared, the matrix twitched in its housing, and his cooling fans strained to dispel the heat scorching his frame.
“Please.” It was all he could say, the last word left to his vocabulary. He felt the sob on the edge of his vocalizer, threatening to leave him undone.
Skywarp was so very good at that.
“How can I resist such a plea?” Skywarp asked, purely rhetorical, and his thumb pushed harder against the matrix, as though it had sensors that could register the pressure.
And perhaps it did. For Optimus felt that touch as though it had been lain against a sensor nexus on his own frame. He vibrated from the pleasure of it, his spark trying to pulse free from the cage of his chamber.
Skywarp's denta nibbled the chamber edge and his fingers stirred a charged path through Optimus' spark, playing with the coils of energy that lashed against him. He stared at Optimus, their gazes locked, the push of his field a caress to Optimus' need.
“Come on, dearest. Let me see you in pleasure,” Skywarp crooned and he crooked his fingers just so, stroking both the curve of the matrix and the interior of Optimus' chamber.
The swell within his spark rose up and crashed down, like a wave against the shore. Optimus trembled as the pleasure radiated outward and he undulated beneath Skywarp, spark so bright as to light up his quarters and the pleased expression on Skywarp's face. Charge licked out from his spark, snapping against Skywarp's fingers and glossa, but he gave no sign that it injured him, though Optimus knew he would find singed plating later.
Optimus' engine roared at the peak of his pleasure and he thanked Primus that there were none within audial range who would question the noise. He couldn't have held himself back if he tried. His sensory net tingled with aftershocks, his spark humming with contentment. And the matrix, if it truly felt anything such as pleasure, all but echoed his spark.
Optimus slumped, fans whirling and vibrating the berth. Calm suffused his frame all the way down to his aching joints and he relished in it.
Better was the sight of Skywarp smiling at him, with a soft expression, as he nudged Optimus' chestplates closed and pressed a kiss to the seam when his spark was safely stowed. He removed the cuffs with the same care, and nudged Optimus' helm up to unclasp the collar as well, leaving a kiss in its wake as well. The back of one finger stroked Optimus' intake before Skywarp snuggled down against Optimus, half-laying atop him to accommodate his wings.
Skywarp never asked for anything else, but the hum of satisfaction in his field was evident. He felt as though he had overloaded, but Optimus knew he had not.
He did not question Skywarp as to the reasons why. Every mech was different in regards to what made him happy. So long as Skywarp was satisfied with the outcome, then Optimus would not pester him otherwise.
Especially since Skywarp could not stay for long.
What would it take to end the war? Optimus often asked himself this as he and Skywarp lay next to each other, stealing a moment of peace and certain that it could be their last.
He never had any answers. He had suggestions, solutions that did not sit well with his spark, but no answers.
“You're going to ruin all my hard work if you keep thinking that hard,” Skywarp said.
Optimus stroked over a wing, fingers finding a relatively recent weld line with much sorrow. Should he blame his Autobots or the Decepticons or perhaps even Megatron for this one? To ponder such things would only send Optimus in a further downward spiral.
“It is my nature,” Optimus said.
“Tell me something I don't know.” Skywarp snuggled closer, plating notching against plating, their frames humming in symphony. “I can't stay much longer.”
“I know.” Regret colored his words.
Optimus offlined his optics and counted ventilations, his and Skywarp's because they were still in tune.
He would take what time he was allowed until the next opportunity arose.
“Thank you,” Optimus said.
Skywarp hummed at him.
Gratitude was not needed. It never had been.
a/n: More Valentine's fics to come along with an update for Critical Mass, a sidestory for War Without End, an update to Apple A Day, a dragonship piece (bwa ha ha), and much, much more. Though I might end up foregoing Flash Fiction Friday this month. Work is hectic right now. We'll see what Friday is like when it gets here. ;)
As always, feedback is very welcome and appreciated.
