Optimus let himself be dragged by Jazz through the silent streets. The mech claimed that young Prime needed some fun; and fun, in Jazz's opinion, was parties and possibly interfacing in not necessarily safe bars of lower Cybertron.
The moment they stepped through the threshold into the dimly lit place Jazz sneaked off leaving Optimus alone, with only a teasing goodbye and an insolent grope of young Prime's royal backside.
The red and blue mech looked around, searching for familiar faces, but in such place no one would know him. He relaxed and swept the room again, this time his optics stopping at the delicious form standing beside the bar.
The thruster-heeled pedes stood out on a first look, the shapely hips flared deliciously, perfectly sized aft raised with the way the mech leaned over the counter sipping highgrade; and higher... oh the wings.
The mech must have felt his gaze. Optimus felt embarrassment heating up his faceplates as the flier turned around and gave him equally assessing once over before smiling provocatively. (Good word!)
Young Prime mustered all his confidence and approached the lonely mech, the other raising his cube in mock toast.
Optimus could feel the heat of flier's frame, the radiating confidence and his own systems responded... appreciating, urging him on, wanting.
"You seem so out of place here..." The flier spoke and hearing it Optimus realized that he was not the only mech from upper levels that searched for fun in lower districts' bars.
"Ah, I'm here with a friend..." Was it him or the flier's faceplates fell minutely. "Not that he didn't leave me the moment we stepped through the threshold." Optimus added instantly.
"Oh, then you probably need some cheering up." The white flier put his cube down and catching Optimus' hand, dragged him to the dance-floor. Prime fought a gasp and moan at the desire the simple touch induced. He wanted this mech, wanted to take him to wherever possible and show him...
It did not help matters that the flier was gracefully moving on the dance floor just in front of his optics, the luscious curves swaying wantonly. Every movement was an obvious come-on, blue optics boring into his in challenge.
Optimus growled and pulled the flier close, their frames grinding together as he brought the shapely aft flush to his panel before swaying them together. "Beautiful."
"Name's Starscream." The flier responded and turning his head he nuzzled his audial into Optimus' making young Prime groan.
"Beautiful Starscream, then." Optimus licked the black side of flier's helmet, eliciting a moan. "Optimus."
The night followed with sultry grinds and dirty words, stolen kisses and Prime falling head over stabilizers for the flier. Morning parted them with a promise of a next time.
Next times that happened until Starscream, with his perfect body and insufferable confidence, became essential part of young Prime's life.
With Jazz observing and loudly disapproving.
Not that Prime ever listened.
But what was friends for.