Disclaimer: Transformers does not belong to me.
Warning: Contains heavy slash (male/male) - Optimus/Bumblebee
A/N: First Transformers story.
Long Time Coming
Optimus Prime stood at the open hangar doors, arms folded over his chassis and his body rigid as he looked on at the party that was well underway. Despite appearances he was in relaxation mode, feeling more relaxed than he'd felt in centuries. Much of the war may be over but he knew that there were still a few rogue decepticons left on Earth, waiting, biding their time.
Since Megatron's death and the deaths of his closest followers, many of the others fled, running all over the globe, stuck here, unable to get off the planet. And since most were gone their human allies decided that the time to celebrate was here, which was why the base currently sported a slightly different look.
The normally modest yet sleek design of their base was littered with balloons and streamers of a variety of colours and a table along the far wall stretched end to end draped in a white table cloth and contained food and drink for both humans and Cybertronians alike. A row of chairs, some big, some small sat around it and a ten foot high entertainment set sat against the other side leaving the middle for dancing which was currently occupied by Carly who danced to the rock song that pumped from the speakers. Behind her, Bumblebee copied each of her movement's much to the amusement of Sam and Ironhide. Near the back Sideswipe and Mirage joked around with Lennox and Epps, while Ratchet and Jolt threw a large grey ball between them back and forth while Arcee cheered them on.
Feelings of pride swelled in his chest as he looked them over one by one. All of them had fought bravely ever since the beginning of the war eons ago. To see them here, now, relaxing on this world they now called home made him glad. They had come through and won over the evil that had plagued their home world, their race and the entire universe for so long. The hope that they could rebuild their shattered race still held strong and if it was to be on Earth, then so be it.
Slowly, the pride he felt shifted into something else as his optics lingered on the young scout for too long. He still remembered the first time they met as though it had happened yesterday. The yellow bot was part of the newest generation to be born and they were all housed at a complex in Tyger Pax. But on one unusually quiet day, the complex was bombed by Shockwave at Megatron's order, trapping hundreds of younglings under the rubble.
Once the news had reached the autobots, all they could do was mount a rescue and Prime, along with Ironhide, Ratchet and Jazz, went to the devastated site and started their long and painful search. The clouds of ash and debris littered the air and clogged their processors which made things slower. But the early signs of death were seen almost immediately with the broken bodies that lay on the ground.
Ratchet's scanner indicated high levels of spilt energon but he checked all the bodies he could reach that moved or even twitched in the hope that some could be saved. But as the day dragged on into early evening, their rapidly fading hope was almost gone and just as Optimus was about to order their retreat before Megatron detected them, he heard it; beeping.
The tone was high pitched but there were no words, just the sound. He ordered the others over and they dug desperately over the noise, soon reaching a small, yellow figure that was already stretching an arm out towards them, wanting out of the death trap.
"Are there others?" asked Optimus, while Ratchet went to work.
The youngling had shrugged, giving a confused look. Optimus didn't push him any further. The last thing he needed was to lose the only survivor by shoving him into shock after what happened. As they started to leave, fighters from above rained fire on their position and locking a hand around the youngling's wrist, they took off in a run, shooting back when able.
Once back at base and after a full check-up he was given a clean bill of health. Without hesitation, Bumblebee had told them everything he knew and about himself and accepted Optimus' invitation to join the autobots. It wasn't long before Bumblebee excelled under Ironhide's training and soon became the best scout they'd ever had.
It was then that the music changed, pulling Optimus from his memory banks. On the dance floor Carly still moved to the next song along with a male officer that had joined her but Bumblebee's movement's had ceased. The expressive blue optics were looking directly at him. The youngest autobot offered a tiny smile and a wave to his leader. Feeling a rush of affection, Optimus returned the wave and watched as Bumblebee went back to copying Carly's dance moves, wanting to get it right.
The sight made the faintest smile touch Optimus' metal lips as he stifled a chuckle. He watched as the yellow mech flitted about like the Earth creature he happened to be named after, his small frame able to manoeuvre gracefully with the music. Optimus noted that Bumblebee's fighting style was akin to his dancing, his slender frame able to twist in directions that made the autobot leader's head spin, his subconscious spitting out images of just what he'd like to do to Bumblebee.
Even after all these centuries Bumblebee hadn't changed. Optimus still saw the curious and enthusiastic youngling that he'd rescued, always ready to learn and eager to please his superiors. As the scout looked up and caught him staring again, Optimus felt embarrassment rush through his systems. But the feelings that went beyond affection for Bumblebee weren't new to him. In the early days of the war on the relatively unscarred surface of Cybertron, his feelings had been realised after seeing Bumblebee engaging in extracurricular activities with Sideswipe.
To this day he kept his feelings and desires to himself. He was the autobot leader and a Prime. Lusting after someone under his command was unbecoming. But the thoughts of what attracted him always found a way of creeping back in and taunting him with what he could not have. Memories of Bumblebee floated to the surface; the time he'd played with Ironhide outside of training, the times he and the twins would prank each other on quiet days of the war and the way he fought alongside him and others in the battlefield.
Optimus took in a breath to clear his vents and he felt his cooling system kick in an attempt to keep him from overheating. But whenever he saw those eyes or had them gazing upon him, the reaction was almost natural. There were so many things that he wanted to say and do to Bumblebee, most of which were inappropriate especially for someone of his status.
With that in mind, Optimus turned his back on the party, transformed and drove away. Inside, the noise took Sam's attention off the dance floor and outside in time to see Optimus' alt form vanish from sight. The questions filled his mind quickly but he settled on the most pressing one.
"Where's Optimus going?" he asked, eyes flittering up to Ironhide's face.
"Prime's don't party," said Ironhide bluntly.
"Why?" asked Sam curiously.
Ironhide gave a tired sigh. "I've known Optimus a long, long time, even before he became a Prime. He's a little different then he used to be. Since becoming a Prime I can't recall him ever smiling, laughing, crying or joining us for a party."
"Why?" repeated Sam, a frown appearing.
"It's just how Prime's are built," answered Ironhide. "They're taught to be strong, to ignore every distraction. And this, here, is a distraction."
"But the war's over," stated Sam. "Surely he hasn't forgotten how to relax?"
"He does relax," said Ironhide. "Just in a different way to the rest of us. It usually involves going for a drive and being on his own."
Sam nodded but asked no more questions on the subject. Even after they'd first met Sam could tell that Optimus was the silent type, not one to share much with others which he sometimes thought was unfortunate. He'd heard Optimus refer to the autobots as his friends but yet he never seemed to spend any time with them.
"What are they doing?" asked Sam, indicating Ratchet and Jolt with his head.
"It's called Lobbing," said Ironhide, chuckling. "It's a game popular among the warrior class on Cybertron. I suppose it's similar to the human game of catch albeit with a large, heavy ball of metal."
"Right," said Sam, watching the game for another few minutes before looking around again. "Where's Bee?" he asked, noticing the yellow bots absence.
Bumblebee was no longer on the dance floor and nowhere to be seen in the hangar. Sam frowned as he stood up. He looked to Ironhide but the weapons specialist wasn't looking back. His eyes were directed towards the Lobbing game and it made Sam wonder if he knew where Bumblebee had gone but didn't want to talk about it. Sam pushed down his feelings of anxiety and sat back down, letting his eyes fall on Carly.
The evening air was cool and brushed through his grill, sending shivers straight to his spark. The tracks around the small island were easy to follow and it led him almost to the other side. The unused grassy area was almost pitch black save for the slither of blue light emitting from a bunker he knew to be hidden out there.
Without letting second thoughts creep in, Bumblebee drove slowly out into the field, not wanting to make much noise and give away that he was here. A few feet from the trapdoor, he came to a complete stop and transformed. The large metal covering opened easily and he laid it against the grass before stepping inside. The wide staircase winded downward and he followed the sounds filling his audio sensors that told him where he needed to go.
The electronic humming was a sound he was more than familiar with. Training was different on this planet than it had been back on Cybertron. There had been plenty of space to practice scenarios but on Earth it was different. They shared the planet with humans and usually only worked with the space they were given. But the need for something else gave Ratchet the chance to work on something new and along with Wheeljack, he'd built a simulator.
They'd named it Teletraan II, after Teletraan I who was a computer they'd had back on Cybertron. It had helped them out of a few sticky situations and let them know when decepticons were on the loose. But they'd lost him during one of the final battles when the decepticons eventually took control of one of their bases and Optimus had made the hard decision of turning him offline.
At the bottom of the stairs, Bumblebee turned left down the only corridor, ignoring the darkness to the right and following the cold stone walls until he reached the door at the end. It was slightly ajar and he leaned forward quietly to peek inside. Teletraan II sat in the centre against the wall, most of it currently blocked by the massive body of Optimus Prime who stood in front of it, one of the feelers plugged into the input just below his spark, the protective armour pushed to the sides.
Bumblebee craned his neck, wanting a better look at what Optimus was experiencing in the simulation but from this angle it was impossible. Warm metal fingers pressed against the cool metal door and pushed against it gently. It opened noiselessly and Bumblebee stepped lightly into the room, only partially closing the door behind him. He froze, waiting to see if he had been heard but it seemed Optimus was too enthralled by the experience he was enjoying.
The skilled scout stepped in behind Optimus and peeked around the side. The imagery made his optics widen and his spark thrum wildly in his chest. The dreamy sequence projected out from Optimus' optics and onto the wall in front so he could see what he was envisioning. It showed Optimus hovering over a smaller, younger yellow bot… him. Bumblebee's optics widened further as he watched his leader imagined entering his body over and over again.
A deep moan elicited from Optimus' throat, startling Bumblebee slightly. The scout took a few steps back as a new sound filled the air. Optimus' front interface panel slid open, revealing a long and thick red spike that was just as impressive as he was. A large hand wrapped around the length, moving up and down in time to match his thrusts in the simulation.
At the sight, Bumblebee's own arousal made itself known but he kept his panels shut, wanting to wait for the right moment. Another moan escaped from Optimus' mouth and his optics closed momentarily at the pleasurable sensation that discharged through to his core and back again. Even from where he stood Bumblebee could see a small amount of lubricant seep from the tip and Optimus gathered it up to smooth over his spike, making it slippery.
"I hear the real thing is better, sir."
The imagery on the wall vanished as Bumblebee's voice brought Optimus back. The hand moved and the spike vanished from sight, the interface panels slamming shut. Optimus turned around and stared down at Bumblebee who was gently rubbing his tender vocaliser with three fingers. After all this time, Ratchet was still trying to fix the scout's voice which had made a little progress but Optimus knew the progress wasn't as far along as the medic would have liked.
Optimus coughed faintly and switched the simulator off and unplugging the feeler locked into his port, his optics never leaving the yellow bots frame. The mortification running through his veins didn't even begin to cover how he was feeling. The autobot leader shifted in his stance, unsure of what to say but it ended up not mattering since Bumblebee spoke again.
"How long?"
The curious question made his optics close briefly before they opened and focused on the door. Despite being in charge, he had the feeling that there was no way out of this. He had been caught. "Too long," answered Optimus honestly. "Since about the battle of Polyhex."
"That's a long time to hold onto something like this," said Bumblebee, his usual cheeriness not showing through. "Is there a reason you never told me?"
"You know why," rumbled Optimus, hating the sadness in Bumblebee's tone. "One must sacrifice certain pleasures in order truly take the title of Prime."
"Perhaps," said Bumblebee with a little shrug. "I've wanted you since we first met."
"You were only a youngling," said Optimus, heading towards the door, wanting to put an end to this conversation.
But a small hand on his arm stopped him and he looked down to see Bumblebee looking up at him. The hand remained where it was and Bumblebee moved to stand directly in front of Optimus, his eagerness urging him on. He reached up with his other hand and placed it on the protective armour covering Optimus' spark chamber. He could feel it thumping rhythmically and feel the heat burning through.
"What of Sideswipe?" asked Optimus, voice low as though scared of the answer.
Bumblebee gave his leader an inquisitive look. "What of him?" asked Bumblebee casually. "We had fun the odd time when Sunstreaker was away. It meant nothing and it's been a long time since anything happened. Mirage now fills that role nicely."
Optimus gave a faint look of surprise. Not once had he noticed anything between those two mechs other than friendship although he had noticed the goings on between Sideswipe and his twin Sunstreaker. He didn't think the skilled tactician would let someone else in.
"I want you," breathed Bumblebee.
The scout slid his hand down Optimus' hull, settling on his lower stomach. The autobot leader watched as the hand moved downward, his body shivering involuntarily. He turned away from Bumblebee, his optics glancing over the simulator. He thought sneaking away to be alone would be safe but it seemed he was wrong. Perhaps the staring had given him away or maybe he hadn't been fooling anyone in the first place.
The warm hands left his body and Optimus watched Bumblebee walk around him and pass the simulator to the other side of the room. A wide berth sat against the wall and Bumblebee hopped on it, gesturing for Optimus to join him. Reluctantly, the autobot leader approached, unable to stop his legs. In two strides he was standing in front of him, his large frame easily looming over him.
"This is a bad idea," mumbled Optimus, unable to keep the words in.
"It's over," whispered Bumblebee. "This planet is home now. You're allowed to feel things, Optimus."
Optimus let the use of his name wash over him. The young scout barely ever said it. It was always sir but not this time. Optimus put a hand against Bumblebee's chest and leaned down, pressing their lips together in a gentle but hesitant kiss. Their optics remained open on each other, not wanting to miss a moment. When the kiss broke Optimus pressed his forehead against Bumblebee's, unable to suppress the moan that rose within.
The scout's hand returned to his body, pressing against the interface panel, demanding entrance. Optimus caved in, his morals and resolve evaporating and he opened the panel. His spike slid out easily from the lubrication covering it and Bumblebee's hands were on it in an instant, stroking up and down the length. Optimus moaned again and Bumblebee smiled at being the one to cause it. Optimus nodded his head faintly, giving permission for this to happen. Bumblebee was the first to move, turning over onto his knees and wiggling his behind cheekily. Optimus placed his hands on Bumblebee's hips and turned him back over.
"As incredibly sexy as your aft looks, I'd rather be looking at you," growled Optimus.
Without having to be told or asked, Bumblebee opened his rear interface panel, offering himself to his leader. At the sight, Optimus gripped himself, stroking slowly, spreading more lubricant over his spike. He pressed it against Bumblebee's entrance and paused. He pushed a little before stopping again, feeling unsure.
"How long has it been?"
"A while but I can't wait," replied Bumblebee, wrapping his legs around Optimus' hips to pull him closer. "Please…"
His vocaliser was edged with ragged need as Bumblebee begged and shifted again, pushing his hips up. Optimus needed no more convincing. The autobot leader abruptly pushed into him, the disconcerting mixture of pleasure and a startling throb of pain through his sensors was suddenly spread wide.
"Perfect and tight."
Optimus' voice was ragged with want, a growl vibrating through him as he filled the scout with his spike, stretching the slick sheath of the port with one hard stroke. Large hands gripped at Bumblebee's body, stroking down each side harder than intended, the armour shrieking as the fingers gouged out curls of paint. Soon, Optimus' hands reached Bumblebee's interface panel and he pressed against it.
"Open," ordered Optimus.
"Yes, sir," groaned Bumblebee.
He opened his legs wider and the interface panel at the same time, revealing a spike of yellow with a black underside. Optimus placed on hand on the berth beside Bumblebee's head to lean on while the other gripped the spike and stroked it in time with his thrusts. Bumblebee reached up and gripped Optimus' face, bringing him down for another kiss. This one lasted longer until Optimus broke it, lifting one of Bumblebee's legs over his shoulder and thrusted in even further, hitting the right circuit that made Bumblebee jump in surprise and arch his back in pleasure as his hands clung to the sides of the berth.
The audio receptors of both become deafened by the moaning and rocking of metal against metal. Bumblebee felt the familiar warmth pooling and sliding down as Optimus' movements got faster and faster to the point of making Bumblebee's legs tremble with anticipation.
"Will there be others?" grounded out Optimus.
"No," stifled Bumblebee. "Never!"
It was all Optimus needed. An almost feral snarl left Optimus' mouth and all Bumblebee could do was brace himself against the berth. One brutal thrust came after another, the frenzied rhythm a primal mix of desperation and drawn-out need and Bumblebee suddenly found himself unable to move under his own free will as Optimus bored into him with maddening ferocity.
Overload came with the abruptness of a lightning strike, every joint in his body locking as the electrical sweep of it crackled between them and Bumblebee felt the shock of it roll over onto Optimus, the leader's own overload joining it. The experience built up between them, doubling and amplifying with each surge until Bumblebee's vision shorted out and turned to nothingness.
It took only moments to reboot and he instantly brought his optics back online, hearing them flicker to life. The loud noises in the room were gone replaced with heavy breathing. It was then that Bumblebee felt a slight weight against him and he looked down to see Optimus had slid to his knees, his upper body covering most of his. With one hand, Bumblebee touched Optimus' head, smiling faintly at the still warm metal.
Optimus lifted his head and moved off his scout. Bumblebee shifted his hips, feeling the warm, sticky substance that still filled his valve. Bumblebee allowed himself to enjoy it for a moment as he noticed Optimus was cleaning up and soon moved onto him. Once clean and all panels closed, Optimus helped Bumblebee to his feet and moved towards the door.
It seemed no words were needed but Bumblebee needed to hear it. "Is that it?"
Optimus opened the door and walked out, leaving Bumblebee despondent for a moment but it changed as Optimus' deep voice floated in from the corridor. "Not by a long shot."
Bumblebee smiled and his circuits buzzed with joy. He followed Optimus back out into the cool night air and side by side, they drove back to the party, not wanting anyone to notice that they were missing for long. They reached base within half an hour, driving slower than was necessary, if only to enjoy one another's company for a little longer. Within sight of the hangar bay doors, Optimus slowed while Bumblebee went on ahead and re-entered the party. Optimus remained behind, lingering at the door again to watch him interact with Sam and Ironhide, planning for what was coming next in his mind.