The final chapter, yaaaay. Thanks for the reads and reviews, you gaiz!
WARNING: GAAAAAAY. Bonding, yar.
One Early Morning
By B
Chapter 3
Dawn would arrive within the next hour. By now, half of those recharging were waking, and those who had been left with night duty were slipping into well deserved rest. Activity was slowly increasing the more the light glowed drearily over Metroplex's towers.
After a short and brisk walk back to Magnus's private quarters, Hot Rod found himself sitting in a chair offered by his commander. Across the room there was a long stretch of glass, a window large enough to display the entire city of the giant Transformer. It was a fascinating view, "breathtaking" as the humans would put it. He had only been in Autobot City for a few months now, but still he felt there was a lot more to Metroplex that he had yet to discover.
Hot Rod winced when he felt a knot tightening in his helm. He gave it a rub, the pain disappearing a few seconds later.
"It appears your hang-over might be on its way early now that all the excitement's died down."
Hot Rod glanced back at Magnus as the larger mech walked up to his side, extending to him a cube of violet blue energon. It made Hot Rod apprehensive, face twisting unsurely. Magnus couldn't help but chortle at his reaction. "Relax," he assured, "it'll help your processors to work out the energon. A recipe from an old comrade of mine."
Hot Rod nodded and took the cube. "You got it from an old friend, huh?" he asked. A little grin played at his lip components. "Why'd he give it to you? Don't tell me you did some heavy duty energizing back in your vorns..." He then took a sip, nearly spitting it out as soon as the taste hit his mouth. "Ugh, this is inasty/i--!"
"The humans tend to say," Magnus said with a raised finger, "'the more bland and nasty it tastes, the healthier it is.'" Hot Rod just scowled and forced down another swallow. He wasn't sure if this stuff was worth him helping to work off his sore buzz. "And regarding your previous question," the blue and white mech added, "no, but he told me one can never be too careful, nor have enough knowledge." He smirked a little. "Obviously he was right, as it came in handy now."
Hot Rod bit back his words, wanting to tell Magnus how much this "salt water pepper stew" wasn't helping him with anything but working up another headache. Magnus was his commander, the big boss next to Prime as well as his friend. To insult the fixture Magnus had gone out of his way to make would be extremely rude. He'd just have to swallow his pride and this mess as well. "I see," he said instead, taking another reluctant drink, "that's too bad."
"I couldn't honestly tell you how life was back when I was your age," Magnus sighed, scratching innocently at his helm. He then cleared his throat. "I'm making myself out to be so old..."
The orange mech shook his head. "Nah, you've still got lots of mileage on you," he teased.
Magnus grinned again, before he remembered the reason he had brought Hot Rod here. And it wasn't so he could fix him some hang-over helper. Straightening and putting back on his stern face, Hot Rod hadn't noticed the sudden ship of business in the atmosphere, just focusing on keeping this strange drink down. "Hot Rod, I brought you here to discuss your actions on the battlefield earlier," the older Autobot said a second later.
Hot Rod nearly choked on his swallow in surprise. It passed and he gulped it down loudly, shame slowly spreading along his face plates. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on his cube. "Ah, yes..." he murmured.
"I had informed you yesterday evening during our talk on your unauthorized Decepticon raid that should you disobey orders from your superiors one more time, you would indeed face punishment, no matter how heroic the deed would be," Magnus reminded, voice serious.
Hot Rod just nodded numbly and felt like he was right back in that same meeting.
"I had ordered you to retreat as I attempted to disable the bomb, to go and help your comrades as well as contact Perceptor," Magnus continued. Hot Rod just kept his head ducked low. "Not only did you disagree and refuse, but you even spoke out of key, defying as well as undermining my authority as your commander."
Hot Rod rubbed his digits along the cube's transparent surface. "If I might speak freely?" he asked in a small voice.
"Speak," Magnus replied.
Hot Rod sat his cube aside, hands now on his knees. "I mean no disrespect, as you know I respect both you and your authority, but..." he paused. His optics switched up to his staring, silent elder. "You and I both knew that if I had left the vicinity to contact Perceptor, I would not have been able to retrieve and return with the deactivation code in time." He shook his head a little. "I mean, again, I'm not trying to suggest you were thinking differently but--"
"I had known," Magnus interrupted, agreeing. Hot Rod shot his optics back up at him, both wide. "I knew all of this. By the time you were able to establish a connection with Perceptor outside the interfering radioactivity, returning with the information, if it was even available or correct, would have been too late," he explained. Hot Rod went to open his mouth to speak, but Magnus rose his hand, silencing him, allowing him to continue. "iHowever/i, I could not risk your life and there was no need for two of us to die, if it came to that."
"But there would have been no sense for you to die, either!" Hot Rod exclaimed, refusing to bite his tongue. Magnus just listened. "You could have retreated!" the younger mech stated angrily, holding out his arms. "The explosion wouldn't reach Metroplex! The neighboring areas were devoid of any life! Nothing would be lost except--"
"--Except many other forms of life," Magnus finished. Hot Rod stared at him, dumbfounded. "Humans rely on this planet's vegetation and plant life to survive. The explosion would have taken out at least half an acre of forest. I had a chance, at least, to try and stop it, instead of just running."
Hot Rod thought over his reply before sighing. "Yeah, you're right," he muttered, rubbing the back of his helm and looking aside, shame overcoming him again. "I forgot about this planet's delicate balance..." He couldn't help but shrug and chuckle a little, though it came out bitter. "I'm still adjusting to this place. On Cybertron, it's so different, and already so ravaged, something like that ship blowing up wouldn't matter much. Just form another dent, that's all."
Magnus's firm flat line of a frown twisted into a sad one. That was right; Hot Rod was so much younger than him. At one point in time, Magnus had known what Cybertron was like in all her glory, a planet ravishing with life and peace. Now all that was left was a desolate wasteland of death and bitter memories. Magnus had once overheard a few young soldiers chatting amongst themselves when believing they were in complete privacy, wondering angrily why they had to fight for a planet that was essentially dead. Though Ultra Magnus would never believe Cybertron was a lost cause, he could see how it might be to the younger crew, those who had not seen her at her glorious times.
And he wondered if Hot Rod had ever thought like this before. He never said anything, never complained much about being a soldier, about the war. He hated it, wanted it to end like every other Autobot, but he never really looked at it as if it wasn't worth the effort. Perhaps it was his age. Hot Rod didn't carry history, duties like Magnus did, so maybe he had not seen the total bleakness as his elders did. Even then, if he did see just how dark the future was, like Ultra Magnus, like Optimus Prime, like any real Autobot at spark, it didn't matter how dark it was; somewhere there was a sliver of light, and that in itself was a miracle worth protecting.
But now that he was here, saying all this, confessing his feelings... Magnus could see why Kup had recommended the young Autobot to join under his personal set of troops. Despite his sometimes outbursts of carelessness and thoughtlessness, Hot Rod was a good kid, a worthy soldier and becoming too exposed to Cybertron's ruins. Here on Earth, hopefully Hot Rod, hopefully all his young companions, would find a rejuvenated sense of hope for the future, that little push to make them realize Cybertron could be repaired and that she was not the only one under threat, but many more, and like Earth, they were still young and ripe and naive, craving protection.
"You're still new to this planet, to its environment and life forms," Magnus said after rousing himself from his depressing thoughts. Hot Rod nodded a little. "You'll learn to appreciate it soon enough."
"From what I've seen, from the people I've met, I really like it so far," Hot Rod chuckled lightheartedly.
Magnus's smile returned. "It only gets better."
Hot Rod nodded again and his expression changed, more stern. "But even then..." he began, pausing. He looked to his hand, watching it clench into a fist. "... I guess maybe I'm just too young to get it, but just the way you were so... comfortable, I guess, to throw away your life... It just felt... wrong, or something. I mean, I've seen some guys do some outrageous stuff," he said, face perplexed, "but never... never like that. Not to the point where it seems like you're... iall right/i with just deactivating like that."
"In this day and age, it's a glory to die fighting for what we believe in, and protecting others in the process," Magnus explained calmly.
"Oh, I get that, and if I had to face the choice... Well..." Hot Rod just scowled. He looked Magnus directly in his optics, his soft blue deep and thoughtful. "But if given the chance to fight, no matter how small it seems, no matter if it's a lost cause, if it meant at least knowing you could make it out alive..." His hard expression softened a little, worried for an answer he might not like. "Wouldn't you take that risk instead?"
Magnus thought over his answer and his grin relaxed sadly. "Kup was right," he said, "you may act brash, but you can be wise beyond your vorns." Hot Rod just stared at him, awed, before bowing back with embarrassment. "And you're right, I would take that chance," the blue and white mech agreed. He bridged his hands together. "I guess perhaps I had been feeling more negative of the outcome during the situation that I felt even if I managed to disable it in the slightest, it would have been for naught."
"Yeah..." Hot Rod mumbled. He dropped his face into his hand, his smile still visible. "Well, no, I understand what you mean--I get why you did what you thought was right. I see it, I really do, but..." His dental plates grit as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he just gave something akin to a resigned exhale, shoulders sagging. "... Well, I just--I just didn't like the idea of you... dying..."
Magnus felt his spark ache a little. Hot Rod looked so... miserable at the prospect of his commander dying. Magnus knew many people who be sorry, sad to see him die. But for some reason, it felt as if should it ever come to that, Hot Rod would be completely devastated. The larger mech didn't want to believe someone would lose any will to fight, to hope, to move on because of his demise, and yet somehow he saw it in the way Hot Rod hung there, optics dim from such an image it cast... And at the same time, he knew what the feeling was like. Perhaps not to such the greatest extent of Hot Rod's, but it was strong, he knew that.
"When you wanted to take my place, then you can imagine how I felt," Magnus said. Hot Rod looked up at him sheepishly. "You considered your own life unimportant compared to mine."
"But you're--"
"It does not matter iwho/i I am, or even iwhat/i I am to everyone else," Magnus snapped into his protest, causing Hot Rod to flinch. "The very idea of Cybertron continuing to birth new life even if the life she's been breeding since the dawn of her infantile years have been the main reason behind her decaying, it's amazing, it's beautiful." He then rose a hand, pushing a finger to Hot Rod's chest plate, over his Autobot insignia. Hot Rod felt his knees buckle. "She gave you life, that planet dying slowly, and thus, it should be taken seriously. Your life, and the life of your fellow Autobots, are all important." His hand drew back, both of them curling behind his back.
"And irregardless of your rank, you are still a living, processing, growing creature. You risk it by putting yourself in battle everyday, there's no need for you to believe throwing it away because you believe someone is more 'worthy,'" Magnus stated. "I was willing to die because it would have saved many more, even if they weren't of our own kin. Not because I felt I was any less of an Autobot who deserved it."
Hot Rod considered his words, and Magnus could tell he was taking them to spark, processing the meaning and depth behind them. Finally, the younger Autobot straightened and was able to meet optics with his superior again. "Yeah," he said, determination returning to his voice, "you're absolutely right. And I'm sorry I made you upset by it."
Magnus took a step forward, placing his hand on Hot Rod's shoulder. The smaller 'bot couldn't help but warm up a little. "I knew you were willing to take the fall not just because you felt your status was insignificant compared to mine," the older mech said reassuringly, "but because I knew you'd be protecting and saving others."
Hot Rod's grin was bashful. He wasn't sure how to respond to that.
"But."
Suddenly, there was that shift in mood again. Magnus's hand on Hot Rod's felt heavier. Magnus's face was drawn out with confusion, even a little sadness. "What I really wanted to discuss with you..." he said, quietly.
Hot Rod suddenly knew where this was going, considering he had done something else that was unpredictable and shocking in those final moments. His jaw opened, shut and opened again before he shifting aside, his face glowing red hot. "I, uh, well..." he bit into his bottom lip component. With a big inhaling whirr, he rose his tone, tittering, "Well, I can explain, see--"
"You kissed me," Magnus said, causing Hot Rod to want to curl up into a ball again. "That's what it's called, right? Kissing?" the older Autobot inquired honestly. Hot Rod was too embarrassed to answer. "Humans have a habit of doing it when expressing affectionate emotions. Carly and Spike, I've seen them exchange kisses. I've come to learn through my few observations that kisses vary in definition as well as location. On the cheek or forehead, a sign of platonic affection. A kiss on some sort of wound or sore spot is sometimes said to relieve pain, for whatever reason. But..." Slowly, Magnus pointed to his lips. "Usually whenever there is a kissing exchange mouth to mouth, it's a sign of a more... deeper, romantic form of affection, perhaps even love."
Hot Rod didn't want to add onto the list "sexual" as well. "Humm..." he just groaned, really not sure what to say or do. Right now the sheer embarrassment he was feeling was stronger than the nagging migraine in the back of his helm. "It's... Well, it's more complicated than that. I-I've noticed, being around humans a bit more..." he said with a fluttering laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Then would you mind explaining me why you kissed me?" Magnus asked, making Hot Rod feel on the verge of jumping out the window. "Kisses can be used as farewells, but considering your behavior at the time... And are their other reasons behind kissing on the lips besides being attracted to the kisser?"
Hot Rod hiccupped. "It-it's difficult to explain!" he insisted, a squeak in his voice. "It was--it was the heat of the moment and at that time I just--I just--"
The young soldier never got to finish. Magnus had put his hand back to his shoulder, leaning forward to steal a kiss from the babbling mech's mouth. Hot Rod's words slurred to a complete stand still, his optics flashing with shock as he could only stare at Magnus's face right against his, their lips pressed. Magnus did little more, but remembering what he had seen humans and Hot Rod do, he did offline his optics. He didn't know how to kiss, no surprise, and really Hot Rod didn't know much either, but he felt himself ease into the touch, using experience to push his lips closer, nudge their mouths together, as if pawing curiously.
Magnus pulled back a second later, optics returning to life. "A moment like that?" he inquired. Hot Rod just stared, his optics still dim. "Tell me," the older Autobot insisted, though his tone suggested nothing demanding, his hand squeezing Hot Rod's shoulder to deepen the connection, "what were you feeling when you kissed me?"
Hot Rod looked at him meekly. "Well..." he snickered a little. With a playful tone, he asked, "What were you feeling when iyou/i kissed ime/i?"
A silent exchange of understanding, acknowledgement passed between the two. Not another word was spoken as Magnus swooped back down towards Hot Rod, the other moving in to meet him halfway. When their lips met, it all suddenly felt natural, this "kissing," and their optics offlined and Hot Rod let his glossa gently caress Magnus's lips. Magnus took from his lead and examples, his own glossa meeting to brush against Hot Rod's.
When they met, Hot Rod and Ultra Magnus drew back, surprised and embarrassed and both knowing things had gotten much deeper than intended. It was as if they had sealed some sort of deal. And when this realization finally overcame them, they found themselves grasping at the other for more, lips connected instantly.
Hot Rod pressed his weight against Magnus, tilting his head back, his hands lingering along his superior's forearms, digits occasionally pressing into the blue metal, retracting seconds later to flutter in place. Magnus cupped his hands to his soldier's cheeks, holding his head delicately as they felt their glossa brave forward, further exploring the insides of their mouths, tasting places they never imagined they'd feel before. When it felt like they had mapped their territories, their glossa found themselves lashing, pressing, thrusting against the others.
Things escalated then. Perhaps it had turned to passion, for seconds later the two toppled out on the floor, barely missing falling on Magnus's berth. The location didn't seem to be important, just each other. Hot Rod stretched himself out along Magnus's long chassis, his feet barely passing over his knees. Their mouths and glossa continued to push, craving the electricity their touches generated. Hot Rod let his fingers dig back into Magnus's arms, the others trailing from his face, over his shoulders, brushing against his spoiler--
Hot Rod grunted, sitting up on Magnus's lap. Magnus blinked. "Is something wrong?" he asked, concerned.
Hot Rod, flushed, just slowly shook his head. "My--my spoiler... It's..." he murmured, looking aside, trying to hide the glow on his cheeks. "... Sensitive..."
"Does it hurt when I touch it?"
"No, no!" Hot Rod quickly corrected. He scratched sheepishly at his cheek. "It feels... good..." he whispered.
Magnus thought for a moment, before his hand stretched out to touch the spoiler again. Hot Rod flinched an inch away. The blue and white mech's optics, asking for permission and slowly Hot Rod shifted closer to his hovering hand. With his consent, Magnus touched the tip of one tip, letting his fingers run down along the frame. Hot Rod shuddered and resisted an urge to moan, instead scrunching up his shoulders and biting into his bottom lip component. Magnus continued to stroke up and down along its frame, getting Hot Rod used to the touches to the point where he started to relax a little.
It was growing routine, at least enough so where Hot Rod was comfortable, but when Magnus suddenly let his digit wander across the spoiler, it made the younger mech lose control, moaning loudly. Magnus liked the reaction, stroking along the base of the yellow wings, letting his thumb smoothen the sharp upturned right tip. Hot Rod shivered, his hands pawing, almost kneading against Magnus's chest, much like a cat.
When Magnus's hand reached the curve running along his back, Hot Rod couldn't help but titter, sitting forward. "You really seem to be transfixed with my spoiler," he chuckled, his optics light.
"They remind me of wings, in a way," Magnus explained, keeping his hands resting on Hot Rod's hips. He felt a little discomfort swell in his chest, adding a moment later, "I must sound like an old romantic to you..."
Hot Rod laughed a little. "I like that," he assured, dipping down to press a small kiss to Magnus's lips. Magnus was expecting him to pout and beat his chest, as if to proclaim his manliness, as apes tended to do. But Hot Rod seemed just as flowery, caressing his forehead, the tip of his nose.
It reminded the older mech of a cat Carly had been sitting for a friend a weekend. They had been arranging appointments for an intergalactic council meeting between Earth, Cybertron and another, distant planet wishing to aide them in their war. That's when the cat, a fat calico perhaps ten years old, came comfortably, without fear to his feet, wrapped around them before leaping up on nearby furniture, higher and higher until he was able to jump square into Magnus's lap, curling up and pawing at one long foreleg before stretching out, licking his paws, purring loudly. Magnus had been so astounded by this he just stared at the animal for a whole minute before Carly snapped him back to reality and the drawing board.
And here Hot Rod was, just cuddling comfortably against his massive chassis, planting a kiss between his optics. It all seemed innocent enough and Magnus found himself sinking deeper into the steel ground, relaxing. It all took a wild turn when Hot Rod crawled up further, cupped one of his antennae before proceeding to run his glossa up its length, all the way to the tip and back down. Magnus made a low groan, shifting as a mixture of pleasure and discomfort tingled throughout his body.
Hot Rod drew back his mouth and grinned mischievously (also cat-like) at the Autobot beneath him. "Ah, found your spot," he chortled.
Perhaps because Magnus had not been the one in the position of receiving did the blue and white mech suddenly sit up, Hot Rod sliding into his lap. "We can't do this," he said, his tone confused, disappointed, maybe even a little sad. He placed his hands to Hot Rod's shoulders, gently pushing him back. "I'm sorry, but it wouldn't be right. I'm your superior, and you my soldier, and this is strictly unprofess--"
"Remember what you said about status not meaning everything?" Hot Rod interrupted, taking Magnus's hands from off his shoulders. He leaned forward, taking back up the space he had been removed from. "Well, can't it be applied in this situation?" he asked, almost pouting. "I mean, this--ithis/i is important, too..." He fidgeted uncomfortably in the larger mech's lap, obviously anxiety welling inside his giddy spark. "... Important enough to warrant an excuse from positions, to ignore the fact that we probably shouldn't be doing this."
Magnus shook his head and dammit, the way Hot Rod wriggled on him... He swallowed and composed himself. "It's not just a matter of our relationship as commander and subordinate, as it is our friendship as well." He frowned sadly. "I'm afraid if we went through with this, then it could do more damage than it's worth..."
"If anything, it'll just... relieve tensions," Hot Rod murmured, optics downcast.
Magnus cocked an optic ridge. "'Tensions'?"
Hot Rod quickly changed the subject, pushing a finger to Magnus's massive chest. "But you just admitted you wanted it, too," he stated. Before Magnus could speak, he shook his head and rose his hands. "Look, I'm spontaneous, as you well know, and I often say I'll control myself better next time only for that promise to blow up in my face somewhere down the line. So I can't ask you to trust me on this, but just--just believe me..." His hands squeezed into fists, lowering a bit. "... When I say that to me this isn't just some, random, spontaneous idea that popped up in my processors, just something I'll forget in the future..." His azure blue optics met with Magnus's own studying pair. "... Believe me. It's the truth."
"You..." Magnus didn't know what else to say.
Hot Rod's systems whirred in an exhale. He slid himself up farther along the older mech's leg, flinching as he did so, until they were practically chest to chest. "I mean, we've gotten this far, I don't see how I can hide the fact I've liked you for a long time anymore," he explained, much to Magnus's awe, "and nor should we just... stop." He huffed a little, his spoiler giving a small shudder. "We both got each other's engines revving, so why stop so abruptly when we know that we both want it..."
Again, Hot Rod made no room for Magnus to reply. "I mean, well, maybe it's just me then," he grumbled, turning his head away and giving his neck an embarrassed rub. "I guess maybe you're just being nice by not pushing me away comp--"
"'Nice'?"
Hot Rod winced when Magnus took his wrist from his head, squeezing it; not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to make Hot Rod turn his head and give him a shocked look bordering on fright. Magnus certainly had the bitter expression that would warrant such a response. "You believe that I'm essentially pitying your feelings, do you? Do you believe I'm just doing this to entertain you?" he demanded and though the volume of his vocals rose, they did not get anywhere near rage sounding as he felt.
"I... didn't mean it like that," Hot Rod murmured. "I must have worded it--"
"Like you accidentally told me you were unimportant and replaceable when handling that bomb?" Magnus cut in and Hot Rod grimaced again. He hoped they weren't going back to square one. The feeling of ecstasy and pleasure he had derived from their kisses, their touches, it was starting to fade, making room for that extra energon sloshing in his circuitry.
But Magnus was not about to thrust themselves back into an old lecture. Instead, he slowly let Hot Rod's hand go and sat back. "If you honestly believe that I embraced you so as not to hurt your feelings," he said, his voice steady, "then perhaps you don't know me as well as you may believe."
Hot Rod felt a stab of pain in his spark. He could detect the hurt in Magnus's voice and it hit him tenfold. "I'm sorry," he heaved a second later, dropping his head on his commander's chest. Magnus stayed put, didn't move an inch, his head remaining forward. Hot Rod suddenly felt completely alone. "I really didn't want you to take it that way," the young mech apologized, voice heavy. "I just... just..." Hot Rod grit his dental plates and with an aggravated growl, sat back and clamped his hands on the top of his head.
"I guess I was just trying to find a way to make myself feel less disappointed about you rejecting me! You know?" Hot Rod grumbled, agitated with himself. "Just some way to persuade my processors that it's just me feeling all this and so really, I shouldn't be upset and should just get over it, move on. Primus knows that you're right; we've got other relationships to worry about, battles to fight, lives to save, other critical things our systems should be focused on, not--not--" He tossed up a hand with a bitter huff. "Not ibonding/i!"
The words had tripped from his mouth in the heat of the moment and when Hot Rod realized just what he had said, his entire body went limp with sudden terror, his faceplates blazing hot. Magnus stared at him, his serious expression replaced with awe. Hot Rod obviously was interested in him, but to want to ibond/i--
"Are you serious?" Magnus felt speechless.
Hot Rod tore at his head. "Aaah! Just--just forget everything!" he exclaimed with a hiss, needing to get the Hell out of the room before his temperature core set him on fire. But just as he gathered to his feet, Magnus had a hold of his wrist again, this time pulling him back instead of away. Hot Rod made a small 'oomph' as he fell back against the blue and white mech's chest, head resting over his thrumming spark. His optics were wide, bugging from their sockets.
Magnus rested his forehead to the top of Hot Rod's helm. "Calm down," he said soothingly. His voice... it nearly made the younger mech melt. Letting him go, Hot Rod sat back on Magnus's knees, his big optics meeting his commander's. "You really do feel that deeply for me, don't you?" he smirked lopsidedly, touching his hands delicately to the sides of Hot Rod's head.
Hot Rod slumped, everything seeming to break free from their dam. He managed to laugh nervously. "Yeah," he chuckled, his own smile weak and crooked, "sorry about that, sir."
Ultra Magnus studied his soldier, sized him up and saw Hot Rod wasn't as young as he suspected. He really had to give the kid more credit for being so determined. Magnus just laughed lightly, hand to the side of his face as all he could do was shake his head at this mess. How did this night turn so crazy? He never expected anything to amount between them--nothing to this extent. Nor did he believe someone like Hot Rod in a million vorns actually be romantically attracted to someone, well, someone "his age," humans put it.
Arguing got them nowhere, just had them run in circles. They both wanted this, maybe even needed it, but so many rules and regulations would suggest being against such a relationship. Bad things could come of this and if things turned sour, how would that effect their relationship as comrades, as friends? It was risky, but Hot Rod was willing to take it. And Magnus, so consumed with affection and flattery of his love (was that it?) being requited, he just didn't feel like fighting anymore. Maybe he couldn't, if he still wished to try.
"You know what this could lead to if others knew," Magnus said a moment later and Hot Rod seemed to glow when he realized he had won this fight. "Not all good things."
"iIf/i being the keyword," Hot Rod smirked. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms lightly around Magnus's neck. Their faces were close now, lips even closer. "Besides, we're off duty right now. We're not superior and soldier."
Magnus dropped his hands on Hot Rod's hips. "Well, that is correct," he agreed, corners of his smile peeling back.
Hot Rod gave a small "heh" before closing in the remaining space between them, his lips pressed against Magnus's with an almost ferocious need. Magnus wondered just how long Hot Rod had been waiting for this. Nonetheless, he let his hands smooth up and down the younger mech's sides, returning the kiss with a more controlled enthusiasm, yet giving Hot Rod the heat he so desired. Hot Rod closed his arms tighter around Magnus, tilting his head to the side to dip his glossa in deeper, Magnus cradling the back of his helm in his large hand.
That sense of doubt and fear faded as the seconds passed, the deeper the kisses got. Hot Rod withdrew first, surprisingly, a thin trail of coolant trailing from the corner of his mouth. He gave Magnus's top lip component a nip before releasing it. Magnus was mildly surprised by what he had done, asking quickly, "Biting? You bite when you kiss as well?"
"Humans do it," Hot Rod answered, simply shrugging. "They usually use it when the feelings or kisses are really deep, or something," he hummed, trying to explain the foreign expression to his leader. Magnus didn't really understand, but he did nudge forward, very lightly biting into Hot Rod's bottom lip, causing the little mech in his lap to groan.
Hot Rod stared at him with optics heavy with lust and happiness, a glow lingering on his cheeks. "How about that?" Magnus inquired, half-honestly asking for approval. "Did I do it correctly?"
"Yeah, you did great," Hot Rod couldn't help but laugh at how confused his superior was. Yet, it pleased him that he was the one who was giving Magnus all his firsts. Well, perhaps not them all, but... Hopefully these exchanges, these lessons would never be between anyone else but themselves. "You did really good," he said again, lashing his glossa along the corner of Magnus's mouth.
Magnus felt relieved; he was hoping he hadn't done anything embarrassing. He moved forward and caught Hot Rod's glossa in his mouth, both continuing to knead into each others mouths. Magnus could taste the energon along the insides of Hot Rod's mouth, but by now it was faint. It felt like so much time had passed when they separated again, Hot Rod flustered with the friction it had generated. Magnus kindly swept his thumb across Hot Rod's dark lips, wiping away the coolant. Hot Rod pushed his mouth to the thumb, optics dimming.
"I hope I've won your approval so far," Magnus said quietly.
Hot Rod laughed again, loudly this time. "Oh, you've earned it more than enough," he sniggered, brushing nose to nose with his partner. Without a word, he tipped down Magnus's head, who complied with his movements. There, Hot Rod took an antenna in his hand, continuing to caress it with his glossa as he did before. And just like then, Magnus tensed and relaxed, chills running full course along his backbone infrastructure.
Upon reaching the top of the antenna, Hot Rod took it in his mouth, gently giving it a bite. Magnus clenched his dental plates, twitching as that chill increased. Both easing and disappointing him, Hot Rod retracted, the tip of his glossa the last to leave. However, he was not quite done, instead turning his head and letting his dental plates dip on the top of Magnus's other antenna.
Magnus reacted with a soft moan in his throat, his hands leaving Hot Rod's hips to raise and dig his digits into the back of his spoiler. Hot Rod curled his back into the touch, grunting as the pressure on his "wings" made his limbs suddenly feel weak and numb, his mouth sliding along the antenna, trailing with it soft, pleased mewls.
The orange mech eased into Magnus's touches, his torso pressing lightly against Magnus's face. The blue and white mech caressed the yellow phoenix and its Autobot insignia, lips brushing to touch the edges of the steel bird's wings. Hot Rod was shivering in his hands, trying to keep himself steady by relaxing against his shoulders, though his hands shook with the rest of him. Magnus could hear his equilibrium chip whirring actively, trying to keep its owner balanced.
There was a string of moans between the two, each massaging their hands into the others, bodies grinding. It had been so wonderful, neither could find their voice. Hot Rod had needed it for what was next, but decided just to accept the silence that had suffocated them, save the soft cries they whispered. All of this, it was so wonderful, but it was not enough to calm the young mech's needs.
Unable to speak, he rather used his actions to say what he wanted. Hot Rod rolled off Magnus's lap, sprawling out on the floor, taking the big mech's hand in his to yank him over. Magnus obediently fell to his knees next to Hot Rod's thighs, hovering over him, his shadow covering his soldier in a thin blanket of darkness. He stared at Hot Rod, processors slowly trying to make sense of what he now wanted.
It was quite obvious, however. It had been so long for Magnus, it was no surprise he forgot the signs. It wasn't until after fidgeting under Magnus did Hot Rod finally press both hands to his superior's chest, each one on side just above his spark chamber. Another whirl of thought processing passed before Magnus finally put the puzzle together.
"You..." Magnus paused. Hot Rod was kneading, wanton and hungry at his chest, dying for it to open to him. "This is... It's..." The blue and white mech was tongue tied. Hot Rod wanted to bond, wanted to combine sparks with him--the ultimate act of love and trust between Transformers, Autobot and Decepticon alike. He knew that foreplay was just that, and soon Hot Rod would want to cut chase from the outercourse. Yet still, it felt like such a shock, seeing where they had gotten. Magnus had completely forgotten just how far.
"Yeah," Hot Rod murmured a moment later, as if knowing what Magnus had wanted to ask. To prove it, his hands drew back and Magnus watched the golden phoenix plating on his chest click unlock then slowly part. Magnus could feel heat generating in thick waves from his chamber alone, and he was awed with beauty when the final layers of metallic skin parted to reveal his pulsating, hot red and soft yellow spark beneath. It released a red, ghostly glimmer that lit up the dark room, a ring of yellow lining at the edges where the light faded.
Magnus had seen many sparks in his life, and alas, most of them had been from the chassis of dying soldiers. But this one--Hot Rod's spark was so intensely bright, Magnus was reminded of a newborn star. Even the pale shades of sun and moonlight mingled together, creating something so beautiful for a second he wondered if it was some sort of optic illusion.
But it was real, all too real, and it rested soundly, beating wantonly in Hot Rod's chest, heaving with busied systems and programs. Hot Rod looked at him, his optics almost desperate. The frown on his face suggested fear; he sensed Magnus's hesitation and prayed to Primus it didn't end here. It couldn't--not when his spark was crying for the other's touch this badly.
Magnus wanted to tell him just how beautiful it was, just how illuminating and powerful its glow, but yet, he couldn't get words to move past his throat. Hot Rod didn't seem to mind and he couldn't help but smile and snicker, his optics grinning as well; it was just so obvious what Magnus was thinking. It made Hot Rod's flushed cheek plates burn harder in something like a virginal blush. "I feel kinda exposed, heh," the young mech tittered.
Magnus snapped back to reality. "I--I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable--"
"I'm not," Hot Rod assured. His quivering fingers reached back up to lightly touch Magnus's chest. "Just... don't leave me hangin' out here all by my lonesome." That playful grin was gone, softening into something of a plea. "Please..." he said, voice straining.
There was no denying him now. His spark open to him, his voice, his optics, his face; it would be cruel and terrible to turn away now. Magnus had been so engulfed with the beauty of the spark, he begin to feel it was too stupendous a thing to touch. As if it were fragile; he certainly didn't want to damage it. But even if that were so, despite its relentless glimmer, Magnus could not stop this. Things had gone far, farther and now, they were there.
"All right," Magnus whispered a second later, finally shaking off his daze. If he was going to bond with Hot Rod, he had to give him all he got. He just hoped the younger mech didn't mind the fact that he hadn't bonded in years. Even then, it was only with one partner, a femme long gone to the war.
That was vorns ago, and his memory banks had turned her into something akin to a faded sepia photograph in his processors. He felt no guilt about what he was going to do with Hot Rod; it had been so long, the pain and anger and bitterness of losing her had washed itself from his systems. He knew she wouldn't want him to dwell on the past and as long as he had her in his memories and cherished what they did have, there was no need to feel anything bad about falling in love all over again.
Slowly, the plating on Magnus's chest opened, bit by bit the plating over his chamber spreading as well. His spark was nothing as glorious as Hot Rod's, but it had such a reassuring, serene light to it that Hot Rod instantly felt comforted. It was soft, gentle and carrying the weight of many things, knowledge, memories, emotions, fears and doubts. It flickered greetings at the burning spark below and the way it seemed to glow beat by beat made Hot Rod feel his body become heavy and warm.
"No seconds thoughts?" Magnus inquired, quietly. "If you want to stop here, we can. Do not feel guilty if you feel this is going too fast."
Hot Rod sniggered. "I don't know the meaning of 'too fast,'" he reassured, a single finger tracing a line down Magnus's jaw. "If anything, I think we've been going too slow."
Magnus took his hand from leaving his face, kissed the palm. "All right then."
Hot Rod laced his digits around Magnus's shoulder, the larger mech slowly pushing his chest forward. Both of them were silent as they concentrated, wires releasing themselves from their hold on the glowing orbs. Once free from their bindings, save with only one cord to serve as a life line, with a little thrust, the sparks slowly drifted from their chambers, up into the air. In that instant, their bodies suddenly felt weightless, programs hibernating as their power source dwindled.
They were just as shy as their owners had been. Both sparks paused before touching, just a few inches apart, glowing at one another, beating like a human heart. It was Magnus who gave his spark that little extra push forward. It complied and took up the free space between them, brushing ever so delicately against--
Magnus onlined his optics, just in time to see Hot Rod's whirl back on as well. "Your spark," the blue and white mech bumbled, shocked, "it's--"
"Sealed, I know," Hot Rod muttered, absolutely embarrassed. He bit into his curved bottom lip component. "I should have told you, I know. I guess I was just... well, you know. I've never really... been this... close to someone before, so I never really needed to... uh..." he trailed off, his words began to fumble along his glossa.
Soon after birth, either by Vector Sigma's doing or the combination of two Transformers' spark energy, the spark encased itself in a thin layer of protective metal. And something like an embryo, it grew inside the casing, which remained intact all until the mature adult chose to crack it open. In most cases, many kept their seals on until their first initial bonding, truly a romantic way to really free their spark and take a giant leap forward into maturity.
It didn't surprise Magnus entirely, however, that Hot Rod still had his casing. He figured someone with his personality and charm would have broken it a long time ago with some other femme or mech. Not to say his soldier struck him as an intimately friendly type, just someone who always yearned for compassion and another's touch. What did surprise him is that he had technically been saving himself for Magnus, who would be the one to break it.
"I've studied bonding, read about it, watched lots of stuff on the subject," Hot Rod said quickly, as if that hope of continuing was fading again. "I may not have any hands on training, but I know--I know enough about what to do."
Magnus quickly calmed the nervous mech. "It's all right," he replied kindly. "I just... Well, it's really... surprising. It just made me scatterbrained for a moment."
Hot Rod's face warmed again. "I was hoping you'd like it."
"I do," was the best Magnus would say. Really, his glossa was tied; this was so overwhelming. Beautiful but at the same time, it also raised the stakes higher. If he was to be Hot Rod's first, then he wanted it, needed it to be the most pleasurable experience he could provide. Magnus didn't want to leave the younger mech disappointed.
Hot Rod watched his superior, obviously waiting for some sort of reaction. Should he make the first move, or should the more experienced one do the leading? Magnus appeared relaxed by his arms which he was propped up on appeared to be shaking slightly. Scared or merely confused, it didn't bother Hot Rod. A little push on his end would probably do the trick.
So Hot Rod leaned forward, wrapped his arms around Magnus's neck and let his spark once more push against the others. Both mechs groaned and Magnus reacted with another press forward. Their sparks pulsed, energy washing through them, causing their bodies to creak softly. The strength of the pulses were not yet strong enough to break the sealing, but Hot Rod could still feel the warmth and what was being breathed into him by the blue orb.
Slow and steady, Magnus concluded, let the youngling ease into it. He didn't seem to be tormented by the speed either. Holding onto him, Magnus continued to grind his spark ever so delicately against the encased, flaming red one, letting Hot Rod become acquainted and familiar with the surges of energy that would soon be breaking his casing and flooding his systems. They were feather soft, ticklish and it made Hot Rod smile lopsidedly as he hung near limply from the taller mech's shoulders.
Magnus had picked up Hot Rod's desire demanding more when his spark glowed brighter, chassis grinding harder, as if tugging, nagging for more attention. He was happy to oblige, positive Hot Rod was ready. At least, as prepared as he could be for his first time. "If it gets too uncomfortable," Magnus said softly, holding onto the orange mech, "tell me and we can stop."
"That'd only suck for the both of us," Hot Rod sniggered. He wasn't going to pull out.
Magnus nodded faintly. "All right," he said, quietly, "here we go." And with one giant heave forward, the energy that had accumulated in his spark rushed forward with no filter. Hot Rod took it with a sharp gasping-esque noise, body jerking back, tempted to pull away and yet move closer. Magnus cut the pulse short and looked to him, concerned. "Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah," Hot Rod croaked. He shook the daze off with a chuckle. "Just--well, you know, the first wave is all..."
Magnus hesitated continuing but decided it was, indeed, too late to take a sudden turn around. So he gave another strong pulse, one a notch weaker than the first. Hot Rod took it with another grit of his teeth. But it seemed he knew his superior had decreased the energy, smirking, "Hey, don't be so gentle on me. I'm not built to be fragile."
"I know that," Magnus replied. He felt a little silly. "I just... don't want to hurt you, that's all."
Hot Rod shook his head. "That's pretty much impossible," he assured. To prove this, he pressed himself forward, and let the spark give him another small shock. It made him cry a little again, but nothing in it suggested pain. There came a small slice of light much brighter than the usual glow of his spark, causing both to look down at it. "Well, whatta know," Hot Rod laughed, "it cracked."
This made Magnus worry a little. He nodded. "Give two more pulses, it'll be completely broken, the seal," he reminded steadily.
"I'm ready for it," Hot Rod reassured, winking an optic.
Magnus stared at him before smiling. Hot Rod wasn't a sparkling anymore; he'd be fine. Maybe a little shaken, but he'd survive. So Magnus, without holding back, pushed forward, another wave of energy from his spark causing spider web cracks to spread over the sealed spark. Hot Rod dug his fingers into his shoulders, dental plates clenched together. Magnus took a moment to collect more energy before, with one final heave forward, the sealing ripped apart, spreading across and open the vibrating, hot red spark, disappearing in small specks that faded away to nothing once shed.
Now that his entire spark was bared, it wouldn't taken much more to make him overload. The spark was sensitive out in the open and over time, it would take more pulses and energy to make it overload. Magnus knew this would be the last before Hot Rod's systems let go and so he held the smaller mech closer, to steady his body for the initial shock that would come. Hot Rod flushed in those tight but secure arms, also aware this would be it. Just one more...
And Magnus ground forward, his spark letting out another gush of energy. Once it went through Hot Rod's entire spark, he could feel all the power in his body release like an implosion. Hot Rod cried softly deep in his throat, tightly wrapping himself around his superior. His overload sent a tsunami of power into Magnus's own spark and system, enough to draw him into his own release. He grunted softly, head pressed against Hot Rod's.
The glow between their bodies was bright, flooding the area in white, blue and red. They held each other intensely, waiting for the initial overload to fade. It took a minute but finally, their tired sparks relaxed, dimming to their average glow. The light faded and soon, with heavy sighs, the two were now relaxing in each others limbs, sagging arms.
Neither spoke for a few minutes. Their bodies adjusted to their average energy levels again, giving them little power to speak coherently. But Magnus was the first to recover, sitting back with the exhausted mech in his arms. "You all right?" he asked hoarsely.
Hot Rod nodded slightly. "Good..." he mumbled. He kept his head dropped against Magnus's chest, but rose a thumb's up. Magnus recognized that human gesture and grinned, relieved.
"You must be about ready to collapse in exhaustion," Magnus noted.
"S'fine..." Hot Rod murmured, head shaking a little.
Magnus placed a hand on top of his helm. "Go on into stasis. I'll have Kup reassign you for an evening shift just this once," he assured, his spark chamber and chest plates closing softly. Hot Rod's did the same, but not on his own accord. The younger mech had not responded, just laid there. Magnus shifted his head to the side, seeing Hot Rod's optics had offlined. He chuckled and gave Hot Rod's head another little rub before turning to peer out the window.
The sun had rose some time ago. Soft oranges and red mingled with the dwindling blue of the night. Somehow, it seemed fitting, those colors.
THE END
A/N: Magnus broke Roddy's cherry HURRRR. Also, I think kissing is nothing new to TFs, as I think Ariel pecked Orion on the cheek once. Well, whatever, I think it's cute when it's a foreign concept. 8]