Title: Ozone 3 - Evil Jock Concubine
Author:Femme4jack
Fandom: Bayverse (pre 2011 movie, not compliant with tie-in novel or movie, AU)
Pairings: Optimus Prime/Mikaela Banes
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS: cussing, mentions previous neglect and physical abuse of a child, explicit xenophilia (tactile contact with spark, energy penetration)
Summary: Follows immediately after Ozone: The Xenophilia Edition. Mikaela decides to get in the truck.

Notes: Thanks to the fabulous Aniay for the beta.

Written for the August 2011 livejournal flesh_and_steel comm's Grab Bag Challenge (using the Lost in Translation Challenge as my inspiration this time). I plan on writing for several of these old challenges this month as part of this series.

Wow, you are still reading this after my totally grumpy Sam chapter that I wrote under the influence of massive hormone imbalance? Thanks! I hope this one makes up for the last.

The original sources of my head canon for pleasurebots and their high esteem in Cybertronian society are Lola Hard's scrumptious (and sadly incomplete) Jazz/Maggie story, Morning Tea (found on this site), and Lyricality's oh-so-hot Seven Days (tf-fic-squee . livejournal . com / 12060 . html). I must also give a shout out to a more recently awesome take on that theme, Ultharkitty's First Times (likewise found on ff . net)

My head canon on Cybertronian cohorts (and so much about their culture in general) is a direct result of Dwimordene's Bridges (listed in my favorites), which I read over and over and over again. It is the most frequently reread story on my bookmarks, and I probably should just give it a credit every time I write.

Merfilly's delicious Mikaela/Optimus story, Shared Journeys (archiveofourown . org / works / 206979), continues to have a huge impact on this one as well, because I think I'm sharing a brain with her right now, or at least feeding off of her far superior one.

Evil Jock Concubine

Previously on Transformers...

She might have passed out. Or perhaps died and gone to heaven. She wasn't sure. The next thing she knew it was dark, though plenty of heat was radiating from the plating she was sprawled out on like some nude model in an automotive calendar. Then she heard a familiar, much-loved engine, accompanied by an even more familiar ozone scent, followed by a deep baritone voice as another mech pulled up next to them in his alt form. "Please excuse the interruption," Optimus said before he transformed and stood tall, silhouetted by the full moon and gazing down on the lurid scene with bright optics. "I understand a member of my cohort is in need of what her species has designated as 'rebound sex'."

"Oh fuck me," Mikaela whispered, her heated face breaking into a broad grin.

A grin which promptly turned into a nervous teasing of her lip with her teeth as she felt the looming presence regard her as though he were thoroughly examining her down to the cellular level, or perhaps to her soul.

"That was, indeed, my plan, if that is what you wish," Optimus finally said as he knelt down next to his recharging weapons specialist and CMO, extending his hand. "Though the ambient temperature in the desert becomes becomes quite low at night, and according to Ratchet's earlier report, you have not nourished yourself since this morning. Perhaps you would like to accompany me back to base to refuel before we proceed to your desired activities?"

Mikaela was thankful that her Cherokee heritage was hiding her blush, but then remembered that little things like skin pigmentation did not hide anything from the mechs who were now, apparently, her cohort...whatever that meant aside from outlandish propositions and even more outlandish orgasms.

"Um...yeah...food would probably be good...thanks?" She did feel hungry...and a bit shaky, though the shakiness could have everything to do with Optimus instead of low blood sugar. She was suddenly all too aware of being buck naked, her nipples almost painfully hard, as she climbed onto the large, warm, metal hand that cupped around her. Optimus stood. Was he planning to walk to base? Suddenly she felt him shifting, and he smoothly and elegantly transformed around her, leaving her comfortably naked on the passenger seat in his cab. Inside him. The thought left her feeling more awed and aroused than it ever had before. Oh fuck, she thought, I'm so going to leave a wet spot on his upholstery. Even as his engine rumbled to start, the glove compartment opened, and she saw that Optimus had brought along a change of clothing for her - including her nicest matching bra and panty set. How was it possible for an ancient giant alien being, or anyone, for that matter, to be so thoughtful?

She stifled a giddy giggle at the thought of Optimus lying on the floor outside the apartment she shared with Sam on base, reaching through the door with his massive hand and smashing her dresser, only to go through each item one by one with his hand that she could fit so comfortably in.

"I was concerned that your other clothing might have been lost or...perhaps damaged in the afternoon activities," his voice rumbled around her, like a baritone caress.

"Oh...yeah...thanks Optimus. I don't really remember what happened to my riding leathers. That was...really thoughtful of you," she answered, sounding to herself like a nervous little girl.

"I hope you will forgive the intrusion, but I asked Maggie Madsen to retrieve something appropriate for you," Optimus explained, sounding, if possible, slightly sheepish.

Mikaela felt her cheeks heat even more. That explained the excellent choice in undergarments. "Um...did she happen to ask why you needed clothes for me?" No matter how free-loving and openminded the Autobots apparently were, the mechanic couldn't imagine many humans sharing their tolerance for this. Maggie might be one of the more tolerant, but Mikaela was certainly not ready for any human to know just what...and who...she was doing.

"While it is not in our nature to be discrete or dishonest about matters of intimacy, I realize that you may wish to keep such matters private, Mikaela," Optimus explained. "I informed Maggie that you were in need of a change of clothing because yours became wet when you were riding in the rain. This was not inaccurate based on Ratchet's report to me when he located you."

Mikaela was quite certain she would still have some explaining to do later, but found herself strangely relieved that she wasn't about to become known to the entire base as the Autobot's slut. The very thought made her shift uncomfortably as she pulled on her panties, clasped the bra, and followed with the t-shirt and denim short-shorts. Suddenly that was exactly what she was feeling like: the slut everyone in high school had accused her of being. She and Sam had broken up, and within a few hours she's had the most mind-blowing sex she could ever imagine with not one, but two mechs, and had every intention of doing the same with a third. What did that say about her?

"Is something on your mind, Mikaela?" Optimus asked in that tone that had her gut doing a little dance. It was a tone she didn't have a hope of resisting, and, like always, made her want to spill everything that was running through her head.

Several times she had found herself spilling her guts to Optimus Prime about things she would normally would have kept completely to herself. She had learned young to rely on herself and show a carefully crafted public face to the world at large. There were so many things she'd never even told Sam, just because there was no way, coming from the sheltered and privileged family he did, that he would be able to get it, and she had not wanted to face the hurt she would feel when he awkwardly failed to understand or gave her pity she did not want. But Optimus Prime, the ancient leader of a advanced alien race, had a way of showing keen interest in things that should not have concerned him, but did, and then asking just the right question at just the right moment.

Which had led to her telling him the gory details about growing up with a mom who had died in an overdose and a dad whose degree was in grand theft auto. Optimus knew about the times in elementary school she had eaten as much as she could at the hot lunch program because there had been no breakfast and would be no dinner. He knew that Mikaela's life of crime began with getting caught steeling food from the 7-11 when she was four because her mom, higher than a kite, had sent her in and told her to get herself something to eat when she'd been in tears because she was so hungry. He knew that after her mom had died, her dad had moved them to Tranquility to get her away from his father-in-law, because turning the scum bag in for beating up his grand daughter would have opened a whole can of worms that could have landed her dad in prison for a second time far earlier than it eventually did.

He knew all of this, and didn't see her as some wounded creature to be pitied. Instead, he had a way of challenging her to find the best in herself and rise to any challenge. Just as he did with his Autobots.

It was the tone of his voice, the power of his presence, and the scent of his spark that drew it all out of of her, both the honesty and the strength. Apparently it was a Prime thing, and she wasn't immune to it. She had watched from a distance as Ratchet ranted and raged, only to be pulled close, sparks flashing in the night until whatever demon the medic faced was settled. She had watched him brutally spar with Ironhide, and then sparkmerge with him as energon streamed down their frames, knowing how much the weapons specialist had needed to let off whatever pressure was about to cause him to blow. She had seen Bumblebee curl up on his lap like a child and keen, and Sideswipe grin and babble at Optimus like some dorky kid rather than the seasoned, arrogant warrior that he was. Over the couple of years she had been living on base, at one time or another she had watched every Autobot open themselves to him, ports, sparks and all.

And now he was turning that attention on her, asking her if something was on her mind. And there most certainly was.

"Just not sure what to make of all this...I'm sort of...well...embarrassed may not be the right word for it. I just never expected it," she managed to say haltingly.

"Ironhide's indelicacy and Ratchet's outspokenness are enough to put any sentient being into disequilibrium," Optimus said with a chuckle. "But dealing with the unexpected is not the only thing that is concerning you," his tone invited her to continue.

"It's...I don't want to sound offensive...but..." Mikaela did not even know how to say what was suddenly eating her up (a phrase which, in itself, made her body shiver in all the right ways with the mental image of the things Ratchet had done to her with his glossa)

"You are physically aroused, but emotionally confused?" he offered.

"It's more than that," she let out in a rush, pulling up her lean muscular legs and hugging her knees to her chest, looking down. Everywhere she looked, she was looking at him. She was surrounded by him, could swear that she could physically feel the tingle of his nearby spark, which in this form was right underneath her, if she recalled. "So, you know in high school I had a reputation...Sam's friend Miles, after we hooked up, always called me the evil jock concubine. It was his idea of a joke."

"But not one that was truly funny."

"No. I hated it. But he wasn't wrong. I was pretty much a whore. A slut. Honestly, Sam was the first guy I ever dated that I didn't sleep with on, or before, the first date. Sex was something that I did really well, and I could keep someone wrapped around my finger with it. It kept me in control. Before Sam, I was never with anyone for much more than two or three months at most, and usually I slept with someone else long before we ever broke up. I liked being able to look some arrogant jerk in the face and tell him that all this time he thought he owned me, I was doing his best friend. I wasn't a good person, Optimus. Miles was right. I was a total whore. I let people use me and I used them."

Optimus was quiet for longer than felt comfortable. "Are you concerned that expressing your desires in a physical manner within our cohort reaffirms this aspect of identity, or is a return to earlier patterns of behavior you felt you had moved beyond?" Optimus finally asked gently, his voice seeming to come from the very air around her rather than originating from one place.

"I...I know it's different. I...I think the way you big guys do this is better, and it never occurred to me that you'd do anything other than...you know... politely ignore the way my body was reacting to being close. But I just broke up with Sam today. I feel...I feel like I should feel dirty or guilty. Because going and sleeping with one, or even several guys was exactly what I used to do when I dumped someone or he dumped me. And some stuff is hard to get out of your head. My mom called me a fucking slut and a whore before I even knew what those words meant, and I sure proved her right after she was gone."

There was a low rumble around her, and Prime's engine gave a loud rev. The smell of the ozone in his cab immediately took on a far more storm-like quality, and her hair stood on end with a sudden static charge. It actually made her flinch, aware of just how dangerous and violent this mech around her could be. Just as quickly the seat she was in warmed, and the static charge to the air was replaced by gust of heated air from his vents.

"Forgive me, Mikaela. I did not intend to frighten you with my anger," he said in a calm tone that did little to hide that his anger was still present, but restrained. "What you describe about your mother is very alien to me, and my spark reacts to it violently. Though I mourn, for you, the loss of your female parent, it is probably a good thing that I will never meet her."

"It sort of sucks that you can't help but to love your parents and believe what they say when you're little, no matter how fucked up they are. Part of the human condition, I guess," she mumbled, not sure what else to say, but finding some strange comfort in the mental image of Optimus having a confrontation with her mom. "So...you said alien. You know, I spend so much time getting off about the stuff that is alien about you, that I forget how alien we are to you," she commented, trying to create a bit of distance between herself and a painful topic.

"Indeed," Optimus said. "Cybertronian has over 30 million distinct glyphs, all of which can have their meaning modified through pitch, tone, and other modifiers. And yet there are words in your language we have no concept for. While we may understand what you mean when you say it by the context you use, they are completely alien ideas for us."

"Like what?" she asked, her fascination helping to distract her from the constant mantra of Autobot whore going through her head.

"Well, this conversation is an ideal example. We have no equivalent glyph for the words slut or whore. The closest we can come are glyphs that have no negative connotations for us. Enjoying interfacing and doing so freely with many is considered a highly admirable personality trait. And doing so as a core function, becoming exceptionally skilled at it, was one of our most highly regarded professions prior to the war. There was no stigma attached to being a pleasure companion or seeking the company of one. In fact, one of the members of my cohort was a master-level pleasure companion prior to the war. Yet, if we were to inform humans of this fact, they would regard this mech with derision and consider his function to be a shameful thing."

"Who?" she asked eagerly, suddenly fascinated. What he described just sounded so right...so whole and beautiful in a way that everything about sex in her upbringing was not.

"Jazz," Optimus said with a chuckle. "Once he comes out of stasis he will quickly become a master at sharing pleasure with your species if you allow it. You won't know what hit you. I must admit, our cohort-wide interfaces have not been the same without him.

Mikaela had to bite her hand to stifle a moan at the thought of cohort interfacing, her body forgetting about the anxiety and shame and getting hot all over again. She distracted herself from the temptation to begin rubbing her hands along Optimus's interior by thinking about Jazz, still in light stasis after Optimus had used the Matrix of Leadership to restore his guttered spark. The silver mech's memory core had been partially damaged during his time in deep stasis, when his spark had barely been an ember held on by support systems that could do nothing more to restore it. Ratchet was slowly repairing the damaged parts of his core and restoring his memory files using the backup he had made prior to their arrival on Earth, but it was a time consuming process - one that she had the privilege to help with as she worked with Ratchet to patiently restore Jazz's frame. She knew the hair-raising scent of Jazz's spark now that it was whole again, and could hardly wait to actually get to know the mech she had helped to repair.

"Hopefully you'll be able to enjoy that again soon," she said with a grin.

"And you as well, Mikaela, if you wish to. You are a part of our cohort."

She blushed again, rubbing her neck. "You all have said that. It...I'm not sure what it means. What's a cohort?"

Optimus made a humming sound, then began speaking in the tone Mikaela recognized as his teaching mode. "The word I am using in English is not a good translation of the concept. It is...the foundational organizing principle of our society, or it was before our society fell. A cohort is a group who shares a bond and are united by a common purpose. Teammates, colleagues, even family are all concepts from your language that fit, but it is much more. Cohorts on Cybertron created new members when there was a function that needed to be filled. Every living Cybertronian originally onlined as part of a cohort, and were welcomed, mentored, and knew they belonged to something greater than their own spark. Ones cohort was family, sibling-creators, lovers, and colleagues all in one."

"We are intensely social creatures, and need such ties," he continued, though he could have been reciting the phone book and she would have enjoyed the lesson just as much. "Our scientists believe that we were once part of a hive species, in essence, a single being in which individuals were more like the cells of a large living organism we refer to as Primus - the first. Our species developed autonomy and sentience, but never lost our need to be part of a whole. Megatron rejected the concept of cohorts and cohort bonds, felt they prevented us from realizing our full strength and potential. In some manner he was correct - cohorts and the castes they were a part of had become rigid, and it was illegal and nearly impossible for someone to leave a given cohort or seek a new function within one. But cohorts are also our greatest strength, and we are very unbalanced, even dangerous without one. War ripped our cohorts apart, but we now form them by choice, and choose our functions within them. Our sparks recognize you and several other trusted humans as part of our cohort, though whether you agree to that affiliation is, of course, your choice."

"Why me?" the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could even think. "I'm...honored...blown away by it, actually, but why?"

She felt Optimus come to a stop and realized they were on base, though he didn't open the door. "It is a function of our sparks. We saw you, Sammuel and William Lennox put your bodies on the line to fight a battle that was not your own. My spark could not fail to desire you as part of our cohort after Mission City, and every choice you have made since that time has confirmed that you have chosen us. To use a term from your own culture, you have made us your family of choice. You are a sister to us, Mikaela Banes."

His words had left her speechless, but whole in a way she had not felt in a long time. She had longed to be a part of them, and now she realized that she actually was, and had been from that fateful moment when she decided to drive Bumblebee back into battle at Mission City. Sure, it had been to save the planet, but that had not actually been where her mind had been at the time. She had gone back into battle for the Autobots and the human soldiers who were going to die without Bee's help. She and Bumblebee had looked at one another and she had been part of the cohort ever since uttering the words, "I'll drive, you shoot."

She knew Optimus was right. She was a part of them, and there was nothing in the world that she cared for more than than the Autobots, and she included Sam in that "cohort". She knew the Sam felt it too, and was sad and angry they could not share this realization together, but instead had fought over it. Sam had always resisted the connection, even though at all the critical moments he had risen to the challenge and accomplished the impossible. He longed for a normal life that he would never be content with, and she was afraid that if he ever really got it, he would only find himself half-dead inside because normal was so overrated. Maybe someday he would understand.

Optimus had let her out just outside of the human mess hall where she could grab herself something to eat. Transforming, he had knelt down and asked in his all too polite manner if she would still enjoy spending time in his company once she had refueled, and had expressed concern about her need for rest.

The inner voices that accused her of being a whore and slut were far more easily quelled as she looked into his bright optics that were so focused on her. It had been easy to tell the ghost of her mom to stick it up her ass and shut the fuck up. "Yeah...yeah I would," she had answered, feeling her entire body tremble at the idea.

And now she found herself in, of all places, Prime's personal quarters where she had never before set foot. It was a simple space, mostly taken up with a flat slab of a metallic substance that conformed to his shape, easily large enough for several mechs to share, along with a work surface, chair, and some shelves with the few personal items he kept, mostly gifts that had been given to him by various ambassadors, heads of state, and Annabelle Lennox over the years. The one surprise was a large flat screen that took up nearly half a wall. He admitted that he enjoyed watching human movies and television programs in real time rather than digested at the hyper speeds his processors were capable of.

I'm going to have sex...or something a lot like sex...with Optimus Fucking Prime, the little girl part of her said in a sing-song voice as he placed her on the berth. She felt equal parts giddy, terrified, and shy. More gracefully than anything that large and metal should be capable of, he arranged himself on the berth so that he was lying on his side, his optics even with her. The static charge literally made her long hair stand up on end, and there was something in the way he looked at her, and the strong ozone scent of his spark that was now permeating the room, that made her wonder if he was feeling every bit as excited as she was.

"Mikaela," he said her name in a warm tone that could quite possible make her come if he said a few more words, "I must admit that, in terms of interfacing with a sentient being not of ones own species, you are now the more experience partner." Warm air from his vents blew her static-charged hair around as he spoke.

"Is that a nice way of telling me I'm a slut?" she asked in a teasing tone, surprising herself with her own boldness as she scooted even closer to his face so she could run her hands over the complex components.

"Only if by that term you mean someone who enjoys sharing herself with others who cherish her," he responded, and she felt her heart swell and tears fill her eyes at the words.

"Oh fuck it, you are just too good," she whispered, unable to resist putting her tiny lips on one of his massive ones to taste it. She had no idea if the touch did anything for him, but she felt a tingle run through her body at the connection.

"I wish to make this good for you, Mikaela. I have all the relevant data on what is pleasant to your body, but I must admit I am at a loss as to how to even begin. Only medics have the coding to properly use an organic neural interface cable, and your species does this so differently than we do. We are not as highly tactile in terms of our frames, though our sparks are another matter."

She paused, considering. "Maybe instead we could figure out what I could do that would feel good to you? I mean...the two stooges didn't give me much of a chance to explore," she scooted herself down several feet and placed a hand on the split in his windshield, directly above his spark, knowing that there was at least one part of his frame that was highly erogenous.

There was a low rumble from his engine and she felt the plating underneath her hand heat up. She had worked on the cables and wiring around spark chambers before and knew how sensitive that part of a mech's internal anatomy was. Now that she knew she could, the idea of using her tiny hands, in a way that did all the right things for him, was intoxicating.

Thankfully, Optimus was not so chivalrous as to refuse such an offer, or perhaps his culture's ideas about chivalry included the notion that receiving was every bit as noble as giving. "I would never object an apprentice of Ratchet exploring my internals, Mikaela," the mech responded in a tone that was pure sex.

He rolled over to lie on his back, scooping her up and placing her on his chest plate, causing her to ride along as it slid back, revealing his internals. Her body was illuminated by the bright light of his spark, encased in a crystalline material harder than anything known on earth and connected to his various systems by a dizzying network of conduits, cables, and wires. She felt a swell of pride as she was able look at the array and make sense of the artistry; she knew where each cable led, and what it did. Below his spark chamber was a modification Ratchet had made for the Matrix of Leadership, and a second bright light spilled from the cylindrical opening. She felt a moment of awe, being this close to the ancient artifact, the last of the thirteen Matrixes, which Optimus had believed lost with Sentinel Prime, but could, apparently, travel between the dimensions and end up in the hands of one worthy of it; first Sam, and now the person underneath her.

She knelt at the edge of his chestplate, looking in, overcome with awe and humbled at the trust inherent in his opening to her this way. A large finger stroked the side of her body from head to foot before pushing up on her ass so that she was straddling it. He gently pressed against her crotch, drawing a gasp from her. "Quit distracting me," she hissed, swatting his finger playfully. "I won't be able to figure you out if you keep that up."

"Then perhaps you would be so kind as to undress and get in, since I have already undressed for you?" he said in a teasing tone that held a hint of impatience. "Ratchet reported that your energy takes on a different quality when you have no external coverings. Something about the vulnerability..."

She shook her head and laughed, scrambling off of his all too tempting finger to quickly strip, throwing everything including her ruined wet panties to the side. "I supposed it would be asking too much for you all not to compare notes about me?" she asked in a mock-exasperated tone.

"Comparing notes will only to be to your own benefit, but if you insist..." He once again wiggled his finger so it was beneath her, bringing his thumb to stroke hard pink nipples and her bumpy, dark aureolas. But before she could tell him off for distracting her again, his hand closed around her and he placed her inside his chest cavity in a space next to his chamber but relatively free of any wires that could damage her skin. Get to it, was the unspoken message. She giggled nervously.

"Forget about it. I just want you all to be you. I know you talk about everything. Autobots are worse gossips than the high school cheerleading squad," she babbled, doing nothing to hide just how nervous and excited she was. She felt his whole frame vibrate in laughter, and then shudder as she reached out and ran her hands along a highly sensitive conduit leading from his chamber to his processors. "Is that okay?" she whispered, suddenly uncertain.

"Indeed," his voice again seeming to emanate from all around her, hungry and wanting in his own far-too-patient way. "You may freely touch any of the insulated cables and conduits, the chamber itself, and when you are ready, the outer layer of my spark." His corona was licking against the crystal of its casing, reaching for her. Her head swam in anticipation. She already knew what the pure bliss of first Ironhide's, and later Ratchet's, spark coronas had felt like as they caressed her skin, exploring her 'unique bio-energy fields' (as Ratchet had explained on their second go around). It was a fancy way of saying that she tasted good to their sparks, on a fermion and bosonic level. Hey baby, how about my bosons and your bosons occupying the same space and get our fermions interacting...in a very sexy way, her mind supplied a cheesy spark pick-up line.

Here goes nothing, she thought as she went to work in earnest, lithe hands stroking the array of cables stretched out underneath her, playing them like a musical instrument. Her mind automatically cataloged where each led and its function in an silent song that would have made the dictator named Ratchet proud. Delta branch of the main neural line, beta node of the sub-primary processor's energon conduit, power circuit for transformation cog alpha-ten, and oh, hello there sensor node! Gonna make Optimus Fucking Prime come, fuck yeah!

Apparently she was good, maybe even fucking amazing because the massive frame under her convulsed and the voice of the vast majority of her wettest dreams was growling her name in warning, followed by a series of hair rising sounds in his own language. Then his hand physically placed her on his spark chamber, which she proceeded to gleefully make love to with her entire body (it was just about her height), as though it were the tastiest thing she had ever gotten her lips, hands and thighs around.

"Aaaaaaaaah...Mikaela," she was rewarded by his response. "Your energy is so bright." She felt as much as heard his voice.

His chamber opened, and she felt her body begin to float above his emerging corona. He was levitating her the same way he had levitated the Matrix when he had rekindled the embers of Jazz's spark. She was wrapped in tendrils of spark energy, each one sliding along her body in manner that was more physical than anything she had ever felt, yet somehow beyond physical as well, as if the glowing strands were sensuously massaging her body with pure emotions. She might have been moaning, crying, begging, and shouting his praise, but she could not hear herself over the unearthly song of an energy that was alien to her world, yet somehow knew her and found kinship with the particles (or were they waves?) that made up her own quantum self.

She thought she heard delighted, rumbling laughter as a thick strand of his corona played along her body until it reached her sex, then delved inside, straight up her chakras in an explosion of bliss.

Several hours later, Ratchet peeked in on them, and was surprised to see Optimus fully online. He was lying on his back with the tiny, blanket-wrapped recharging form of the youngest member of their cohort cupped in his hand at chest level, allowing his field to gently interact with the bio-energy of her own, soothing her back to sleep when she stirred at the sound of Ratchet's footsteps.

:: Enjoy yourselves?:: Ratchet asked, settling his frame next to Prime's on the large berth designed to accommodate far larger partners than the one Optimus had spent his evening indulging, gently cupping his own hand along Prime's own in a protective and affectionate gesture for the human who rested in its safety.

::Indeed. I would have been quite content simply to bring her pleasure and watch her bio-field brighten. I...had not anticipated how pleasing the sensations would be for me. An organic alien with no spark, yet my spark knows her and had no issue connecting with her on some level. It was remarkable.:: Prime had seen wonders across the galaxies, and sounded as though he had found one of the rarest.

::Then they must have sparks, only different from our own, something that does not show on sensors, but which our own sparks know. I felt it too. Didn't really even need the cable to properly interface, though don't get me wrong, the cable was slagging amazing. So oddly tactile, and their little overloads aren't so little.::

::I felt. I'd never seen her so bright. Normally they are just a flicker. No harm done, I trust?:: Optimus asked as felt Ratchet initiate a scan of the sleeping form.

::Slight damage from the ultraviolet radiation. I have a nanite cream for it.:: Ratchet pulled a metal container out of subspace and handed it to Prime, who immediately subspaced it himself. ::She has had far more significant burns simply working on our systems. The cream will reverse any cellular damage, and I get the impression that her enjoyment of rubbing it in was a source of some of her conflict with Sam. Just imagine how much she'll enjoy having it applied by someone else. Warm it up; it will make the effect even more pleasant for her.::

::I'm certain it will,:: Prime gave a silent chuckle, not wishing to disturb the human in his hand. ::Recharge with me, and you can help me take care of our little sister when she wakes.::