Yo there, peeps. This is another co-written peace between me and kujazlilmage. Enjoy!
Fourth and last chapter of "Of Birds and Bots", but it's nowhere near the last in the series! Stay tooned for the next installment, "Prowl and Prejudice"! XD
"Rubicon": A limit that, when passed or exceeded, permits no return and typically results in an irrevocable commitment.
The upcoming few days were relatively silent. Bee seemed to calm down, and Optimus was tempted to just forget about the whole issue...except not. He snuck down to the med bay, to ask Ratchet about the topic. Despite that the medic grumbled, glitched and outright refused to say anything first, eventually, the young Prime was supplied with the necessary information. Ratchet told him what bonding was and what it meant, how they used to connect their sparks, what hot spots were and how they worked. Optimus slowly developed a guess that the transformer race made a mistake when they exiled intimacy from their society.
And, they were not on Cybertron. They all needed to feel that things were all right and under control. Most of them could get over with it—but the young Bee probably needed some added comfort. With the knowledge stored away in his memory banks, Optimus was almost willing to submit the yellow mech's plea—but just almost. While he had the theory in his grasp, Prime clearly lacked practice.
And that was when he came across that certain video. He couldn't understand it first, but then he realized that it was some pretending, which didn't focus on the organs or the coupling, but rather the aesthetics. Back on Cybertron, shining armor and powerful frames got you compliments, and it was the same with the humans. Prime watched the human male caress the female, as carefully as if she had been made of glass, and he felt a little more sure about how he should handle this matter.
During the time since their patrol together, although Bumblebee appeared to be quelled for the time being, he was a bit distant for a couple of days. He quickly got over his "shy spell", however, and was soon back to his normal self, eager to assist in any and all ways possible.
The little mech spent a lot of time thinking about Optimus and what they had researched, what he had discovered. But especially, he thought about Optimus. There was no denying that Bumblebee was quite curious and wanted to find out more about this "bonding" and about the intimacy that had once been so common among their kind. But, for reasons he already suspected, he most wanted to find out about it with Optimus. And, why not? Of all his teammates, Optimus Prime was one of the few Bumblebee considered an actual friend rather than just a comrade—the other being Bulkhead. Prime was kind and very likable, barely much older than Bee; but he had yet to shake anyone's faith in his born leadership.
For the most part, nothing was different...except that, after perhaps four or five days, Bumblebee began to give off strange energy readings. He didn't seem all too aware of the readings themselves, although whenever they were detectable it was usually strongest in the presence of his teammates.
At one point—when Prime and Prowl were present, even—Ratchet must have picked up on those readings, because he shot a glare at the little yellow mech that could melt titanium. Bumblebee just smiled innocently back. "What?"
The medic grumbled something, glaring at the others. Prowl just stared back, rather coldly, while Optimus apparently sensed something, because he eventually turned the conversation on the latest rescue mission, and eventually dragged the black and gold ninja off. Ratchet immediately turned to Bumblebee. "Look, kid. If you don't want a wrench lodged up at someplace painful, stop the broadcasting. You're practically oozing spark energy all over the place; it even makes my head spin! You have to get rid of that charge. Primus, I should have caught you sooner...! At least Prime came to me and sat patiently while I explained him everything..."
"Broadcasting?" Bee asked, frowning. He paused, head turned up as he did a self-scan on his systems. His optics lit up with the realization. "Ohh, so that's what those weird readings are. Huh. They weren't hurting me, so I kind of just ignored them."
"Mmm-yeah; now listen up and listen well. Our sparks had all been a part of the Allspark, right? That's where they return when we get terminated. Each spark was part of a whole. And they don't protest against being part of the whole again. Your spark currently calls out to its companions, trying to lure them close. Basically, it's like standing out on top of a building and shouting out that you'd like to sparkbond with the first stray bot. It's not done. First, because it's rather bad taste, and second, because, believe me, you don't want to sparkbond with the first stray bot."
Bumblebee frowned a bit, flinching. Yeah, that didn't sound good at all...
"Okay, so, how am I supposed to turn it off? Or at least control where I broadcast it?"
Ratchet let out a huge, world-weary sigh and leaned closer. "Back then, it was not unheard of to indulge into some...fun alone. We could stimulate our hot spots, until our inner charge reached the critical level and we achieved the surge. I suppose, you younglings can do that, too... An overload would calm your restless spark."
"Oh, okay." Bee grinned, brightening up a bit. If that was all it took, he wasn't too unfamiliar with it...he wouldn't tell that to Ratchet, though.
The medic lightly whacked Bee on the back of his head. "Younglings...can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em. Lock your room tight, and remember, if it doesn't hurt, it's alright. Your body will give you warnings about overheating, and processors shutting down, but don't pay them heed. It's normal. Take your time with your body. I guess, those little horns of yours are a good place to start with."
"Ow!" Bumblebee rubbed his head with a pout when Ratchet smacked it, and began to walk away. "Man, you could try to find nicer ways to grumble about things," he said. "That hurt."
"Or you're just a weakling!" Ratchet claimed and targeted his beloved med bay. Young mechs these days...
"Not a weakling," Bumblebee muttered to himself as he walked off. So he would have to get rid of the charge soon...well, Optimus and Prowl said something about checking out the far end of town, but Bee didn't exactly trust himself to do such a thing on the base...or at least not on the same level as Ratchet.
Bumblebee got his solution when he remembered there was a small outcrop a few levels up that was thrust out over the ground. It was at the back of the complex, and rather out of sight even for the Autobots; it would do nicely.
Once he'd made it onto the balcony, Bumblebee did one last sweep to make sure nobody was around, and sunk down against the wall, curling himself up in a corner neatly. The doors didn't really have a lock on them yet—they didn't use this balcony and nobody felt like taking it down—but that shouldn't be a worry, because Ratchet never went outside of the med bay, hermit that he was, and Prime and Prowl were sure not to be back until much later.
Yet, Bumblebee didn't exactly begin right away. He spent a few moments just analyzing the signals his body was giving off, thinking about what Ratchet had told him and processing the information. Eventually, though, he pushed it aside—Bee shut off his optics and leaned back, systems letting out a cool whir as he worked to clear his head.
He lifted a single yellow hand, optics flickering online very dimly, and squeezed his fingers around one of the small horns on his helm. Bee's optics turned off again and he relaxed into the touch, frame thrumming lightly. It was easier when he imagined it wasn't his hand; when he pretended it was someone else.
Neuro-processors picked up on the strokes and caresses to his helm, and led him to the conclusion that it usually did: this felt very nice. Bee was gentle and careful—even though he'd been getting to know his body a little better over the days, he still wasn't entirely comfortable with it. He was already heating up just trying to rid the excess energy Ratchet told him about. The hand he held idle in his lap lifted up and, as Bumblebee rubbed his head and trailed down over a slender black neck, it joined its partner in the exploration. Young, naive fingers pressed boldly at the seams of his armor, targeting joints and pockets beneath his armor along his sides and at his shoulders, digging slightly underneath the sheen of yellow metal to brush against small bundles of wire underneath.
Bumblebee's intakes hitched on the next cycle; he moaned softly to himself, easing into the moment, letting his mind wander. He started to imagine someone different—larger, stronger blue hands in place of his own, sliding over his armor, questing for the same hot spots he'd discovered on himself since he'd begun to experiment like this. He could almost, almost, hear the other mech's voice rumbling low against his audios, inquiring about what actions to take and boldly taking the guidance.
The little mech nervously lowered his vocals, even though no one was around, merely out of a habit and not wanting to be discovered. Quiet moans and sighs began to spill from his processors with each touch and stroke; he pressed three fingers against an odd hot spot on the back joint of his knee, and his engine revved as a result, causing Bumblebee to press further against the wall. He whimpered pleasantly and nudged the digits against the sensitive crease as he drew his leg up, then stretched it out again, to see if it made any difference. He found it was best bent at a slight angle—about forty-five degrees—he hard-wired that into his memory banks for later, and continued.
However, the equation had a slight mistake—Prime and Prowl indeed mentioned going out, but not right away. While the silent ninja indeed headed out to pay a visit to his human colleagues, Optimus walked back inside.
The headquarters were quiet, and he just idly wandered around, on corridors he rarely used, lost in thought. When he had nothing to do, his mind always returned to the same topic: to Bee and his fascination with intimacy. Optimus was already sort of convinced he could do things right, but one thing kept him back. Bee was so young; his emotions changed so fast...what if he regrets indulging with his leader...? The young Prime didn't want to cause pain to any of his Bots.
He was snapped out of his reverie though, as passing a door, his audio sensors registered a sound: a strange, quiet little moan. Optimus blinked and stepped to the door; it had small windows on it, so he could see some of the balcony beneath it. He couldn't see much...but on the side, the light flashed on something...on a piece of yellow armor. Optimus slowly, carefully pushed the door open and slipped out into the open air, his spark throbbing excitedly. Something was pulling him, a strange energy, it sang to him, and the voiceless song was quite tempting.
Bumblebee moaned again as his fingers continued to explore over his body, stroking invisible seams in the thinner black sections of armor and searching for more hot spots, seeing if he may have missed any. One hand would often wander back up to the horns he possessed, petting the top of his head much like Prime tended to do.
His core temperature was spiking hot now, entire frame warming up, engine rumbling as everything began to get especially sensitive. Bee moaned again, arching forward when he felt something pulling, tugging lightly on his spark. It throbbed rhythmically in his chest, calling out desperately for something or someone; and Bee, still lost in his fantasies, didn't take into account the approaching figure from the doorway as he moaned again. "Optimus..."
The young leader couldn't hold back a gasp and he heard a name—his own name—drift from the little mech's vocalizer. His optics burned bright, and his spark was twisting, begging, practically clawing at the layers of armor protecting it. It wanted to be set free, to meet the other spark nearby, to merge into one...just like in Ratchet's tales. As if mesmerized, Optimus drew closer, his own core temperature rising as well. Some of his servos were apparently glitching, because his hands shook. He could barely keep them down; they wanted to rise, grab the slender yellow frame and pull it close. Where did those thoughts come from...?
That small gasp couldn't have possibly been much louder than the dimmed sounds Bumblebee was making, but one outside sound was all it took. The little mech's head snapped up from where it had been resting against his chest, optics surging online in a panic. His hands froze, trembling where they were, one against the hotspot on his back leg joint while the other was positioned over a sensitive open spot on his shoulder.
The moment he saw just who was standing there, Bumblebee went rigid and steam hissed out of every open port. His engine sputtered in shock. Embarrassment crashed into his systems like an anvil and he thought he might die right there. "Op—Opt—Optim—!!"
"Hush." The young leader's voice was quiet and gentle, surprisingly so from a huge metal creature. He walked closer and eventually crouched down next to the little mech, never taking his optics off the heated yellow frame. He reached out, and slowly brushed his fingers against the other's cheekplates. "You're overheating..." Prime remarked. Inwardly, he was fighting with himself fiercely—he needed all his willpower not to push Bumblebee against the wall and rip his casing open to bond their sparks right then and there. Primus, whatever it was, it had a terrible power, raw and wild, like a raging cosmic storm.
Optimus gently picked Bee up, cradling him close to his mighty chest. For a moment, he had to stop; his spark screamed with joy inside, and only the promise was able to calm it down, that soon, soon enough, he'll be able to get what he wants. Optimus straightened, and with slow, graceful steps, he walked inside, engine rumbling steadily.
He was a little calmer when Optimus picked him up and held him like that—but still, it didn't completely rid Bumblebee of his fear. He hadn't at all expected the other to find him like that.
"Wh-Where are we going?" he asked, clinging to Prime's frame, feeling his spark throbbing and pushing as far as it could go against its casing. The closeness did nothing to ease the building heat and how he suddenly wanted to fulfill the fantasies he'd been merely dreaming about only seconds before; Bumblebee squirmed nervously in Prime's arms as a result.
"To my quarters," Optimus replied gently. "You were calling out to me, and I promised you that I'd be there. I don't think we can fight this, anyway...I just don't want you to regret this. I don't want to hurt you." His voice was a mere whisper, by the end of the sentence.
Bumblebee peered over his shoulder as they neared Prime's quarters, nuzzling the other's chest. "I...I don't think you'll hurt me," he replied quietly. "I trust you, Optimus." He grinned sheepishly, "And I really don't think I'd regret doing this with you..."
"I hope Primus is watching over us," Optimus smiled back, and slipped into his room. He commanded the tightest security locks on the door, then settled down on his recharge berth, still holding Bee close. "You're so...small," he whispered, with slight awe. "One would hardly think how much strength there is inside your frame." He gently caressed the smaller mech's face, brushed a single finger to his mouth...then, Prime leaned closer. He wasn't sure this would work, but he just wanted to try. He had to try.
He offlined his optics, and lightly, very carefully touched his slightly parted lips to Bumblebee's.
Bumblebee didn't hesitate to press his lips a little more firmly against Prime's, when he felt the pressure of contact. His optics offlined as well, and he eased into the kiss, a little familiar with how it worked by observing a number of human couples on the street. The little mech shifted until he was comfortable in Prime's lap, legs swung to one side while he stretched his frame up as far as it would go to meet with Prime's taller height. Bumblebee lifted a hand and ran two yellow fingers over one of Optimus' audios; somewhat for the pleasant feeling he knew it gave, but mostly to let the leader know that it would be alright.
Optimus had absolutely no idea how it would feel—Ratchet didn't dwell that deep into the details—but it turned out to be more pleasant than he expected. It seemed the layer of faint electric charge coating their armors, and buzzing in their insides somehow gathered in hidden places—like the inside of their mouth—and as the two fields clashed, the reaction stimulated never-before used sensors. That, accompanied by Bee's touch, had a wonderful effect on the young Prime's system. He moaned into the kiss, pulling Bee closer. His spark throbbed, emitting waves of energy, and his hand moved by itself, running along the slender little frame.
Bumblebee literally shivered, engine rumbling softly as Optimus' hand caressed his heated frame. He had certainly imagined what it would be like to be with Prime like this; but he'd never truly experienced it. His sensors were buzzing, tingling almost, especially where he was touched and kissed. His spark was already aching in his chest because of his prior self-service, so it was a chore just for Bee to sit still and not beg for Prime to take him right there. But he wanted to—oh, how he wanted to. The yellow mech elicited a rather cat-like sound as his glossa streaked over Prime's lips. It was something he'd seen the humans do, and he wondered if it might be pleasant for them as well.
It certainly wrung a whimper from Optimus, and he pulled his head back to clear it. All of his vents were practically howling, his cooling fans working overtime in a desperate attempt to keep his core temperature low. They were failing spectacularly, but Prime didn't give a damn. He knew his body would protest, but he didn't need to pay attention.
Just the thought that he held so much power, to give or deny the surge from another—especially somebody as small and weak, compared to him, as Bumblebee—made his processors swim in a strange, but pleasant daze. Of course, it never occurred to him to play with the little one, or be cruel to him. Optimus placed a finger on the yellow mech's lips to keep him away a little while. "We don't have to bond our sparks. I will not force you into anything you're not entirely comfortable with."
Bumblebee's optics flickered online again. He pouted at the loss of contact, and was about to reach up and try again, when a finger on his lips stopped him. He blinked a few times, lips puckered slightly as if to kiss the digit itself. "I'm not uncomfortable with it, Prime. You heard me, didn't you? I want to...but..." he tilted his head thoughtfully, glossa briefly swiping over Prime's finger as he smiled his cutest possible smile. "Maybe we could, you know...get used to each other a little more first."
"A wise decision, I'd say," Optimus nodded with a relieved smile. His past...was not exactly something to be proud of, and he was not sure he wanted any of his comrades to know. Perhaps, there was a way to control the contact and information channeling during sparkbonding...but he had to master his own body first.
He sat properly on his berth and pulled Bee into his lap, so the little mech was straddling him. "Now, tell me where your hot spots are."
Bee smiled back, if a bit shyly, as Optimus positioned him to straddle the other's lap. His cooling fans hissed slightly as he took in a bit of air, just to clear his systems and collect himself. He nodded, and began to point or press his hands against the various spots as he pointed them out carefully.
"Um...my horns are pretty sensitive...there's a small pocket of wires under my shoulder armor on both sides that are good hot spots, too...and..." Bumblebee paused, glancing down behind him. He didn't touch this spot; he merely pointed to it. "I, uh, found out that...the backs of my knees are really good."
Optimus quirked an optic ridge. "And Ratchet said new models are less sensitive. I'm...not sure I want to know how many hot spots older models had." He reached up nonetheless, and began to gently rub both horns. "Lean your head on my chest and relax. You know...I think your horns are cute."
Bumblebee giggled a bit, the sound melting into a moan as he obeyed and rested his head against Prime's chest. "Mmm...maybe it was all the same...but with more sensitivity...?"
"Hmm, it could be..." Optimus mused, and leaned closer to whisper into Bee's audio receptors. "While you're enjoying my attention...could you touch my front grill? I think that's one of my hot spots."
The little mech hummed pleasantly, tilting his head into the leader's touches and tuning his audios when Prime whispered to him. He shuddered again—yes, this was exactly as he'd imagined. The two of them like this, just being close and exploring—experimenting, breaking new ground, neither of them alone. Bumblebee didn't hesitate to put his hands to work, pressing them lightly against the grill on Prime's stomach, stroking each metallic blind with careful precision. "Like that?"
The young Prime couldn't keep his optics online. "Oooh...yes, right there...it feels wonderful." He pulled Bee closer with one hand, while the other continued rubbing a small horn. Optimus could feel their energy fields clash and he wondered—why did he never feel like this before? Maybe it wasn't just the physical touch alone...but something else, too. His spark was oddly content now, merely humming in its casing, pulsing with a steady rhythm.
Bumblebee moaned softly again, arching towards Prime's frame, gravitated there by the thrumming pulses of energy given off by his spark. The pull was less strong than before, sated somewhat, though not completely quenched. It was altogether pleasant, however, and so Bumblebee nuzzled his leader's chest and continued to rub and stroke Prime's front grill when he received such a positive response.
The minutes ticked by, and the young leader didn't hold his voice back—he was moaning, gasping and even whimpering, when his little mate's small fingers slipped through between two slats, and brushed against the sensitive circuitry there. The air around his frame was trembling and beads of coolant formed on his armor; the energy inside was brimming; his mind was a mess. He never felt the surge before, but he knew it was close now, so close...his spark whined and twisted, it was hard to concentrate on his partner...but somehow, he managed. "I'm close..." he whispered, voice cracking with static, "I d-don't know what will happen... But it feels so nice, little Bee...dear little Bee..." One hand was rubbing the yellow shoulder now, while the other latched around the slender waist.
By the time Optimus' crackling voice was whispering in his audios, Bumblebee was shaking like a leaf, servos glitching, body jerking with small twitches whenever it was stimulated in a sensitive area. He'd matched Prime moan for sigh thus far, heat steaming his insides as the energy built stronger and stronger, pooling in a single place and spreading out in tiny crawling leaks that he could feel threatening to overtake his systems. The little yellow mech mewled and pressed a kiss to Prime's chest, arching forward, fingers rubbing against the wirings behind the leader's grill and dancing over the strong red frame, pulling him closer as he felt himself teetering on edge.
And then, suddenly, it happened; Bumblebee cried out Optimus' name, not unlike when the bot had discovered him, full of need and pure affection. His optics shut off and the surge rushed through him like the spread of a spider-virus, shorting out his systems almost systematically. It must have happened in the span of only a few seconds, but it was bliss. Everything was fried out to nothing, and Bumblebee fell still against Prime's frame for a moment as he automatically tried to recover, briefly losing his touch with reality.
Hearing his name and feeling the sparks form the other's frame jumping at his were all what was needed to push Optimus over the edge. His powerful frame tensed up as he yelled from pleasure, his hands trembling violently as with the last bit of consciousness, he tried not to tighten them and crush Bumblebee against him in a tight embrace. His processors shrieked from the shock and his spark emitted a strong energy-wave as the excess charge ran over him from top to toe, along every single wire in his body. His neuro-grid felt like it was melting. His optics went blind with bright static and he thought he'd be terminated again—such an unhealthy habit.
But it didn't happen. The white-hot pleasure and amazing agony ebbed away, and the young Prime hunched forward, curling around the smaller mech in his lap. His arms were still shaking, and a stray lightning still sizzled here and there, but he felt perfectly sated, calm and just happy; so happy.
After a few minutes, when his vents stopped roaring, he straightened a bit and gently nudged his mate. "Bumblebee…are you alright?"
Blue optics blinked slowly at Prime after a moment, and Bumblebee shifted a bit in his leader's lap. "Mmnn...?" he gasped when he realized the question. "Oh! Y-Yeah, I'm fine...great, actually..." Bee smiled nervously. "That happens, with me. I go out sometimes when the surge is really big...I'm sure there must be a way to keep that from happening so often, but I'm not sure how."
The young leader's optics widened. "You mean...this was not your first...?"
"Well..." Bee faltered in his speech, laughing nervously. "Y—You saw me, when you came out to the balcony, didn't you?"
Optimus nodded—there was no point denying that. His insides twisted delightedly as he thought back, how...lovely Bee looked, all heated and so open in his experimenting.
Bee kept himself close to Prime's frame, wiggling his aft a bit as he shifted to get comfortable again. "I'll just put it this way...that wasn't the first time I've done that." His smile turned sheepish. "It's just the first time I've been caught."
"Somehow..." Optimus drawled, as he tightened his hold slightly around his smaller mate, "I suspect this wasn't the first time you called my name doing it, either." Not that he minded, but he wanted to find out what was behind it.
"Eh-heh...you suspect correctly." Bumblebee wound his arms around Prime's middle, returning the comforting embrace that he found himself in. "But I really do like you, Prime. I could go into details, but...well, there's not much left to you that's not to like." Bee nuzzled the other's frame. "And you were one of my first friends, too, when we were building space bridges. Bulkhead was the other..." his smile faded a bit, "Prowl never talked, and Ratchet just yelled a lot."
"I'm glad you consider me a friend," Optimus smiled, and gently rubbed Bee's shoulder. "I'm glad you're in my unit, little one. You remind me that there's more to this world than the past. We also have a future, and it's going to be as bright as we make it." He sighed lightly. "So...what now?"
"...Well..." Bee looked up with a wicked sort of glint in his optics. "Can we do that again?"
