Chapter Thirty-Seven

Plenoptic

The first part of this chapter has been written since this story was first published. I'm so happy to see it finally come together.

Endless thank you's to everyone who has read and supported this story, whether you read the first chapter the night it came out or whether you're just joining us. This story has been an adventure to say the least, and it's got a long leg left to go. So thank you, all of you, for your support and constant kind words. I'm happy to say that I've felt myself mature as a writer as this project has come together, even with all of its fluffy eccentricities and glaring plot holes.

The same disclaimer as always: this chapter is explicit, but portrays nothing more than a very loving encounter between an established couple. If this material is offensive, please send me a PM. Reporting the story may result in its removal, which would only be frustrating to its readers and to me. I believe in free expression when writing, and I don't believe that physical love constitutes something that should be censored.

With that said, read on! And please enjoy.

"…It's so beautiful…"

The crown prince of Cybertron looked over his shoulder at the femme who had accompanied him, smiling faintly as she took in her first view of his family's villa. "You like it?"

"I love it…when you first took me to Crystal City, I never could have imagined…"

Optimus beamed, pleased with her reaction. Overlooking Crystal City from a high outcropping, an old upheaval in the planet's surface, the Prime's villa was nested comfortably in a huge, lush, implanted forest. Tiny lights embedded in the undergrowth provided the necessary light source for photosynthesis, keeping the imported plants alive and well. Their green and blue hues were vibrant at all times, but were especially stunning at night. Optimus was pleased that Elita had first seen them at their optimum brilliance.

"This is where my mother and father bonded," he told her, extending a hand to his intended, which she took without hesitation. The tiny drone—their only assistance for their visit—beeped and wheeled its way behind them, their single cargo case stacked on its flat head. Neither of them had felt the overwhelming desire to bring much. "It's been refurbished since then, and new furniture brought in, but I'm sure the view hasn't changed much."

"How in Primus's name did your father get this place?"

"It's always been a place of solitude for the Prime," Optimus explained, leading her up the winding path through the plant life. Elita giggled and paused when the drone snagged its single wheeled foot on a low-lying vine and bleeped indignantly at the plant. "Nova Prime left it behind when he left Cybertron, and Father simply felt it would make an excellent get-away when he and mother decided to bond…"

He trailed off for a moment before quickly shaking himself out of the reverie that threatened to take hold.

"That'll be, uh, all for now, thank you," Optimus said awkwardly, addressing the little drone. It bleeped, abruptly dropped their things on the front doorstep, and zoomed into the villa via a tiny door in the side wall. Optimus shrugged and keyed in his access code, stepping back and watching with pride as the famous Prime Villa opened to its new guests.

Elita didn't think she'd ever beheld such beauty in a building before, even having spent her entire life in Femmax's crown palace. The villa was an architectural masterpiece, crafted of fine circles and gently sloping arches, so different from the angular buildings and intimidating towers she'd seen dotting Cybertron's surface. The villa was crafted in the shape of a large half-sphere, considerably wide in its diameter, split three-fourths up its height to create two distinctive levels.

On the bottom level, Optimus explained, giving her the full tour, were the living quarters and other necessities; wash racks, waste facilities, kitchen area, storage, emergency supply closets, the like. On the upper floor, however, was where the real magic was. It was divided into three rooms, the middle by far the largest. On one side was a small library, full of data cubes of all genres; the other side of the floor was dominated by a gallery inhabited by some of the most famous paintings and sculptures Crystal City had to offer.

"This is what I wanted you to see," Optimus said, grinning and leading her up a small staircase and into the middle room. "Look."

It was an observatory. The ceiling was plexiglass, opaque from the outside but so clear as to seem nonexistent from within. Bright light from the moons spilled into the room, illuminating the biggest and most beautiful berth Elita had ever seen. She approached it slowly, admiring the circular shape and the delicate array of cushions around its circumference.

"Apparently, this is where I was conceived," Optimus chuckled, rapping a fist against the wall. Elita stilled, and he regretted his words at once; why did he say that?! "Er—sorry—I'm sure you didn't want to—"

"No. Don't apologize, Optimus." Elita turned to face him, leaning her weight against the berth, and he was struck speechless by the ethereal beauty standing before him, illuminated by the twin moons high overhead. "Imagine how much love they must have felt, just in being here together. Imagine how much love they must have felt creating their first sparkling together." A smile graced her faceplates, optics watching him with warm adoration. "I think it's beautiful."

His feet carried him to her very much without his bidding or consent, his upper body leaning forward, bringing their forms close together in the near darkness. Her mouth met his in soft, cautious kisses, and it wasn't until he placed his hands on the berth behind her that her fingertips lifted to gently trace his jaw.

She fell back onto the berth, breathlessly accepting the firmer kiss placed against her mouth as he followed her down, lacing his fingers with hers and stretching her hands over her head.

"I love you," he murmured, unshuttering his optics and lifting himself above her, breathless with the weight of the moment. "Elita, I…love you."

She didn't need to return the soft words; her optics told him all he needed to know. A quiet sound of relief escaped him, reveling in their shared affections, and the moons climbed a little higher as tender lips met once more.

"Optimus," she murmured, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back, giving herself some room to breathe. "Wait."

"What?" he asked somewhat breathlessly, looking down at her with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Sure, I'm fine, I just…" She pushed herself up on her elbows, biting her lower lip. "Can we talk about what happened between us? About…about the T-cog thing?"

"Oh…yes, of course," he said quickly, rolling off of her and sitting up, offering her his hand so she could do the same. "I suppose I do owe you an explanation for my behavior."

"It'd be appreciated," Elita said gently, stroking a hand down the side of his helm, giving him a small smile when he looked over at her guiltily. "If there's something bothering you, Optimus, I want to know."

"Right. Well…" He furrowed his optic ridges, thinking intently on how to voice his anxieties. "This might be difficult for you to understand, not having come from Cybertron. I didn't realize how culturally ingrained this prejudice was until you told me about your missing part. From what Alpha Trion has told me, it started with Nova Prime, when he began his plans to make a galactic empire with Cybertron as its capital. Cybertron had had contact with other inorganic life, you see, even some made from metallic alloys as we are, but we were unique in our ability to transform."

"Most Femmaxians can too," Elita pointed out.

"The first Femmaxian colonists were Cybertronians themselves," Optimus reminded her. "They brought their transformation codes with them to their new world. I think that was part of why Nova Prime was so furious with that particular colonization. Had Femmax closed itself off from other planets, it would have been fine, but Nova Prime disliked the idea of non-Cybertronian offspring gaining the ability to transform, as the children of the new Femmaxians and non-Cybertronian colonists would. There is an underlying issue of purity of heritage, and there are hints in the histories that maybe Nova Prime wanted to…to cleanse Cybertron of non-transformers.

"Part of the problem was that when a non-transformer was born, it wasn't just about the lack of a T-cog—those individuals are born without the lines of code that carry out the transformation sequence. They are missing more than a part of their anatomy, they are missing the programming that defines us culturally. As a result—and unfairly, I might add—those individuals are ostracized, mistreated. They are considered…freaks," he said with some difficulty. "Mutants. They are beyond handicapped, they are cripples.

"It's worth mentioning that Father has crusaded against this conception since he first received the Matrix," Optimus said quickly, making note of the horrified expression on Elita's face. "It was one of the things that bothered him most about Nova Prime's reign. I agree with him that it's atrocious, the way non-transformers have been treated, but I…I'm as much a victim of institutional prejudice as anyone else," he admitted guiltily. "I've never even met an NT—not until you, that is. I was just…shocked."

"It's that bad, is it?" she asked, lifting her optic ridges.

"Well, yeah," he said sheepishly. "Jetfire even said once that he'd rather not have an interface than not have a T-cog. But then, that's Jetfire—fliers are even more particular about it than grounders. Jet says it would feel like being trapped in his own body if he couldn't transform."

"You don't even transform all that often," Elita pointed out, frowning a little. "I don't think I've ever even seen your alt mode."

"It's the fact that I can that it's important," Optimus explained. "It means that I am unlimited, unhindered, that there is no where on the face of the planet that I can't go to under my own power if I so chose. It's a wonderful feeling…and I have to admit, learning that you've never felt it made me angry," he added, placing his hand over hers. "I knew your mother was a tyrant, but…knowing that she had taken away the one thing that has always made me feel safe…"

"I don't know what I'm missing," Elita reminded him. "I know it was a foul thing to do, but it's a bigger issue to you than it is to me." She hooked a finger under his chin, pulling him closer, and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. "Please let it go? I don't want you seeing some broken, pathetic thing whenever you look at me."

"I won't," he assured her, squeezing her hand. "I promise. I've let it go, it's just…" He fumbled for words. "When I'm Prime, when—if —you're my bondmate, we should tell Cybertron that you don't have a T-cog."

She lifted her optic ridges. "You think so?"

"Yes. It's time for the mistreatment to end," he said, setting his jaw. "If a non-transformer can be empress, then there's no reason to think they're any less capable than any other Cybertronian."

Elita beamed, enjoying the fit of her fingers between his. "I've been wondering something."

"What's that?"

"I hear the title 'empress' thrown around a lot, but what about Cybertronian emperors? Do they exist?"

Optimus's gaze darkened a little. "That would be the bonded of a female Prime. And so far, there has only been one."

"Prima."

"Prima," he agreed. "Primon was her bonded, but she only received the Matrix after he'd perished. And it wasn't as if she ever had lovers after his loss. Prima did it all on her own—dragged this planet out of the ruins left behind by Unicron's wrath, creating civilization and life even as her spark died." He fell silent for a moment, something like physical pain twisting his spark. "She was incredible," he murmured. "Magnificent beyond words."

Elita tilted her helm, waiting for him to meet her gaze, sensing more meaning behind his words than he let on. He glanced up at her, a small smile crossing his set mouthplates at her keen expression. As if he could hide anything from her.

"When I was little," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his helm, "apparently I told my mother that I loved Prima, that I'd make her my bonded if she were alive. I wanted more than anything to know her."

The Femmaxian sitting beside him leaned in, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Well, you've almost got her, if your father and Alpha Trion are to be believed."

Optimus smiled, shaking his head and touching the crest of his helm to hers. "No, not quite. I've got someone better. I've got you."

"Do you think we're even capable of it?"

He looked away from her, avoiding her bright optics, letting his gaze wander up the walls of the earthen shelter he'd created for them. The planet's crust had lifted from the subsurface, forming a perfect sphere that encased them both comfortably. When he failed to respond to her inquiry, she tried again.

"Of falling in love. Do you think we can?"

His dark blue optics wouldn't meet hers. She shifted, trying to angle herself closer, and he redirected his gaze, staring skyward. The planes of the crust didn't quite meet at the top; a single, cylindrical shaft of moonlight spilled into their makeshift refuge, illuminating the sharp lines and angles of his frame, the contours if his iridescent armor. There were marks visible where Unicron's acolytes had burned him.

"Primon," she said at length, gently. "Please answer me."

The Prime sighed lowly, shuttering his optics briefly before opening them again, looking directly at her. It startled her to see a creature so impossibly powerful looking vulnerable, sitting on the bare ground before her, contemplative.

"I know," he began quietly, "that I feel things for you that I wasn't ever meant to feel. Primus created thirteen pillars to watch over this world and its children. We are distinct and independent."

"That's not true," she insisted, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward intently, a note of pleading in her voice. "We're a part of one another. I know you feel it. I know it."

He made a low noise of disagreement, beginning to turn his gaze away, but against her better judgment she lunged forward, almost toppling over on top of his frame, taking his face in her hands and forcing him to look at her.

"I know it," she went on somewhat breathlessly, "because I can hear your thoughts and your spark, and I know that we are more than two sparks in two bodies. I think we're one, and I think you've long since realized that."

"We're the first," he said softly, covering her hand with his, ignoring the licks of heat that tickled his spark at even so gentle a touch. "We came into being at the same moment. You were the first thing I saw, the first thing I heard, the first thing I touched. That is special. That unites us. But you think that is love?"

"Even if it's not," she whispered, daring to edge just a little closer, testing the boundaries of his will, "I love you anyway."

He frowned. "Did Primus teach you about that? About love for another?"

"He taught all of us. He taught us love for him. He taught us love for this planet, and for the tiny sparks it carries, for its potential for life." They were so close, faces scarcely more than a breath apart. Even that distance felt too immense for measurement. Nothing short of touching could satisfy the way her entire being ached for him. If only she could melt into him, sear herself into his circuits and infuse with his body, become his energon and his spark. "But I don't love this world or our god the way I love you."

"You are speaking blasphemies," Primon whispered, but she could see her torments mirrored in his optics.

"Then let him strike me down," she replied fiercely. "If feeling this way negates my value as his creation, then let him destroy me. I'd rather be dead than continue to lie about what we both feel. Please. No more hiding. No more walls."

A breathless pause, too heavy for her to bear, and then a sound that split the silence made her jump and look around. The sphere that encased them had crumbled, sinking back into the surface, leaving them sitting out in the open, laid bare in the moonlight. She looked back at him, a wide smile finally touching her features when his hands mirrored hers, gently encasing her face, pulling her closer. Their helms touched, nose and mouthplates brushing, as full of love as of fear, and then he lowered his hands, drawing her into his arms, breathing into the embrace when their bodies finally met, the proximity soothing the hot searing in his spark.

In his wisdom, Primus would reveal that he had made his first creations in pairs, as he and his brother the Unmaker had come into being. What Primus saw was the true nature of the universe, and that was duality, the unbreakable bond between one and the other. He saw the inseparable threads that would bind one being to the next, that would tie them together. A divergence of the future could not erase the convergence in the past. Connections that were could never not be. Primus knew love and hate, and he knew kinship, and he knew what it meant to be alone, and so he made absolutely sure that his creations would never suffer as he suffered.

Except, of course, for the one. For Primus also knew that evil exists, and so he made one who would stand alone, whose companion and double would be the dark, and the void, and emptiness.

Poor Megatronus. He had no choice but to Fall.

-The Covenant of Primus, as inscribed by Alpha Trion.

The hardest part was trying to find the balance—the sweet, sensual balance—between enjoyment and anticipation. Optimus loved the feel of her mouth, loved the absently gentle wanderings of her hands on his frame, but he ached in ways he'd never ached before, saw stars whenever her hands teasingly ventured low on his body, never giving him quite what he needed but providing what he didn't know he wanted.

"Slow," he encouraged her in a breathless whisper, gazing up at her as their mouths parted, admiring the sleek red frame perched atop his. His hands dropped from her waist and meandered down her thighs, thumbs brushing the seams and gaps in her civilian armor, letting himself memorize her every line and curve.

"We've been taking it slow since we met," she replied teasingly, placing her hand—finally —upon the metal guard that shielded her attentions from his need. He heard a soft and familiar click, and couldn't restrain the moan that escaped him when she took him by the wrist and guided his hand between her legs, letting him feel the way she wanted him.

"You're wet," he breathed, shuttering his optics, shifting his hips with a long, low groan when she caressed him.

"And you're hard," she answered, leaning down to kiss him, swallowing the soft sounds of his pleasure. "Let me see you? Please?"

He couldn't resist the sultry lilt in her voice, letting his armor retract and his full length extend, already at attention. She tugged on him impatiently, and he obliged her, sitting up and spreading her thighs across his, pulling her into his lap for another warm kiss.

The motion was preprogrammed, instinctual. There was no penetration, not yet, but she moved against him, whimpering when her intimacy met his, the exchange hot and wet, coaxing a few fresh moans from his mouth as his hardness was teased.

"Again," he breathed, clasping his hands around her aft and pulling her closer, gasping shallowly when she ground against him. He held her firmly to his frame, falling onto his back again, but she stretched out over him. He couldn't seem to hold her tight enough. The grinding of their intimacy wasn't enough, he needed her to occupy the same space as him, to sink into her. He was gasping lowly into her audio, one hand cupped tenderly around the back of her neck, returning love and gentleness to the risqué motion of their hips.

It was satisfying for a time, the friction between them, the slow, sliding contact, but they were burning, aching with desire.

"Want you," she mumbled thickly against his throat, stimulated almost to the point of incoherence, hovering deliciously between euphoria and easy, simmering lust. They had perfected the timing of their joining, letting her valve slide along the full length of his spike, stopping just as the head teased the impossibly sensitive cluster of nodes that topped her entrance.

"We have to break your seal," he sighed into her audio, tracing one hand lazily up and down her back, almost dizzy, too hot to think clearly. All pretense of shyness or fear had left the moment she'd first kissed him. They were ready for this, so ready, so full of want and love that it was choking his words. This was right, safe, the precursor to a lifetime of union.

He broke her very gently, easing her onto her back and stimulating her for the first time with his mouth, lowering his helm between her thighs and tasting her pleasure, surprised at the carnal want it awakened in the core of his being. She was breathless, overcome, one hand softly tracing the angles of his helm. He tilted his head, groaning against her, hips pushing his length into the covering of the berth, seeking relief. His glossa found her seal, located just inside the outer perimeter of her valve, and she cried out at the invasion.

"It's okay," she said quickly, laughing shakily when he looked up at her in concern. "I was surprised. It's okay. You're okay." A grin lifted her features, one finger tracing his debauched mouthplates. "You're wonderful."

Optimus beamed, sitting up on his knees, sliding his fingertips into her with low, soothing sounds when she squirmed, unaccustomed to so deep a touch. When he pleasured her before, he only teased the outside of her valve, relying on the sensitive virgin wiring to bring her to release. But she'd grown experienced, they both had, and he knew she needed the full act as badly as he did.

"Will it hurt?" he asked in a murmur, his fingertips gently massaging the giving material of her seal.

"I think so," she answered, shifting her hips somewhat uneasily. "Chromia says it usually does the first time." She felt him tense, and quickly grasped his wrist, keeping him close, offering him a reassuring smile. "Don't stop. It's okay, Optimus. I want this."

"Are you sure? It doesn't have to be now. I can wait."

"I can't." She pushed herself up on her elbows, optics bright. "Come here."

He leant over her, letting the femme kiss him, returning her affections when her mouth parted beneath his. Her thighs shifted around his hips, opening for him, and he pressed into her a little harder. The seal stretched and pulled, resistant, making the femme hiss sharply with each gentle prod. Twice he tried to stop; twice she encouraged him onward with quick kisses. And then, without warning, he felt—and heard, with a grimace—the rubbery lining split, and she gasped sharply into his audio, her frame tensing.

"Oh—frag—son of a glitch!"

Optimus stayed still, holding her close, a little stunned by the anticlimax of the moment. This femme had given him her first kiss, her first relationship, her first shy, sweet admission of love, and now he'd broken her seal. Just like that.

"I've got you," he mumbled numbly, touching his mouth to her cheek when she shivered against him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm—just hang on a nanosec—"

"Of course…" He withdrew his fingers from her gently, apologizing softly when she grimaced, frowning at the appearance of bright blue energon on his hand. "Lita…"

"It's okay, that's supposed to happen. Phew. Ouch." She sat up hesitantly, wrapping her arms around her midsection and groaning. "Maybe we were supposed to use your spike for that?"

"Were we?" he asked, alarmed at once. "I don't know, Lita, it's a fair bit bigger, wouldn't it have hurt more?"

"Well, I don't know, this a first for me, too, you know!" she replied somewhat hotly, scowling at him, but her irritation cooled at once when she caught sight of the expression on his face, fearful and concerned. Quirking a cautious grin, she reached for him, tracing her fingertips along his jaw. "Maybe you just need to kiss it better, hm?"

He ducked his head, faceplates hot. "Are you dirty talking at me?"

"Talking dirty to you, you mean?" she laughed, looping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

"Both?" He smiled against her mouth when she nipped at his lower lip. "Want to go wash off?"

"Mm. Do you we have to?"

"It might help us loosen up." He pressed his mouth to the side of her neck, biting into her gently, tasting her on his glossa. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"Says the mech—ah—biting me like a sharkticon," she laughed, but her giggles dissolved into a whimper when he thrust against her deliberately, grinding his interface into hers. "Oh, Primus, okay, shower, whatever, let's just go, please?"

"That's my femme," he chuckled, lifting her up into his arms with one effortless motion, sliding back off the berth and straightening, hoisting her a little higher. He slipped two fingers just inside her as he carried her, relishing the soft, desperate moans in his audio, biting his lower lipplate when she clenched around his fingertips.

No sooner had he turned on the hot solvent than she was kissing him again, backing him into the wall and wrapping her hands around his helm, bringing his mouth to hers for kiss after crushing kiss. He cupped her aft in his hands and pulled her up against his body, wrapping her legs around his waist and supporting her by angling his hips. Her hand dipped down between the near-union of their bodies, thumbing the head of his spike and coaxing rich groans from the mech pinned between her and the wall. Optimus pulled her closer, shuttering his optics and burying his mouth into the junction of her neck and shoulder while she teased him, thrusting his hips up into her hands.

"Wash," she reminded him gently, kissing along his face as he lifted his head until their mouths met again, kisses slicked by the soft cascade of solvent. He obliged her happily, lowering her to the floor and rubbing her gently with his fingers, washing away the energon that had spilled when her seal broke before bringing his mouth back to her intimacy, kissing a path along her valve.

"Do you actually like that?" she asked him in a murmur, hips hitching up into his questing mouth even as her hand traced his helm, brushing his antenna and audios. "Chromia says Ironhide's not crazy about it…"

"There you go, talking about Chromia and Ironhide again," he mumbled, stimulating her with a soft lick to silence her. "And yes, I do actually like it."

"I want to try," she murmured, pushing on his shoulder with her foot.

He lifted his head reluctantly, eyeing her skeptically. "I don't know, Elita, even you're not that flexible…"

The femme sighed loudly. "I meant on you, smart mech."

"Oh. Oh. Well, um, if you want…"

"I do want." She grinned at him, smearing a hand across his mouthplates to wipe away her lubricants before leaning in to kiss him. "Lay down."

"Want to go to the berth?"

"Nope. Lay down."

He did as he was told, albeit somewhat reluctantly, lowering himself slowly onto his back and pushing himself up on his elbows, intakes quickening when the femme knelt between his thighs, surveying him with curiosity.

"Ironhide says that Chromia's not wild about this," he mumbled, wincing when she shot a glare at him.

"And you berate me for talking about Ironhide and Chromia?"

"Sorry. You don't have to, that's all."

Elita frowned at him, placing a hand on his knee and idly thumbing the joint. "Why are you so intent on not letting me do for you what you do for me? Relationships are give and take, Optimus, both emotionally and physically."

"We grew up in different cultures," he said hesitantly, shifting his hips and just barely swallowing a moan when she lightly touched the base of his spike, the tips of her fingers stimulating the aching circuitry. Embarrassment over being erect in her hands and euphoria at her touch waged war in both body and processor, making it hard to articulate his thoughts. "I don't want you to feel pressured to do something that you might view as…demeaning."

"It's certainly not something I'd do for just any mech," she said flatly, lifting her optic ridges. "Do you think it's demeaning for a femme to use her mouth on a mech's spike?"

"No! It's not that, it's just—"

"And yet that's the accepted paradigm on Femmax. The same paradigm, Optimus, would suggest that I'm foolish for wanting a mech to begin with. If we were on Femmax, I'd bond with you to produce heirs and take another femme for a lover, catering to your needs only when our bond needed renewal."

"That's—"

Her thumb brushed the head of his spike, and his words became a choked groan, his hips shifting restlessly. Interface or no, he was going to overload if she kept touching him.

"Hush," she murmured, mouthplates quirking in a soft smile. "You should know by now that conventional views don't have the power to placate me. My thoughts and desires are my own. Putting your mouth against me was as intimate a display of vulnerability and trust as I've ever seen, and I want to show you that the feeling is mutual. Alright?"

"Alright," he said feebly, shuttering his optics when her devilish thumb repeated its caress, feeling his lower abdomen tighten. Philosophy be damned—they were here now, and he had never wanted so badly in his life. "Elita…please."

The femme grinned, leaning forward to kiss him warmly before settling down on the ground, enjoying the heat from the solvent stream for a moment—just to tease him—before gently kissing the head of his spike. The low moan that rolled from his vocalize was audial gold; his helm lolled back, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping from thrusting up toward the source of stimulation.

"Please," he repeated hoarsely, and cried out openly when her mouth opened around him, taking in the head of his spike with cautious enthusiasm. He pushed himself up, gripping the back of her helm without really meaning to, holding but not exerting pressure. Wary of what seeing the act would do to him, he cracked an optic open and regretted it immediately when the heat pooling in his abdomen tightened. All the teasing had had a stronger effect on his body than he'd initially thought. If he overloaded now, his pride would probably never recover.

Elita faced another dilemma entirely. Optimus had seemed so confident with his glossa between her legs, and suddenly she couldn't recall anything Chromia had ever told her about how to pleasure a mech with her mouth. He was too fragging big, for starters, how was this supposed to even work? Chromia made it seem like she was supposed to get him down her throat, but—there was no way, not right now, didn't that take practice?

Slowly, burning with embarrassment—and after all that talking about how she wanted to share this with him—Elita cautiously removed her mouth from his member, looking up at him with a frown.

"Optimus," she mumbled, "I don't know how to do this."

The prince huffed through his vents, looking almost relieved for a moment. "Do you still want to try?"

"Of course."

"Your glossa," he said at once, the words coming out in a heated murmur. "I'm close. It won't take much."

"My—how?"

"Lick," he urged her quietly, hardly believing that the lurid request had come from his own mouth. "From base to tip. Gently at first, and then harder—ah! Like that—there—"

Elita did as she was asked, delighted in his instantaneous response, more than a little relieved to see a bead of transfluid at the end of his rod and to feel the nervous spasm that wracked his frame. She shuttered her optics, leaning in to him, letting her glossa caress him a little more firmly, remembering the feel of his mouth between her legs, dark, half-lidded optics, hot venting across her plates, the flexing of his jaw—

Optimus came hard and abruptly, jerking his hips with a fierce grunt, venting hard as his pelvis rolled, a mimicry of interface in empty air. Elita pushed herself up, more than a little pleased at this reward of her nervous efforts, absently stroking his thighs as he came down, visibly softening before her as astroseconds ticked by.

"Well?" she asked timidly, offering him a small smile when he opened his optics again, looking winded. "What's the verdict?"

"Wonderful," he murmured, reaching for her hand and entwining his fingers with hers. "Very good, Lita, thank you."

"You're welcome." Her smile turned to a grin, and she leant down to kiss a gentle path up his abdomen, admiring the slick lines and angles of his hard frame. "I'll do some research before the next time."

"As will I," he chuckled, caressing her cheekplates when she drew level with him before pulling her closer, inviting her in for a deep kiss. She yielded for him deliciously, accepting his glossa into her mouth and moaning when he rolled his hips against hers.

"Don't we have to wait?" she murmured, ducking her head to trail kisses along his chin and jaw, inhaling the scent of him. It seemed to have a stronger effect on her since they'd begun helping one another to overload. There was something heady and euphoric about the way he registered in her tactile sensors, something that made her want him more in a more primal way than she thought herself capable of wanting. But there it was—she had a deep, basic need to experience this male, this mech who was just beginning to understand his own powerfully alpha nature and had only just begun to experience what it meant for his relationship with her.

"Doesn't seem so," Optimus whispered, indicating the half-hard length between them, rubbing up slickly against her valve. "Lita. I want you."

"I can see that," she teased softly, shivering when he leant forward and kissed her hard. It turned heady quickly, more glossa and denta than lips, but he gentled as he lifted her into his arms and turned off the solvent. He didn't bother drying them, opting to carry her back into the adjoining room and dropping her on the berth, covering her frame with his and smothering her giggles with several fervent kisses, thick with desire.

"Slow," she murmured, placing a hand on his chest when he ground up against her, hardly able to speak around the delicious sensor feed she was receiving from her interface array.

He mumbled his assent, slipping a finger inside of her—really, truly inside of her—for the first time, savoring her soft gasp and rubbing the pliant walls of her inner valve gently, testing her readiness. She was slick with lubricant, enough that it spilled out around the edges of her port when he pushed his finger in to the last knuckle, but she was tight, far too tight to accept his spike.

"Two," she hissed, arching up against his touch and whimpering when he touched his thumb to her external node, giving her the stimulation she needed. "Ah—there—harder—"

He did as she asked, rubbing down against her and sliding a second finger alongside the first when he withdrew, making a few shallow thrusts before pushing deeper. He felt the calipers stretching and grinding, struggling to accept even this girth, and he had to consciously fight down his excitement when he thought about what it would feel like to have this velvet heat clenched down tightly against his spike. No wonder Ironhide spoke so fondly about his liaisons with virginal femmes.

"Stop," she gasped suddenly, grabbing his wrist, and he did as told at once, withdrawing from her and looking down at her with concern.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, no, not that," Elita replied, laughing a bit breathlessly. "I was about to overload."

"Oh." He canted his head to the side, smiling down at her. "You may do so more than once."

"I want it to last," she answered. "The first time I overload with something inside me, I…want it to be your spike."

He smothered a groan at those words, feeling his member twitch against his abdomen, as if recognizing when it was being spoken of. Behave, he ordered it silently, but had the sinking feeling it wouldn't obey.

"If you overload once," he suggested, "it may relax your valve. Make it easier."

She shook her head, however, adamant. "No, I want this. Try three fingers—gentle. Don't rub me, either. Just stretch me."

"As you wish," he murmured, dropping his mouth down to hers and guiding two fingers back into her port, thrusting gently before adding the third. She groaned against his mouth, and he stilled when her hips pulled back. "I'll hurt you," he said quietly, shaking his head, but she pulled him in for another kiss, pushing her pelvic array back against his hand and grinding gently against him, smearing his palm with lubricant. Determined to help her relax, he broke their kiss and pressed his mouth instead to the side of her neck, trailing his glossa along the first energon line he found, following it to her collar armor and scraping his denta along the sensory cluster it fed, humming softly against her protoform to enhance the sensation.

"Try it," she whispered urgently, cradling his helm in her hands and kissing his audio, feeling him tremble against her, his spike pressing into her abdomen. "Sweetspark, I'm ready."

This time he didn't argue, too far gone, too tired of rutting up against her, desperate for the intimacy they both craved. He wrapped a hand around his spike, applying a firm squeeze to calm the fire licking at his internals, and breathlessly lined himself up with her valve, hovering over her on his haunches, panting and looking down at her with dark optics. The femme reached for him, fingertips just barely brushing his armor, calling him to her. He could only oblige her, leaning over her and mating their mouths before guiding the head of his spike into her valve.

Elita inhaled sharply when he began to push into her, pain tripping the delicate sensor relays that fed into her interface, alerting her to the intrusion. Optimus was a big mech; she'd known that this would be hard going, but the ache in her valve came more quickly than she'd anticipated. She huffed a low breath against his shoulder, gripping him tightly to her frame as he pushed onward, jaw gritted against the deluge of sensation flooding his systems.

"Are you okay?" he murmured, tipping his mouth into the side of her neck and kissing her gently, lips giving way to denta and glossa when she nodded weakly. "Tell me if you want to stop."

"Don't," she said at once. "Don't stop." Even so, she bit her bottom lipplates, wincing and keening quietly when the head of his rod was fully sheathed. She could feel the calipers straining, breaking, and willed herself to wait it out. He was being slow, gentle, pausing at what seemed to be every micrometer and making sure she was alright. Her spark warmed at those soft inquiries, and with every murmured word she felt herself relax, coming apart around him.

"Almost," he breathed, running a hand up and down her trembling thigh, holding her leg a little more snugly to his frame. "Almost there, Lita…"

"Good," she said hoarsely, trailing her fingertips down his antennae and smiling up at him. "I mean, it's good. Optimus, I can feel you…"

He resisted the urge to hitch his hips forward and hilt himself fully inside her, spark nearly swelling outside of its casing at the look in her optics, so full of want and adoration. He enclosed a hand around hers, stretching their arms up over her head and kissing her deeply, slick and soft, tasting one another, savoring the taste of their first coupling. He'd buried half his length when she suddenly shuddered, and the tight valve seemed to bloom around him, lubricant dribbling down from the junction of their bodies, and he gasped shallowly into her audio, hips lurching forward almost against his will. And then he was in, hilted in her to the base of his spike.

For a moment neither bot moved, intakes whirring with the effort of cooling their hot frames. Then slowly, cautiously, he pulled his hips back, and his spike slid slickly along the inner walls of her valve. She gasped for him, tightening the arm she'd flung around his shoulders, sharp inhalation melting into a moan when he began to push himself back in. The grunt he released near her audio sent liquid lust into her lines.

"Like we did before," he breathed, wrapping a hand around her hip, trembling with the effort of holding himself above her. "Move with me."

She did as asked, arching up into him when he sank into her again, and their combined efforts rewarded them with pure bliss. A niggling fear had been sheltering in the corner of his mind, wondering if he'd know what to do when the moment came, but now he moved with ease, thoughtlessly, allowing his body to do what felt right. She reciprocated every touch, trusting him entirely, and that alone was enough to wipe away his anxiety.

"Love you," he croaked, hardly able to shape words around his own quiet moaning. She abruptly stopped moving, tensing in his arms, and it wasn't until he felt the shuddering contractions of her valve that he realized she was overloading. He almost held his breath, wondering fleetingly what she'd be like in the throes of climax. The vids he and Jetfire had used to watch as adolescents always had wild depictions of femmes screeching and writhing and beating their partner with their fists in a fit of ecstasy. He preferred the way Elita came. She held onto him tightly, burying her face into his neck and whimpering against him, panting openly as she came down from her high.

"Primus," she murmured, shivering when he upped the pace of his hips between her thighs, straining for his own overload. "Shh, love. Come for me."

He shuttered his optics, moaning against her mouth, tunneling his thoughts down to the junction of their bodies, where she was tight and wet, a debauched mess of lubricants and coolants between their overheated frames, his length in her, marking her, taking her…She was his, all his…

Optimus came hard, thrusting into her once, twice deeply before holding steady, spilling inside her and shouting out against the cushions, tightening the hand he'd wrapped around hers. The femme squirmed; the feel of his transfluid spilling inside her was unfamiliar but unmistakable. She smiled faintly, petting the back of his helm while he vented harshly across her armor, hips pumping out the last weak vestiges of his overload.

"Lita," he mumbled, brushing his mouth tenderly over the base of her throat before tipping his helm up, seeking and finding her mouth. He finally collapsed, rolling onto his back and pulling her up against him, resting her over his chest while his hands roamed her frame, soothing the tense cables of her back, taut from their lovemaking.

Lovemaking. Primus. He smiled giddily, rubbing his noseplates against hers.

"Mine," he murmured, cupping her face in his hand and pressing his mouth up into hers, kissing her gently. "Mine…"

"Yours," she agreed, tracing a fingertip over his parted mouthplates, admiring his handsome visage. There was no guilt in the aftermath of their coupling, no fear or shame. She felt sated and content, safe here in bed with the mech she loved. "All yours. Optimus?"

"Mm?"

"I love you." She rested her cheek on his chestplates, bright blue optics blinking at him in the dim light. "I really do."

He smiled warmly at her, placing a hand on the back of her helm and tucking an arm behind his own, relaxing against the berth. "And I, you. Thank you for this. For trusting me. For trusting in us."

"Of course." Elita sighed, shuttering her optics, imagining she could hear the gentle thrumming of his spark beneath his chestplates. "Is this what they call the afterglow?"

"I believe so," he chuckled, lifting the thermal blankets and arching an optic ridge at the mess between his thighs. "We should clean up."

"No, we shouldn't," she replied tiredly, already drifting off toward recharge. "That's for the morning. Right before we call your parents and tell them where we are."

"Oh, frag. I completely forgot about that." He rubbed a hand against his face. "Well. For the morning, then." He looked down at her, chuckling. She was out, snoozing comfortably against his chest. He brushed a thumb across her cheek, spark warming at the sight of her. He had never anticipated this moment or how it might feel, not the night he took her to the Crystal Gardens, certainly not the first moment he had laid optics on her. Even if the future was still cloudy and ominous, they'd always have this, the night they bade farewell to youth and infatuation in exchange for a promise of something more.

Optimus drifted into recharge, and for the first time in what felt like vorns, didn't dream of the sparkmate he'd had in another life, in another time. He only dreamt of Elita. Only of her.