A Need For Contact.
Epilogue.
A.N/Warning: Contains slashy smut. If you don't like it, do not read this.
Six months later.
Optimus Prime looked up as a databurst informed him that Barricade wanted to speak to him. He put aside the report he was compiling-there was not much to report and he still had a half-orn in which to complete it-and bid the ex-Decepticon enter.
Barricade stepped in with the easy self-assurance he had developed since getting used to living in the Autobot base amongst former enemies. He had integrated fairly well, Optimus mused, as Barricade came and stood before his desk. It seemed that once Barricade got used to it, he could follow orders even when the one issuing them had changed. Once, this mech had answered to Megatron, then he had answered to Starscream. Now both of these were dead, and there was little other choice, he took his orders from Optimus.
"Optimus Prime." The other addressed him formally, inclining his head towards him. "When you first brought me in, you made me an offer, a promise."
It took just an astrosecond for Optimus to cast his mind back to the conversation Barricade was referring to, as Barricade confirmed it was the correct one, saying "I am here due to want, not need, curiosity, not loneliness. I am here to ask you to deliver on that promise." Barricade raised his head to look Optimus in the optics, red meeting blue.
Optimus retracted his battle mask, smiled gently and nodded: the almost arrogant manner in which Barricade had delivered his request told Optimus that Barricade spoke truthfully: he had no further reason to deny Barricade that which he now sort. He idly recalled that Arcee did not seem to have had any complaints regarding Barricade's performance: she had voiced none anyway.
Optimus stood and walked out from behind his desk, and Barricade also moved to close the distance between them. Hands reached out, met, slid up the arms of the other. Another step, and the hands moved further up as the bodies almost met. One of Barricade's hands left Optimus' lower arm, lifted to come to rest on the lower edge of his abdominal grille, the other clung to the edge of his wrist gauntlet, his head tilted up to look Optimus in the optics.
Barricade's head was about level with Optimus' lower abdomen. This would not do. He could take Barricade over to the berth and sit him on it, but it might seem patronising, or he could lie them both on their sides on the berth, or lie back with Barricade on top, but again was not sure if the interruption might destroy the enjoyable spontaneity of the moment. Optimus could only see one action that shouldn't interrupt anything, but make things easier, and might even appeal to Barricade's Decepticon sensibilities.
He carefully wrapped big hands gently around the point at which Barricade's arms joined his torso, and carefully got down onto his knees.
He noted the glint in Barricade's optics as he locked his knees to keep himself in that position-Barricade was enjoying the idea of the Autobot leader kneeling before him. Optimus felt Barricade draw his hand down his grillework, and Optimus gasped and tensed at the sensation, which stung slightly but was more sensual than painful. Barricade's other hand easily slipped under his wrist gauntlet plating, and begun pulling and teasing at wires and cabling, something that also sent sensation buzzing up the arm to the shoulder and neck.
Enough. It was time Optimus responded with a few touches of his own. He moved one of his hands from Barricade's shoulders to one of the little shoulder wing-windows, stroking the edges with just the tips of his first finger and thumb, an action that made Barricade jerk, by which point Optimus' other hand had slid to his back and pressed with enough force to keep Barricade's chest plastered to his own. Barricade's pointed head sensors were level with Optimus' chin, and Optimus dipped his chin to put his mobile metal lips about them and press them between them, his mouth's internal mechanisms teasing them, an action that brought a loud groan from Barricade's vocaliser. Optimus felt Barricade's hands tighten reflexively on both his grille and wiring, slightly painful but not unbearably so. He let it go unmentioned. He'd live.
"Y-you must know those are s-sensitive th-that's n-not f-fair!" Barricade stuttered out of his vocaliser, although the tone of it was not really one of complaint. Optimus smiled with his lips still imprisoning Barricade's head-sensors, the action stimulating them further and making Barricade buck. He was grateful for the fact that his vocaliser could work independently of his mouth as he spoke in response.
"The humans have a phrase to cover that accusation. I believe it is 'All's fair in love and war.'"
As his lips finally relinquished their hold on Barricade's sensor-spikes, he drew his hand sharply down Barricade's back plating, an action that made Barricade gasp and buck again. Sliding his fingers under the edge of the backplate, Optimus moved the digit gently back and forth to carefully, gently, caress the internal mechanisms beneath. He did not want to hurt Barricade, even inadvertently, so did not push the big digit in any further.
The hand under Optimus' wrist plating abruptly moved to trace the segmented plating on his back. Barricade's hands, clawed though they were, were smaller and daintier than Optimus' big blunt digits, and Barricade slid an entire hand under one of the sections of plating, the other hand moving from the grillework up to Optimus' chest, near the middle, lightly touching one of Optimus' door edges with a claw tip, and then drawing it down.
Optimus twitched at the double-sided assault, a stuttering cry escaping his vocaliser as Barricade grinned. Barricade's hand under the plating found and teased more wires and cabling and tubing, rolling it between two digits, other digits threading under and between the bundled wiring, tugging at it not painfully, but teasingly. Barricade reached his head up as Optimus tossed his head back in response to the stimulation of his internals, and Barricade reached up to press his mouth and teeth against Optimus' neck joint, an action that first made Optimus squeal in a most un-Primely manner, then reduced his vocalisation to Sparkling-like clicking.
Optimus' own hand withdrew the finger from under Barricade's plating and it moved to strike and caress first Barricade's back, and then his aft and back again. His other hand moved to caress and stroke Barricade's own neck-plating, and Barricade's mouth lost its contact with Optimus' neck as he reacted by throwing his own head back, his vocaliser letting out a guttural cry of arousal.
Optimus resumed stroking Barricade's window-wings with his other hand – if Prowl and Bumblebee were any indicator, such 'wings' were sensitive. He had particularly enjoyed seeing Bumblebee collapse and squirm when the Twins had decided to tickle the young scout's wings mercilessly in the rec-room one day. Barricade's pleasured writhing against him told Optimus that he had deduced correctly. He released the tightness of his arm around Barricade, allowing the other to slip back a few inches, and moved the hand gently to Barricade's chest. He eased open the bull-bars, and slowly slipped two digits into the space previously occupied by Frenzy.
Barricade's reaction was silent but not understated. He jerked as Optimus fingers filled the empty space, his optics shuttering and unshuttering, the light in them flickering on and off as Barricade headed towards overload. Optimus wiggled the fingers to make them brush lightly along the sensitive surfaces of the compartment, and although Optimus was kneeling, he was the dominant partner in this encounter. Barricade drew his hand out from under Optimus' back plating and it joined the first, which had slipped from the door-edge, in scrabbling against Optimus' chest in reaction. Barricade's Spark pulsed, and his chest plating began to separate and spread, something that Optimus noticed immediately. He withdrew his fingers from the chest compartment, used the hand to guide one of Barricade's twitching hands to Optimus' own chest catches. Barricade collected enough of his arousal-scattered wits to release the catches Optimus had guided him to, and once he had, Optimus pressed together their separating chest-structures.
One hand held Barricade in place, the other stroked up and down Barricade's side, and Barricade's own hands moved tremblingly to Optimus' own side seams to touch and caress. As their Sparks began moving towards each other, Optimus unlocked his knees, squatting down on his own legs, drawing Barricade onto his lap, and allowed his body to lie out.
It was just in time. Their Sparks moved towards each other, and touched, and both Optimus and Barricade's last coherent thoughts were blasted into oblivion as they both hit overload at the same moment. Neither were aware that both their vocalisers and their vehicle horns were sounding, they were aware of little other than the waves of pleasure that rushed through their systems and overwhelmed their processors, sending them into shutdown, and the light, the beautiful pure Sparklight created by their briefly-joined Sparks.
Then, even that was gone as their systems cycled into shutdown.
A few minutes later, Optimus rebooted, and his optics unshuttered. He looked down, to see Barricade was still in the middle of rebooting himself. He waited, watching, until the smaller mech shifted, unshuttering his optics, and then slid off Optimus so the latter could straighten up.
They both stood, and Optimus drew some energon, one for himself and one for Barricade. They drank in silence, for there was no need for words. Barricade finished his energon, putting the cup on Optimus' desk. Then he spoke.
"I have patrol in half a joor. I should go and get ready. Perhaps another time we can do that again?"
Optimus nodded.
"Certainly." He said. Barricade nodded, turned and left, a little unsteadily. Optimus watched Barricade leave, then found a chair big enough to seat himself in.
He smiled as he thought back over their encounter.
Just like Arcee, he had no complaints at all.