Prime Blood~ Magnitude: Marissa Drunk

Warning: Uhh, lots of suggestion, no actually details. (I leave your imagination to slant wherever it feels inclined)

Rating: PG 13

Pairing: Marissa x Ultra Magnus …. kinda?

(a teaser to my story Magnitude for my da account. but thought you guys would like it too. I'll figure out how to wiggle it in later. For now, enjoy.)

Iacon: Marissa couldn't believe this. One of her best fighter pilots just got engaged. Yet she couldn't blame the soldier. She was a human after all. Marissa looked at the fun and accurate fighter pilot standing before her biting her lip. Marissa picks up a data pad (thank you Autobot for the improved technology!) and activates it. With a few swipes of the stylus, she hands the pad to her wingman, "Your new orders, Flicka."

Taking the pad, the girls' jaw drops, "Umm, are you sure, sir?"

"I've learned a few things with these Autobots. Fate rarely grants you a blessing like this. Take it while you can. Don't let it slip through your fingers. Go. You are now bound Earth-side for the remained of your tour to ensure our incoming pilots are properly prepared for life in Iacon. I want no more pilots passing out when they see Prime for the first time or asking why the word interface makes the 'Bots blanch. Got it?"

Flicka giggles knowing exactly what she is referring to. "Yes sir. You have my word. Shuttle leaves in 30."

Marissa flicks her hand to the door. "Well, then you best be on it. Go. And Flicka, he's a very lucky man."

Flicks beams, "No, I'm the lucky one." With that, the short cropped black head spins and runs out the door.

Marissa sighs and looks down to the pile of data pads in her "in-basket". And then her com pings. Without lifting her eyes, hits the button, "Yes?"

Magnus knew that tone all too well, "Marissa?" Marissa turns to her friend's image on the screen. Seeing her expression, his quickly changes. As does his tone, "Marissa?"

She turns away not really wanting to let herself go down the path Flicka's message bubbled up. So instead she tries to remain professional, "Yes, General, how can I help you?"

He huffs. It always bugs him when she does that, turning cold and professional when he's trying to be emotionally supportive. They've been friends and co-commanders too long for her to just brush his compassion aside. Then again, he respects her dearly. He flashes something brown in front of the screen, "Rod made you brownies for your birthday. You know him, they won't last long." No response from the human cornel. "He already licked the bowl and spoon clean." He waggles the brown object again, knowing she just can't resist Rod's fudge brownies, one of the orange mech's personal Earth-temptations. Ultra Magnus' really trying to draw her out of whatever brought on this silence. She still doesn't answer but rifles through her data pads trying to look busy. "Marissa…," he tries once more with that very deep and warm tone she rarely resists in pouring her heart out to him.

"Look, you have the birth- uh- creation day instead. I'm up to my neck in paperwork." She was really trying to hide. His trick didn't work this time.

Mangus huffs and draws back from the screen a bit, "Bad excuse. No paper there. And you know Prime won't handle anyone turning down his attempt at lightening the mood around here."

Marissa snaps, "Then give it to Flicka! She's getting married!"

Mags knew that drawn up back and pushing her bangs aside. There was a deeper issue at hand. Marissa is turning 35 today. Not married. Hounded by her father. Not interested or able to date her subordinates. She was at the top of the command chain with only Autobots as her confidants. Himself being her deepest after all they've gone through. Her biological clock was ticking and…

"I'm sorry. Just make up an excuse. I have stuff to do." With that, she blanks out her screen with a security block and punches her door to say "confidential meeting in progress". It would hold off anyone who just wants to shoot the breeze or bug her about something frivolous. As for the com, sure Ultra Magnus could override it, but he would hit the block and have to think twice about what kind of wrath he wants to face from the EMC head before opening the connection.

Diving into the electronic paperwork helped reinforce her desire to be here with the Autobots and good she has done. Too tired, to make her way to her quarters, Marissa just shut off her lights and laid her head down on her desk. Sleep over came her grief.

~~~ Months pass, Marissa and Ultra Magnus are shipped to Earth for some military review board meeting. That night, Flicka's batchlorete party. Marissa tried to argue about going but Magnus reminded her, it would be good for her to blow off a little steam. Besides, most of the people at this party were NOT EMC including the recently discharged wingmate. Sighing heavily, she gave into him this time.

Promptly on time, he rolled up to the house. Several people cocked a brow to the huge heavily armored royal blue and white transport carrier truck with hints of red trimming and a strange star-missile on the top. Flicka smiles widely at the truck and pats it's hood friendly, "Oh thank you so much, Ultra Magnus. I'm forever in your debt."

He chuckles so only she could hear him, "And to you Flicka, my blessings to you and your bondmate."

All eyes quickly left the truck when the driver's door opened and a 5' 10" brunette with her hair curled and hanging loose at the shoulders slides out of the high cab in a half thigh length blue-black gladiator leather skirt and a red leather corset with black ties down the back. Marissa does not have small hips: no these are warrior hips, broad and strong, but not a lick of fat. A trim waist and nice bust. Her fore arms and shoulders are real muscle. "Daaaaaammmmn, Cornel! You really make that Zena Warrior Princess thing work!" Marissa blushes feeling completely uncomfortable in the costume.

As Marissa passes in front of the rig's nose, it shutters. No one notices, too many optics on Marissa. Luckily, this was a near all femme party. Marissa taps the guest of honor's nose, "It's Marissa tonight, ex-lieutenant. And YOU were the one going for the whole warrior goddess thing tonight, Mrs. Hercules."

Flicka sniggers, "I just wanted to see if you really would come as your name implies: Zena."

This time Marissa flicks the nose, "I didn't choose the name. I got STUCK with the name. Now, where's those plasma shooters?" The rig chuckles again. Marissa lashes out by kicking his chrome bumper with her spiked knee high boot. "Watch it, General." With that, Marissa moves out of his way and he heads down the street.

~~~ Ultra Magnus was wrong. Half the guest were EMC personal. About three hours in and the said personal had drunk or scare the non-military ones away. Marissa was definitely feeling loose, bordering on smashed. Holding her own, that was until Cathy the Supply Clerk came out with her personal pink data-pad. (one that takes the Cybertronian pads down to human standards.) "Alright Ladies, now it's time for the real show. Straight from the Lushun System-" She plugs into the big screen TV, "Bot Porn!"

Marissa groans covering her face. Flicka giggles exuberantly. It was mixed between the remaining fifteen women as to the reaction as the show began watching the mech flyer strip off his hideous green armor revealing his all too skinny protoform.

Marissa and Flicka manage to pull Cathy aside, "Where did you get this?"

Cathy beams, "When in doubt, ask Sunstreaker!"

Another belts out, "Human or whatever, the plots still stinks, the mechs are still ugly and what the hell is THAT!"

Cathy squeals and quickly puts it on pause. Then she points to Marissa, "Oh come on Cornel Zena, certainly you of all people can tell us what that is."

Marissa downs the last of the stiff drink and shakes her head, "Can't say I can." She tries to lie.

Cathy cocks her hip, "Oh please, we know you spent the night with the General while under medical arrest. Don't tell me you-"

Marissa waves her hands wildly in the air holding off the thought. "I never saw that piece of the general."

"But you wanted to?"

Marissa was already flushed by the intoxication so no one could see her blushing to the thought. Instead she reached over and shoved a pile of snacks into her mouth and poured herself another stiff drink thus filling her mouth unable to answer the question. Cathy rolls her eyes and proceeds to point to the screen and describe in detail the long hard fiber optic looking cable with a pulsing glowing head sticking straight out of the mech. "The cord, cable, spike, phyla… the penis of a mech, if you will." Cathy's continued educational speech would have made any of the military instructors proud, even though she was describing in great detail (topping off people's drinks at the same time) the art of 'Bot interfacing.

~~~ Ultra Magnus pulled up to the house as quickly as he could and brought himself to a screeching halt. Cathy yanked open his passenger door with one arm, supporting Marissa with the other. Flicka had Marissa by the other arm.

"Holy Primus! She's drugged?" Magnus was completely shocked by the staggered and completely bizarre way Marissa couldn't stand up and was giggling.

"Hey, Mags. You are look'n goooooood. You know that?"

Cathy grimaced, "Look, I'm really sorry General. I had no idea who else to call. She's really blitzed and if she starts spilling stuff she shouldn't…."

"Plllleeeease Mags, show 'em the crest. Guys he's got this beautiful crest-"

"In ya go sir." Flicka shoves Marissa's solid hips into the rig's passenger seat and drops the high healed boots on the floor. Then presses a trash can into Marissa's arms, "Don't you dare barf on him. General… ummm, ignore everything she says, please?"

Marissa stretched out, letting her hands grasp the leather-like seat at her shoulders and strokes her way up and over her head, the rig shutters. In a pleading way again she begs, "Oh come on Mags, you know that crest is just too gorgeous to keep trapped under that helm. Come on, you have to let it out more often." With a flick of her hands, lets her hair spill out over the headrest, "You know, like me!" Her hands caress down the corset ribs, "Mmm, feels good."

Cathy sees a bunch of the other girls are coming out of the house, drinks in the air and cat calling out to Magnus, "Come on General, Show us what you got!" "What'cha hiding under that armor?" "Ooooh look at her now, give us all the details Cornel."

Cathy very quickly sobers up and slams the rig's royal blue door, "GO!" Ultra Magnus pulls away under the cry of thirteen cat calls latching the safety belt over Marissa.

Around the next corner, he reclines her seat. "Marissa, what got into you tonight? You never drink like this."

Marissa rolls onto her side and reaches out to stroke the driver's seat, "So Mags, can I ask you some thing personal?"

"Hermmm" he knows he should say no, but how can he? "What is it, Marissa?"

Her hand moves ever so slowly into the bucket of the driver's seat in a certain place, "So, what color does your cord glow?"

His brakes locked, jack-knifing his trailer in the middle of the freeway, "WHAT?"

Marissa is nearly thrown to the floor. "Yesh, and you don't like the way I fly?"

Mags chokes back, "Well I never asked you what color your areolas are while flying into a thunderstorm." In the mist of the honking horns, he gets himself straightened out even though his processor went someplace else completely.

Marissa, meanwhile is looking down her corset, "Um, chocolate brown."

"Uh?" He grunts while maneuvering around another big rig.

"I just checked, my areolas are chocolate brown. Like great big Hershey Kisses. Wanna see?"

"MARISSA!" He gasps seeing that she is in fact trying to loosing the hook & eye clasps at the front of the bodice constriction device. "Stop at once! What is wrong with you?"

He has gotten himself back onto the road headed to his primary destination. Silence comes from the passenger seat. "Marissa, talk to me. This just isn't you."

She curls up into a ball in the passenger seat. "I should probably remain silent."

"Something is seriously bothering you. Come on." Kicking on his hologram: an early 50's strong male with flecks of grey among his deep brownish red hair (reminding her of his blue and white crest), he looks to her. A very handsome face and form that would seriously drawn more cat calls from the party. "Look at me Marissa. I'm right here and I'm your friend. Dare I say, one of my best friends? How much have we gone through together? What has gotten you all twisted up?"

She can see the sincerity in the blue optic/eyes but still, she looks away, "You had a mate and a daughter, you wouldn't understand."

Magnus took the next exit and drove down the remote street, deviating from his goal of taking her back to the base. Soon enough, he was at a dead end street that was a bit of a plateau looking over the farm land. Nothing but stars to see in front of them.

The hologram leans over, "Marissa, I was a very old bot before I met her. And was sure I would never have what Springer, Optimus or Inferno had. I was so sure I was destined to be a lonely bot only good enough for training the next generation. And then, Primus smiled on me, and granted me a short brief love."

Marissa turns back to the hologram. "Has it made things better or worse?"

He had to chuckle at that. Sure, he's been able to enjoy interfacing like it was meant to be, but it also means he knows what he has been missing. "Both."

"I… I don't want to die lonely. I want someone to know I love them before my time comes." She yawns.

"Maybe you should sleep. I'll take this watch."

She closes her eyes and mumbles, "You always have my back, Mags."

His voice is soft and warm, "And your front." A smile graces her face before her body feels the full effect of the alcohol and makes her snore.

~~~~ Marissa knew he was in this room some where. Kup had said so. But this looked like the locker room showers. And what was that sound? She heads towards it.

There! That blue and white crest sticking above the shower door. Damn, his is so good looking. One of those that has the ability to break hearts no matter how old he is. The head was thrown back face to the ceiling, optics closed while a moan escaped the parted lips. It was the friction like noise mixed with the sound of shower-water that really had her confused.

And then there was a longer groan of a moan that released from the parted lips. Marissa noticed the water down below now contained a silver opaque paint-like substance. Like it had just dropped in. It floated on the water while it circled and headed for the drain past her bare feet.

Worried for the mech, Marissa parted the shower curtain and stared. The sight before her was one she never ever wanted to forget. The last of the silver fluid was washed from the mech's firm strong grip along with a final mechly grunt.

Starting at the peds, wide stance, strong powerful and firmly planted. Following up the firm solid calves, thighs, with a few deep scars in the snow white glistening under armor. And then the hips. Oh, she would just love to grip those hips forever. But she kept looking. A nice firm belly, maybe a slight hint of age, but still no slouch in this general. He curled, and now his back was to her and she could see his nicely rounded aft, straight back with just a dip to the small. Broad powerful shoulders with numerous scars.

The crest dips back into the water, then rolls the face directly into it. Without his heavy battle armor, he looks so Greek god-like. Sleek, trim, muscular and touchable.

"Ma…Mags?" Her mouth gapes.

He turns his head slowly with that regal crest pert and erect. It was then that she noticed she was the same size as him. It was also then that she noticed what he was gripping. A fiber optic cord of soft glowing blue with ruby red veins. It was still firm with one last drop of silver. The look he had for her was one of regret. "I tried to wait…"

Marissa steps closer, with the hand dropping from the crest to curl around her hip. Now noticing her own body was stripped bare, the chocolate tips press against his chest. "I have time. Have you more code?"

His mouth hovers above hers, "For you, always." The mouth covers and injects hers. It's Marissa's turn to moan. A hand takes a thigh of hers, curling and pressing it to his own bared hip, drawing the heated cord to get squashed between them….

~~~~ Marissa moans and writhes in her sleep in his seat. Magnus can translate easily what she is dreaming about. It doesn't help him much either. She may be human, but her friendship has been digging into a new piece of his spark. More than comfort, more than compassion. His optics found nothing objectionable about her form either. Certainly wedged in that current leather contraption showing far more skin that her flight suit ever would was not helping him object either.

"I'm too old for this crap," he mutters. His chassis was viciously arguing that point.

"Nuhahh, Mags, you will never be too old for this….," she moans in a near pent-up pain in her dream. He may just need that cold shower when they get back to base after all.

~~ Sunrise pierces the cab blinding the hung-over officer. "Ohhhh, I think I'm gonna die."

Magnus has his own pain, "Tell me about it."

Marissa grouses, "What's your problem? I knew I shouldn't have gone to that party, but noooo, you suggested it."

Magnus backs away from the edge and turns back to the highway grumbling. A particular dip in the road and his undercarriage scrapes. He howls in pain. Not his normal reaction to such pavement obstructions.

"Ultra Magnus?" Marissa is worried for her friend. Her hand grazes his dashboard to soothe but for him it just adds insult to injury.

"DON'T!" He snaps.

"What has gotten into you?" now she feels like the injured one.

"Just do me a favor, the next time I suggest you go to a party full of EMC intoxicated femmes, shoot me. In the processor." Another dip in the road, another howl. Marissa clamps her hands over her highly sensitive ears. And then a string of cursing in Cybertronian comes from the wincing transport commander.