Title: Consort 5 - Bonding
Author: Femme4jack
Rating: NC-17
Continuity: AU Multi-continuity Fusion Madness (in other words I'm picking and choosing stuff I like and totally making slag up)
Characters & Pairings: Optimus Prime x Mirage
Summary:You remember when I said there would be eventual fluff? Well, this is it. I just can't stay in a dark space for long, and goodness, Prime is lucky to have Mirage (and I'm pretty sure the opposite is true as well).

Notes:For White Aster for her winning bid on the FandomAid Help Somalia Auction on livejournal. Thanks for the delicious prompt and for your generosity!

Acknowledgments: Gatekat's Mirage in our shared Dathana de Gray verse is the source of many of my ideas I've adapted about the kind of coding Mirage is dealing with. Certain aspects of TF valve anatomy in this chapter and especially in the next are influenced by Kookaburra's delicious story Warm My Spark (Mirage/Autobots) and used with her permission. I'm fairly certain I've seen the idea of valve calipers in variety of fics, but also seem to recall first seeing it in various yummy sticky fics by Antepathy and Ultharkitty. (Don't you love being part of a fandom where we get to make up multiple ways for the characters to make love and the possibilities of new means of getting it on are pretty much endless? I mean, in what other fandom do you get to give credit on interface anatomy ideas? Damn, I love our giant robots and the fandom they have spawned, budded, hatched, birthed, or otherwise created depending on your preferred metaphor.)

Chapter Warnings: Smut (mech/mech spark), explicit fantasies (mech/multi sticky), references prior valve injury, fluff that might border on cheese

Mirage ached.

Not in his valve, where Prime's fervent claiming had been the source of such sweet, sweet pain. Ratchet had retooled the damaged calipers and smoothed out the jagged edges of the torn plating of his outer rim and interior nubs and grooves, while his own self-repair had done the rest. Despite Ratchet's expected fury, the damage was nothing compared to what he had recovered from on his own countless times after Megatron's attentions. Ratchet had ignored the fact that Mirage had wanted the damage, or at least the claim it represented, erasing the previous claims of one who had failed to see what he was and would never allow him to become as close as he was meant to be.

Optimus might be kind and gentle at spark, but as a Prime, he had integrated warrior coding. Despite his best intentions, the warrior Prime needed to claim and possess, and Mirage knew it, perhaps better than Optimus did himself. He had felt how much it pained the part of Optimus that was still Orion, and knew he could ease that trauma and help Optimus understand what was happening in his own code and spark. Mirage, perhaps more than anyone else, understood the trials of living with layered and conflicting identities.

Mirage's own protocols were burning to complete what had begun, to bond with his Lord, and finally, finally become something whole and stable rather than a mass of fragmented profiles all vying to serve different masters. But that pain was nothing compared to the ache of his spark.

He had never merged before, and he silently thanked Megatron for that small favor, despite the vorns of coding conflict it had created. Merging with Optimus, even if the intention was interrogation, had offered him a taste of the completion he thirsted for. For any other mech, the prospect of being interrogated by Prime would have been petrifying; it meant being utterly unpeeled, layer by layer, revealed and evaluated, but without the mutuality and shared vulnerability that came with a merge between normal sparks. But for Mirage, it was pure joy to surrender all he was to his Prime for judgment, to show how arduously he had worked to set himself free and belong to Optimus alone. Then, Mirage's frame had been decisively claimed by the one he fought so hard to belong to, but his spark had been left alone and bereft, touched but not completed. It was agony.

Prime had hidden little in their merge, and had shown Mirage far more than he had intended. It did not matter whether it was the consort coding or Mirage's spark (he could not tell the difference any longer); he had never wanted to fulfill his function more. He desperately longed to mold himself around his Prime, to delve deep into his Master's spark, and know exactly how to recreate himself into the perfect consort for his Lord. Yet he knew Optimus would resist taking what he craved; Prime feared himself and his own desires and was appalled by the coding that was intrinsic to everything Mirage was.

Megatron would not bond because he despised allowing himself to be known and vulnerable. He would not allow another to have that power over him. Optimus feared the opposite. He did not wish to have that power over another, did not trust himself with it. Mirage cared only about easing that fear and being a conduit by which his Prime would learn to be at home in his own spark. He would prevail. He had prevailed over his own tangled core protocols. He certainly was not going to let a little thing like Prime's misplaced fears stop him now.

He stood before the mirrored surface of the medbay washracks, finishing his preparations, bold and determined. He already knew Optimus prized these traits, and he flared his field with them like a mantle. He finished polishing his armor with special attention to his Autobot brand, at one time a mark of his deception, but now yet another priceless sign of the claim Optimus had on him.

"Ratchet," he said softly as he entered the main bay. "I am ready."

Mirage inwardly preened as he saw Ratchet quickly subdue his expression of frank admiration and desire. It felt right for others to envy Prime for what belonged to him alone. Of course, Optimus was generous. He might, in time, feel like sharing his consort with those closest to him. The Prime might enjoy watching his most trusted officers writhing in pleasure under Mirage's skilled care or plunging their own spikes into the consort's finely tooled, customized valve as a special thanks for their loyalty.

And after, Optimus would likely wish to reclaim his consort in front of the others. Mirage imagined his own unit's commander, visor darkened with desire, watching Prime's massive spike inching its way into Mirage's tight heat, stretching the fancy etching and scrollwork of his flexible metal rim.

Of course, in order to indulge such tastes without the accompanying guilt, Optimus would need to believe the desires to be Mirage's own, a way he could be good to his consort. Then Mirage could go about gleefully fulfilling Prime's every fantasy. He would find ways to give Optimus what he hungered for and strip away the shame, leaving nothing behind but the contentment of being perfectly taken care of in every way.

"Well, how do you feel?" Ratchet asked, sounding a bit awkward in his attempt to be kind rather than acerbic.

"Quite well, Ratchet. Thank you for doing such excellent work."

"I'd better not have to do it again," the medic grumbled.

Oh, I most certainly hope you do, Mirage thought to himself. Some injuries were worth Ratchet's ire. He would simply need to find a way to keep Optimus from being the object of the CMO's temper when Prime's passion and impatience got the better of him.

Optimus wondered if he had made an error in choosing the location for the meeting, and wondered also at his motive for said mistake. His office seemed too formal a setting to discuss this pit-spawned situation with his... with his potential bondmate. The casual meeting space in his own quarters seemed a more fitting and comfortable milieu. But that didn't change the fact that it was steps away from the portal to his berth.

He looked around at the modest curved pod that made up the front room of his personal quarters. It was no different from that which his other officers had, save that it was sized slightly larger to accommodate his own frametype. Some used their extra room as an entertainment space or private office. Optimus used it as a meeting area for times when he wished to gather with his officers or visiting dignitaries for informal conversation.

But considering that every furnishing in the room became a surface upon which to contemplate pinning a lithe mech underneath him while he lost himself in the smooth planes, elegant curves and stunning angles of Mirage's frame, he wondered if he should have chosen his office. Then again, it wasn't like his office would be any better considering what Optimus could imagine Mirage gladly doing underneath (or on top) of his desk. In the burning maw that had replaced his processors, the large chair there easily metamorphosed into a throne where his consort could serve him in the most intimate of ways.

Optimus attempted to distract himself by activating three cubes and pondering what type of energon to serve in them. When supplies had not been so scarce, he had often stocked the subspace shelving with various grades of energon of several different vintages. It was one of the few privileges that he had not done away with. He had always enjoyed the simple act of sharing fuel with others, and even when his means had been modest, he had made a point to keep some higher grades in stock for members of his cohort and his friends. As it were, he still had a few cases of some of his favorites for very special occasions, (or to turn over to Ratchet if there were an emergency need of a higher grade than what Medical had at the time, he justified).

He settled on an aerial-formulated vintage of midgrade that was just a few joules shy of being a weak high grade, and added a few aromatic mineral shavings that complemented the brew and turned it a bright, glowing lavender. It was not a suggestive offering, but was something better than the standard grade he would have served for a typical gathering. He fought against his processor as it began suggesting creative means of serving the fuel to the object of so many of his ever more inexcusable thoughts.

Optimus vented and growled at himself to stop. For Mirage's sake, there was little choice other than bonding. It was the only thing that would resolve the conflict in the high forged mech's coding. This, unfortunately, gave Optimus easy excuses to allow his processors to run amok in inappropriate ways. But if bonding were the only answer to save a valuable Autobot from a complete reformat, then Optimus was determined to be as kind and appropriate to Mirage as possible.

Had he only imagined that he heard even the wisest and most disciplined of his predecessors laughing at him from within the Matrix at the latter goal?

He didn't have time to contemplate that further as Ratchet pinged him from the corridor. Optimus visualized a series of ancient glyphs said to have been engraved on Prima's Star Saber: strength, courage, dignity, honor, wisdom, compassion, joy, and freedom. He found, to his amazement, that his spark calmed by a fraction as he signaled the portal to iris open.

Ratchet entered with his usual brusqueness, but Prime's attention was riveted on Mirage. He was as beautiful as Optimus could ever recalled seeing him, his field brimming with a confident determination that only served to make him that much more attractive. He entered with the same polished elegance he always wore so easily, but instead of formally kneeling as high-forged protocol called for, he simply bowed his head in an informal show of respect that Optimus much preferred. Optimus saw a ghost of smile play on Mirage's lips when he looked back up, and his optics met Prime's with a warmth and intensity that made his spark surge.

Primus, who is this mech? Optimus wondered while giving his greeting to both. He invited them to sit and offered them their fuel.

Optimus sat in a chair across from Mirage and began to speak the words he had rehearsed, hardly even listening to himself as he intoned wise and thoughtful sentiments about the ethical dilemma Mirage's situation engendered, the actions he had deemed necessary to protect Mirage's House, and his own willingness to do whatever it took to bring the coding conflict to an end, provided that it was Mirage's spark and not merely his coding that compelled him to bond.

He thought he saw amusement flicker in Mirage's optics as he asked if there were any others Mirage might wish to bond with more than himself, who might be more suitable and caring partners, considering the damage that he had already done to Mirage as a culmination of his loss of control during the interrogation. The entire time, he could not help but to take in the perfection of Mirage's frame, tracing him with his optics the way his hands and glossa longed to memorize every angle, curve, node, and seam.

At some point during his speech, he became aware that Mirage was watching the movement of his own optics, and knew exactly what he was doing. The blue and white mech offered a small, but all-too-meaningful smile, and then Mirage took a sip from his cube and very deliberately licked the glowing fuel from his lips. Optimus's words stuttered.

He quickly took a drink from his own cube and looked away, trying to distract himself. He glanced at Ratchet who was watching the entire scene with optics that were entirely too bright and an expression that was one of the CMO's specialties: amusement and affection hiding underneath a practiced scowl.

::I can't say I blame you for how much you want him,:: Ratchet commed during the pause, his expression and frame giving no visible indication that he was transmitting. ::Remember, Optimus. What is it you really want right now? Not the Matrix, not your fantasies, but your spark.::

Optimus took another sip to cover his surprise as he examined the question and realized the answer. He didn't respond to the comm. But he suddenly sat up taller as he found clarity within his conflicting web of erotic fantasies and hungers.

Both he and Mirage knew that the words he spoke were formalities, what must be said to ease Prime's conscience about what they were going to do and what Mirage's coding would do as a result. Even so, he could hardly say what possessed him, because as his words continued to reverberate through the room, he opened a channel to Mirage rather than Ratchet and answered that all important question, ::I want to make love to you for an entire orn and make you feel like the most cherished mech in the history of Cybertron.::

This time it was Mirage's turn to stutter, a rasping sound coming from him as he accidentally took his fuel down the wrong intake. Optimus felt the high-forged mech's field flare from where he sat. Ratchet clearly felt it as well, if the look he gave were any indication.

Optimus found that his frame was rapidly heating. He cleared the static that had crept into his vocalizer in order to conclude as quickly as possible the words that were now crumbling underneath the weight of just how much he wanted the mech in front of him. "I will gladly bond with you, Mirage, in order to solve the difficulty with your coding. But I will not tie you to myself as a possession in the traditions of the Towers or the Primacy. You are free to be who you wish to be, including the company you keep, whether as friends or lovers, and to continue to serve in whatever capacity you wish to, SpecialOps or otherwise. You have no obligation toward me, and my only desire is that you be free to chose whatever personality matrix you find the most in line with the wishes of your own spark. I understand you cannot be rid of these protocols without a complete reformat, which you do not desire. But I hope that in explaining that I want only for you to be the mech you wish to be, you will be free of some of the more compelling aspects of the consort code."

Mirage nodded dutifully, then responded quietly in his cultured tone, "I understand, Optimus."

The sound of his own designation, with no titles or honorifics attached, coming from Mirage's vocalizer was music to the Prime.

"I understand," Mirage said again, and suddenly stood and crossed the distance between them. Optimus felt desire surge so hard in him that his seams visibly crackled with charge as Mirage boldly climbed to kneel on his lap and placed both hands on his mask, demanding that it open. He did not even notice giving the command for it to retract. He was too busy groaning as Mirage pressed their lips together in a hungry, demanding kiss. ::I understand,:: Mirage continued by comm as he devoured his Prime's mouth and tangled their glossa together. ::Please, let me show you just how much I'm already enjoying becoming what you need. Let me show you that you have nothing to be afraid of... show you just how much I want you and have chosen you.::

Mirage felt the moment the surrender began. One moment, Optimus was still partially pulling himself back from the kiss, his frame tense as he tried to dam his own passion, but as Mirage continued to assure him through his comm that yes, he did indeed want and desire his Prime, that he liked who he was becoming in response to the all too brief touch of their sparks, he felt Optimus relax and begin kissing him back with equal hunger. Mirage crooned in approval, and continued to assure him that there was no conflict between his spark and the coding that was even now weaving itself around his beloved's desires - Optimus's true desires and not simply the dark hungers that he was bombarded with by the Matrix.

::What I will become for you will make you proud of your own spark and no longer fear what it needs, Optimus,:: Mirage promised, tracing the seam in Prime's chest with thin fingers that were able to dip in and caress the circuitry underneath the other plating. :: Let me show what I already know, what I already see, and let me see more. Don't be afraid.::

::I don't want to hurt you,:: Optimus commed in return even as his fingers caressed the finely shaped vents on Mirage's helm, his own kisses becoming hard and claiming, making Mirage arch and moan.

::You can't,:: Mirage transmitted glyphs that indicated humor and laughter at the preposterous idea since his mouth was to busy to vocalize the sound.

::I did,:: Optimus replied urgently, one hand still caressing Mirage's vents while the other ran down the elegant lines of Mirage's back plating and aft, reaching between slender thighs to cup the plating over his lover's valve protectively.

::You didn't. It was a pain and mark I wanted... I needed. Let me show you. Please, Optimus. Let me give you this. It makes me happy to give this to you.::

It was manipulative, Mirage knew. Part of a consort's gift was to manipulate in order to assure that his beloved Lord was taken care of. He had seen enough in Prime's spark already to know how much Optimus was motivated by giving others a chance at joy, even if it meant sacrificing his own. At the same time, all he said was completely true. He liked who he could feel himself becoming in response to reading Optimus's desires. The process of molding and shaping himself into someone who would bring Prime so much relief, help and pleasure was the source of Mirage's pure-sparked joy.

Mirage vaguely heard Ratchet leaving and issuing an order to the guard that any emergency should be directed first to Prowl and Jazz, and that Prime was under medical orders to rest for the next two orns at a minimum. Mirage laughed brightly and Optimus chuckled as they briefly broke apart and grinned at one another.

"I take it you are forgiven?" Mirage asked before leaning forward to mouth the components on his lover's neck, and felt a rush of exquisite joy in his spark that his coding had suddenly given him leave to call Optimus 'lover' rather than simply 'lord' or 'master', because it was what Optimus would want.

"So long as I take good care of you, yes," Optimus rumbled, and Mirage felt Prime's large hand tighten on his valve cover, finger tips beginning to delve along the edges.

"Hmm... I believe you mentioned something about making love to me for an entire orn. I think that would be a good start. I'm sure the medic would approve." Mirage grinned at the boldness his settling code was demanding. The look it elicited from Optimus confirmed the choice. "You can start by carrying me to that berth and claiming my spark. That would definitely make me feel like... how did you put it?"

"The most cherished mech in the history of Cybertron," Optimus said, his vocal resonance caressing Mirage right through his armor to the sensitive protoform below. "This... this boldness. It is the coding at work?" he asked, even as he stood, his hands supporting Mirage's far smaller mass. Mirage wrapped his arms around Prime's neck and his legs around his waist and vented in contentment as he was carried through the portal to the berth chamber.

"The beginning of it. Do you like?" Mirage purred coyly, knowing exactly how much Optimus liked it by the response he received from his field alone.

Optimus paused, simply holding him close at the edge of the berth. "I... very much Mirage. I hadn't expected it, but it is... it is perfect. The question is... do you? Like it? Is it you?"

Mirage smiled softly. "I want to become this for you, and yes, I like it. Very much. And of course it is me. I'm your consort, Optimus. Let me show you what that means." Guided by the solidifying code, Mirage, unlocked his chestplates.

"Primus, I want you so much," Mirage heard his beloved murmur as he settled them on the berth. He watched Optimus kneel over him, straddling his thighs and leaning on one elbow. His other hand reaching for Mirage's casing. Mirage felt no need to flinch. This was not Megatron. Megatron had wanted him to flinch, to cry, to be completely shattered and broken as the warlord abused his casing and clawed at his spark. He had already disabled that profile, and its memories were but factual reports belonging to another mech.

Optimus, he knew, wanted something completely different, and the first touch along the edge of his chamber had him keening in vocal pleasure as he arched his back off of the padded berth and into the caress. Oh yes, Optimus wanted him vocal, in and out of the berth.

"You are so beautiful," Optimus said reverently, continuing to stroke the open edges of Mirage's casing and then dipping his fingers into the blue corona itself, which flared and twined around the large mech's fingers as though it could bond with his frame as well as his spark. Mirage lost all semblance of coherent thought, writhing in bliss as Optimus showed just how loving his battle scared hands could be as he stroked him toward overload.

Optimus's raw desire had settled momentarily into awe as he continued to reverently stroke Mirage's spark and casing, the sound of Mirage's straining fans, his heaving ventilations and cries a symphony of exquisite beauty. After all of the images he had been bombarded with, every fantasy of selfishly using Mirage for his own pleasure, he suddenly found in the stroking movements of his own hands what he truly wanted: to use his hands, that had known and committed so much violence, as instruments of love on the frame underneath him.

Each stroke, each dip of his fingers into Mirage's spectacular coronal light and along the finely filigreed alloys and crystal of his lover's sensitive casing brought Optimus as much joy as it brought Mirage pleasure. If Mirage's coding demanded he give himself so complete to Optimus, Optimus would do nothing less for him.

When Mirage was hanging just at the cusp of overload, Optimus opened his own chest and initiated the bonding cycle in his own coding. Mirage's optics, which had been dim, brightened as he saw the swirling, massive multi-hued brilliance of a Prime spark poised over his own, tendrils reaching far beyond the confines of Optimus's chest. The first touch, tendril to tendril instantly plummeted the highly charged Mirage over the edge for his first overload, his spark flaring bright and flooding its energy directly into Prime's own swirling light. Optimus did not hesitate to push his spark further into surging light of Mirage's spasming spark and felt, along with exquisite release of spark energy, a brush of pure, unfiltered feelings and intimate knowledge.

Love... a love without conditions that was sweeter than anything Optimus had felt since long before bonding with the Matrix. Yearning... a desperate need to be claimed, to know he belonged fully to the one he was creating himself for. It suddenly became so easy to give Mirage exactly what he needed and wanted, in the face of the epiphany of their sparks touching this way. It was undeniably True that for Mirage, to finally fulfill his function was not a loss of self but rather the claiming of his own agency as a chaotic web of profiles knit themselves together into something beautiful and whole... something that was what Mirage wished to be... was meant to be.

Optimus suddenly relished giving in to Mirage's needs. He held himself just on the edge of a complete bonding merge as Mirage settled from his first overload, and then spoke, spark to spark, communicating feelings and truth in a manner unmodified by glyphs or audible words.

~You are mine. From this point on, you belong to me. But I also belong to you. You are claiming me as well.~

Optimus felt laughter in Mirage's spark, like the bursting of tiny bubbles along the blurring boundary of their individual selves. ~Of course! That has always been what this meant. You really didn't think I was claiming you as well?~

~I didn't understand... now I do. Mine... yours... ours~ and with that, Optimus plunged down and revealed himself fully to the one who would knit himself around whatever he revealed.

Their entire world became the merging energies in their chests, a fire of pure pleasure that did not consume them, but made them larger, into something more as their sparks melded together into something that had not been there before. As the bond solidified, and they lost any sense of where one ended and the other began, and images began to emerge. ~Let me show you what you want,~ one spark whispered to the other, or perhaps both whispered together because there was no longer any distinction. They saw...

...refuge, sanctuary, tender care amidst the bitter sorrows and exhaustion of war...

...partner, lover, friend...

...one who would speak his mind, share his counsel, standing together as they sought wisdom and strength within the Matrix despite its darkness and the pain it brought...

...Fantasies and desires shared, games played for both of their pleasure in order to relax and escape...

...lovers who at times played the parts of Lord Prime and Consort Slave because it delighted them both rather than debasing either one...

...moments when one would, in his pain and need, claim the other harshly, and it would be sweet, desired pain that they shared, affirming that they belonged to one another and need not hide anything, even their darkness...

Yes, both sparks whispered as one. Yes! This is who we are becoming, all of this, and so much more. This is what we want. Yes! My Love, my Bonded, my Prime, my Consort. Mine! Ours...Always!

I'm on the home stretch on this story. One or two more chapters to go, mostly smut, but obviously leaving things open for future sequels. Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to read and leave feedback. It truly helps me to keep the fires burning and complete a story, especially with how busy my life has suddenly become. Posting on a Sunday evening is usually bad news for reviews, but I've been working extra hard on this one - it has been one of the more difficult to write. So this is my blatant request that if you are reading and enjoying, to please let me know and help motivate me to finish this well.