A little request I did for a good friend.

Title: Smug
Rated: M
Warnings: Violent mech sex (spark bonding; non-con), violence in general
Pairings: Optimus Prime/Rodimus
Summary: Shattered Glass. Optimus really doesn't like it when Rodimus is being smug with him. Especially when he's angry.
A/N: Fic for the lovely fujisaki-chan at deviantART.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Despite his flaws, Rodimus was a respectable soldier. Well, that was a bit of a stretch. Feared would be more accurate, but not by everyone. His superiors certainly didn't, considering him more of an upstart punk. But those below him trembled in his presence. He was strong, determined, persistent and above all, merciless and cruel. Rodimus took great joy in the destruction and chaos he caused, seeing the looks of terror his victims gave him right before he ripped them apart. His brute strength, cold edge and resilience gave him not only a position in Prime's elite Seeker trine, but as their leader. The Wreckers were not as close in the Autobot's good graces as were his Seekers. And besides, there was an opening...

However, the flaws were almost as overwhelming as his talents and gifts. Determination and persistence was not only for fighting and winning, but also for underhanded personal hopes and desires... Such as wanting to overthrow Optimus and take over as the new Prime. Rodimus's pride, however, hindered his abilities to hide his scheming nature, making him at times predictable. And sometimes, a soldier had to be graceful and sleek and sneaky in certain matters, not running into the middle of battle with guns blazing and screaming.

And all of these flaws had been the reason he was called into Prime's office that evening.

Optimus was at his desk, surrounded by screens and datapads. His office was ever so cold and unwelcoming, the walls covered in trophies of those he had killed and maimed. It was uncomfortable for even the most cold hearted Autobot. Even if one was to be congratulated and honored, they would avoid going into such a foreboding, dungeon-like chamber.

Rodimus didn't fear it so much as he did envy it. He told himself, one day this office would be his. Those trophies on the walls would all belong to him. The presence of looming danger this room presented would be under his control. So when Rodimus stepped into the office about ten minutes after Prime had summoned him (eh, he took his time), the approving smile on his faceplates as he surveyed the room that would one day be under his ownership made Optimus cock an optic ridge.

"You seem to be in a good mood," the Prime observed and so far appeared studious and relaxed. "Could it possibly have anything to do with your battle at Nebula-4 today?" He gestured a hand at the seat on the other side of the desk.

Rodimus swaggered on in and Optimus watched him closely. "Eh, why wouldn't I?" he snickered and flopped gracelessly into his chair. He lounged back, arms resting loosely beside him, legs spread without a care. So sloppy, matching that grin on his face. Optimus stared at the new plate added to his visage--a mustache, jet black and running down the corners of his wicked grin. Prime had heard he got it installed to look more "refined." To him, it was like he was... over compensating.

"Tell me why."

Rodimus blinked. "We got in there, cleaned 'em up, took out more than halfa their forces, then got ridda dat Decepticon crackpot Straxus," he explained. Had Optimus not read the report Blurr gave him nearly a half an hour ago? Even then, he had spoken to a couple of the Wreckers who had aided Rodimus and the Seekers.

"Oh, well," Prime mused with a chuckle, "it was a success in bringing down a handful of our opponents, true. Especially those who were highly regarded in their scientific research and medical fields. Some of which were once top alumni at Iacon Academy. I even heard there was a fellow who had been working on some sort of matter scrambler stationed there as well." He sat back, hands clasped together and resting on his lap. "But I also heard you decapitated him."

Rodimus shrugged. "Yeah, well," he said, "less Deceptibutts ta deal with."

Optimus bobbed his head. "Mm, yes," he replied quietly, looking away. "And you killed them all, correct?"

"Heh, w--"

"Oh, but you can't take all the credit," Optimus interrupted much to the younger Autobot's dismay. "Blurr, Goldbug and the Wreckers' team lent hands in the slaughter. Under your command, while you took out the lead researcher. Tell me, in your own words, had you been the one to take on and kill Straxus personally?"

Rodimus smiled coolly. "Wasn't too hard," he sniggered, "ole Straxy was one of dem old coots, y'know? Not mucha fighter. Sat on his aft mosta the orn, jus' barkin' orders an' not doin' much 'sides that." His optics seemed trained on Optimus solely as he spoke, but the words bounced off Prime's chassis. He was not offended by his measly words.

Optimus nodded nonetheless. "Well," he said and sat forward, "the orders were, if you were playing close attention to Prowl's briefing, that you were to bring back the scientists alive. Straxus was to be killed, and you did your part well. However, that was until after he gave you the locations to the nuclear bombs." He rapped his digits on the table. "Your report and the others mentioned no such information. Perhaps you can enlighten me, since you had been the one to take him down?"

"Straxus..." Rodimus paused. He scratched the back of his helm. "... He dinnit say nuttin'. An' I was payin' attention t'Prowl, too." Only not entirely, as he was too itchy and antsy for a fight to give the officer much mind.

"So, in other words..." Optimus sat back. "You got nothing? No Decepticons, no data, no nukes."

The younger Autobot swallowed slightly. "Well, we dinnit have much offa choice, boss," he insisted. "They were runnin' at us with all their firepower. We had ta take 'em down."

"I find that hard to believe," Optimus disagreed. Rodimus wrinkled his nose, insulted. "Straxus's team is composed mainly of research scouts and medics. Only a small portion of them are actual warriors made for battle. And considering I sent my elite Seeker trine and Wreckers to handle the situation, you'd have no problem taking them down with ease. I merely sent two of my strongest fleets in case Straxus broke out any heavy equipment in retaliation."

"But da nukes--"

"The bombs have been locked away somewhere on Cybertron. I would think Straxus would blow up Nebula-4 as soon as he got wind of the attack, just so we couldn't get our servos on his information." The Autobot leader glowered. "But he did not because he could not. And even if he wanted to, you had all ready taken care of killing and tearing down all the work he had built as it was. You were doing what he had wanted."

Rodimus twitched uncomfortably. "Yeah, well..." He honestly didn't know what to say.

"You succeeded in taking out Straxus and Nebula-4, managing to hinder the Decepticons in means of possible chemical warfare," Optimus stated and his fingers clenched into fists, "but you also destroyed any chances of us getting our hands on enough firepower to wipe Cybertron's surface clean and minds we could have bent to our own cause to create us even stronger weapons."

The younger Autobot trembled, but it wasn't entirely out of fear. There was rage, anger. And he knew, knew he should swallow it, swallow his pride, and just take his punishment. It would be Hell, but he'd survive. If Prime wanted him dead, he would have killed him by now. Bite his glossa, apologize, even beg for mercy. Optimus liked that. But Rodimus was still young and still had many things to learn. And that included controlling his emotions.

Rodimus sat forward, optics flaring. "Look, boss," he said, voice straining to hold back the brunt of his rage. Optimus watched him carefully. "You sent da Seekers an' Wreckers to take care of dis business. We were meant for destruction, to wreck havoc and chaos. Dat's what we was programmed and made for." He sneered bitterly. "If ya wanted ta send negotiators or some slag, ya shoulda sent someone else. Cause our job is to take down and deactivate anyone who calls themselves our enemy."

"You don't seem to regret any of your decisions or actions," Prime noted calmly. This reaction only made Rodimus angrier. But he kept that smile glued on his face. "Usually, I would commend such a trait. The ability to respect and honor your decisions with no room for doubt." He sat forward, back hunching. "But..." he said, quietly, hands pressed to the table as he stood. "Right now, it's only extremely irritating."

Rodimus wiggled in his seat. "Hey, boss," he said and his grin weakened a little, "I dinnit mean ta frag ya off er nuttin'. I'm jus' sayin', maybe you made da wrong command--"

"Now you question my decisions?" Prime hissed softly. "You tell me I should be ashamed for my actions; in turn, that would also imply you're untrustworthy. I did not consider incompetency amongst your trine and affiliated Wreckers. I expected you to follow orders. No matter what you think of them."

"We took 'em out! We took out any threats!" Rodimus insisted. "Ya should be at least a l'il pleased by--"

"Pleased?" Prime echoed. The younger Autobot's grin was crooked and he nodded meekly. "Oh, I'm not pleased..." He approached Rodimus, optics glowing. "I'm enraged."

That was the cue. Rodimus stood quickly and clumsily, hands raised. "Look, boss, we did what we thought was best for the Autobots," he stated.

"You think you know what's best for the Autobots?" Optimus spat with an amused chortle. "Oh, well, maybe you should be their leader?"

And that, that made Rodimus's grin darker, mischievous. Oh, but he couldn't help it. It was impulsive and it didn't last long. But the damage was all ready done. Prime saw that and all at once, that rage turned something murderous. "You think so, do you?" the Autobot leader inquired. Rodimus gulped and realized his mistake. Shit. "Well, let's see if your strength is up to par with mine then, shall we?"

Rodimus stepped back. "N-Nah, boss, I--"

Too late. Prime was on Rodimus in the blink of an eye. Optimus struck a fist to his face, sending Rodimus spiraling back into the wall. When he hit, the young Autobot gave a loud yelp, shoulder pierced by the horned skull hung on the wall; another trophy of Prime's, the head of the leader of a now extinct alien race. It pierced Rodimus's armor and he staggered forward, hand clasped over the bleeding hole. He hadn't even felt the dent in his cheek.

"B-Boss--"

Rodimus's plea fell on deaf ears. Optimus lunged hands forward and grabbed his shoulders. His fingers dung just beneath the tear in his shoulder and Rodimus squealed again. Prime pulled Rodimus forward before throwing him out the room. The Seeker tumbled pitifully out into the hall in a ball before the back of his head smacked loudly into the far wall. Prime stomped out of his office, servos clenching and unclenching.

"Well?" Optimus said. "Don't you plan to fight back? You have to prove yourself if you want to take my throne."

Rodimus groaned as he sat forward. Prime took this moment to move forward, hands wrapping themselves tightly around his soldier's throat. Rodimus gagged, fingers tearing desperately at the constraining hands. His optics were wide, glowing brightly, mouth coughing up trapped hot air. At that moment, Mirage had turned down the hall before stopping abruptly a few feet away, jaw dropping in horror.

Rodimus saw him from the corner of his optic, barely able to turn his head and cast him a terrified, pleading look for help. Optimus decreased the strength in his hands and snapped his attention to Mirage. Mirage was frozen in place, unable to move. Prime laughed deeply and looked back to his victim. "Do you think he'll help you? Oh, he's not stupid enough. Unlike you." He moved his face closer to Rodimus's, who was forced to meet his optics. "Maybe I should call the others? They can watch you get your aft handed to you. Make you an example of those who oppose me."

The younger Autobot made a disapproving gurgle. He rose his shaking hands and pushed at Prime's chest. Part of him told him to activate his weapons, but the smart side told him that would be suicidal. This was punishment; harsh, yes, but it was not meant to lead to death. That he so desperately wanted to believe. If Rodimus did turn his weapons on the Autobot leader, it would seal his fate. Best to take the beatings without complaint and hope Optimus was satisfied with just that.

Optimus bellowed with laughter when Mirage suddenly turned and fled. "Looks like you won't be rescued," he teased. Before Rodimus could black out from the lack of energon in his overheating CPU, Optimus let his throat go. The Seeker hacked and heaved, rubbing the taunt and sore wires. But Prime was not quite finished.

Rodimus squeaked when Optimus grabbed him by the head, tossing him forward. Rodimus skid along the ground on his stomach, face scratching along the metal floor with little sparks. "Is this how you think you can defeat me? Why, you're not even retaliating," he snorted. Optimus jammed his heel into the Seeker's spoiler, pushing down with crushing weight until it bent inward. Rodimus screamed and all at once, defense modes activated and he threw back a leg, kicking his leader in the mid section.

Prime stumbled back with laughter. "Well, now!" He watched momentarily as Rodimus turned onto his back, wincing as his bent spoiler scraped along the ground. Before he could gather to his feet, Optimus had slammed his foot against his throat, nicking his chin, pinning the Seeker back to the ground. Rodimus shrieked, hands flying up to tear into Optimus's leg. "That was amusing, but I'm afraid you're too weak now to put up much of a worthy fight."

Rodimus gulped against the foot's weight. "G-Get off," he growled, biting his dental plates together, "g-get o-off of m-me!"

"Oh ho! You think you're in any position to make orders?" Prime cackled. He retracted his foot, only to slam himself down on top of Rodimus until he was straddling his hips. Rodimus squirmed beneath him. "You're really egotistical, you know that? It might just be your downfall..." He tilted his head, one blood red optic narrowing. "That mustache of yours," he said, studying it on the Seeker's trembling, pained faceplates, "you got it to look more mature, refined. But I think it just makes you look even worse..." The Prime rose his hand, letting it gently caress the mustache plate. Rodimus grimaced. "And I really hate it when you're smug."

In a matter of seconds, Rodimus's entire body pulsed with a tremor of an immense amount of pain, he felt his energon tanks about to expel their contents immediately. Prime had grabbed the edge of the mustache and it only took one full swoop for him to rip the decorative plating clean off. He tossed it aside, leaving Rodimus's face bare save for the droplets of energon forming where the bolts had been applied. Screeching violently, his hands pressed to his throbbing faceplates, soaking up the energon.

"You always looked much cuter without it," Optimus assured mockingly. He forced back those hands, energon smeared down his Seeker's shivering face. "I like you better without it. It was always a silly upgrade." He leaned forward, letting his glossa lap up a thin rivet of the purple liquid. Rodimus flinched, tearing his head to the side.

"Y-You--!" the Seeker sputtered. "You dinnit havta-- Why did you--!?"

Prime sniggered. "Oh, don't be so bitter," he purred, forcing his head forward again. Rodimus widened his optics as he saw his leader's chestplates spread. There was a wicked leer under those mouthplates and Prime's optics echoed what was hidden. "The worst has yet to come," he said softly, before digging his fingers hard into the seam along his soldier's chestplates.

Rodimus screeched, struggling to keep his chestplates closed as Optimus pried them open. "Oh, now you're fighting back, are you?" he snickered. Rodimus could see his leader's chamber, but he knew even if he had attempted to rip it out, he'd be stopped. Optimus was more skilled than him. So much so that eventually Rodimus's chestplates were forced open, Optimus pinning back one to make sure they did not close.

"It's futile, really," Prime sneered. His chamber doors began to slip open, free hand digging digits into Rodimus's spark chamber.

"N-No!" the younger Autobot screeched. "No!"

"Oh, but yes."

And Optimus ripped off one chamber door, coolant and energon gushing forward. Rodimus screamed hard and loudly enough, his vocalizer short circuited. Still, shrill shrieks and intelligible cries poured forth from his wounded vocalizer as he arched painfully. Prime laughed loudly, studying that smaller spark. "You should just give in now," he crooned, "or you could fight back. I don't mind. You just might lose a little more plating, that's all."

Optimus didn't wait for any type of reaction. His spark lurched forward and he crushed himself hard against Rodimus's chassis. Their bodies creaked and groaned, metal sliding against metal. Prime's spark met Rodimus's first, devouring its energy with a beating blood red light. The Seeker cried out again, body instinctively arching, furthering their bond. Prime's pulses were strong, washing and ripping through his circuitry likes knives.

Then, without Rodimus's knowledge, without his consent--

The Seeker's arms rose mechanically, wrapping themselves around the Prime's big frame. They never met full around, stopping in the middle to dig his claws in. Prime was chortling again as he pound into his soldier's chassis. "It seems like you've finally surrendered," he smirked, "and quite shamelessly." His spark grinding to Rodimus's, Prime ran a thumb along the Seeker's bleeding face. "What a pitiful brat."

Rodimus wanted to yell at him, tell him he was nothing but a brute moron, tell him he would one day kill him and take over and tear him limb from limb and mount his fucking head on the wall next to that skull that pierced a hole deep into his shoulder-- But he did not. All he did was scream and wail, bowing into his hated leader's body, trying to get every inch of his spark touched and consumed with that radiant powerful energy.

"Maybe one orn, Rodimus," Prime mused, body groaning with impending overload. He dropped his head forward, face to face; Rodimus looked about ready to offline, his red optics pink and dazed, mouth gaping as he panted hot cycled air. There was a small energon mingled line of coolant leaking from the corner of his mouth, dribbling down his chin. He looked hypnotized, completely engrossed, body rocking and grinding, limbs wrapping and clenching. "You just might overthrow me."

Rodimus grunted with surprise, unable to react with much more strength. "But for now," Optimus cooed and his faceplates slid opened. There was that devious grin. Rodimus's body was overcome with chills. "You are mine." With that, Prime dove into his subordinate's shoulder, biting hard into one fuel pump lining his neck. So hard, he tore it and tasted energon, Rodimus shrieking wildly but cowering into him.

When overload reached, it hit Rodimus first then Optimus. It was so powerful, Rodimus's systems offlined or scrambled. His vision reeled, and he could barely make sense of his senses. When it was finished, Rodimus shut down, falling limp and weak on the floor. Prime watched contentedly as his shaking spark crawled back into his gaping, wounded chamber. "Turbo-revvin' punk," he sneered, his own chamber and plating closing.

Prime gathered to his feet, sizing up Rodimus's dented, chipped chassis. He wiped the energon from his lips, smile disappearing soon after behind his mask. "Maybe..." he muttered before turning and summoning Ratchet over comm-link. Optimus slipped back into his office, discarding his Seeker and tending to other important matters. Hopefully now Rodimus would take his orders seriously.

But if punishment would be like it had just moments ago, Prime chuckled, he didn't mind a slip up or two in the future.

----

THE END

The Straxus plot is the same one used in my SG TC/Warp fic, Trust.

Mustache ripping is done for humiliation purposes. It has nothing to do with my intense dislike of that godawful mustache.