Rodimus Prime's apartment, Iacon, Cybertron.
Rodimus sat on his recharge bed. It was Friday night – he no longer used the Cybertronian words for particular days. Being young, he had readily picked up Earth terms and meanings. Optimus Prime did as well. Rodimus thought maybe he was just copying his elder as he did for most things, but then Optimus had spent the last 30 years on Earth with supposedly no hope of ever leaving. No wonder he spoke 'Earthian' wonderfully.
The large red and yellow mech looked down at his lap and spread his hands on top of his thighs. He didn't try to calm the rambling non-femme thoughts in his head. They were useful for covering up the things he didn't want to think about.
Those bad thoughts crept in anyway.
It was becoming late Friday night. He turned his head, knowing it would be painful to see what was behind him. His optics dimmed. Yep. An empty double-size recharge bed. At least two Friday nights out of three, that bed would've been busy with a partner in it. Most often, a willing and appreciative femme partner. Rarely, a male. For the previous five Friday nights, AND other rostered days off, it had been excruciatingly empty of companionship.
He'd had offers, many offers, some from repeat 'customers' who he had gently turned away with any decent excuse he could think of.
There was only one 'bot who he thought about. It was a femme who was entrenched painfully in his head. Thinking about her was agonizing, cowardly and shameful. Not to mention wondrous, beautiful and what he thought of as heaven.
He's never given much attention to this femme before. She had a partner, a mate. The highest profile mech on Cybertron. She wasn't yet bonded, no, but it was anticipated she would soon. Who wouldn't have known that?
Rodimus froze, his face made an expression like he was being poked with a thousand examination needles. He was wrestling with himself.
"Elita. Elita One. Rodimus, you fucking CPU-less, one-optic, crap for intelligence, WHORE-bot. You can't have her!" He liked to swear at himself.
Still, he was desperately thinking of ways to get her alone. To get around that super sharp defensive CPU of hers and make her his own before she realised what was happening.
His hands made fists and beat downwards on his strong thighs.
"Shut up, shut up, get OVER it!" he hissed at himself, face grimacing. His CPU was having none of it.
"Primus…." he whispered, bringing his hands back up and pushing his face into them. He didn't cry lubricant, although he damn well felt like doing it.
He knew he had to talk to someone. Unlike Optimus; his role model; Rodimus was used to talking out his problems. Ultra Magnus was good. He'd guided him during the early days. Kup, he'd been a great help too.
Springer. He was a very good choice.
The recently promoted triple changer (New Aerial Defence Commander) was a fellow femme-freak. If you had a femme problem and Springer didn't know how to fix it then it wasn't fixable. Rodimus hadn't spoken to his friend of late. They had mostly drifted apart. Springer was stationed on Earth, in Autobot City, he was one of Ultra Magnus' Executive Officers. Since Springer had bonded with Arcee (Rodimus' former flame) the green mech hadn't had as much excuse to go femme-crawling with Rodimus, or do any of the crazy stuff they once had gotten up to.
The Autobot Commander thought about it seriously. While Springer would undoubtedly be helpful, he wasn't sure if he wouldn't explode when Rodimus told him of his new infatuation problem.
"Hey greenie, need some help over here. Got the hots for Miss Femme Commander, but, um, Optimus is sorta in the way, you know?"
Rodimus thought that over. "Primus, this is soooo lame," he whispered. He hit himself in the chest with a closed fist. "Can't you go for someone a lot more AVAILABLE and less dangerous?" he swore at his hurting chest.
Seedy bar, Kalis, Cybertron.
"Rodimus, she's not available! You are NUTS!" Springer stabbed a pointed finger over the table at his friend. The small-sized drink in his hand sloshed its contents but didn't spill. "Think of what this will do to poor Optimus, and what HE will do to YOU if you try this."
Rodimus wasn't saying much. He had both hands in his lap and was staring fixedly down at the table. Although this particular bar was out-of-the-way enough that none of the occupants cared who they were or what they were talking about, neither Springer or Rodimus said Elita's name.
"Keep talking Springer. I need this to sink in." Rodimus said morosely.
Springer frowned. "Look, it's a crush. An infatuation. It will diminish eventually." God, I hope so Springer thought desperately. It was going to be nasty if this unhappy love triangle sprang to life.
"Its. Not. Going. Away." Rodimus ground out. His jaw hurt.
"Shut up, I'll keep talking," Springer responded. "When did you last see her?"
"Three days ago. Iacon planning up-date in the main chambers. Just after nine in the morning, 9:04. She was late, I was worried."
Springer stared at him, "You remember the exact time? You're in this bad."
"Yes," Rodimus said quietly. "I can tell you where she has been and what she's been doing. I try not to think like this, but-" he shrugged and tapped his head with a finger, "I can't help it. My head keeps it all in here and up-to-date."
Springer waited for Rodi to make a self-depreciating remark. It didn't come. He tried a different approach. "Alright, tell me this, when was the last time you interfaced and who was it with?" Springer figured Rodimus may have been bonking his brains out with other femme's or mech's to try and get past his passion for Elita. He'd seen him do it previously when other crushes had hit him.
Rodimus' face showed he was thinking, however, no quick response was coming.
"You don't REMEMBER!" Springer cried. "What the hell is wrong with you! You're sick! This is a first!" This IS serious!
Rodimus grimaced and reached across the table to snatch Springer's drink. Springer watched in amazement as he downed it. "Hey!"
Rodi pushed his own forgotten drink across the table, "Here, take mine, its not strong though. I know you drink the hard stuff, I need some more of that," he stood up, heading to the bar.
"Whoa! No! You're not getting drunk over this, it won't help," Springer stood and grabbed Rodimus' arm as he stalked past. Rodimus halted, looking at him. He considered pulling free. Springer was strong, one of the strongest mech's, but the Matrix in Rodimus' chest meant he wasn't bound by anyone in that respect.
"I mean it, it won't help. If you go pounding on the door of Optimus and Elita's apartment once you're drunk, that'll be the end of it. Out in the open, know what I mean?"
"Yeah. I know." Rodimus shook free of Springer's grasp. He stood still. Springer watched him carefully.
Rodimus sat down, "Keep talking," he ordered.
Shuttle storage bay, Iacon, Cybertron.
"You sure this is ok, Elita?" The young femme frowned, looking concerned at the state of the shuttle she was learning to fly in.
"It will be fine, Isis. You need something small and easy to pilot. This is it," Elita walked back around from inspecting the exterior of the rear engines. Isis had mixed feelings. Easy to fly was a good thing, knowing that the previous week she had damaged one of the newer shuttles during her lesson, but this shuttle was ancient. Isis felt that if she managed to start the engines at all, it would break apart or refuse to rise from the ground.
Elita pressed the opening key for the hatch and watched as the ramp powered down to the floor. Her optics caught the bright colours of another visitor to the storage bay, Rodimus? .
Rodimus had been trying to remain inconspicuous. For the thousandth time in his young life he cursed his damn bright color scheme. He walked over to the two femmes, "Greetings ladies." He stopped and linked his hands behind his back, smiling. Act casual, don't stare .
Isis wanted to run up the ramp into the shuttle. She was shy. Should she salute? Call him sir? Bow or something?
"What brings you down here amongst these old wrecks?" Elita replied lightly, flexing her hips and propping a hand on one.
"Elita! Isis isn't an old wreck," Rodimus said seriously, giving Isis a grin. Isis wanted to disappear. She gulped and walked quickly up the ramp, giving in to her nervousness.
Elita looked at him curiously, "Is there something you wanted?"
"Ah, no. Just… out for a walk."
"In the shuttle bay?"
"Yes." He thought quickly, "it's the only place that drowns out Optimus' ranting voice."
Elita smiled, "I know THAT feeling. Ruffled up about something is he?"
"Maybe. Can't say. It's a secret commander thing," his voice was serious but his smile was humorously evil. He hadn't been talking to Optimus at all today. He hoped that information wouldn't get back to her, then she'd know he was lying. How could he say, 'I was looking for you because I can't stand not seeing you for more than a cycle?'.
"Bye Rodimus, busy here," Elita waggled her fingers at him and walked up the ramp.
"Bye. Have a good flight…." His optics caressed her reddish pink form as it disappeared up the ramp. She was beautiful. And erotic. God, didn't he know that, and another part of his body agreed enthusiastically with him. Oww. It was too tight down there.
Femme Command Centre, Iacon, Cybertron.
Firestar leant back from the console she had been using. That's the fourth time today he's been here, even Optimus doesn't come here that often , she glanced after the direction Rodimus Prime had disappeared in after yet another visit to Elita One's command office.
Some of the other femme's had speculated he was looking for a new femme to partner up with, and he was scoping out who was around and willing. Firestar had noticed the new Autobot Commander was paying very scant attention to any femme except Elita herself, which was entirely abnormal. She knew him better than that. She was wise to his normal antics. This wasn't it.
He couldn't be. He wouldn't. Elita wouldn't either. Firestar paused in her duties. An… affair? She couldn't get the thought out of her head. They are in her office together, doing who-knows-what . She looked around the room. Everyone was busy. She could barely to wait to finish her shift and have a chat with Chromia.
Chromia's quarters, Iacon outer suburb, Cybertron.
"I know," Chromia said smoothly, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. "Rodimus is definitely going after 'Lita. But they are not doing strange things in her office." Firestar and Chromia were firm friends. They were part of the original femme group started by Elita eons ago.
"Then whats going on?" Firestar asked, tapping one finger on the table.
"If you've noticed the others will soon too. Rodimus is flirting with her. Why, well," Chromia shrugged her broad blue shoulders, "maybe he's had a falling out with Optimus, or he just wants an exciting new conquest. Elita isn't too worried. She thinks he's being cute, she doesn't want him though. You know what she's like and she's playing along, up to a certain point."
"Recharge bed being the point," Firestar laughed, "Does she LIKE him?" Firestar hadn't been hearing such red hot gossip for ages.
"Of course, who wouldn't?" Chromia grinned. She'd had a taste of Rodimus. He'd gone after her very quickly, and Chromia hadn't minded that. Ironhide had been gone a long time. When Rodimus had wanted to step up to the empty space, she'd taken the offer – after some deep spark searching and reflection. There was no relationship though. It had been mutual respect and desire.
"Does Optimus know?" Firestar said that hesitantly. While Elita might be having a laugh and stringing Rodimus along, Optimus wouldn't be so amused.
"I truly don't know," Chromia admitted. Even she wouldn't ask Elita that one.
Optimus Prime was not suspicious. Rodimus had carefully kept his activities out of his direct hearing or seeing range. The other mech's were generally blind to Rodimus Prime's hijinks and if some weren't, they did not for a moment suspect that Elita returned or accepted the new commander's attentions. Optimus Prime and Elita One were a pair, and that was that.
Hall of Records, Cybertron.
"Elita?" Rodimus' curious voice interrupted Elita's search pattern. She hesitated in answering. Putting down the data discs in her hand, she sighed. He doesn't give in. It might be time to end this charade . There was no one else here but them. It was time to send him on his way. Enough with the games.
"Down here Rodimus," she replied loudly, turning her head to see him turn the corner of the shelves and walk down to her with steady authorative strides. She admired his body. He was even more like Optimus than she thought he realised.
He stopped beside her. She stared up at him and crossed her arms. "Good afternoon Rodimus, Sir."
Rodimus placed a hand on his chest dramatically, "You wound me with your officiality," he said with mock horror, then grinned widely.
"I believe its time we had a talk," Elita pressed her lips together, arching her back slightly.
"Oh?" Rodimus tilted his head to the side, his smile settling into a pout. He radiated maleness. She tried not to be affected by his display.
"Yes. You must stop this chasing and flirting. You and I both know nothing will come of it, and the others are starting to talk."
He started to look concerned, "I'm sorry if I'm… hurting you, Elita. I don't mean to come across that way."
She looked surprised, "I know about your reputation, my femmes can be very descriptive about your behaviour." Her tone became reassuring, but firm, "I'm with Optimus and that will never change. I don't know exactly what you want with me, but I think its what you cannot have."
"Are you sure about that?" he said softly.
"What? Yes!" she frowned.
"Really sure?" Rodimus stepped towards her. His optics were changing color, becoming purple.
He was getting too close. Her body was responding to him, "Rodimus…"
He was close enough that she could feel the heat from his core warming the air between them. When she didn't respond with a reply and simply stood there with her mouth open, he took his chance and closed the final distance between them. As his mouth dropped down to hers, his hands held onto her upper arms in a gentle caress.
She didn't resist at first. He was enchanting. An illicit kiss with someone she shouldn't be near at all was firing up her systems with an energy she hadn't felt in a long time. Their bodies pushed together for a moment longer. She was enjoying herself far too much.
"NO!" she ripped away from him with a jerk and ducked under his still stretched arms.
He turned to her with a pleading expression, "I didn't mean-"
"No, Rodimus!" she wiped her lips with the back of one hand, looking confused with herself. She turned away from him and her feet propelled her away. Her strides became long and fast as she raced down to the lift which would lock her away from him and carry her to the other levels.
When the lift doors closed she was shaking. It took her a moment to realise that the way he had affected her was dangerously intense. Other males had courted her, yes, and she'd been able to take control and push them away with experienced authority and a knowing smile. What was wrong with her now?