Against the Odds
Omigosh, I just got bitten by a plot bunny! :D Plenoptic's first slash fic! Excuse me while I hide from Phoenix.
Ultra Magnus fidgeted. Took a deep breath. Raised a hand to knock on the door. Lowered it and went back to fidgeting.
The vicious cycle had held him captive for the past two breems, and he only distantly realized how badly he needed to get it together; it was going to look weird for him to be hanging around the office for no apparent reason. He inhaled deeply and raised a determined fist--
And went right back to fidgeting.
"I can't do this," he mumbled to himself, then realized that he didn't know what he wanted to do. Say hi? Offer to take his comrade out for a drink? It had been a long orn, the offer wouldn't be too unexpected. Maybe the mech in question would even appreciate it…
Magnus could feel his faceplates going hot at the thought of asking the mech out. Stop it, it' d just be as friends. As far as he would know. It was all the mech needed to know; he and Magnus had been friends since forever, it would be so strange, so alien…
They were friends, for Primus' sake! Best friends, the closest, almost like brothers. From the other mech's point of view. But Magnus had been unable to hold it in. Something had been pulling at his spark every time he clapped his optics on the mech, something was rising in his spark, threatening to drown him. There was a want, a desire, boiling deep in the core of his being, and he wasn't sure how long he could deny it…
The mech had fallen ill recently, his processor made vulnerable because his healing programs were overstressed, trying to repair damage that couldn't possibly be fixed. Wounds that had sunk so deep they would never heal, scars that would never completely fade. Magnus knew his beloved friend was in pain with every step he took. When he walked down the hallway, he'd stagger, and Magnus would catch him, words of concern spilling from his vocalizer while the younger mech gasped in pain.
And then, just recently, the mech had collapsed while in the command center. Become violently ill, a fever wracking his injured body, tearing him apart from the outside. Magnus had stayed with him in the medical bay for a few nights, and he took such shame in the thoughts that had been allowed to run rampant there. The mech, he realized, was beautiful when he recharged. Magnus could remember, so vividly, the sensual part of the mech's lips while he slept, the soft words he uttered while he tossed and turned, the quiet moans that Magnus's processor had interpreted entirely the wrong way.
Magnus shook his head, trying to clear it of the now familiar images; images he only let himself dwell on in the moments before he fell into recharge. Oh, to kiss that hot mouth, to touch that wonderful body, hear the mech moan his name, see those beautiful blue optics flutter as he sank into the bliss of overload.
His processor flashed back to his beloved's sickness, to the fever that had colored his cheekplates, the illness that had rendered him so weak. The vulnerability was…gorgeous. So beautiful. As he'd watched over his secret love, Magnus had felt so determined to be the one the mech leaned on, to be some sort of support for the young soldier.
He had to know he had some place in the mech's spark. Not just as a friend, the mech had plenty of friends, tens of friends who cared for him the way a friend ought to. But Magnus cared more deeply than any of them could even fathom, he loved this mech. He always had…
Ultra Magnus's head snapped upwards--when the frag had the door opened?! "Uh, I--good evening."
Optimus Prime cocked his head slightly, bright blue optics flickering with interest. "What are you doing?"
"Yes. I've been chasing the twins, you know--and I'm not as young as I used to be."
Optimus's optics shone with amusement. "You're still plenty young, Magnus. And you ought to be using all of that energy on a femme, yes?"
Magnus forced a smile, but his spark harrumph-ed. Stupid Optimus--how could he still be so blind? "What are you up to, oh Great One?"
"Don't call me that." Optimus scowled, and Magnus suddenly felt bad. Slag it, curse Optimus--the younger mech could make Magnus's emotions spin so completely out of control just with the tone of his voice! "I'm not half the mech everyone makes me out to be. Sentinel was…better."
"Enough," Magnus said gruffly, placing a hand on Optimus's shoulder. The only touch he allowed himself to have. Though he wanted so much more… "Stop thinking that way. How long have you been locked up in your office? Never mind, let's just go."
"Go where?" Optimus questioned as Magnus grabbed his arm and began to drag him down the hallway. "Magnus?"
"To get you a cube of high grade," Magnus replied, his voice rumbling in his chest. "You're going to kill yourself in there."
"Oh. Well, alright." Magnus didn't like the reluctance in Optimus's voice, not when he himself was so excited. A few minutes alone with Optimus, over a cube of high grade. Primus, it was enough. If it meant he could be with him for just few minutes, he wouldn't ask for anything else.
Just a few minutes. Just a breem or two to gaze at that face, to search those optics, to listen to that laugh, watch that smile. The universe seemed so much kinder when Optimus smiled. The moment that innocent, that gentle grin lifted his faceplates, suddenly it was as if there was no war, no pain, no bloodshed, no lost friends.
Magnus glanced backwards at his friend; he was still holding onto his lower arm, and Optimus was beginning to regard the hold with confusion. Magnus released him quickly, but didn't offer an apology, trying to appear as if he had meant nothing by it.
Magnus turned, frowning. "What?"
"I forgot my mask," Optimus muttered sheepishly, ducking his head. "Sorry, I'm sorry, can we just--"
Magnus smiled gently, patting Optimus's cheekplate. "Relax. It's no big deal, I understand. Let's run back and grab it."
The young commander's faceplates split into that smile, and Magnus felt his spark constrict. Oh, Primus. Smile again, please. "Okay. Come with me?"
So they trooped back up to the office, Optimus in the lead, Magnus trailing behind and trying hard not to stare at Prime's aft. It was hard; his aft was perfect, lean and toned like every other inch of his body. Magnus realized he must be in deep if he was relishing the look of a mech's body; he'd been so interested in femmes before he'd met Optimus.
But since he was at the aft, he might as well continue. Optimus had a lovely physique; Primus knew the femmes loved it enough. Long, taut legs, perfectly built to support his strong upper body. Narrow hips that just seemed to tease a lover's hands, a broad chest and strong shoulders. And the most delicious looking throat; Primus only knew how many times Magnus had nearly thrust his mouthplates upon Prime's neck. So sinewy, so damn tempting…
"Where did I put it?" Optimus wondered aloud, and Magnus was snapped back to reality. The younger mech had his hands on those hips, looking around his strangely clean office. Surprising that everything was so neat, considering the amount of work he had to deal with. "Magnus, help me?"
With a shrug, the sub-commander strode fully into the office. The mask was easy to find, it was perched on Optimus's office chair, but for a moment Magnus considered knocking it off and crushing it with his foot. He hated that thing. It covered up Optimus's smile.
"Found it," he said a little more loudly than he meant to, plucking it up with pliant fingers. "Come here."
"Thanks," Optimus said gratefully, reaching for it, but Magnus pulled it out of his reach. "Hey, Magnus! Come on, give it back--"
"Sometimes you put it on crooked, let me do it," Magnus countered smoothly, batting his friend's hands away. "And close your shutters, I don't want to poke you in the optic. I'd probably break it."
Optimus huffed but did as he was told, shuttering his optics. Magnus placed a hand on the side of his commander's head, steadying it, leaning in to replace the mask. He lifted it in cupped fingers, lining it up with Optimus's face, centering it with Prime's noseplates. He shouldn't have been making such a big deal of it, but the close up view of his friend's face was so…so…
Magnus lost control. He dropped the mask, grabbed Prime's helm in both hands, and pressed their mouths together in a hot kiss. Optimus yelped in shock, optics opening wide, and Magnus tightened his grip, thrusting his glossa between Prime's parted lips.
Panic shot through Optimus, confusion, as Magnus moaned into the kiss, drawing his commander closer. He slanted his mouth evenly against Optimus's, his glossa exploring every contour of the forbidden territory. He massaged Optimus's glossa with his own, groaning, his optics shutters fluttering in delight. Optimus's mouth was hot and smooth…to think that he had been missing it this whole time…what a waste…
Optimus was struggling. Trying to pull his head back, trying to bite Magnus's glossa, trying to close his lips, anything to stop the kiss. It was firing his systems up, and his spark was roaring with approval. It was wrong, but it felt…right. It was…no, wrong! Wrong! He and Magnus were comrades in arms, they worked together, they couldn't…!
Magnus grunted in pain when Optimus managed to nip at his glossa, but only responded further by deepending the kiss. Prime continued to struggle, now beating Magnus's chest with his fists, and the other mech didn't take kindly to the rough treatment. Optimus suddenly found Magnus's leg collide with his own, and the next moment they were on the floor, Optimus on his back with Magnus pinning him by the upper arms so he could continue to assault his mouth.
CUT IT OUT! Optimus texted, unable to speak as the kisses increased in aggressiveness and speed. It was wonderful, it was amazing, but they needed to stop!
No. Magnus replied smoothly, and Optimus growled in aggravation.
I won't. I've waited too long. Am I hurting you?
NO, BUT GET OFF ANYWAY!
I already told you that I'm not letting you go. Kiss me, moron.
Optimus was stumped by the simple question, and he fell limp beneath the larger mech. Magnus growled his approval, releasing Optimus's arms so he could brace himself upright, alternating between lapping at Optimus's lips with his glossa and kissing him.
It was wrong, yes, as far as protocol went. It was a little awkward, considering they'd been friends since before Optimus could remember, but…slag, was he supposed to deny something that felt so good? The kisses were rough, but hot, passionate, and Optimus found himself starting to enjoy them. Tentatively, awkwardly, he kissed back, and Magnus released a low rumble of approval. His kisses gentled, clearly hoping for more from Optimus, and with a feeling of resignation Optimus complied.
He nipped at Magnus's lower lip, curious, and when the older mech didn't resist he pushed a little further, pressing his mouth fully against his friend's. It was warm, and thankfully not wet; Optimus had heard from his other friends that organics had wet mouths, and frankly it had grossed him out.
"Their glossa are pink," Ironhide had informed him cockily, clearly loving being the bastion of sexual knowledge. "And guess what? They don't even call them glossa."
Optimus was brought back to reality by a soft whine from Magnus, and he cautiously slid his glossa past Magnus's lip components. The larger mech shifted his weight, relaxing more fully against Prime, optics shuttered and mouth moving gently, rhythmically. Now that he thought about it, it seemed that he'd been waiting for this for an eternity. Optimus's mouth was so warm, sweet and familiarly metallic.
He leaned in closer, his glossa teasing Prime's, and got a nip against his lips for the assault. Growling, he opened his mouth further, forcing Prime to do the same. Their glossa wrestled for a moment before Magnus established dominance, but no sooner had he begun to enjoy it than Optimus barreled his way back in, thoroughly kissing Magnus's hot mouth.
A thought stirred in the back of Ultra Magnus's processor. Optimus seemed comfortable enough with the lip service. Would he…possibly…maybe…even consider…?
Tentatively, nervously, Magnus let a hand stray down Optimus's chestplates. The younger mech gave a pronounced shudder, back arching gently. His kisses came faster, rougher, and Magnus took this as a good sign, dropping his hand lower to stroke Optimus's thigh. Prime's hips shifted eagerly, and their crotchplates pressed together for a moment. Heat exploded between them, and Magnus fought to overcome the rising tide of lust within him. He'd never wanted a male before; the insanity and forbiddenness of it all was exciting.
Maybe he and Optimus would go that far…maybe--
The lovers jerked apart abruptly, and Magnus immediately found himself missing the warm presence of Optimus's mouth. Turning his head, he looked to see what had interrupted them so rudely and almost peed himself on the spot.
"Slag," Optimus groaned, struggling to straighten himself, and Magnus reluctantly moved off, allowing the mech to sit up fully. "I can explain…"
"I do not want to know," Prowl said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the ceiling. "It may be wise to close the doors before engaging in such activities. And Jazz, further profanity will result in your immediate--"
"WHAT THE UNHOLY FRAG OUT OF UNICRON'S AFT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE?! SINCE WHEN DID OPTIMUS BECOME MAGNUS'S DOLL? YOU FRAGGING GLITCH HEADS OUGHT TO BE SLAGGED FOR THIS ONE!"
"So what does that make you?" Magnus asked, irritated. "You once tried to interface with Prowl in the hall, Jazz--"
Prowl groaned softly, but Jazz soldiered on. "Well, yeah, but everyone expects that out of us! We're the mech-mech couple! We're special, ya know?" The special ops officer was starting to whine a bit. "But now--geez, the media's gonna eat this up! It's so much more exciting now that it's Optimus…"
"Um…um…" Prime fought for words, but none came out. Frag! How was he supposed to redeem himself--and Magnus--now?
"Prowl, this was all my doing," Magnus said quietly, and Optimus snapped his head around, gaping. What? "I made the first move. Please do not involve Optimus in any of this."
"…I don't see any reason why either of you ought to be involved," Prowl said rather stiffly. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with…er…making out on the floor of an office. It is rather uncouth and many would say disturbing, but is not an offense in any way. And I will not permit Jazz to report it to the media, nor will he be spreading rumors around the base."
Jazz grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting, while Optimus sighed with relief. Prowl took a hold of Jazz's scruff bar and dragged him off promptly, leaving the two mechs sitting in awkward silence on Prime's floor.
"…Here," Magnus mumbled after a moment, holding out the mask. Optimus took it but did not put it back on.
"…I mean, thank you. For…for that. I…enjoyed it, Magnus."
Magnus muttered something incoherent. Humiliation was scrawled all over his faceplates; he couldn't even look Optimus in the face.
Prime inhaled deeply. Seemed that he would be doing the talking. "Um…I really did enjoy it, but I would appreciate it if you'd not…do it again. If you have…feelings for me, Magnus, I can't return them." He glanced up, wanting to meet Magnus's his gaze.
"Wanna tell me why?" Magnus asked quietly, and Optimus sighed.
"Well…it's just that…there's someone--"
"Hey!" Jazz abruptly poked his head in, grinning madly. That smile didn't bode well for anyone. "Guess what? I told on you!"
Optimus jerked his head up, jaw agape. "What? Who?!"
Jazz snickered and ran out the door, calling over his shoulder. "Elita!"