Author's Note: Just a little something originally released to the TF Kink Meme on LJ. This is the original part I wrote. I'm slowly adding more as the interest was high enough for more.

Title: Tension Release
Summary: Optimus goes off on his own to find some good old-fashioned tension release, not realizing that he's accidentally broadcasting himself to all the Ark.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, wish I did.


Tension Release: The Opening Act

Optimus Prime always regarded himself as a solid figure, never bending to Megatron's constant efforts of taking over, destroying something, or otherwise being an astro pain in the aft. He made sure that no one knew just how stressed out and tense he was becoming. But the tension had to be released somehow and today's battle had pushed him to the point of desperation and Optimus found himself at the edge of self-control.

For that, he was grateful for the auxiliary security sectors, built as more of a backup base for a worse-case scenario that anything else. Being sure no one else was around for a third time, he leaned back against the offline panels. With one hand bracing him against the panel, the other began trailing down his chest, hesitant at first but growing more confident. He reached in through openings in his chest and sides, sliding across wires, sending sparks of pleasurable energy out across his body.

It'd bee far too long since he last touched himself and it was like relearning what he liked. Primus, it felt good, but he didn't dare take too long, not wanting to be found like this, lubricant already coating the inside of his codpiece.

Red Alert stared as, one-by-one, the security monitors switched over to the same screen. Designed to alert of any security breach in that section, the system would hone in all available resources to that area and any potential threat. Optimus Prime working himself towards an overload was not a security breach. Granted, it had taken a moment for Red Alert to realize what was happening, but when the Autobot leader let out a low, soft groan, it became all too clear. He fidgeted and reached out a hand to switch off the feed but paused.

He'd been so stressed out lately, what with the increase of attacks from the Decepticons, but his schedule didn't allow for a lot of downtime lately. No one would know if he kept watching and even…joined in on Optimus' idea, right? Red Alert glanced back at the door, verifying it was locked and that the room was empty. Slowly, he pulled back his hand and let it rest on his thigh. A moment later, after another groan filtered through the speakers, the hand began to move and Red Alert lost himself to those pleasant touches, assured that security feed was for his optics only and no one would have to know.

Except for the fact that for the Auxiliary Security area, the coding was different and would alert all Autobots of a breach. Every one on base was now receiving their own personal feed of their leader rolling his head back as he pulled off his codpiece and began stroking his stiff cable. Some of the more honorable bots attempted to locate their leader but were quickly dissuaded by obstacles in their path; namely, horny bots with convincing touches.

And so, oblivious of the near orgy going on in the rest of the base, Optimus began pumping his cable, intakes working hard to cool his heating systems. He gasped and let go of the panel with his one hand and just let himself slide to the floor, legs spread wide. His free hand slid down the inside of his thighs, pushing inward to rub against wires and energon lines. His body jerked and he let out a louder groan, head turning side to side as pleasure continued building up within him.

Optimus moved his hand up his thigh and grunted quietly as he fingered his port, coating the finger with lubricant. Slag, but it had been a long time! He pushed his finger in, still pumping his cable, and moaned, his finger hitting nearly all the tiny nodes within his port. His body began to shake now as he approached overload, only a little more and he would finally have the release he'd been longing for!

He slid a second finger into his port and bucked his hips, intakes sputtering as he began thrusting the fingers in and out of his port, even as he gripped his cable harder.

There.

Oh slag, he was there. Optimus arched his back, releasing a feral groan, almost like a growl as overload crashed over him. His port convulsed and his cable throbbed as excess energon pulsed out of it. He was fairly sure a curse broke through his orgasmic writhing, but he didn't care, having finally found a release from all that tension and stress.

It was several minutes before his systems were cool enough to move around. He pulled out a rag that he grabbed just for this, cleaning himself up and the mess on the floor. Replacing his codpiece, Optimus made his way out of the sector and back into the main base area.

His processors sputtered at the amount of couples (and even threesomes!) making out in the hallways there were. After the first few reprimands, he gave up, all too aware of how much that helped with tension.

It just seemed peculiar that everyone had the same idea at the same time…

A day passed and Optimus still had no answer as to what had happened. He entered his office, relieved that the day had been uneventful; the Decepticons were laying low, it would seem. He shifted through his inbox, putting various official requests to the side and all other matters in their own pile. He stopped at a form letter from Red Alert, arching an optic as he read over the words. Red Alert was apologizing for something it looked like.

…you have my most sincerest apologies, sir, for the events that transpired yesterday. My poor decision and lack of investigation led to an outbreak of behavior unbecoming of the soldiers and officers. I accept full responsibility for this any discipline that you would have me…

The letter went on like this, apology after apology. Problem was, Optimus wasn't too sure what Red Alert had even done. Was he the reason that there were so many mechs making use of the hallways rather than their own berths? He'd have to find out about that.

The next letter answered the question. He opened it up and found in sharp, bold letters "Thanks for the stress-reliever, boss." Attached to it was a data card. Perplexed, Optimus loaded the file and immediately felt his systems heat up as he watched himself overloading.

He quickly shut off the file and glanced through the rest of his personal files from the inbox. Nearly all of them were 'thank you' letters of some kind and with each one he found, he could feel his faceplates flushing. It was obvious now what Red Alert was apologizing for. Yet to go and speak to the mech about it…Optimus sat back in his chair. He wasn't sure this was something he wanted to discuss, considering, it would seem, that the whole slagging base just watched him masturbate.

The following week, the matter was lost to the back of his processors as the Decepticons led a particularly harsh fight and some Autobots were nearly lost. The stress levels were rising again but Optimus found he couldn't bring himself to find relief. The base returned to the normal tide and flow of outside battles and the battles within, something that Optimus knew happened when even the soldiers were dealing poorly with the tension from the week's events.

It took a visit from Prowl to get to the source of Optimus' edginess.

"Sir, we have a growing situation on the base," he said calmly.

"I've noticed, Prowl." Optimus sat back in his chair, eyeing the tactician. "I'm assuming you have an idea?"

Prowl shifted his weight and didn't meet Optimus' gaze. "Sir, I just would like to point out that since the…incident a little over a week ago, I haven't had to throw anyone in the brig until today, and even that was for something minor."

Optimus tapped a finger on the desk in thought. "What are you implying?"

Prowl stiffened up and barely sputtered out, "Nothing, sir. Excuse me."

He turned and left without another word, leaving Optimus to his thoughts. The Autobot leader was no fool, he knew what Prowl was implying. That everyone who so thoroughly enjoyed that unintentional show, were also able to ease off that tension. It was clear that stress-relieved 'bots meant an easier base to deal with. Not to mention, the only injuries in the medical bay were from the fights from the Decepticons and not from within.

Optimus sighed and turned his chair, watching the still security camera. Having an easy-to-deal-with base would certainly make it easier to deal with Decepticons…

With a slight smirk, Optimus powered on the base-wide communication video-audio feed, normally used for important announcements. This was important, though – it was the least he could do for his men, wasn't it?

"Attention, Autobots, there a few things that I feel need to be said," he began, his voice deep and official. "First: Red Alert, no apologies needed. Second: I have decided to volunteer an hour of my time every week to the mental health of all my soldiers." Then, while the feed was still running, he ran a hand down his chest, all too aware that his entire body would be visible. "Commencing, now," he added before groaning and pressing his head back against the chair.

For the good of the Autobots, he told himself – not that he needed that much convincing, almost feeling all those optics on him.