Title: Consort 8 - Finale
Continuity: AU Multi-continuity Fusion Madness (in other words I'm picking and choosing stuff I like and totally making slag up. At this point, I can identify G1 Cartoon, Marvel Comics, IDW, Bayverse, Cybertron, and Dreamweave).
Characters & Pairings: Optimus Prime x Mirage x Jazz
Summary: The Matrix again becomes a very frightening place, and then a very hot one.
Warnings: Violence and gore, explicit smut (sticky, oral, spark), incredibly cheesy ending.
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! This chapter is taking place thousands of vorns in the future.
::Jazz, I need you in our quarters,:: Mirage commed his commander-lover, glyphs and modifiers indicating extreme urgency rather than the usual kind of innuendo that might accompany such an invitation.
::On my way,:: Jazz said immediately, dropping everything he was working on and transforming to make the trip through the corridors faster.
Optimus somehow found the strength to activate the failing hydraulics for one last mighty slice at his opponent, his blade sheering through armor with a spray of glowing fluids, but glancing off the chamber he meant to breach. The momentum made the weakened Prime stagger and fall to the ground.
"You will not have it! The Matrix does not belong to you, Megatron!" Prime could hear weary desperation replacing the resolve in his voice.
"That is where you are wrong, Optimus," Megatron said casually, as if he didn't have thick armor plates hanging loosely from his chest and his chamber exposed. "It belongs to the strongest, the best of us all. The one who can truly protect this world. Not some over-armed pacifist who cannot even hold his own property." Megatron deliberately glanced at the blue and white mech with the Decepticon brand proudly displayed on his chest. "When the real threat comes to this world, who do you think they will want protecting them? You and your pathetic followers? Or the mechs who were built for war and truly know how to wage it?"
"There won't be any left to protect, Megatron. You will have destroyed them. You will protect a dead husk that was once a living world." Optimus' voice was almost nothing but static.
Megatron only response was to sneer and launch himself, his fusion canon blasting directly at Prime's damaged chest. Prime only managed to raise his arm before Megatron's claws connected with the same spot, just above his spark.
The fact that Optimus's blade was now lodged within Megatron's own chest, just to the side of his spark chamber, simply made the warlord laugh. With both hands on it, he twisted his torso, and the blade broke free from Prime's arm. It was pulled out in a spray of sparks and plasma, and thrown aside where it, like the ion blaster before it, was picked up and subspaced by Megatron's consort and lover who watched the scene with a coldly elegant serenity.
Megatron laughed again, barreling Optimus into the ground, ripping his chestplates apart to gain his prize. Optimus could feel systems slipping offline, his HUD pinging him frantically with errors and warnings as energon poured freely from a multitude of injuries that would never be repaired. He ignored the warnings, forcefully disabling the protocols that would take him into stasis, using the last reserves of strength in his own guttering spark to tear into Megatron's wounded chest even as Megatron continued tearing into his own.
"It will reject you, Megatron," Optimus managed to cry, his hands trembling as they squeezed on the warlord's casing. It was of no use. He not longer had the strength to crush the fiercely burning spark within.
"That is where you are wrong, Orion. It has already rejected you!" Megatron cried in triumph as he hands reached the Matrix, brutally pulling it free.
Heedless of his own injuries, Megatron gave a hideous laugh, standing and holding the Matrix over his head. "Yes! YES! I am both Prime and Protector! And you are nothing! Mirage, dispose of him."
Optimus could only watch in horror as Megatron plunged the Matrix in his own wounded chest, and it sank and melded into him as though it did truly belong there. The warlord did not even scream as the metamorphosis began, but instead seemed to revel in the pain. "Under me, Cybertron will finally be as great as it was intended to be!" he cried, and then collapsed as the process truly got underway.
Optimus, optic feed already darkened, dimly teeked the familiar yet horrifyingly wrong field of his lover standing directly over him, and felt the tip of what must have been his own ion blaster touching his exposed wrecked chamber.
"Mirage, please" he whispered. Whether to spare him, or end it quickly, he was not certain
"You never were worthy," the high forged mech said coldly, field flooded with loathing. "This was inevitable. Trion gave it to you only to give Megatron something to test himself against. A pitiful test, as it turned out."
Whatever Orion might have said was swallowed in a blinding flash of light and pain of his own spark exploding in the blast from his own weapon.
Jazz overrode the lock and burst into Prime's quarters. Unlike the larger ones in Iacon, those aboard the Ark were spartan, not much more than a berth. It was on that berth that Optimus was writhing and bellowing, ripping out the cables as soon as Mirage could seat them in his ports.
"I can't stop it, Jazz. He's never resisted me like this before!" Mirage was no longer his usual, serene self. Suddenly Optimus sat up with a roar, and lunged at his sparkmate, picking him up, tearing one arm from the beautiful frame before brutally throwing him against the wall next to the doorway where Jazz stood. Mirage collapsed in a heap on the floor.
"Optimus! STOP THIS!" Jazz cried even as the databurst he sent ripped past Prime's firewalls, just as it had been designed to. Suddenly Optimus collapsed on his side precariously on top of his Consort's legs and lower torso, his motor relays disabled by the viral code. Jazz somehow found the strength to roll Prime's massive frame off of his Consort. Mirage's optics were fritzing with pain. "Oh Primus, Mirage," Jazz said, reaching to manually clamp the flow of energon from sparking relays where his lover's arm had been.
"He's still fluxing, Jazz. Please... have to hardline us."
"Slag no, Mirage! He could kill ya that way just as easily. Ratchet'll figure out a way to stop this."
"He can't stop it, Jazz. Not when he's in that deep. There isn't time for this. Something's going wrong with the Matrix. You know the fluxes are getting worse. Something has been trying to hurt or destroy him ever since we entered the Benzuli Expanse."
"Then we have Ratchet take the pit-spawned piece of scrap out of him! Until we figure out what is wrong with it. Ya ain't interfacin' with him when he's already tried t' slag ya."
"Taking it out could kill him, too, when he is merged with it like this. Fine. I won't hardline. I'll merge. He'll know me in a merge and the bond will protect me. Don't you dare comm Ratchet. You know he won't let me do what has to be done!"
"Which is exactly why I should comm 'im!" Jazz snapped.
"You can hardline with me, monitor and pull me out if it becomes obvious he is trying to hurt me. But we've got to help him, Jazz." Mirage's vocalizations had taken on a frantic quality. He could feel Prime suffering through their bond, feel the phantom agony of whatever was happening to him as he fluxed. They could put him in stasis, but his spark would still be active, burning in unspeakable pain
"Slag it, Mirage! There's more t' ya than just being his Consort. And he'd be the first one t' say that. He'd never forgive me if Ah let somethin' happen' t' ya."
"Primus forgive us both if we let something happen to him when we could have stopped it," Mirage reasoned passionately in response. "I don't care what it costs me. This is why I'm here, Jazz." Mirage reached out plaintively through the weaker cohort bond he had with his Commander.
Jazz's visor flared in protest to the words, but Mirage could feel his resignation and acceptance. Jazz said nothing as he used his Protector codes to initiate the opening of Prime's chest plating and chamber, extending one of his own cables to Mirage, who resolutely plugged it in to his cephalic port.
"Ah actually commed Ratchet the moment he ripped out yer arm, Mirage. He was in surgery, but he is finishin'. Ya'd better hurry." Mirage quickly nodded, climbing onto his lover's massive form, managing to somehow look elegant and graceful while doing so, despite his dented frame and missing arm. Below him, Prime's huge spark swirled and spun in obvious turmoil, but it knew Mirage, coronal tendrils reaching for him and pulling him in like a massive gravity well he was.
How many times had he extinguished here? How many times had the Matrix been ripped from his chest? And how many others had he desecrated, brutally ripping the artifact from their still-living corpses?
Now someone was trying to access his systems, shut down his defenses. Someone he should trust, but there was no one whom he could trust in the Pit. Even the most benevolent, the wisest and most compassionate Primes had become monsters. A monster like he was.
He roared and sprang at his next foe, only to have him crumple immediately underneath him. That was not right. They always fought back. Always, it was a struggle to exist, to live, to possess and be possessed by the Matrix.
But he had no time to consider it. More foes were coming at him, red, green, and gold optics closing in on him with predatory intent. He felt a surge of focused violence in his spark, the ancient warrior Primes' kenetic memories activating in his frame as he prepared for battle.
But just as suddenly, it all faded, and his writhing spark was frantically reaching for something. Something that was like immersing himself in cool solvent, liquid calm submerging his systems as the steam of his rage hissed and dispersed, leaving him connected. CONNECTED. No longer alone in his agony.
He knew the frame he wore in this place was not real. Nonetheless, he reached and pulled his Consort, his beloved, to himself, subtle transformation sequences allowing their armor to meld together in an elegant geometry of long time lovers even as his spike pushed into a slick, willing embrace. Somehow, in this place, glossa, sparks, spikes and valves could all meet at once. There were no laws of physics and size. All of the rage transmuted into desire and love as they possessed each other and became one.
"You will repair me, and then you will online him in my presence so I can immediately merge with him should he be unstable again. You will not utter or transmit a single glyph to anyone, including him, about what he did." Mirage's tone was ice cold. He was done arguing with Ratchet. There was no one who knew Prime's spark and his trials better than he did himself. Optimus would not be burdened with the knowledge of the violence he had done when under the thrall of a tainted Matrix. Mirage would delete his own memories, if he had to, to keep his bonded from finding out.
"Who the frag do you think you are, ordering me what to do in my own Medbay!" Ratchet snarled.
"I am the High Consort. If the Prime is incapacitated, I speak for him, unless he is relieved of duty by the Lord High Protector. You know the chances of that happening, while Prime still functions and I can attest to his sanity. I am not capable of giving an order that would be contrary what I know of Prime's spark, other than to save it."
"Don't quote me that political slag. We haven't even had a Council for over two thousand vorns! You can't pull rank on me here, Mirage. I am keeping Prime in stasis until I know what the problem is with his processors. His spark could snuff yours in an astrosecond if you merge and he becomes violent again. I am not risking that."
"Then you are risking not only the life of your Prime, but the lives of every mech on this ship, and likely many more. There is something going on in the Matrix that is bigger than all of us, and it has been growing ever since we embarked on this mission. This isn't something you can fix, Ratchet, and stasis won't keep Prime from batting whatever is sickening the Matrix."
"Mirage, the Matrix had been taking Optimus to the Pit and back since long before he bonded with you..." Ratchet began.
"And I've been helping him regain his peace ever since. This is different, Ratchet. He, and perhaps the Matrix itself, are under attack. I have to help him. I know I am supposed to do this. Don't ask me how. It is something even deeper than the Consort protocols."
He was defeated, but not this time by another mech. Instead, a thick fog spread from horizon to horizon, and was now advancing on him, traveling toward him from the farthest reaches of Universe with a single minded intent of consuming him... consuming all. Tendrils of it made their way into this frame, sinking into every empty space, twining around every joint and gear. He tried to grasp at it, to push it away from himself, but his hands passed through it like the fog it was. That did not keep it from tearing away his frame until all that was left was his spark and the Matrix.
Yet, just as the shadow was poised to penetrate his spark, it suddenly froze, then dissipated, as though blown away by a fierce stellar wind, leaving behind a perfect stillness as his frame began, once again, knitting itself back together for whatever strange battle would come next.
Later, whether it was kliks or vorns, he did not know, there were long, narrow fingers tracing the rim of his valve, slipping in to collect the sudden rush of lubricants, then tracing circles and complex patterns on his exterior nodes with just the perfect amount of pressure. Another hand circled the thick base of his spike, unable to wrap fully around it. A kiss was placed on the tip, glossa narrowing and darting through the diaphram into the pressure tubing to tease the nodes within.
"Mirage," Optimus moaned, the tone both prayer and benediction.
He felt his lover's mouthplates smile against him, before his tip was being enveloped in their loving-tender care. Though his logic processors knew neither of them were truly embodied in this place, he allowed himself to sink fully into the perfection of physicality. Throbbing, electric pulses traveled from his spike along his spinal strut to his spark, which compressed before it surged, rushing the shivers of pleasure outward through his systems. He spread his bent knees wider, tilting his hips encouragingly for the lover kneeling between his thighs, and then gave a low, satisfied groan as Mirage's spike slid into him even as his own spike thrust as deeply into his lover's intake as it could go. Primus, the mech took flexibility to a whole new art form.
He lost himself in sensation, in the love and devotion expressed with every thrust, lick, and squeeze. He could feel the satisfaction in his beloved's spark as he let go and allowed himself to be perfectly cared for as only Mirage could. Mirage enveloped him, not just with skilled hands and talented mouth, but with the love surging through his fields, a love which penetrated him each time his beloved thrust into his calipers' embrace. The ecstasy of overload, when it took him, began neither in his throbbing spike or clenching valve, but deep in his spark, before radiating out to encompass his entire frame, and his bonded's as well.
There were no chronometers. He had no knowledge of how much time passed as their frames melted away leaving behind two sparks, fully intertwined and enmeshed in one another. In this place in between and encompassing every dimension, they contained one another. Mirage was fully within him and he was fully within Mirage, no boundaries between the very core of their being. He had never been so at peace within the Matrix, and wondered if he had, indeed, extinguished.
~This is the Matrix as it was meant to feel,~ Mirage whispered within him, a sense of ancient wisdom washing through his spark. Optimus did not ask how it was that Mirage should know such a thing. He did not need to. He could feel that it was simply right that Mirage should know.
Just as he suddenly knew that others were approaching, and that they were no longer alone. But unlike all his most recent experiences in this place beyond the dimensions, Optimus no longer felt a need to fight or battle. Something had shifted. The attention of the growing malevolent force within the Matrix was no longer upon him.
He became aware of a multitude of mechs surrounding them. Hundreds... thousands of other Primes. Some looked very much as he did. Others did not. A flame patterned mech in oranges, yellows and reds turned to him, recognition and longing written in his optics and pulsing in his field. Looking through the crowd, he could see many other versions of this same mech, as well as hundreds of Megatrons, and a scattering of others he could not identify. Was that Prowl in the far corner, towering and transformed by the Matrix? Ironhide? Bumblebee? Several versions of Starscream were all looking with scorn on the grounders around him. Was that Sunstreaker, bright and mighty, with his twin next to him covered in the ancient glyphs of the Lord High Protector? Was that tiny creature that radiated the energy of the Allspark truly an organic Prime?
Many of them had consorts, lovers, even entire cohorts with them. Over a hundred versions of Mirage registered on his sensors. Various versions of an energon-colored femme were an even more a common sight. Ariel, the Matrix whispered, now Elita-1. Multiple versions of Jazz moved around their Primes with boundless energy. There was a Dion who had been rebuilt into Ironhide, and another into Ultra Magnus. At least one Prime, in his own colors, had another organic with him, the tiny, fragile being cradled protectively to his chest, yet obviously giving him strength for whatever trial they were about to face. Yet another Prime was lying surrounded by hundreds of other Autobots, all of them connected in a maze cables. It looked... deliciously tempting.
Before he or Mirage could act on that particular temptation (though both filed the image away for future reference) every optic was drawn to a shifting of colors and energies which resolved itself into a star-filled cloak. Without understanding why he did so, Optimus pulled Mirage closer to himself as protective and possessive energies spun in his spark.
You must listen to me, an ancient voice spoke in his own spark.
"And give me one reason why I should not destroy you," one of the Megatrons said with a sneer.
"Because you have more important concerns, Calamitus Prime. If you wish to have an empire to continue to rule, Nemesis Prime must be stopped.
A hand waved out of that cloak, and suddenly the vocalizers of all of those who would argue and posture were muted. Then, the remainder of an ancient Prime stepped out of the cloak, which now flowed behind him like the swirl of a stellar nursery. His figure was blurred, as though he was constantly in motion, or perhaps existing in many places at once.
Several of the universes in which I once walked are already gone. If you do not heed me, yours will be lost as well, and everything you have fought for will be consumed, never to be reforged. All of you have been grappling with powers within the Matrix which are trying to destroy you. Some of you have struggled with this for thousands of vorns. Others have only recently begun to encounter the darkness that has seeped within what is meant to strengthen you.
A champion is even now fighting the one who bridged the chasm that should never have been crossed, attempting to destroy him and close the portal so that Nemesis and those who follow him can no longer expand into the living realms. But he cannot do so alone. He must have help from the remainder of the Primes, and all those who love and strengthen them.
An image appeared in the molecular cloud of the ancient Prime's cloak. Megatron, clearly now a Prime, was fiercely engaged with the familiar, yet distorted and mutated form of Nova Prime. Another mech, blue and white, was merged to Megatron's frame like a symbiont, and somehow Optimus knew that this version of Mirage was strengthening Megatron's systems and spark with his own, and would extinguish doing so before the battle was over.
The Prime who resembled Prowl stepped forward and asked "What must we do?"
Something easy for some of you, and particularly difficult for others, the ancient Prime began, and then explained to them how they would strengthen the one Matrix that was every Matrix, and aid the Champion who was fighting their Nemesis.
Optimus looked at MIrage and they smiled at one another. This was, indeed, quite easy for them. He pulled his bonded into a passionate kiss, and then the two went in search of others who were without the comfort of consort, lover or cohort, to include them in a love which was far to large not to be shared.
In a secret lab near the center of his planet, Alpha Trion was tinkering away at his latest project when he paused, and turned toward the entrance in expectation. "Well, you certainly surprised me," he said when the door slid open. "I thought my Optimus was the one who would face Nova. Didn't you even tell him that was his fate?"
Vector Prime stepped into the lab and rummaged through his fellow meddler's cabinets for a cube of a high grade. "Ah, A3, sometimes I even deceive myself with the webs I weave. I made myself believe he would be, but your Optimus was simply the bait, a distraction who bore the brunt of Nemesis Prime's cruelty and manipulation through the Matrix. Nova believed that if he weakened the Champion enough, he would have an easy time of it when they faced one another in the physical realm. But unfortunately for him..."
"He was weakening the wrong Champion," the ancient engineer and former Lord High Protector concluded.
"Exactly," Vector said, sipping his high grade, his armor giving a satisfied shiver as the pleasant charge rushed through him.
"So Megatron was actually the true champion?" Alpha Trion asked, sitting next to his partner-in-meddling with his own cube. "I must admit, it makes me feel... rather disturbed to think of that one as any sort of hero, no matter the universe."
"Champions are not always kind or noble I told Optimus that once, though he forgot. The Universe where Nemesis was defeated is very similar to this one, save that Megatron actually bonded with Mirage when he was offered to him. Soon after, Megatron ripped the Matrix from Optimus' chest, and Mirage extinguished him with his own blaster. Calamitus Prime was a cruel dictator, and Mirage was the sadistic power behind the throne, quietly feared even more than the Prime. They expanded the Empire through many galaxies and crushed any who opposed them. Nemesis thought that Calamitus would join him, but Megatron was not interested in anyone ruling the Universe save himself."
"I take it neither the Champion nor Consort survived their wounds?" Alpha Trion asked.
"And it is probably a good thing for that universe that they didn't. Those two could easily have done as much damage to it as Nemesis."
Alpha Trion sat in silence, mulling that over, when suddenly his optics lit brighter. "You didn't deceive yourself. You intended the Champion to be Optimus all along, and then, at the last minute, you somehow intervened and had this other Universe be the one where the battle was waged."
"I will neither confirm nor deny that, my dear A3," Vector said smoothly. "Even I do not know. I am as good at manipulating my own memories as I am at manipulating those of others. What I can tell you is that over the vorns, I have become far too fond of this Optimus and this Mirage. So many versions of Optimus suffer so much, are far too alone, and in the end, must sacrifice themselves in agonizing ways. This one has all but defeated Megatron, has a peaceful world where mecha have enough energon and the freedom for flourish, a love worthy of the great poets. I must admit that I am pleased that at least one Optimus will get his... what do the humans in those universes call it... happily ever after? The others will find that a comfort when they return to the Matrix."
Alpha Trion gave a delighted laugh. "You are a soft spark!" he exclaimed, crossing over to the ancient Prime and pulling him into a kiss.
"Mmmm" Vector hummed in agreement. "For a manipulative old glitch," he agreed.
Additional Notes: I had this ending envisioned as a possibility ever since writing the chapter where Vector Prime originally appears. The further I got into the story, the more the muses insisted on this. I'm still not sure what I think, but went with it, as cheesy as it felt. I do really believe that love conquers all.
I want to mention that among the various Primes Optimus sees in the Matrix in that final scene, there are nods to the lovely universes created by some of my favorite authors who inspire me on a daily basis. I wish I could have included more in the scene. Among them were the Prime of Tainry's truly epic Borealis (who is the most poly-loving mech-pile creating Prime in any Universe); Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as the future Prime and Lord High Protector from Saesama's Astrum Ortus, an AU of her Glances in the Spark series; Merfilly's delicious and creative Walk a Different Road series in which Mikaela is a consort to Optimus *shivers*; Taralynden's Primus Blessed in which Prowl, in one node of the multiverse, becomes the Prime; and last, but not least, Sam as the human Prime from Sakon76's fabulous Simulacra-verse
Thank you so much to everyone who read, and especially to those who took the time to leave feedback! That kind of interaction is a precious and wonderful thing, and really keeps me going when finding the words is a struggle (which it nearly always is for me).