Author's Note: This fic is set at no particular time in a mostly-G1 universe with the good parts of other continuities thrown in for fun. (I do love me some Lord Protector goodness.) It's self-indulgent, yes, but I'm writing giant robot porn here. Work with me.

OVERALL WARNINGS: This fic will contain heavy (Cybertronian) religious overtones, as well as many kinks and a double-Skyfire-full of different pairings. For the entire fic, warnings for religious sex, orgies, sex while in altered states of consciousness (religious trance), benevolent code rewriting, a touch of noncon if you turn your head and squint, voyeurism, threesomes and moresomes, size kink, stripping down to protoforms, and a very pushy deity. Overall, this fic will be fun and fluff and possibly shouldn't be taken very seriously. There will be other kinks and themes, but those will be noted in the header of each chapter.

Everyone keep your hands and feet inside the fic at all times. And away we go!

"You are certain this line is secure, Teletraan?"


Optimus vented a long sigh then squared his shoulders. "Very well. Connect."

It took a long moment (during which Optimus had second, third, and fourth thoughts about this) before the screen flickered to life, a familiar face scowling back at him.

"Prime. What a PLEASANT surprise." The Decepticon leader's expression twisted into a smirk. "Contacting me to negotiate your surrender?"

"No, Megatron." Optimus continued before either of them could distract him from his purpose. "Have you calculated the Cybertronian date recently?"

Megatron's scowl deepened. "Of course I have. ONE of us deals with Cybertron on a regular basis, Prime."

Optimus stiffened at the completely unfair insinuation, but then reminded himself that no, no, now was not the time for arguments. "I did not contact you to argue, Megatron."

"Then why DID you contact me, Prime? To reminisce? I know exactly what the date is. What of it? You and I both know that it means nothing. HAS meant nothing for kilivorns even before we crashed on this rock."

"I am going to hold the Rite of Prima's Blessing," Optimus said, voice steady.

Megatron's optics widened, then narrowed, hard and glittering. "So you called to GLOAT. I didn't think you had it in you, PRIME."

The title, thrown at him with particular scorn, had exactly the opposite effect than what Megatron had probably been going for. Optimus straightened. "I did not. I will hold the ritual, at the traditional time, for all who observe the traditional strictures. I wish to negotiate a ceasefire for the duration of the festival."

Megatron stared at him for a long moment before laughing. "Oh, yes, a ceasefire so that the Autobots can ENJOY themselves. That is just like you, Prime. Why, exactly, should I pass up the chance to annihilate all of you?"

Oh, Optimus could HEAR both Prowl and Red Alert glitching already. "The ritual will not be held in the Ark, Megatron, but in a neutral location. I'm transmitting the coordinates now. And as I said, ALL who observe the traditional strictures are welcome."

THAT got Megatron's attention. His optics narrowed. "You are glitched. You would-"

"-do my duty as Prime and offer Prima's blessing to all Cybertronians? Yes. Yes, I will." Corner turned and no going back, Optimus felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. It was replaced by another, but that responsibility was old, familiar, and well-missed.

Megatron leaned forward, hissing, "I should call your bluff and bring the entire Decepticon army. What would you do then, Prime?"

The thought was...more than a little intimidating, but the Matrix, as it had taken to doing lately, pulsed supportive warmth along his circuits. Optimus reset his optics, slowly, letting a smile creep into his voice. "I have a few ideas."

Megatron just stared at him for a long, long moment, before slashing a hand dismissively. "Glitching, ridiculous AUTOBOT. You have your ceasefire Prime, but for the length of the festival and not a breem more." He slammed his hand down on the control panel in front of him, cutting the connection with an aborted screech of feedback.

Optimus sighed, settling back on his heels. Well, he thought, that went about as well as could be expected.

"Did you just do what I think you just did, boss bot?"

Optimus turned, not particularly surprised to see Jazz leaning against the wall just inside the command center doorway. His frame just a bit warm still, Optimus caught himself before his optics slid inappropriately over his third in command's sleek frame. Yes, yes, he thought resignedly at the Matrix. You have made your point. We are GETTING there. "Most likely," he answered.

His spec ops commander shook his helm in wonder, pushing away from the wall and sauntering over. "No offense, boss, but what brought this on? I mean, it's been a long time since we even had the festival, let alone the blessing rites, even before our little nap."

Optimus put a hand over his chestplates. "Something tells me that it is time. My last merge with the Matrix was...illuminating." He stopped, searching for words to describe the wordless desires the Matrix had communicated to him. "We see ourselves as we always have, Jazz. We see war and factions and difference. But...I am beginning to understand that Primus does not view us in that fashion. He sees one people, his people, one body torn apart and slowly bleeding out from that rift. Perhaps not physically, but...I am the Prime. It is my duty to see to our peoples' spiritual needs, and I have been...lax in that."

Jazz laid a hand on his arm. "You do your best, Optimus. No one asks for more than that."

None but he who has always questioned me, for good or ill. Optimus nodded in acceptance of the support if not agreement. If he had done his best, perhaps his Lord Protector would not be his greatest enemy. But that was an old regret, one he had long practice at pushing aside. "Still. It is time. I have not held any rituals at all for much too long."

Jazz held up his hands. "Not to tell you your job or anything, but you really think they'll hold to a ceasefire when you just told 'em where we'd all be, unarmed and easy pickings? Which, by the way, I can't WAIT to hear you tell the others. Better have Ratchet on hand when you break it to Prowl and Red Alert."

Optimus looked back at the dark viewscreen. "Megatron is a traditionalist, at least where these things are concerned. He will not desecrate one of the most sacred Cybertronian rites for any gain."

Jazz tipped his head down a bit. "You...really sure about that?"

Memories blossomed in his processor, of this ritual, long, long ago. Of a young Prime, nearly incandescent with the charge of his first blessing and an only slightly less-young Lord Protector kneeling before him, optics full of fire and hands trembling slightly as he reached up to touch...

Optimus shook his head, shunting aside the image and the heat it brought with it. He could only hope that doing the Matrix's will would regain him his ability to focus. He vented a sigh. "I know that it seems...reckless, Jazz. Believe me, I understand the danger. However, Megatron has taunted me countless times about how I shirk my duties as Prime. He honestly believes that, just as he honestly believes that he is fulfilling his duty as Lord Protector. No, he will protect the sanctity of the rite, if nothing else."

Jazz tilted his head and one hand in a clear if you say so. "You think he'll come?"

Primus, I hope so. Or do I? "I don't know. Megatron will likely hesitate to give the Decepticons any reason to feel closer to me, on any level. A ceasefire was all I expected..."

"But not all you hoped for," Jazz observed, sharp as ever.

Optimus shuttered his optics, his frame settling as his spark ached. "I hope for many things, Jazz. All of our people taking Primus' blessing as it was a passing of joy from the divine, as a connection to one's fellow Cybertronians...I can't help but see that as a good thing. Perhaps the cancelling of the public blessings was...the first step in losing our way."

Jazz grinned. "Don't have to convince me, boss bot. I remember the festivals. No blessings from the Prime in my part of town, of course, but believe me, us common folk kept the spirit alive. Best parties I've EVER been to."

Optimus smiled. "I am glad to hear I will have at least one ally in trying to convince the others." He cocked his head, considering. "In fact...I would like you to be my acolyte, if you are willing."

It was not often that Optimus got the opportunity to see Jazz completely speechless. "Me? But...I...ME? Optimus, you can't get much less sacred than me, and you can take that whatever way you want, and it'll still be true! Why me?"

"Because you support me in this," Optimus said, simply. "And you are as much a child of Primus as any other, Jazz. Acolytes do not need special training, at least not for this ritual. All they need is a willing frame, an open spark, and readiness to freely share both with...anyone who attends."

Decepticons included. It was a lot to ask, Optimus knew, and he could see Jazz giving it due consideration as he tilted his helm. Megatron. Starscream. Soundwave. Cassettes. Seekers. Constructicons. Starscream. Anyone else they had ever faced across a battlefield.

Optimus had little doubt that Jazz COULD do it, of course. He was spec ops. But the spirit of this particular duty required a bit more than lying back and thinking of Cybertron. He was pleased that Jazz seemed to take that into consideration, as the first thing he asked was, "What will it...feel like? The blessing? Because I gotta admit, Shockwave shows up, I'm gonna need some help stayin' in the mood."

Optimus chuckled. It was unPrimelike of him, but he had to admit that he hoped Shockwave stayed on Cybertron, too. He queried his own memory banks, and they readily provided him with memories, their timestamps ancient but their perfectly-archived emotion and sensation still intense enough to stutter his ventilation. He sent them in a databurst to Jazz, who made a choked sound as his fans kicked on.

"That is, of course, what it feels like for the Prime. I can't guarantee that it will be that...intense...for the blessed as well. Perhaps you can ask another who has attended the Rites. Mirage, I am fairly certain, has been an acolyte at least once."

Jazz shook his helm hard and drew in a long ventilation. "No need. If Primus doesn't have any objections, neither do I. One willing frame and spark, reporting for duty, sir."