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Better Halves	By : sefiru Category: Transformers > Transformers: Animated > Crossovers Views: 8853 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers and make no money on this.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Better Halves
A Transformers fan fiction
By Sefiru
Summary: (G1, TFA) a space bridge experiment ends up connecting to an unexpected place.
Disclaimer: I don't own it and I make no money. Ba weep gra na weep nini bong.
Pairing(s): Optimus Prime/Prowl, Optimus Prime/Prowl
Warnings: NC-17, stickyfic , cross-continuity, language, violenceShozurei : yup, stasis cuffs.
djsaj : Ultra Magnus will be appearing again, though mostly as an exposition device. ^^ You make a good point about the bot's reactions to Optimus – chapter 11 will go into a bit more detail on that. At the moment he's somewhat overshadowed by his own counterpart.
In this chapter: Optimus puts the stasis cuffs to a use they were never intended for.
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Chapter 9: Black and White, Red and Blue
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     Optimus swung his pede back and forth, testing the jury-rigged knee joint. It lacked internal sensors and wouldn't let him transform, but at least he could walk straight until Ratchet fabricated the parts. Another orbital cycle down; he'd started in the morning with a thorough debriefing, both verbally and with copious data track exchange. Optimus had come prepared, and was able to upload complete schematics and formulae for space bridges, which were a fledgling technology on this side. In return, he shamelessly copied anything he could find on electronic warfare, since theirs was generations ahead of what he had. And there was so much that he allocated a whole sub-channel to the purpose. He also got an autographed photo printout of the science team to give to Bulkhead.
      After that, he'd spent the few megacycles of data crunching needed to set up the Spark-comm with his counterpart. Then he was free to do what he had come across the rift for – namely, to follow Prime around and observe his working methods. His counterpart relied a great deal on the knowledge (External behavior modeling and prediction software was far too cumbersome a term for it), but there was also simple empathy for his crew, a decisive tone of voice … skills that Optimus was startled to realize that he had, too. Although he might need some practice to project that sense of effortless, self-evident authority. He could do it, now that he had seen how it was done. He knew that the other Autobots were watching him in turn, judging him, or trying to; he held himself as neutral as he could, so as not to interfere with his data. Besides, it was still Prime's command, and not even Optimus was going to step over that line without permission.
     Ratchet signed off on a data pad and told him he was free to go. The watch had changed while the medibot was working; the command deck was empty when he walked into it – except for the black-and-white figure standing on the deck, servos crossed over his chest plates. Pedes planted wide in a stance that mirrored his counterpart's.
     "I believe we have an appointment," Prowl said.
     "I take it this is a private conference?"
     "Naturally. We thought it was only fair; Prime had a night with your Prowl, so you get a shot with me." He cocked his head. "Unless you aren't up to it, that is."
     A smirk tugged at Optimus's lips. How totally Prowl. Blunt. Arrogant. And it turned his subsystems on. "Lead on, Prowl. You'll see how much I'm up to."
     "Hmm." The black-and-white bot turned and walked away; Optimus followed just far enough back to get a good view. Through the Spark link he heard, < He likes to be rubbed between the wings, and to be held down. Have fun. >
     The depth of his processor started spitting out knowledge … he could work with that. From the back, he could see that the interior panels of Prowl's doors were covered in soft vinyl. His finger sensors sparked with anticipation, but that was the least of what was raising his surface temperature. It wasn't a particular body type or paint scheme; it was attitude, behavior. And he'd had plenty of time lately to study Prowl's behavior.
     The quarters Prowl led him to were plain and utilitarian. The only things inside were the recharge berth, a row of storage cubes, and what seemed to be an artwork: a wall hanging composed of thin cables cunningly intertwined. As Optimus stepped over the threshold, the door slid shut and locked behind him. Prowl turned slowly and locked optics with him.
     The knowledge gave him just enough warning; when Prowl pounced he skimmed aside, caught his shoulder and spun him so that his wings hit the wall panels with a clang. Prowl smiled at him. "Not bad." He hooked Optimus's ankle with his pede and flipped their positions. "Have you done this before?"
     "A few times. Not recently." Not since Elita-1.
      "Well then." Prowl ran his servo down Optimus's chest, over his grille to his groin plates. His panel slid open automatically, spike and port, lubricant already loaded. Prowl's fingers curled around the jutting component, making him twitch. "Why else do we have interface sensors in our mouths?"
     He sank down and slid his lips over Optimus's spike. Optimus growled; a mouth had so many moving parts, compared to a port … he barely had time to notice this, and then Prowl's fingers pressed into his port. His voice rose into a howl. Both at once – he'd never even thought of interfacing that way. At the moment he couldn't think of why not. But he wasn't about to let Prowl control this entire encounter. He leaned forward and stroked a servo down the plating between Prowl's wing joints.
     Prowl's entire frame arched . His voice chip emitted a low groan, and his wings folded up and back slowly, butterfly-like. A remarkably organic reaction. His fingers went slack and Optimus gently detached himself. He smiled; like seemed to be a mild term for Prowl's response to the touch. He could use this. He nipped along the upper edge of Prowl's wings, which made him gasp and squirm.
      All his sensors were at maximum gain, watching for the fractional movement, whisper of sound, tiny magnetic shift that showed a response from prowl. The data went straight into his predicting engine; within cycles he knew he could play Prowl like a guitar. Prowl knew it, too, which only aroused him more.
     In a moment Prowl was going to try to get control back. He surged to his feet and seized Optimus's wrist. This time he threw Optimus onto the berth (with a loud clang as he landed) and climbed on after him. "So, you think you can get the better of me, young Optimus."
     "Oh, you won't believe what I can do," Optimus grinned. Prowl was testing him, he was sure of it now. The black-and-white bot had one servo on his shoulder to hold him down, while the other explored his side and aft. Optimus let himself enjoy the touch, but at the same time he was inching his servo closer to his torso storage compartment. A bit more … there. He moved; before Prowl knew what was happening, his wrists were locked together over Optimus's head and his body was held immobile. "Primus! What?"
      "Stasis cuffs. Do you like them?" Optimus ran a finger along Prowl's fender. The other bot tried to move with it, but couldn't; he moaned. "Now what was that about getting the better of you?"
     A burst of static was his only answer. He crawled out from under the frozen bot and straddled his legs. Now he was where he wanted to be. Stasis cuffs didn't hold a bot completely rigid; they could bend if they were pushed. So he pressed Prowl's shoulders to the berth and pushed his knees apart.
     Then he started on the wing roots again, and only the stasis cuffs stopped Prowl from coming completely unwound. His moans and static filled the small compartment, his systems running hotter for being unable to move. His wings shuddered, motors grinding and shaking.
     Optimus laughed in delight. Everything about this turned him on: the sight, the sounds, knowing that Prowl was unable to move and enjoying it. With the stasis cuffs in place, Prowl couldn't even open his panel for himself. And Optimus knew what Prowl would do virtually before he did it. He dug his fingers into the gaps between the wing joints and chest plates, knowing that it would make Prowl groan. As he worked his servos around to Prowl's front, his lips closed on the edge of his aft plate.
     Prowl shrieked – a pulse of magnetic energy showed that he was trying to lean against the touch. "Op – zzzt – Optimus …"
     "Hmmm?" Just a little more … he stroked the inside of Prowl's thigh, then brushed across his panel. Prowl howled static.
     "Please!"
     He wasn't going to get any more coherent than that. Optimus took mercy on him and slid his panel open. Interfacing lubricant dripped onto his fingers. He dialed down the cuffs to eighty percent strength; Prowl's wings flexed and shuddered. Optimus drew out his spike, teasing Prowl as Prowl had teased him. The result was more incoherent static from Prowl's vocalizer and grinding motors in all his joints. Optimus felt his plating heat up again. He leaned over Prowl's back and purred, "Now the only question is, which way do I want you? Inside, or outside?"
     He gave Prowl's spike a squeeze; big bots had big components. But Optimus had already made up his mind. He lined up with Prowl's port and slid into it, growling as his interface sensors lit up one by one. He clenched his servos around Prowl's wing roots for leverage and moved. Prowl trembled under him; his optics flickered off and on. Three clicks. Optimus leaned down again to nip along Prowl's crests. Two. He slid his servo along the joints of prowl's belly armor. One. Electric sparks crackled between them. Zero. Prowl screamed and shuddered into overload; with the knowledge that he'd predicted it to the click, Optimus went over behind him.
      His optics went dark for a moment as energy surged through his systems. Primus, he'd missed this. He didn't remember it being so good … maybe it hadn't been. He lay for a moment against Prowl's back, cooling fans humming, before pushing himself up. He opened the stasis cuffs and Prowl curled up, half transforming. He was clearly in a state of altered processing. Optimus was already slipping into recharge, but he felt a surge of pride at causing such a state.
***
Robo-bongage yay ! The "art" on Prowl's wall is a reference to my earlier ficlet , "Optimus prime's Hobby."
In the next chapter: Some unexpected visitors, and Optimus Prime (both of them) kick aft.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Better Halves