Chapter Text
It was a relief that Starscream had decided to talk to Thaumaturge Sunstorm instead of continuing to flirt. The Seeker was an expert tease and taking their pretense as a challenge, something Optimus hadn't anticipated. He wouldn't attest Starscream's way of interacting with others a lack of decorum, as Tracks had, though maybe a lack of sensitivity. Starscream seemed to delight in being brash, too.
Ironhide already didn't like it, and the Primal Palace's Master of Protocol would possibly quit once they realized Optimus very much was hoping to have Starscream as a permanent plus one, including for diplomatic events.
A quick glance showed him that Starscream and his batch brother were still talking, both seeming relaxed. Their conflict had apparently been settled in favor of catching up. Just then, Starscream looked up and graced Optimus with a small, honest smile. Sheer beauty and joy hit Optimus almost like a hammer to the spark chamber.
“Are you alright?” asked the Vosian undersecretary of cultural affairs he was talking to.
“Oh, yes, thank you. It's just—” Optimus fumbled for an excuse.
The undersecretary laughed. “Oh, don't worry. I understand. The entire two-delta batch is exceedingly hm, everything. The best looking tetrajets with the highest rate of outlier sparks, and most of them with talent and aspirations far beyond their intended positions. And it seems you've managed to catch the attention of one of the more eccentric ones.”
“Um.” Optimus refrained from ducking his head although he wanted to do so. Or maybe vanish from sheer embarrassment. But at least Vos didn't seem to harbor much prejudice against cold casts, compared to other polities. Possibly because the rest of Cybertron cared very little for flight frames no matter their way of creation.
“Well, you could probably do worse than a batchmate of a Thaumaturge. I'll leave you to his tender mercies. Or his trine's, if you're lucky. Have a good night.” The undersecretary turned and grabbed another bot's arm, effectively derailing the stranger's trajectory towards Optimus. It also derailed Optimus's try to ask about the insinuation about the trine. Did Seekers regularly engage in foursomes? Or bring their friends for interfacing? It hadn't sounded like Starscream was regularly merging sparks with his trine, but they seemed awfully close.
Slightly confused, Optimus decided to heed the advice and slunk off towards the wall where Starscream was waiting.
Sure enough, the Seeker had been watching. Optimus's comm pinged from an incoming call.
“I see you've managed to ditch the fanbots.” He sounded half gleeful, half sultry. The undersecretary's odd comment would have to wait.
“For now.” Optimus glanced at the room. People were milling about still, but he hadn't been spotted as unoccupied yet. Obviously everyone who'd been vying for his attention had been satisfied or scared off. And for once it wasn't his job to work the crowd and rustle up donations. “I dare say the party is winding down, at least where I am concerned.” He paused, because he'd never arranged to have sex this blatantly before. “Will you let Chromia take you to our transport? I suspect I'll be another few breems. Primes can't just slink out.”
Starscream smiled at him. “Of course,” he said via comm and winked, for good measure.
Despite the flirting, Optimus still couldn't quite believe this exquisite creature wanted to, well, nibble on him in any capacity. He smiled back and proceeded to call Chromia.
As interminable as the leave-taking had seemed, it was less excruciating than the shuttle ride to their accommodations. There was the staff for the unsparked transport, Optimus's security detail, and Starscream, sitting on the bench next to him, bravado gone and field carefully retracted. Anyway, there wasn't much to say out loud, and when Optimus tried to comm Starscream, he was met with, “Later, please.”
Later was two more breems to reach the Winglord's Palace and another walking to the guest suite, until they were left in the lavishly appointed parlor, finally alone.
Someone had placed an offering of treats on the conversation table, and Starscream sank down onto the sofa with a sigh just to snatch up one of the mini oilcakes. Optimus, for lack of something better to do, took a chair and helped himself to a corundum chew.
Starscream swallowed audibly. “You know, when they say 'walk of awkward', they usually mean the morning after the exploits, not the time leading up to them.”
“I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I'd like to avoid those exact circ*mstances again, too.”
Starscream chuckled. “Look at us. Making plans for the next time before even having kissed properly.”
Optimus brushed some imaginary crumbs off his fingers, rose and held out his hand for Starscream. “That is a situation easily remedied, I hope?”, he rumbled.
Starscream took his hand and let himself be pulled close. For a klik, he moved in to nuzzle at Optimus's cheek while allowing his field free. “Especially if you use that kind of voice on me.”
And then, Optimus was being kissed, a small peck and a few soft, exploring brushes of lip plates that nevertheless stalled his vents and zinged like lightning into his core. He tilted his head for better access, opened his mouth a little in invitation. Starscream took to it beautifully, raising his hands to hold on to Optimus's helm and caressing his finials while nibbling, sucking, and eventually using his glossa for further exploration.
Optimus held onto Starscream's surprisingly small waist and tried to give back as well as he could while his entire being tingled with want.
Eventually they stopped, fans roaring and static crackling between them.
“So,” Starscream said. “Before we take this to the berth. I don't know if you noticed, but I do have a thing for oral stimulation. On both ends.”
Oh, there was an idea. Optimus's engine revved. Was that answer enough?
“Hey.” Starscream looked at him, suddenly serious. “I take it you're amenable. But. Is there anything I should know?”
Optimus blinked to give himself time to ponder the question. “Nothing that I can think of. I don't particularly get port and cable play.” One of his exes had liked to have his medical uplink cable sucked. “But I'm game if you like it.”
Starscream wriggled his nose. “It's not a pressing concern. Anyhow. I'm actually willing to try most things, but I need to know if you're planning to restrain me.”
This was indeed more serious than the odd electrical discharge from a port not meant for them. “Alright. I wasn't going to, not with a new partner, but thank you for telling me.”
Starscream nodded and turned playful again. “So, as I did promise to eat you out, where's the berthroom?”
Optimus Prime really was something else. Rather silent, more prone to groan than to shout, but undeniably talented. Starscream held on to the finials and chanted a litany of “yes” while said Prime went down on his spark chamber. Optimus's field was languid and sated after a second surprise overload thanks to the Matrix, not offering all that much friction for Starscream's own. Electricity coiled in his body and made his sensors surge with static but it wasn't enough, a sweet, sweet torture.
“Optimus, dammit, more,” Starscream complained, only half meaning it.
Optimus bit into the upper gimbal and hummed, vocalizer directly above the spark chamber.
The energy crested and Starscream overloaded with a yelp, clinging to his lover.
For a breem they lay there, face to open chest, heat and smell of ozone slowly dissipating.
“Nice,” Starscream eventually murmured.
Optimus hummed an assent.
“I don't think I have another one in me,” Starscream confessed. Giving up after one overload and no merging? Not typical for a young mechanism. But then, both literature and medics warned about reduced stamina for at least a vorn after emergence.
“This is nice, too,” Optimus mumbled back. A beat. “And I don't think I can go again, either. I didn't know the Matrix could do that.”
“No adventurous partners?”, Starscream idly asked.
Optimus sighed. The exvent whispered over Starscream's spark and would have been exciting if here weren't so spent. “No partners, actually.”
Starscream caressed a finial in answer. Optimus being the person he was, he would be aware of power imbalances. He wouldn't flirt with strangers, all the while being subjected to propositions from people who might be in it less for the mech and more for the status. “I think I understand,” he eventually offered to the three vorn long dry spell. Not that his last five vorns pre-twins of tipsy to plastered one-night-stands were much better, connections-wise. People who were after a quickie usually didn't offer to hold you.
Optimus kissed the nearest bit of plating. “Interfacing history later, I think. Recharge now.” He adjusted his embrace of Starscream's hips. “Is this alright?”
Starscream closed up his chest plating, leaving the room in orange-hued dusk from the light pollution outside. He was being snuggled, not pinned. “It's very alright,” he concluded.
“Night, then,” Optimus said.
“Good night, Optimus.”
The light changed again as Optimus shuttered his optics.
Starscream continued to caress his helm and commed TC for another update. His poor trinemate could finally relax, too. Everything was very alright, after all.
Starscream woke to gray pre-dawn light and movement.
“Urgh,” he complained. It was definitely too early to be awake.
“Sorry,” Optimus whispered and squeezed his middle. “Jet lag. I usually wake up in the small groons for a bit.”
“Hrmm.” Starscream wanted at least two more groons of sleep. The twins usually woke around eight, after all, and he'd planned to be home by then, but not at slagging four eight.
“The Winglord expects me for breakfast at nine zero.”
Starscream had no idea why he would be told about that. “So reset your alarm and try to sleep some more despite geography.”
“Hm-hmm.”
The field accompanying the sound was decidedly not sleepy and more raunchy. And really, there was no telling when they could 'face again. Optimus needed to meet the twins soon, too, because Starscream absolutely wanted to know whether his not-yet-intended got along with his offspring before deciding about said intentions. The trine could be talked into almost everything, after that.
A merge to tide him over sounded rather reasonable, all in all. “Come here,” he murmured.
Optimus moved in for a lazy, lingering kiss.
Starscream let his armor slide open and Optimus didn't need to be asked twice. They sank into each other with more warmth than heat, Optimus quelling his impatience so not only immediate emotions shone through, but some of his general personality, too, all his patience, determination, inquisitiveness, sense of duty and a deep potential for solidarity and rage on behalf of the less privileged.
Whatever Optimus gleaned from Starscream, he apparently liked what he felt, as the sense of welcoming got… deeper, for lack of a better word.
It wasn't an experience Starscream had had before. They basked in each other's light and affection for a long time before overload washed over them, like sliding into an oil pool with the perfect temperature, caressed from outside and within.
After a breem, Optimus lifted off and made Starscream move so he lay on Optimus's chest.
“I've reset the alarm,” Optimus told him after a kiss to his helm. “Though I wouldn't mind staying in berth for a day or two.”
Starscream checked his own alarm, seven five groons so he'd have time for a kiss goodbye and for flying home before his bitlets woke. “Not until the twins are older,” he decided. As nice as it was not to have them underfoot for date night, he had the nagging feeling he'd start to miss them sooner rather than later. In fact, if he thought too closely about it, he already felt a little tug towards home. He'd never spent an entire night away from them before.
Optimus adjusted his hold and powered off his optics. “Something to look forward to, then.”
Oh, this was lovely to hear. However, Starscream chose recharge in favor of missing his bitlets or a discussion about a future they both seemed to agree on.
It was decidedly before his alarm was due to wake him when Optimus groaned and—was that someone knocking on the door?
“Some emergency,” Optimus grumbled and dislodged Starscream to sit. Despite the less than ideal circ*mstances, it was kind of sexy that Optimus had strength enough to effortlessly lift Starscream's ten metric tons.
“On my way,” the Prime called and stomped off to confront whoever was outside.
The door slid shut to raised voices. Starscream contemplated using one of the very nice pillows to muffle the noise further. It was probably uncharitable—emergencies meant people in danger, after all, so one shouldn't complain about a minor inconvenience.
Before he could come to a conclusion, the door opened again.
“Starscream?” Optimus had his field retracted and sounded hesitant.
“Yes?”
“We, um, need you out here.”
“What?” Starscream sat up. Optimus seemed more embarrassed than panicked, and the trine would have called if there was trouble. “Why?”
“There's been a slight mishap with the media.”
The information value of that sentence was only slightly higher than zero. “And that is my problem how?”
“Would you please come out here so my staff can explain?”
Oh well, apparently the universe had no interest in letting Starscream catch another groon of recharge. He sniffed but rose to join Optimus and two other mecha in the parlor. One was a frazzled looking Seeker, a captain in the Winglord's guard, from the insignia. The other was a black and white Praxian who seemed way too awake and composed for the time of orn.
“This is Captain Ice Storm and Prowl, my chief of security” Optimus took it upon himself to make introductions. “Ice Storm, Prowl, this is Starscream.”
Starscream nodded at their polite greetings. Really. He and Optimus hadn't even had the chance to polish up and erase the traces of last night's lovemaking. Not that Optimus suffered from too many scratches, so maybe Starscream was equally lucky.
“Good morning. Now, what is this about?”
There were leftover treats. Before anyone could speak, Starscream snagged a handful. His processor needed the boost.
“I'm afraid not only were you photographed talking to Optimus Prime, the reporter also caught your name”, Ice Storm said. “It hit the news cycle early this morning.”
It was frelling early morning. Nevertheless, Starscream let Prowl hand him a datapad instead of using his internal comm to look up whatever slagfest the media had produced.
At five zero groons, when the first commuters would be looking into news to buy: Prime's new beau! So maybe the flirting had been even more obvious than Starscream had aimed for. The pair of them in the picture certainly seemed quite lost in each other's optics. Less amusing was a picture of Starscream boarding the same transport as Optimus. The transport was followed discreetly. We can tell our readers that the shuttle went straight to the Winglord's Palace and did not stop anywhere to let off the mystery mech. Our research team is now hard at work for you. So stay tuned with a subscription for more information about the jet who caught Prime's optics!
Walk of awkward didn't cut it anymore, and it only got worse. Prime's Date: Inside Scoop! had hit the headlines five breems ago at six one groons. Starscream – acquitted of murder charge six vorns ago! (how the Pit had they come up with that?) – single parent to grounder twins! (thank you, Vosian prejudices). Any grounder media would probably be even more judgmental about the bitlets having no known sire and about Starscream being cast cold. Flipping through more headlines, the pundits indeed had started spewing their acid about the few things they did know. Starscream certainly was a more controversial choice than a Senator.
While Starscream had had worse said about him during the alleged murder charge acquittal, something about this struck him as off. “I wager this isn't the extent of the bad news.”
Ice Storm nodded. “You'd be correct. The Palace publicists have been fielding calls about you for half a groon, and we have more reporters than usual spying on us from neighboring buildings. I've sent an Enforcer patrol to your place of residence, and there are a few journalists camped out each at ground level and on the rooftop landing area. We're currently looking into the leak.”
The bitlets. Slag the orbital watchtower. The twins didn't deserve to be caught up in this mess. Not at this point of the not-yet-relationship. And neither did his trine. Starscream sank onto the nearest seat.
Optimus was next to him in a instant, a hand on his shoulder. Starscream leaned into the touch, useless as it was.
Scrap, he had to pull himself together and discuss solutions. “My trine is currently staying in my hab as babysitters.”
Ice Storm nodded. “There's a few ideas how we can handle this, depending on a number of things.”
Starscream motioned at him to go on.
“We can issue a restraining order on behalf of the other residents in your building. It won't keep anyone from accosting you in your place of work or elsewhere, but it's usually a workable solution for mecha who are suspected to have affairs with the Winglord. The interest usually tapers off after a decaorn.”
Needless to point out it was for affairs, not for whatever Optimus and Starscream were doing. Hoping to do. Ice Storm seemingly realized the same thing as he stopped to consider their respective poses.
“There's always witness protection, of course. Or, well, you seem to know each other better than the news outlets think? Why not speed up the plans to move in together?”
Prowl's sensory panels twitched while Optimus's hand on Starscream's shoulder tightened. None of them bothered to correct Ice Storm's assumption.
Starscream looked up at his whatever he was. “I— can we discuss this in private?”
