Chapter Text
Minimus Ambus pressed the door chime for Rodimus’ habsuite and dropped his arm back to his side, feeling awkward and exposed in the middle of the long hallway.
At the moment, it was empty, but Minimus didn’t know how long it would stay that way. Not that he had anything to hide, not anymore - his secret was well and truly out now, to the crew (and the rest of Cybertron for that matter, too) and the time when he had lived in fear of being discovered for who - and what - he truly was had passed four million years ago. But still. He shifted uncomfortably.
Rodimus had ordered - no. Rodimus had requested Minimus’ presence that evening - asked with sparkling optics and that suggestive smile of his, the one that told Minimus exactly what sort of activities Rodimus had planned and set Minimus’ spark to pulsing with its promises - for him. The irreducible him.
...he supposed it was a ‘date’. He still wasn’t sure exactly how the word 'date' had wound up applying in any way to him or his life, but somehow it had managed. Rodimus had made it manage.
Not that Minimus had minded! In fact, he - alone in the corridor, Minimus cleared his intake self-consciously - he rather liked it. Quite a lot, actually. Rodimus was a very attractive mech by anyone's standards. Minimus had first noticed that back on Earth - right before the erstwhile Hot Rod had stolen his ship.
And that had made him a criminal, and that meant that, under the laws of the Tyrest Accord which every Ultra Magnus was sworn to obey, and by the personal code to which Ultra Magnus held himself, he was bound to pursue Hot Rod and arrest him for his crime. And a relationship between a criminal and the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord was completely out of the question.
(Somehow, though, the thought of Hot Rod in restraints had made it harder for Ultra Magnus to put the thought of him from his processor, and he couldn't understand why.)
And then the war was over. Cybertron itself had ended it and called them all home, and while that certainly wasn't absolution, not for any of them, it did mean that there were suddenly a lot more criminals in one place. And there were circumstances, extenuating ones. Ultra Magnus had struggled to put it into words, but underneath the armor and the unyielding adherence to the Autobot Code, Minimus Ambus had taken up the mantle of Duly Appointed Enforcer because he believed that with it he could do good. And arresting Rodimus didn't seem good. It didn't seem like it was right.
But he couldn't fit that vague sensation of what was good and right into any subsection of the Accord, and it had eaten at him, one offense piling on top of another until finally Ultra Magnus had turned Rodimus and the rest of the crew over to Chief Justice Tyrest.
The armor, it had turned out, was not the load hardest to bear. The guilt weighed far heavier.
The door to the captain's habsuite slid open, distracting Minimus from his brooding. Rodimus stood in the doorway, smiling down at him.
The cabin beyond the captain was dark, lit only by a handful of floating spheres of light scattered throughout the room. Off to the side, the table in front of the couch on which they'd spent - Minimus resisted the urge to clear his intakes again - many enjoyable evenings had been set with two cubes of gently shimmering energon. Minimus was certainly no expert - he couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything stronger than a weak energon spritzer - but the fuel's colors seemed much richer, more vibrant, than the watery pink of rations grade. The air smelled faintly of polish and wax, and Minimus breathed it in deeply. The smell was a good smell, a clean smell, and it eased some of that tension he found so hard to put down.
The polish had been put to good use on the 'bot standing in front of him. Rodimus practically gleamed. Minimus felt the air hitch in his intakes.
But he hardly had time to look. No sooner had the door slid shut behind him than Rodimus had dropped to his knees and pinned Minimus up against the door with a fervent kiss.
Rodimus, as it had turned out, was an excellent kisser. Minimus had struggled to come to that conclusion - not because Rodimus' kisses were in any way unsatisfactory (a shiver ran up his backstruts as Rodimus pressed in further - quite the opposite, in fact) but because Minimus had nothing to compare them to. He'd never permitted himself to get anywhere near this close to another mech before - and he and Rodimus had gotten very, very close.
When Minimus Ambus had first taken up the armor, Tyrest had laid out certain rules of behavior that were expected of the new Ultra Magnus. Love had not been directly addressed, but the Chief Justice had strongly hinted that his Duly Appointed Enforcer was not to involve himself in romance. Ultra Magnus was free to have acquaintances, of course. Contacts, in fact, were even encouraged - anything to increase the reach of the long arm of the Law. But friends were discouraged, and anything more...Tyrest had trailed off nd looked away, pursing his lips in distaste, apparently unwilling to sully himself with discussion of such a petty topic. But his meaning was clear - Ultra Magnus' duty was to the Law above all else, his loyalty to Tyrest and his Accord. Any distractions - any weaknesses in the armor or its bearer - were not to be tolerated.
If it had been lonely at times, Minimus had told himself it was more than made up for by the sense of purpose and meaning Tyrest and his Accord gave him, a purpose and meaning his life before had lacked. His duty was to bring order to a species in the midst of war and chaos, to enforce the Law where there otherwise was none. He mattered, and for that, any sacrifice was worth the cost.
That's what he'd told himself.
And then had come this ship, and this crew. This - this quest.
And this captain.
The captain in question was still kissing him, and Minimus had no desire to ask him to stop. He'd probably have struggled to find the words, even if he'd wanted to - Rodimus drove him out of his processor in more ways then one.
Minimus' lips parted, slightly dazed by the intensity of his captain's kiss, and Rodimus' engine let out a soft purr of contentment as he pressed himself closer. The sound vibrated through Minimus' frame, and Minimus felt himself go weak in the knees. But flame-colored hands curled gently around the curve of his tiny shoulders, supporting him, holding him in place. Those yellow fingers, usually so small compared to his, so clever, working their way into gaps in Magnus' armor to tease at the sensitive wires beneath - they were now bigger, thick and strong. If he wanted, Rodimus could completely encircle Minimus' waist with his hands.
Is this what it felt like for Rodimus when Magnus wore the armor? Strong hands possessing him, mastering him - strong hands that could put him wherever they liked, however they'd like, and keep him there for as long as they wanted? Strong hands that could do whatever they liked to him, while he, helpless to resist, could only take...?
Oh. Minimus could definitely get used to this.
With one last, lingering kiss, Rodimus leaned back. Minimus could feel the warm draft from his captain's fans, and a pleased tingle ran through his circuits. He wasn't the only one enjoying this encounter.
"Well," Rodimus whispered. "What do you think?"
"I - " Minimus managed. "I like it." Oh, did he ever.
"Mmm," Rodimus leaned back in again, smiling. "Me, too. I think it's great. In fact, I think I'd like some more."
Minimus relaxed into Rodimus' arms and let himself be kissed. He had gotten much better at reciprocating - the captain thought highly enough of his newfound skills to give Magnus a second Rodimus star for "kissing ability". (Magnus decided not to share that one with anyone.) But tonight Rodimus seemed to want to take the lead, and Minimus was more than happy to let him. He parted his lips even further, allowing Rodimus' tongue to push forward and brush against his. Minimus felt his optics spark at the contact and choked back a moan.
Minimus could have happily stayed that way forever, savoring the sensation of Rodimus' lips against his, but Rodimus, as he always did, soon got restless. His mouth wandered down to the cables of Minimus' neck, and Minimus leapt at the first gentle nip. Rodimus' hands stroked soothingly down his sides.
"What's - " Minimus attempted to regain some dignity, but Rodimus lapping at his throat was incredibly distracting, and Minimus' words came out in a strangled gasp. "What's for dinner?"
Rodimus pulled back just enough for Minimus to see his grin. His hand slid down to Minimus' hips as he leaned in to murmur in Minimus' ear.
"Oh, didn't I tell you? You are."
Minimus' legs gave out beneath him.