Work Text:
Title:
Universe: G1
Pairing: Prowl/Optimus
Rating: M
Content Advisory: light bondage, mild D/s, tactile overload
Prompt: Optimus/Prowl- Sacred trust
Notes: for the Nov. 11 round of weekly requests at tf_rare_pairing.
“Prowl.”
The tactician held his hand up for a moment of quiet so that he could finish reading the datapad in his hand, then looked up at the mech in his doorway. “Yes, Prime?”
“I… Prowl I need…”
“Shh.” Prowl stood up and came around the desk quickly. He crossed the room with sure, steady steps that ate the distance between them so that he could rest one hand on the taller mech’s facemask. “I understand. I have a few things to finish that can’t wait, though. Can you meet me in my quarters in an hour?”
Optimus nodded. “I think I can wait that long.”
“Then I’ll see you soon.” Prowl lifted himself on the tips of his feet, so that he could kiss the front of the other mech’s facemask. “Bring high grade, if you have any.”
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Optimus was kneeling on the floor in the middle of Prowl’s sitting room when he stepped inside. There were four cubes of high grade on the floor in front of the large mech, along with an impressive array of binding materials ranging from simple handcuffs to stasis inducing chains.
The tactician picked up the control box for the stasis chains and gave it an appraising look. “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad, sooner?”
“I didn’t realize it was,” the Prime answered softly. “Not until Ironhide…”
“Ironhide makes many foolish decisions that neither you nor I can be responsible for.” Prowl moved to Optimus’ side and tipped the larger mech’s chin up so that he was forced to look into the tactician’s optics. “But I know that you will always feel responsible.”
“Please, Prowl.” Optimus’ optics were pleading. “No more talking. Not right now.”
“No, I can see that would be detrimental.” The black and white mech bent down, setting the control box next to the Prime. “Do you need the stasis chains tonight, Optimus? Do you need me to take that much control from you?”
Optimus shook his head slightly, then hesitated before nodding instead. “Please?”
“All right.” Prowl hated to use the stasis chains, but sometimes they were the only way to bring the red and blue mech the relief he needed when his duties were too much.
He picked up the loose end of the chain and wrapped it around Optimus’ shoulders. The loose end was clipped into the rest of the chain with a small lock, simple enough to break if necessary but strong enough to hold the metal together as he worked. He continued wrapping the Prime once the lock was secured, forcing the large mech’s arms down against his sides and holding them securely in place. Optimus’ hands were secured against his hips and his legs were held bound tightly together at the thighs. Then, the tactician nudged the larger mech’s side until Optimus allowed him to topple him to the floor.
Once the Prime was settled, Prowl continued, with a looser wrap at the knees, unwilling to stress the joints after Ratchet had repaired them after their last fight with the Decepticons, and then continued down until Optimus’ feet were weighted down, but not secure enough to keep him from moving them a bit. Then he secured the second end with another of the fragile locks.
He wouldn’t move; the stasis generator would see to that.
“How do you feel?” Prowl asked, picking up the control box.
“A little better,” the Prime answered. “Safe, now that I’m with you.”
“Good. I’m going to activate the stasis field now.” The tactician waited a moment for Optimus to nod in acknowledgment. Then he thumbed the switch that activated the field.
Optimus tensed briefly as the field took hold, then sighed and relaxed on the floor.
“Optimus, are you all right?” Prowl activated his sensors and checked the Prime’s vitals.
The red and blue mech flashed his optics once in response before powering them down and leaving himself to the smaller mech’s whims.
“Good.” Prowl pressed a kiss to the other mech’s forehead. Then he picked up a cube of high grade. He took a few sips, savoring the taste of one of the vintages that Optimus’ station had once given him easy access to, and settled in to wait a bit.
Optimus would need a bit of space with his own thoughts before he was ready for Prowl. While he waited, he could set up a few things to speed the Prime’s recovery along.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Prowl watched an entire episode of one of the human crime dramas, and one of the animated shows Carly favored currently, before returning to Optimus. He had not left the room of course, and had kept his sensors active and trained on the larger mech to watch for signs of distress, but he had made sure that the Prime had no other contact or stimulation as he processed the emotional data clogging his processor.
He picked up the control box for the stasis chains and deactivated the field. Optimus sighed as his systems began responding to his processor’s commands again and onlined his optics to look at the tactician.
“It wasn’t enough.”
“I know.” Prowl knelt down next to him, laying a comforting hand against his face. “You needed to be aware of what we were doing, though.”
“I don’t… That’s not what I want.” Optimus looked away.
“I know you want nothing but an escape. But what you want and what you need aren’t always the same.” The tactician caressed the metal under his hand. “I’m going to help you. I promise.”
The Prime nodded, trusting the black and white mech.
“First, I’m going to take off these chains. They’ll be in my way. Then we are going to the wash racks and I am going to detail you.” Prowl unlocked the end of the chain at Optimus’ shoulders. “I will put the handcuffs on you for your shower, and you may not touch me or yourself.”
“Yes, sir.” Optimus relaxed at Prowl’s words, at the promise that he wouldn’t have to return to the world outside the tactician’s quarters or control over himself and the Autobots yet.
Prowl continued removing the chains, caressing and petting the red and blue plating below them as he went. Optimus squirmed as some of the touches crossed over erogenous zones or places that still embarrassed him, even after so many years together. When Prowl reached the larger mech’s feet, he left the last lock and simply slid the chain off them and onto the floor. He would worry about properly storing the chain and locks later, after Optimus’ needs were taken care of and the other mech was resting peacefully.
He pulled Optimus into a sitting position once the chains were off and kissed the mech’s facemask again. “When I am detailing you, you will need to remove this.”
Optimus tensed and nodded. He hated having the mask off, even if it was only when he was with Prowl. “Yes, sir.”
The tactician retrieved the handcuffs from the floor and gestured for Optimus to stand. “You may put it back on after we have had our fuel.”
“Yes, sir.” Optimus stood, then held out his arms for the cuffs. Prowl was concerned that the larger mech hadn’t protested leaving his mask off for so long, but he knew that Optimus would tell him his troubles once his processor sorted the jumble of emotional data stalling the rest of his programming. “Will we have the high grade later?”
“Only if you’re feeling better.” Prowl clamped the handcuffs around the Prime’s wrists. Then he put a hand on Optimus’ elbow and led him toward the wash rack.
The larger mech followed quietly, leaving as much control as he could in Prowl’s hands. If it were possible, Optimus would turn over his very motor functions to the black and white mech during these sessions. Prowl was humbled by being trusted with so very much power, but he also understood why Optimus had given it to him.
Someday, Prowl hoped, Optimus would not need him to free him from his rank and duties this way.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Prowl was determined to take his time once he started washing and detailing Optimus. The mech needed cared for desperately, in body as well as mind, and now was the perfect time to ensure that he received the attention his frame needed.
“Let me see your hands,” Prowl said, holding out one of his own.
Optimus held them out silently. The tactician held them, examining each carefully for dirt buildup and wear. There were more of both than he approved of, but nothing that would require a trip to the medbay. With a nod, he led the Prime to the small wash basin he kept for days when he didn’t have time or energy for a full trip through the wash rack. With sure hands, he pushed the large mech down into the chair he had set there earlier.
The red and blue mech watched with curious optics as he filled the basin with cleanser. “Prowl, what are you doing?”
“Remove your mask, Optimus. Then put your hands in the cleanser and soak them for five minutes.” The tactician retrieved a set of small scrubbers and precision tools. “Then I will scrub the dirt from them and perform some basic maintenance. Some mechs find the experience overwhelming, so we will proceed as slowly as you require.”
Obediently, Optimus retracted the mask and put his hands in the basin. “Yes, sir.”
Prowl removed the first of the cleaning brushes from their case. “When I’ve finished with your hands, I will do the same for your feet. Then we’ll get in the wash rack and I’ll clean the rest of your joints the same way.”
The large mech frowned. “That will take a long time.”
“Yes. We will take tomorrow off if necessary. I feel certain that Ratchet will give us a day of medical leave, if needed.” Prowl checked his own hands for wear and grime as they waited for Optimus’ to finish soaking. “If you would like, you may detail my hands tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” Optimus looked down at his hands where they rested in the basin.
“It would be your only duty,” The tactician assured him softly. “Your only focus would be ensuring that my maintenance was properly done. Would you like that, Optimus?”
Slowly, the Prime nodded, though he didn’t look up.
“Then I will call Ratchet and make the arrangements.” Prowl lifted one of Optimus’ hands out of the cleanser, then frowned. “I will need to remove the handcuffs, Optimus.”
“Yes, sir. I promise not to move.” The red and blue mech sounded utterly exhausted, and Prowl caught himself wondering when the last time he had recharged was. If Optimus was as exhausted as he sounded, they might not be enjoying that high grade for several hours.
“I know you won’t.” The black and white pulled the key to the handcuffs from his subspace and unlatched the left cuff. Then he cradled the Prime’s left hand in his and began cleaning.
Optimus tensed initially, but as Prowl scrubbed off the grime and grit he relaxed. He sighed as the first of the bare wires was stroked with the scrubber, and was trembling by the time Prowl had finished with only two fingers. His systems were running hot and his cooling fans were working at their maximum capacity. The large mech was certain he was on the verge of overload, and Prowl hadn’t even done anything that he would have considered arousing before today.
When Optimus looked up from the hand Prowl had cradled in his own, the tactician was smiling. “You may overload, Optimus. Repeatedly, if necessary. I will enjoy seeing it.”
“Yes, sir.” The Prime groaned as the black and white mech moved on to his next finger. He fought the buildup of charge for as long as possible, but as a drop of cleanser ran down newly cleaned wiring he lost the battle with a shout.
Prowl’s smile had widened when he looked back at the tactician. Shakily Optimus smiled back, though he wasn’t sure if he was genuinely feeling happier or if he was just feeling sated from the pleasure.
“Do you need me to wait before continuing?” the smaller mech asked.
“Just for a moment, sir. Thank you.” The red and blue mech resisted the urge to fall back in the chair he was resting against, as he had not been given permission to remove his right hand from the basin yet. “Will it always be this intense, when you detail my hands?”
“Very likely, unless you begin to preen like Tracks and Sunstreaker.” Prowl brushed his thumb across Optimus’ palm in a feather-soft gesture. “Your hands were built for labor, not for fine sensation. The sensors will most likely always overreact. But you make the most beautiful faces when they do.”
Embarrassment flooded Optimus’ processor and he looked away from the tactician’s soft smile. He had no idea how the Praxian could find him beautiful. “Thank you, sir.”
“You are welcome.” Prowl spread Optimus’ fingers back out and began cleaning again.
The Prime vented in cooling air as the simple touch of the brush against metal joints, even before the grime was removed, caused his interface system to fire on again.
He stopped counting his overloads after five.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Optimus was thoroughly exhausted after they stepped out of the wash rack. He barely responded as the towels wiped water off his frame or as Prowl placed the cuffs back on his wrists. He moved like a puppet as the tactician led him out of the room and he slumped into the chair at Prowl’s ancient dining table.
The Prime stared blankly as the Praxian laid a handful of concentrated energon gels in front of him. “You must eat at least three gels before you may recharge. If you recharge before then, I will wake you up and force fuel you.”
“Yes, sir.” Tiredly, the red and blue mech reached for a gel. After a moment of struggle, he picked one up and brought it to his mouth. Optimus fumbled the energon into his mouth and chewed only because his automatic systems took over for him.
Prowl frowned. “Optimus, when was the last time you recharged?”
“I… don’t know, sir.” The Prime obediently reached for a second gel, but he couldn’t force his fingers to close on it. “I can’t remember.”
“It has been too long.” The tactician picked up the gel Optimus had been trying to grab and raised it to the larger mech’s lips. Even exhausted, the other mech gave Prowl’s fingers a teasing lick as he took the energon from him. “You have to stop this. Do I need to write you a schedule and order you to adhere to it?”
“Will you?” Optimus opened his mouth for Prowl to deposit the third gel in it and chewed carefully when the tactician did so. “It might help.”
“Oh, Optimus.” The smaller mech shook his head and took the larger’s hands in his again. He tugged at Optimus until the Prime stood and began leading him to the recharge berth. “I am beginning to believe that you should just move into my quarters.”
“Your berth’s not comfy,” the red and blue mech slurred as he collapsed onto the slab. “Only like it if you’re in it too.”
“We will discuss this in the morning.” Prowl nudged the larger mech until Optimus scooted over enough to give him room. Then he removed the handcuffs so that he wouldn’t be damaged in his recharge. Once that was done, Prowl slid in behind Optimus and wrapped his arms around the Prime’s chest plates. “Rest well, my love.”
Optimus might have replied, but it came out as nothing more than a sigh as recharge claimed him.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
When Prowl woke from his own recharge, he was alone on the berth. He wasn’t alarmed; Optimus often woke early when they recharged in his room and the larger mech would not have left yet. Prowl had claim on the entirety of this day, and the Prime would abide by the rules they had set down vorns ago, barring an emergency.
He smiled when he saw the large mech kneeling at the foot of his berth, the Prime’s chest plates were spread slightly, and he could see the glow of the Matrix of Leadership shining faintly across Optimus’ plating. The faint blue light was a striking contrast to the Prime’s primary colors, highlighting his strong frame and sturdy plating. He watched silently, as Optimus completed his morning ritual.
Seeing Optimus communing with the Matrix assured Prowl that what he had done the night before had been enough, this time.
The Prime smiled when he finally looked up. “Thank you. I feel much better.”
“Good.” Prowl’s smile brightened. He loved seeing his Prime’s well-formed lips drawn up in a true smile. It was a thing of almost perfect beauty. “Have you fueled yet?”
“No. I knew better than to break that rule.”
“Good mech. I would hate to have to come up with a suitable punishment, when you still owe me a detailing.” Prowl slid off the end of the berth to land on Optimus’ lap. He reached up and wrapped his arms around the larger mech’s neck. The energy of the Matrix tingled across his chest plates as he kissed Optimus the way he had wanted to the night before.