Rodimus Prime's backstruts ached with tension and fatigue. Such a day, one problem after another; the only thing that could be said about it was the Decepticons hadn't attacked, and even that wasn't completely a good thing, because if the Decepticons had attacked he could have at least left his desk. But no, there was incident after incident, issue after issue, and on top of it all, Ultra Magnus choosing today to refuse to let him leave his office until Rodimus' nigh-on-official backlog of paperwork was completely caught up. (Rodimus had been of the apparently-mistaken assumption that he was the Prime, and as such, outranked Ultra Magnus, but apparently that wasn't the case.)
It was thus nearly two joors after his shift officially ended when he stalked out of his office hoping to never see it again, and shutting the door in Magnus' face upon anticipating that Magnus was about to invite him back to his quarters for the night. It would probably be a wonderful time, Magnus having (at least!) a fully-developed sense that hard work ought to be well rewarded after its completion, but Rodimus had spent the last five joors being badgered and hounded and nagged by him in between everything else today, and was in no mood to be conducive to Magnus enjoying anything tonight.
He transformed, and was out of the base before he realized where he was going. He'd been thinking to visit Jazz, or Sideswipe, or Air Raid, or Bumblebee, or perhaps go back to his quarters and get himself off in front of a commsat link with Springer, but without completely knowing why he was headed for a certain canyon at the edge of the Autobots' security perimeter. He commed Galvatron on the way, the message warning and challenge in one: "If you're up for something a little different, I'm gonna be at the usual spot in a couple breems. If you're not, say so and I won't be."
Galvatron probably couldn't ignore a challenge if you paid him; he'd be there.
He was there when Rodimus arrived, glowing crimson optics and the highlight of moonlight on plating the only things separating him from the darkness. Confused and wary, looking around. "What manner of different, Prime?" he asked after a couple seconds. "I was expecting that you might have brought Springer with you."
"Nope, no Springer," Rodimus said, weariness from the long day seeping into his voice despite his best efforts; Galvatron's smirk told him the weakness had been noted, and he held up a hand.
"What difference, Prime?" Galvatron growled again. Rodimus smiled in the darkness.
"You said it." At Galvatron's confused look, he continued. "I'm the Prime. Ordained ruler of all Cybertron. Ultra Magnus has spent the whole day ignoring this, and I just spent two joors over shift doing paperwork." Was he imagining things, or was that the slightest hint of commiseration in Galvatron's expression? "I think I want the benefits of being in charge right now. I wanna call the shots, and be deferred to, and have someone seeing to my comfort and pleasure for awhile. I want someone obeying my commands. You up for that," he made the words challenging, "or shall I go back to base and find someone else to do it?"
Galvatron rumbled. "You want to be Prime, then, Prime?" He moved closer as he spoke.
Rodimus smiled, tight and tired. "And be served," he concluded. "And then, of course, such service would be well rewarded." With Galvatron, it never hurt to bribe.
"Oh, really?" The warlord's tone was interested, and Rodimus expelled air in a sigh of almost-pleasure.
"Humor me tonight, and I'll arrange a couple days' vacation for myself, and come spend a night or two at your base. I can be your prisoner, your slave, pretend to be an officer in your army, whatever you like. But right now, I want you to be my subordinate."
Galvatron purred, amused. "Very well, Rodimus." The Prime turned away as he approached, tapping the too-tight hydraulics in his shoulders and neck; Galvatron ran strong hands up his spinal strut, pressing lightly in a soft, deferent manner that seemed almost alien coming from the usually-dominant warlord, and the Autobot leader's cooling fans surprised him by kicking in almost instantly. He felt, rather than saw, Galvatron's amused smile as the warlord continued, getting into the role with surprising ease. "As you command," he whispered, voice thickening with desire. "Prime." Almost a prayer of devotion, as overstressed circuits sang under his careful touch and Rodimus sighed in sheer pleasure. Galvatron's lips light against the side of his jaw, by his audial, smiling as he delivered the final word. "Sir."
It was thus nearly two joors after his shift officially ended when he stalked out of his office hoping to never see it again, and shutting the door in Magnus' face upon anticipating that Magnus was about to invite him back to his quarters for the night. It would probably be a wonderful time, Magnus having (at least!) a fully-developed sense that hard work ought to be well rewarded after its completion, but Rodimus had spent the last five joors being badgered and hounded and nagged by him in between everything else today, and was in no mood to be conducive to Magnus enjoying anything tonight.
He transformed, and was out of the base before he realized where he was going. He'd been thinking to visit Jazz, or Sideswipe, or Air Raid, or Bumblebee, or perhaps go back to his quarters and get himself off in front of a commsat link with Springer, but without completely knowing why he was headed for a certain canyon at the edge of the Autobots' security perimeter. He commed Galvatron on the way, the message warning and challenge in one: "If you're up for something a little different, I'm gonna be at the usual spot in a couple breems. If you're not, say so and I won't be."
Galvatron probably couldn't ignore a challenge if you paid him; he'd be there.
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"Nope, no Springer," Rodimus said, weariness from the long day seeping into his voice despite his best efforts; Galvatron's smirk told him the weakness had been noted, and he held up a hand.
"What difference, Prime?" Galvatron growled again. Rodimus smiled in the darkness.
"You said it." At Galvatron's confused look, he continued. "I'm the Prime. Ordained ruler of all Cybertron. Ultra Magnus has spent the whole day ignoring this, and I just spent two joors over shift doing paperwork." Was he imagining things, or was that the slightest hint of commiseration in Galvatron's expression? "I think I want the benefits of being in charge right now. I wanna call the shots, and be deferred to, and have someone seeing to my comfort and pleasure for awhile. I want someone obeying my commands. You up for that," he made the words challenging, "or shall I go back to base and find someone else to do it?"
Galvatron rumbled. "You want to be Prime, then, Prime?" He moved closer as he spoke.
Rodimus smiled, tight and tired. "And be served," he concluded. "And then, of course, such service would be well rewarded." With Galvatron, it never hurt to bribe.
"Oh, really?" The warlord's tone was interested, and Rodimus expelled air in a sigh of almost-pleasure.
"Humor me tonight, and I'll arrange a couple days' vacation for myself, and come spend a night or two at your base. I can be your prisoner, your slave, pretend to be an officer in your army, whatever you like. But right now, I want you to be my subordinate."
Galvatron purred, amused. "Very well, Rodimus." The Prime turned away as he approached, tapping the too-tight hydraulics in his shoulders and neck; Galvatron ran strong hands up his spinal strut, pressing lightly in a soft, deferent manner that seemed almost alien coming from the usually-dominant warlord, and the Autobot leader's cooling fans surprised him by kicking in almost instantly. He felt, rather than saw, Galvatron's amused smile as the warlord continued, getting into the role with surprising ease. "As you command," he whispered, voice thickening with desire. "Prime." Almost a prayer of devotion, as overstressed circuits sang under his careful touch and Rodimus sighed in sheer pleasure. Galvatron's lips light against the side of his jaw, by his audial, smiling as he delivered the final word. "Sir."
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