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Optimus looked down at the glistening molten gold-hued paint with not a small amount of trepidation, cautiously dipping a digit into it and hissing quietly through his vents at the tingling burning sensation the stuff sent through his arm. “Do you think this is safe?” he asked, the anxious lilt to his voice betraying what he assumed the answer would be. “We have other body paints somewhere we could try. My plating isn’t so accustomed to it, after all,” he said sheepishly.
Starscream looked up from what he was doing and narrowed his optics, crossing his arms defensively. “I am following every rule that your Council has demanded of this ceremony,” he said dryly. “This entire scene is playing out exactly as your culture says it should and I request only this one inclusion of my own tradition,” he pointed out, again, and Optimus had to admit he made a compelling argument.
The Seeker was startlingly persuasive; in any other possible situation, Optimus certainly wouldn’t be subjecting himself to what would likely be a very painful procedure for the purpose of public display. He wasn’t one for outward displays of status and power even when it didn’t require strange paint that burned.
“Very well,” the Prime sighed, acquiescing. “I appreciate you being patient and I apologize for not being more accommodating,” he said, sitting down in the small-sofa like chair Starscream had prepared for the application of the body paint.
“Stop that,” Starscream said, picking up the canister of paint and bringing it over to the couch, sitting beside Optimus. “There is nothing to apologize for,” he insisted, brushing at the Prime’s plating to clear it of any dust or debris, only momentarily musing on the intimacy of the gesture.
Optimus resisted the urge to apologize again, feeling oddly self-conscious. This certainly wasn’t the first time he’d felt this exposed with Starscream, though it was the first time in such a … unique context. “I should be more excited to participate in one of your traditions,” he said, trying not to tense up as Starscream applied some of the paint to his digits, rubbing it between his thumb and index fingers before bringing it over to the Prime’s plating.
Starscream chuckled, hovering his hand over Optimus’s shoulder. “I understand your reluctance,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll start with your shoulder armor because it’s thick and you can tell me if it burns,” he explained, rubbing what he hoped was a soothing hand along the Prime’s back with his paint-free hand.
Optimus nodded and shrugged his shoulders back, forcing himself to relax. He gasped as Starscream’s digit touched down against his armor, dragging the warm and tingling paint in a delicate gesture against his plating with a gentle swiping motion. The Seeker began drawing down along Optimus’s shoulder and then down his back before having to re-apply paint to his fingers.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, and Optimus shook his helm.
In truth, it really did not hurt. The paint didn’t burn as much as it did right out of the canister; rather, it was warm and left a buzzing sensation echoing throughout Optimus’s energy field, not entirely unlike an electric charge or arousal. He fleetingly thought that might be Starscream’s intention after all, but he hardly had the time to think more on that theory before there was more paint being applied along his second shoulder, leaving him gasping with the renewed sensation.
Optimus turned his helm to catch a glance at what Starscream was drawing and was surprised to see that the symbols were Vosian glyphs. He couldn’t understand them but the Seeker’s concentration made it evident that they were not purely decorative. “What do they say?” he asked, surprised by how thick his voice sounded.
Starscream paused in his writing and looked up to grin at Optimus, sending what was definitely an aroused electrical pulse through his system. The appeal of this tradition was readily evident at this point. “I can’t tell you now,” the Seeker replied, finishing the glyph he’d been working on before he paused. “I can show you, one by one, after the ceremony,” he said, dipping his fingers into the paint again. “The plating around each glyph will be particularly responsive,” he murmured, brushing a gentle caress around one of the adorned areas to demonstrate this fact.
A full body shiver cycled through Optimus’s frame. “Ah,” he said, voice shaking. “I see now why we do this /before/ the ceremony,” he said, chuckling. “If we did it after, it might be a little overwhelming.”
“A little,” Starscream echoed, chuckling. “Here, let me finish,” he said, voice low as he traced a new glyph along the beginnings of Optimus’s shoulder blade, painting along the thick cabling that connected the Prime’s arms to the rest of his frame. “Then I can help you write yours on my frame,” he murmured, voice lilting upwards into a promise.
Optimus’s optics widened; he hadn’t expected /that/. “I would be honored to,” he hummed, optics dimming again as he relaxed in Starscream’s hands, the warm paint lulling his energy field into a calming electrical buzz. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to endure this and still be able to restrain himself throughout the public bonding ceremony, but he wasn’t worried about that at the moment. For now, he was enjoying his intended’s surprisingly pleasant tradition, amused that he had been worried about something so harmless.