Work Text:
Starscream is pragmatic. A very core tenet to her methodology is a risk and reward system — a juggling act to see if all her planning and conspiring and *lying* will pay out in the end.
Her luck with that has been poor lately. Her methods aren’t exactly foolproof — not due to any fault of her own, no, but because one, particular fool, has been…
She can’t think of the word, not in the moment. It’s ridiculous, how her processor has stuttered and fizzled out just because of a few well-timed touches of Optimus’ dermas on her frame.
Starscream is, *normally*, pragmatic. She likes to think she is. It’s hard to feel any kind of way besides *burning* when she’s with him, and she thinks she may die from it.
“You’re crushing my wings,” she complained, breathless. Starscream tilted her helm, optics briefly shuttering closed in an attempt to compose herself.
Optimus let out a puff of steam. The sheer amount of heat the mech’s body has generated must’ve raised the temperature of his habsuite by at least a few degrees. He adjusted, raising himself up a bit on his arms.
“Sorry,” he murmured, and the rasp of his already deep voice made her shiver.
“You should be,” she groused, but she can’t muster any real bite to the words.
Optimus laughed, but it’s a short sound. His large servos ghosted over her sides, thumbs pressing lightly to the crimson of her chassis before pushing a little harder, observing how the metal yielded ever so slightly to the pressure. She groaned, feeling more heat gather just under her armor. “What are you—?”
“You polished.”
“Excuse me?”
Optimus regarded her for a moment, kept her pinned under both his gave and his one, large servo. “You’ve been polishing before you visit me lately.”
“So?” Starscream retorted, faceplate burning. “I’m sorry you Autobots seem to not understand the *importance* of being presentable.”
Another deep chuckle. “I thought you didn’t care about what I thought?”
“Mildly,” she huffed, her own servos closing around his wrist as she looked up at him, servos half-open. “I only *mildly* care what you think.”
“Hm.” Optimus leaned back down, kept her pressed to the berth with his servo. He held her fast, prevented her from squirming away, but allowed her just enough room to adjust when needed.
“Since you *mildly* care what I think,” he murmured against her intake, barely audible with how softly he spoke to her, like she deserved it or something. “Stay tonight.”
“What?” Starscream pulled away, gasping for air. “That’s a terrible idea. What if—“
“Please.” Is he *begging*? Maybe when this first started, she’d be gleeful, but now…
“Just for the night,” Optimus insisted, his other servo raising to cup her faceplate. She tensed slightly under the touch. “I won’t ask again.”
“You’re insistent,” she huffed. “Are you always this clingy when you bring a mech to your berth?”
“Just you.”
Starscream nearly short-circuited. Just her, huh?
“… I still think it’s a terrible idea,” she mumbled, servos curling on his shoulders. Optimus wasted no time in ducking back down, pressed his dermas back to hers with a new sort of fervor.
She gripped his armor, a stilted sort of noise leaving her as his weight came bearing down on her once more. She didn’t mind it this time, her legs wrapping on his hip plating as he adjusted them both.
“‘S always you,” he mumbled then, then bit down on her derma before she could respond. “I—“
Optimus took a breath. Starscream felt a whimper bubble up in her vocalized as he pressed a slightly rougher kiss to her neck, almost like he was frustrated with his own reluctance, his own cowardice.
“I love you,” he murmured against her cheek. “I do, Star. Please, just —“
A choked sound left her. Starscream’s servos scrambled, a grabbing for his helm to drag him back to kissing her.
“You’re a complete fool,” she hissed.
“I know.”
“I love you too,” she said then.
Optimus blinked, taken aback. “You—?”
“Are a complete fool,” she repeated, locking her legs then. The Prime groaned, like he’d been struck, and she took immense satisfaction in reducing him to this. She swore she felt him trembling. “A complete fool with a soft spark to match.”
Optimus let out a rough vent, nodding.
“… Primus, I hate that I like that,” she scoffed, more to herself than anything. “You’re lucky. I should’ve killed you the first time.”
“Very lucky,” he agreed absently, optics locked on her dermas.
Starscream was… well, she was a lot of things. A coward, for one. A manipulative, self-absorbed seeker who undoubtedly find herself on the wrong end of some bot’s cannon. But now… right now, hidden away in a cramped habsuite, all she wanted was to be with Optimus. For better, or for worse.