The base was quiet, almost too quiet—just the low hum of the generators and Bumblebee's occasional footsteps somewhere in the hallway.

You stood leaning against the railing and watched as Optimus approached. He walked... as if after a mission. Slowly. A little frowning. His gaze was clouded, but not from fatigue - from something he was barely hiding.

He stopped right in front of you, his enormous shadow blocking out all light.

"You were...unusually brave today."

You wanted to reply, but he suddenly wrapped his arms around your hips—as if it were completely natural—and lifted you up without the slightest effort. You gasped, finding yourself in his arms, and he leaned closer, slowly, like a predator who knows his prey won't go anywhere. His lips touched yours, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened—hotter, more insistent than usual. You felt him holding you tighter.

And at the climax—a click.

His combat mask activated with a soft metallic click.

You froze.

"Optimus... take it off."

He froze too, as if stunned by his own systems.

"I can't. Not now."

His voice was muffled, muffled by the mask.

You frowned—not angrily, but more like... offended. Defiantly.

"Why?"

He tried to look away, but you abruptly grabbed his head with your hands, forcing him to look straight at you.

"I can't."

And then—it was as if something exploded inside.

You grabbed his head with both hands, pulled him in sharply, almost painfully, and kissed him again, but not softly. It was as if you wanted to break the distance between you.

He staggered back, barely able to keep his balance—your jerk was so sudden. And you knew he wouldn't push you away. He could withstand anything.

You bit harder.

He squeezed your waist so hard that the air rushed out of your chest.

You felt the mask: metal, cold—right under your palms. And then—without thinking, without hesitation—you yanked it down.

With a crunch, with the resistance of mechanisms, with a dull metallic grinding.

Optimus gasped—not from pain, but from absolute shock—as the mask tore off.

Your kiss grew fiercer. You didn't give him a second to recover. You pressed yourself so tightly that he couldn't resist and pinned you against the wall, trying to stop the hurricane you'd unleashed.

And someone's teeth grazed his lower jaw—and he didn't even try to push you away.

An hour and a half later.

Ratchet almost dropped his instrument when he saw the state Prime was in as he stumbled into the medlab—and you slowly stepped out from behind his shoulder.

Optimus was covered in scratches. The teeth marks were clear, yours—all the way down to the cheekbones. Thin streaks of energy leakage. And where the mask had once been, broken latches protruded.

Ratchet rolled his optics so far back he could almost see his own memories. "I... I don't even know where to begin."

You crossed your arms, not feeling a shred of guilt. "Start with the fact that the mask activated for no reason."

Optimus sat down on the platform, looking... surprisingly calm. And very, very battered.

Ratchet poked the scanner under his chin: "And you, apparently, decided to help him deactivate it with his teeth?"

You snorted: "That's none of your business."

Ratchet turned to you so abruptly that even Optimus raised his head slightly.

"NOT MINE?! That's the face of a PRIME! The Supreme Commander! What will the enemy think in battle when they see him scratched, bitten, and with his mask torn off?!"

You didn't flinch.

"The enemy will think it's best not to mess with me."

Ratchet nearly choked with indignation.

"Y/N! The mask activated itself! Without a fight! That's NOT NORMAL! It's supposed to activate ONLY under threat! Or..."

He turned to Prime.

Optimus looked at you—softly. His eyes were tired, but deeply warm.

"...or under too strong an emotional impulse."

Ratchet stopped.

You blinked.

"Emotional...?"

Optimus paused. And then quietly, almost hoarsely, said:

"You were my threat."