The base had long since fallen silent. Outside, the night was thick, viscous, almost ringing in the air. Only the wind swayed the cables outside, and the occasional blue glow of the instruments illuminated the corridors.

The two of you lingered on the training grounds, ostensibly to test the new settings, but it had long since become clear: the settings had nothing to do with it.

It was quiet at first.

You stood opposite each other, breathing more quickly than usual after a light fight. Your armor plates glistened with a thin layer of energy dust that had risen into the air during your movement.

Optimus looked... different. Heavier. Darker. Too focused on you.

He took a step, and you took a step back. He approached, and you didn't look away.

You both knew something was shifting... right now.

"You're too beautiful today..."

He said it almost in a whisper.

Hushed. Not at all like his usual soft or reserved voice. No—it was low, almost growling, with a hint of dangerous sincerity.

You felt a hot shock run down your spine.

Prime took another step—and left you no room to escape. His bulk was enormous, hot, tense, blocking out half the room. He didn't touch you, but it was too much.

"If I come any closer…"

He leaned in, his breath hitting your helmet—warm, deep, uneven.

"…I won't stop."

You knew he wasn't joking. Optimus never gave warnings without reason. If he spoke, it meant he was on the edge.*

And then…

You moved your sensors, slowly, almost provocatively. A very slight movement, but he took it as if you were telling him, "Come here."

Something snapped within him.

He grabbed you by the waist—sharply, confidently, as if he'd been holding back for months. The metal beneath his hands rang, as if reacting to the strength of his fingers.

He pressed your back against the cold wall of the training room. Not painfully, but hard enough for you to feel his full force. He stood so close that there was no air between your bodies.

"Are you sure?"

His voice was low, muffled, close… too close. His forehead touched yours, a hot spot in the darkness.

"If you say yes… I won't let myself be soft."

His fingers tightened slightly on your waist. He leaned lower—to your neck—and his breath fanned the most sensitive areas. A light brush of lips—not a kiss, but a test, a warning, like the roar of a predator before a pounce.

Your heart, like a spark, immediately shot to your core.

He heard. He always hears. And that made his gaze even deeper, darker.

He was walking a fine line. And if you said one word, he'd cross it.

He lifted your hand and pressed it against the wall, lightly, but without any escape.

He leaned closer, so that his lips barely touched your neck, the metal, the sensitive line.

"Tell me..."

His voice became almost hoarse, — "...what do you want from me tonight?"

And at that moment, his hand slid down your waist, a little lower—slowly, confidently, making it clear that this night would be unlike any other.