As one, Elita and Magnus winced. Not just because of the... hesitant quality of the consent, but for the implications what issues it had all been about. They all had that little problem, they had to admit, but it never mattered before. They were each the only ones they'd trust such a thing with, but since they all had those issues...
A few minutes of silence descended as Elita and Magnus sat close, merely hugging and hands lazily trailing in slow, full strokes at Optimus' sides.
"At this moment, I suppose wether he actually had to or not might matter less than the fact that you were willing to give that... hesitation. He told us not to go anywhere, you know." Elita shook her helm slowly, uncertain even with the facts they did have, what to make of it all.
Optimus was angry, but she was relieved to know it hadn't been full-tilt non consensual.
"That being what he did. What are you going to do about it?" Magnus rumbled, and Elita huffed, shaking her helm again. While she could agree with the sentiment, unless Optimus was in the right frame of mind, discussing something as delicate as "revenge" right now was tricky business.
---
Only the fact that Megatron was sitting by the cool air vent was making sure he wasn't overheating and simply shutting down. He'd done that mistake once and nearly killed himself... or it would at least have resulted in severe processor damage if he'd not been found and dragged out.
Nowadays, Megatron knew to sit by the vent that blew cold air into any washracks he was in when he he had it spraying hot air in. Technically this was supposed to be the drying part, but the heat was condenscing and leaving steam... It was pleasant.
If technically dangerous.
His free hand digging in into the floor to give something to press into, to hold onto, the hand he had in his open spark chamber was having its heel ground into the violently spitting spark.
Long, glowing trails of charged lightnig flickered out from between his fingers as his spark heaved underneath the black metal and he stroked his thumb around the rim and over the opening of the port at the top.
Squeezing his spark, charge jumping up, the delicate circuitry around his spark chamber filled... and then lashed out, washing through him in a wave of hot whiteout, and it took longer than it should due for his struggling frame to bring his core temperature down to something reasonable due to the ambient heat in the surroundings.
It wasn't enough.
Hand trembling, Megatron trailed it down to the two ports beneath his spark chamber instead while his other hand left the floor to slide towards his thighs.
It just wasn't enough, even if it was lessening the charge, which he dearly needed to do.
no subject
A few minutes of silence descended as Elita and Magnus sat close, merely hugging and hands lazily trailing in slow, full strokes at Optimus' sides.
"At this moment, I suppose wether he actually had to or not might matter less than the fact that you were willing to give that... hesitation. He told us not to go anywhere, you know." Elita shook her helm slowly, uncertain even with the facts they did have, what to make of it all.
Optimus was angry, but she was relieved to know it hadn't been full-tilt non consensual.
"That being what he did. What are you going to do about it?" Magnus rumbled, and Elita huffed, shaking her helm again. While she could agree with the sentiment, unless Optimus was in the right frame of mind, discussing something as delicate as "revenge" right now was tricky business.
---
Only the fact that Megatron was sitting by the cool air vent was making sure he wasn't overheating and simply shutting down. He'd done that mistake once and nearly killed himself... or it would at least have resulted in severe processor damage if he'd not been found and dragged out.
Nowadays, Megatron knew to sit by the vent that blew cold air into any washracks he was in when he he had it spraying hot air in. Technically this was supposed to be the drying part, but the heat was condenscing and leaving steam... It was pleasant.
If technically dangerous.
His free hand digging in into the floor to give something to press into, to hold onto, the hand he had in his open spark chamber was having its heel ground into the violently spitting spark.
Long, glowing trails of charged lightnig flickered out from between his fingers as his spark heaved underneath the black metal and he stroked his thumb around the rim and over the opening of the port at the top.
Squeezing his spark, charge jumping up, the delicate circuitry around his spark chamber filled... and then lashed out, washing through him in a wave of hot whiteout, and it took longer than it should due for his struggling frame to bring his core temperature down to something reasonable due to the ambient heat in the surroundings.
It wasn't enough.
Hand trembling, Megatron trailed it down to the two ports beneath his spark chamber instead while his other hand left the floor to slide towards his thighs.
It just wasn't enough, even if it was lessening the charge, which he dearly needed to do.