Archive of Our Own

"So, can I tie you up?" Springer asked Emirate Xaaron hopefully. Xaaron was just back from talking to the Altihex Autobots, trying to see if they could spare any aid for Deltaran. Being a Transformer meant living in an illusion of seamless solidity that could shift in an instant. Unicron changed everything. The Decepticons were the hardest hit by the Chaos-Bringer, and Rodimus Prime capitalised on that, bringing Cybertron back under Autobot control for the first time in millions of years. Now they had to keep it that way, which the Decepticons sure were not too keen on allowing. Springer knew that Emirate Xaaron could not spare him much time, but everyone had to relax sometime!

Emirate Xaaron sighed and crossed his arms loosely. He looked up and down the hallway, which was deserted; Springer had at least checked that much before asking! Then Xaaron said, "Is this some unusually obtuse way of asking for some of my time?"

"What? No, I didn't mean like the expression. I mean, can I tie you up? I borrowed some of the restraints out of the interrogation room -" Springer started to explain.

Emirate Xaaron stared up at him like Springer was crazy but said, his voice deceptively reasonable, "Springer, why do you want to tie me up?"

Springer was honestly somewhat unclear on that point himself, so he admitted, "Because it's supposed to be fun? And then we do it. I was hoping you could explain it to me." He spread his hands open and looked at Xaaron optimistically.

Worryingly, Emirate Xaaron smiled. Springer liked to see Xaaron happy, but Impactor had taught him to be cautious of Xaaron smiling innocently or any other way. He said, "Ah. Bondage. We can discuss trying that if you'd like to experiment, but not in the hall and not with interrogation equipment. My quarters?" Xaaron leaned his body against Springer's and reached up to place a hand on his arm. He gazed up at Springer, looking distressingly adorable.

Springer fondly ran a finger down Emirate Xaaron's cheek and then followed him to his quarters. He sat down on one of mismatched chairs while Xaaron locked the door. Then Emirate Xaaron settled himself on Springer's lap, kneeling so that he could face Springer. They still could not see quite optic to optic, unless Xaaron sat up a bit, but it was close enough. Emirate Xaaron said, "I expected that you might want to couple, and I have no objections there, my dear, but what exactly brought about this interest in bondage?"

Springer started to say, "Well, Rodimus Prime kind of likes it, and I might have agreed to tie him up, but I have no idea what I'm doing, so I was hoping you might be able to show me."

Xaaron groaned and covered his face with a hand. He said dryly, "Nice to know I'm a trial run."

Springer shifted uncomfortably and protested, "I didn't mean it like that! I want you right now, not just anyone," which he meant. Wanting a specific one of his lovers was a different feeling than just being in the mood when anyone would do. He kissed his Emirate on the point of his crowned helm. "You've been so busy in Altihex. And yeah, so I kind of want to practise on you. We can do something else if you aren't into it. Can't be that hard to figure this out."

Emirate Xaaron actually winced. He scolded, "Springer! You could get someone seriously injured by doing bondage improperly. Like with interrogation gear. Especially if you don't know what you're doing. I swear, they must have left out the common sense when they built you."

"Bah, you like me well enough," Springer said, and he gave Xaaron a winning grin.

His Emirate sighed and leaned against his chest. He muttered, "So I have an unfortunate weakness for big, strong, dangerous Autobots. Now, while I'm happy to experiment with bondage with you, I need you to understand two things," his expression turned deadly serious and frankly just a little terrifying, "I've told you this before, but you really, really need to stop telling me and, for that matter, anyone about what you do with Rodimus Prime. The last thing he needs on his plate is gossip or blackmail."

Springer frowned and started to say, "You wouldn't -" and then he frowned deeper. To be honest, Xaaron might well do anything. He was a tricky old buzzard. For the first time, the end of the war was in sight. Most Autobots assumed that Rodimus Prime would lead them in peace, but there would always be power-hungry Transformers out there. If Springer let the wrong thing slip to the wrong Transformer, he could ruin Rodimus Prime's reputation or worse. He hated having to think about those things. Springer was happiest with problems he could solve by shooting. "Point taken. What's the other thing?"

"Don't talk about what you do with me with anyone, either. I'm serious, Springer. You won't be pleased at the consequences if you do," Emirate Xaaron said, sitting up to really look Springer in the optics.

Springer nuzzled the side of Xaaron's helm and teased, "Even if they're there?" Sometimes he and his Emirate had threesomes with Impactor, when the zombie felt up to it. Sometimes, like now, it was just the two of them.

Emirate Xaaron snorted and did not bother to dignify that question with a response. Instead, he said, "You seem to want to get right to tying me up as, ah, practise. Killing two Decepticons with one shot, I suppose. You need to understand that bondage isn't just about restraints, dear. Give me your hands." Without thinking much about it, Springer did, and Xaaron took his hands and held them out to the side. Then he kissed Springer deeply, his stitches stretched against Springer's lips. His quicksilver tongue darted into Springer's mouth, and Springer's optics dimmed in pleasure. He felt a bit strange with his hands held out to the side instead of firmly embracing his Emirate. Slowly, Xaaron broke the kiss and leaned back. He observed, "You usually put your arms around me when we kiss."

Springer shifted uneasily and said, "You asked me to give you my hands."

"Exactly. And you did," Emirate Xaaron, said, smirking, "If all participants are willing - and it should go without saying that they should be - all you need to do is to ask your partner to restrict himself or herself, perhaps, for you. It can be as simple as pinning your partner down with his arms behind his back and him allowing you to do it. He can't touch you with his hands, but you can go anywhere on him." His smirk curled up toward his yellow optics, which twinkled wickedly.

"That's fun," Springer admitted, thinking about how it was a whole lot easier to pin Rodimus when he was only Hot Rod and littler than Springer, "but it's not really impressive, you know?" He wanted something intricate that would really wow Rodimus Prime with his prowess. Springer could not ask Arcee, because Arcee would tell Rodimus, and that would be like admitting defeat, if Rodimus knew Springer had help. Besides, he somehow doubted Arcee knew anything about bondage, anyway. She might just laugh if he asked her.

Xaaron let go of his hands and asked, "What about binding the hands? It's easy, and there are so many avenues to explore."

"Can't we do something more exciting than that?" Springer asked, nudging his Emirate, "With a lot of really cool-looking knots?"

Emirate Xaaron snuggled against Springer's chest, idly placing one hand on his Autobot symbol. He said, thoughtful and devious, "I should make you start with just pinning. Try it in different arrangements until we've thoroughly enjoyed it. Can you see that in your mind? Me under you, helpless? Trapped against a wall? Bent over your knees, my hands held in one of yours behind my back?" Springer could, the images vivid in his mind, and he licked his lips. He enjoyed coupling and was not particularly fussy about the specifics. "Then just the feet. You'd be amazed how that would restrict me. Then my wrists. Maybe a gag? But I think you'd miss my mouth." Xaaron kissed Springer's Autobot symbol and licked down the 'nose' of the emblem.

His engine whined faintly, and Springer protested weakly, "You're fighting dirty."

"It's the only way worth fighting," his Emirate proclaimed smugly, "I should do all of that. Make you wait. Make you anticipate." He rubbed his cheek against Springer. "But I know you, my dear. Once you've made up your mind to do something unwise, you won't be swayed. You can only be aimed in the correct direction."

Springer chuckled, "That sounds like me. So you'll teach me something special?"

"If you'll learn," Emirate Xaaron said, "Now, the reason why interrogation restraints are off the table is that they aren't designed for coupling. If you don't know what you're doing, you could seriously injure your lover. Save those for when you know what you're doing, if you still want to try them then. Medical restraints are generally all right, and they tend to be easier to come by these days than toys are, but you, however," and he touched his index finger to Springer's nose, "are lucky. I have a rather nice pre-war set of energy bonds. The best part of energy bonds is that you don't need to clean them. If you listen very, very closely to me, I may even let you borrow them." He pulled out a small control box and pressed it into Springer's hand. "Activate it, and it'll let you generate energy bonds of whatever thickness and length you'd like by adjusting the settings."

Springer let the device initialise, and then he had it make him a short length of glowing, sparkling yellow energy cord, thin and not too long, enough to tie up wrists, he thought. The cord was almost like bright gold in sunlight and felt good in Springer's hands. He rolled it between his fingers and remarked, "This is really nice."

"It activates pleasure sensors at a low level. Not enough to be addictive. Just enough to make it pleasant to be bound," Emirate Xaaron explained, "Now you will want a much longer rope than that. The pattern I am going to show you uses one continuous length of cord. There are no knots; the form is held by friction and tension. You use knots to restrain a criminal or prisoner or war, not something you want associated with your lover, unless, of course, you fancy that sort of thing."

"Huh, hadn't thought about it like that," Springer admitted. He fiddled with the control box and created a length of cord that met Xaaron's approval.

Emirate Xaaron said, "As I happen to know my own kinks, no knots. I have my dignity. Now, there are many ways to approach thinking about this, but one of them is to think of the rope as an extension of your hands, as a constant reminder that you have touched and still are touching me all these places, a visible, tangible mark of how I have been taken. Some restraints will even rub a bit and scrape off a bit of paint, so that anyone who is in the know can see that the bound Autobot has been bound just by looking at the pattern of scrapes. These won't leave any mark."

Springer said slowly, "That's... probably a good thing." Rodimus would not want others to know, Springer did not think. "I'm sure this will be memorable enough, anyway."

"Oh yes," Xaaron agreed. He moved off Springer's lap and sat down on the floor. Springer wanted to just dive off the couch and have Xaaron on the floor right then and there, but his Emirate held up a hand and stopped him. He directed, "Pull my arms behind my back, my lower arms against each other and my hands at my elbows." Springer did, though he wanted to touch Xaaron somewhere else then just his arms. "Lay the cord along my lower arms and then spiral it around. That will keep it in place without tying it."

"That's kind of neat," Springer said as he wrapped the rope around his lover's arms. One of his hands slipped down and brushed against his Emirate's aft, though it was not really a slip. He wanted to cup him.

"Loop it tightly around my chest now, to keep my arms against my back, so that I can't raise them," Emirate Xaaron said. Springer let his hands slide across his lover's chest as he did, feeling the smoothness of the gold metal, and he wished that Xaaron's hands were on his own chest or, better yet, that hot little mouth. "Wrap it around the front loops a few times in the middle and pull it down. Force me to bend over almost double and secure it around my ankles, to force the flats of my feet together out in front of me, my knees out to the sides, and my legs flat on the floor."

"This looks kind of uncomfortable," Springer said, concerned but also aroused. Bent over like that with his arms tightly restrained, Emirate Xaaron's back was completely unguarded against whatever Springer might like to do. He made such a pretty little package that Springer wanted to unwrap him right now.

"It's meant to be," Xaaron confirmed, apparently unworried, "You'll see why. Now pull it along my shin and wind it around my knee." Springer's hands fumbled a few times before he got it. His fingers kept creeping along the inside of his lover's thigh instead. Then he did the other knee. "Up my thigh." Springer's engine whined, and one of his cooling fans started to hum. "Around one hip and down - Springer."

Springer looked guilty. His hand was between his Emirate's thighs, squeezing. He admitted, "Getting ahead of myself, I guess."

Emirate Xaaron's optics narrowed, but he continued nonchalantly, "You'll want me open."

Springer blurted, "Well. Yeah."

Xaaron smirked and tilted his head back to briefly glance at the ceiling. Then he retracted his pelvic armour, exposing his port and the nub of his retracted probe. "Now, this can be done with my probe retracted or extended, at your choice."

"Extended," Springer decided. Fingering the nub of a retracted port felt good, and he knew he could get Xaaron off that way, but an extended probe was easier to work with, for Springer. Emirate Xaaron extended his probe, and Springer ran his free hand along the length of it, enjoying the weight of it against his palm, his other hand holding the rope. He looked over his Emirate again, optics hungry. "Don't think I'll be able to get on you, though. You're practically doubled over."

"There are other poses where you could, if getting my probe in you is a priority," Emirate Xaaron snickered, though Springer did not see what was so funny. He liked Xaaron's probe and his port and his amazing mouth and his hands... "You're going to criss-cross the cord around my port and probe, loop it around my other hip and bring it back to criss-cross it again."

"Is your dentata off?" Springer asked, as he traced around the rim of Xaaron's port and root of his probe, before doubling back. His cooling fans whirred with frustration.

When Emirate Xaaron said, "Of course," Springer pushed a finger into his port and curled it against where he knew his lover had a sensor node. Xaaron was not yet wet, but Springer knew Xaaron had trouble with loosening up. Springer could get him wet with a little work or just use some lubricant. Then Xaaron's retractable iris of sawblade teeth, his dentata, lightly poked at Springer's finger, and Springer took the cue and got out.

He pouted openly and demanded, "Why can't we just do it now? Slag, I should have just jumped you on the couch."

"You were the one who wanted to learn an impressive looking rope pattern, my dear," Emirate Xaaron chided gently, "and I never took you for a quitter. You'll find that delaying your gratification can be quite gratifying. Now yank the cord up along my midline, so that it meets the twists at the middle of my chest and wind it fast there."

Springer obeyed, because his Emirate had him there. He got himself into this situation, and he would see it through. Now Emirate Xaaron squirmed, the most reaction he had shown the whole time. Springer watched, fascinated, as the rope rubbed against Xaaron's port and probe. He imagined being rubbed like that, and it really got his motor running. Springer snapped his fingers and grinned. He exclaimed proudly, "I get it! Being bent over double like that is uncomfortable, so you pull up, but that makes the cord tight against your port and probe, so that gets you turned on, so you bend back down for some relief, but that strains your central support strut, so you pull up again, and..." He laughed. "Wow, that's twisted. And hot." Springer shook his head, stood, stretched, and admired his handiwork.

Emirate Xaaron went still, maintaining the bent double position with perfect poise. He murmured approvingly, "Clever boy. Now you could just leave me like this for a while. If you thought I was likely to squirm, you could tell me to stay still for you and that you'll punish me if you come back and find me all wet and stiff from wriggling. If you thought I could stay still - and just to warn you, I certainly can - you might tell me to make myself all nice and wet for you."

"Punish?" Springer asked, frowning, "That doesn't sound right."

Xaaron laughed lightly, "It's not like when you forget to requisition that extra crate of ammunition out of the armoury and the quartermaster makes you scrub the floors for taking it without doing the paperwork - though it could be, if you were into that. No, this is a lovers' game. To punish me, you might call me naughty names. You might make me give you oral, make me take the whole length of your probe down your throat," his Emirate paused and licked his lips, the tip of his tongue tugging at one of his stitches, and he gazed at Springer meaningfully. The thought of that was nearly intoxicating for Springer, but Xaaron resumed, "and not do anything for me in return. You might tease me right to the edge of coming, demand that I call out your name, and then deny me. You might spank me and then stroke my aft and then spank me again, so I haven't the faintest idea what to expect. Do you get the concept?"

"Kinda," Springer said, rubbing the back of his helmet as he thought about it, "But can we just do that oral now? That sounds, really, really good."

Emirate Xaaron gave a tiny shrug and observed, "You do have me on the floor before you."

Springer did not need to be reminded twice. He retracted his pelvic armour and let his aching probe spring out, hard and erect. Springer rubbed the tip on Xaaron's lips and pressed against those stitches. No one else Springer knew had stitches like that, and when he eased his probe into Xaaron's mouth, they tugged against the sides of his probe so wonderfully that he sometimes wondered why more Autobots did not have lip stitches. Emirate Xaaron's cunning tongue flicked against the tip of his probe, and Springer groaned. His Emirate was much too good with that tongue. Springer thrust in and out of his mouth, shuddering faintly. He murmured, "So good," and tilted Xaaron's head back. He plunged his full length down Emirate Xaaron's throat, enjoying that exquisitely tight wetness and admiring how Xaaron never gagged. His lips pressed against the root of Springer's probe, and his tongue licked along the length. Then Springer started to thrust in and out, revelling in the heat between them. He came quicker than he was expecting to, but he always did when Xaaron gave him head. Electric ecstasy danced along his probe and skittered through his body before he could even call out.

He pulled out and fell to his knees. Springer caught himself with an arm against the floor before he fell over entirely. His cooling fans drowned out all other sound, and his engine hammer and laboured inside of him. When he recovered well enough to speak, Springer panted, "You are way... too... slagging... good at that. You're frakking dangerous with that mouth of yours."

Emirate Xaaron looked indolently self-satisfied. Springer rolled over into his back and regarded his lover again, so unruffled and serene, while Springer felt wasted. He sat himself back up, propping himself up with one arm and retracted his probe, now limp, the plates no longer tightly hydraulically locked. With his other hand, he idly traced a finger around Xaaron's port. Springer moved closer to his Emirate and kissed him searchingly. Could he push his finger in now? Xaaron allowed it, but Springer found him still dry. He supposed he could lube up Emirate Xaaron, but Springer's probe was spent, anyway. Then he reached in between the energy bonds and stroked his lover's probe, which had a promising stiffness to it. It was even one of the ones that Springer particularly liked out of Xaaron's collection of different probes.

"Okay," Springer said, coming to a decision, and he pushed Xaaron over on his back.

Even that sudden action did not break Emirate Xaaron's calm. He simply inquired, "Hmm?"

"I'm taking the lower bonds off. I want you in me," Springer said, sounding stubborn even to his own audios.

"Who am I to argue?" Xaaron asked rhetorically, but he smiled.

Springer pulled at the cord, letting it fall in a tangled heap, until only the chest and arm bonds remained on his lover. Then he mounted him and brought his face down to kiss him hard. Springer dragged his mouth along Xaaron's jawline and nipped the guards on his helmet. He sucked on the cabling on his neck and ran his hands over Xaaron's chest. The quarter-curves of his shoulders were surely made for squeezing. The flat panels of his abdomen were meant to be ground against, to have Springer's green flecked against the gold. He moved a knee between Xaaron's thighs and rubbed it against him.

When Springer reached down, he found Emirate Xaaron's probe pleasingly hard, which was good, because Springer's port twitched with want. He snapped a firewall cap on the tip and took Xaaron inside. Springer dimmed his optics and moaned, "Oh, yes."

Emirate Xaaron had a small collection of novelty probes. Most of them were size 6, Springer's size; maybe Xaaron really did have a thing for big, strong, dangerous Autobots. Springer liked a generic probe just fine, but if Xaaron had something more exciting, Springer was all for it. The one his lover was using now had these little embedded lights that shifted colours, meaning that Springer got a real optic-full if he looked down. The lights heated up to give contrasting sensations of tingly warmth scattered across the cool metal of the rest of the probe.

Springer looked down, as he rode Xaaron up and down, watching the colours vanish inside him as his sensors lit up in delight. Not having Xaaron's arms around him was strange. Springer grabbed his shoulders, wanting more of him. Emirate Xaaron brought up his freed legs around Springer's hips and clasped him tightly, all the better to thrust into Springer. His engine roared his appreciation. Xaaron was too short for Springer to easily kiss now, so he moved one of his hands to Xaaron's face and popped a finger in his mouth.

After bonking his shoulder into the table, Springer tore his optics away from the pretty lights and looked around his surroundings again. He spied the tangled pile of cord and grinned. Springer yanked on the cord and slammed Emirate Xaaron up tight against him. He wheezed, "Handy."

Xaaron's probe was hot and cold inside him but more hot than cold. Springer clenched tighter on his lover. He knew what he liked; Emirate Xaaron did, too. That made this easier and also so very hard. It was almost too much, too fast, but in over his head was just where Springer liked to be. He let go of Xaaron and arched his body back, sitting up on top of his lover. Springer took all of his Emirate and hungered for more. A spreading wave of pleasure rippled through him, incandescent and scorching.

His lover's legs, wrapped around his hips, shifted, and a foot brushed against his aft. Emirate Xaaron purred, "Do you want to try for another? I think I can manage."

"Uh, ung," Springer said, not particularly eloquently, "You sure? Your stamina's not much."

"We both know what my stamina's like, but you haven't said my name yet, my dear," Emirate Xaaron said sweetly, and he bucked his hips into Springer.

Springer whimpered and leaned back down, nestling his body against Xaaron's. He clutched his Emirate tighter, his little golden resistance leader who was not afraid to use himself as bait and fought demons and zombies, too, like Decepticons were not bad enough. He traced the contours of his face and whispered, "Xaaron, you know I-", but he felt another tidal wave coming at him, and he raised his voice, "Xaaron!"

Seeing stars, he collapsed against Emirate Xaaron and listened to the fevered buzz of his cooling fans without a thought in his head or a single complaint on his lips. Eventually, Springer reckoned that Xaaron must have finished, so he levered himself up and pulled himself off his lover. He reached over for the control device for the energy bonds, hit a button, and dismissed them entirely. Then Springer grabbed his Emirate and tossed him over one of his broad shoulders. Emirate Xaaron flailed and squawked like the buzzard he was. Springer chuckled, "If you didn't want to be carried, you wouldn't be portable."

"A great many Autobots are portable to you, Springer," Xaaron observed wryly. He stopped struggling. "My berth, please? It would be appropriate for you to cuddle me now and ascertain that I am fine. Bondage can be quite mentally intense. It's important for you to be there if you have any doubt, and even if you do not, it's polite."

Springer narrowed his optics and said, "Yeah, the day I see you rattled is the day I say, 'Wreckers, retreat!'" but he took Emirate Xaaron to his berth, giving the table just one longing glance. He lay himself down on the berth next to Xaaron, putting his own back toward the door, just in case. He absently placed small kisses along the top edge of his helm and laced his fingers behind Emirate Xaaron's back.

His lover's hands found the fins on his forearms, and Springer suddenly realised just how much he had missed Xaaron's hands, the absence making their presence on his body now so much sweeter. He curled around his Emirate and sighed contentedly. Xaaron said, "Just two more things before I catch a quick rest cycle and then attend to my appointment with the Urayan contingent. First, never leave someone entirely alone while he's bound. You can pretend to walk out the door, but don't really leave. You never know when an emergency might strike."

That sounded sensible enough. Springer agreed, "Gotcha. And?"

"Pick a word that you would not normally use in a conversation and agree on it with your lover. That's your safe word. If it gets too intense for him, you stop whatever you're doing immediately and ask him how he wants to proceed from there, be it stopping entirely and doing something else or merely toning it down. In fact, checking on how he's doing regularly is a good idea, anyway even if he doesn't safe word out," Emirate Xaaron explained, "You should discuss boundaries and how far you are both willing to go before hand, too."

Springer considered that and what they had just done. A realisation came to him. Then he accused, not upset, just chagrined, "All that stuff you talked about. You did it to me."

"Hmm?" Xaaron murmured, snuggling against him.

"Like... making your lover wait to get off. You kept delaying me from getting right to coupling with more rope tricks I had to do," Springer said slowly, "You didn't ask for a safe word because you were in control the whole time."

Emirate Xaaron leaned in close and whispered, "I told you up front that all you need to restrain your partner is for him to be willing to restrict himself for you. I all but warned you, Springer."

"Ah, slaggit," Springer said, and he put his head back and laughed. He stroked Xaaron's back and added, "Your default setting is 'tricky', right? But I like it." Losing himself to his Emirate was easy, too easy, but he did not mind. His lover saw to it that they both enjoyed themselves, when given the chance, and it was a blessed change from leading the Wreckers, where Springer's every choice had to count. "And I love you." He kissed Xaaron, tasting himself on his mouth.

Emirate Xaaron said, tone oddly self-depreciating, "I love you, too, for however little that means, coming from me."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're probably gonna get me killed some day in the name of expedience," Springer joked, though it was half true, "Don't care when the coupling is this slagging hot." Those frustrating denials had made it all the sweeter later.

"You should," his Emirate murmured.

"Don't," Springer said firmly. There were no words after that, only reassuring touches and the warm, dark slide into a rest cycle.

"Springer, I don't believe you when you say you know what you're doing," Rodimus Prime said. He was openly dubious, and he felt that he had a very valid right to be sceptical, no matter how huffy Springer was going to be over the implied insult. "Putting Whirl in cuffs because you had to throw him in the stockade again is not bondage."

"It was Twin Twist last time, not Whirl, anyway, and you asked me to try this with you!" Springer protested.

"I did, but I don't expect you to be an expert, okay? We'll just try some things and see how it goes. To be honest, I'm just glad you didn't reject the idea out of hand. I know it's... unusual," Rodimus Prime said, and he leaned down to kiss Springer lightly on the lips. His quarters as a Prime were much nicer than the bunkroom that Hot Rod had shared with the other troops. They would have plenty of room and relatively soundproof walls. Sometimes, Rodimus felt a bit guilty that he had so much when others had so little. Most of Cybertron needed rebuilding, and the Decepticon threat and new opportunistic alien invaders were a constant concern, too. He remembered Kup telling him, And how do you expect us to win if our Prime couldn't get any defrag because his bunk was too small, lad? so he tried to put his guilt out of mind.

Springer kissed him back, though he was still sulking slightly. He pulled out a small box and offered, "I do have restraints that were designed for bondage." He turned on the device and created a short length of shimmering yellow energy rope.

Rodimus Prime hesitantly reached and touched the cord, which felt wonderful against his fingertips. He bit his lip when he felt a memory stirring inside him, not in his brain module, but in the Matrix. Rodimus asked hesitantly, "Springer, where'd you get this?"

Springer shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked evasive. He mumbled, "I borrowed it from someone. It's energy, so it'll be clean."

Rodimus's expression turned questioning. Somewhat fearing the answer, he said, "'Someone' just let you borrow a very... old energy bondage system?" He poked at the memory in the Matrix, trying to make sense of it. The thought was unclear enough that he thought it had to come from one of the older Primes, not Optimus. Optimus's memories were usually clearer, often to Rodimus Prime's sorrow. Optimus had died too soon, for all that he was much older than Hot Rod when he died.

"Yeah?" Springer said, "It works just fine, anyway." He sat down on one of Rodimus's chairs and showed off a rather interesting way of binding his own ankles, not using a single knot in the process. Apparently, Springer had missed the point and thought Rodimus was concerned the device was too old to work properly. "See?"

Rodimus Prime stared at Springer's binding work for a moment, trying to place where he had seen it before, but of course, he had not. One of his predecessor Primes had. He shook his head and corrected, "No, I mean, why did 'someone' let you borrow this? Springer, you didn't tell anyone that I..."

Springer looked away and rubbed the back of his helmet. He hedged, "Not exactly."

Rodimus sank down on another chair and held his head. He moaned, "The Decepticons probably already have propaganda comics out about my so-called deviant behaviour. Tell me you told Arcee? Or Blurr? I can handle it if you told them."

"No," Springer admitted awkwardly, "I thought Arcee would laugh at me, and I'm not as close to Blurr as you are."

Rodimus Prime slumped deeper into his chair. Trembling, he said, "Who'd you tell?"

"He pointed out that you probably don't want me mentioning this to anyone -" Springer started to say.

Rodimus snapped, miserable and surly, "Well, your Emirate Xaaron would be right."

"I didn't say I told him!" Springer protested, throwing his hands up defensively.

"I always wanted to be blackmailed by a conniving war-hawk politician," Rodimus Prime grumbled. Then he looked over again at the energy bonds, puzzling over them. "Wait, you got those from him?"

"Don't call Emirate Xaaron a politician! He's been a resistance leader longer than either of us has been alive while Optimus was taking a dirt nap on Earth!" Springer shouted as he dissolved the energy bonds around his ankles and rose to his feet, "And... I'm not telling you where I got the energy bonds, and that's that."

"One career doesn't preclude the other," Rodimus Prime muttered darkly, but more loudly, he explained, "I'm just saying, if you did get those from him, which I'm not saying you did, that would make it pretty hard for him to blackmail me over a bondage kink, if he's into it, too." He smirked and reached over to grab Springer. Then he dragged him in for another kiss.

Springer squirmed on his lap until he managed to settle his position comfortably. He said, "So, how'd you know this was old? Seen one before?"

"Not me. One of the Primes before me. Not Optimus," Rodimus Prime said, his voice sounding a little distant, even to him, "I think maybe Sentinel? Before the war, Primes weren't generals. They weren't really leaders at all. Each city-state had its own political system. There was supposed to be one Overlord who ruled above the city-states on a planetary level, but by the time of Optimus, the city-states only paid the Overlord lip service. The position of Prime didn't really mean anything when Optimus received the Matrix. We'd forgotten. He worked as a security guard and an athlete, you know? And he was made a general for his military prowess, not for the Matrix."

"Whatever," Springer said, bored by the history lesson, "What about Sentinel?"

"Sentinel was a religious figure, I think? It's not all that clear to me. Heh, maybe your Emirate Xaaron remembers? Think he's that old?" Springer elbowed him, but Rodimus Prime just smirked. "I'll ask Kup sometime. When he's overcharged. Anyway, Sentinel sort of watched over the different religious sects, maybe? One of the cults liked to recreate the story of Primus binding himself to and entering the asteroid that would become Cybertron, from whose metal the first of us came forth." The image was suddenly vivid in his mind, and he felt flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "With, uhm, volunteer participants. And that style of energy bonds you have there."

"Sounds more interesting than anything any military chaplain I've seen has done," Springer said, optics lighting up in a leer, "Bet that would get converts in the door."

"Not really. They were considered sort of... out there by the public," Rodimus waved a hand vaguely, "but Sentinel thought they were harmless enough. I think they, like many sects, vanished before Optimus became Prime. The worsening energy shortages and overpopulation problems sparked off growing cynicism and secularism." He pulled his awareness out of the Matrix and back into himself, and he shook his head. "That's enough of that. We ought to talk about what we are going to do."

Springer laughed, "All right! So, we ought to talk about boundaries. You don't want anything fancy, but what do you do want?"

Rodimus Prime struggled to put it words, but he managed to explain, "I just... leading the Autobots is so much more complicated than it sounds like. My every choice matters, and sometimes, there is no good choice, only bad and worse. I just want a little time where someone else is calling the shots and taking responsibility for what happens, in a situation where it really doesn't matter, where I'll be secure for just a short while, instead of dancing between ridiculous peril and overwhelming danger."

Unusually solemnly, Springer said, "I can understand that," and he nuzzled against Rodimus's chest, "I'd be glad to help you take a load off."

Rodimus wrapped his arms around Springer and rested his chin on the top of his helm. He murmured, "Thank you, Springer. Nothing that's going to leave a mark, beyond some green paint scrapes that'll buff out. No strange injuries to explain to the medics. No engine play, I - I'm sorry, it's just that the Matrix is in my engine compartment and -"

Springer looked up and caught his chin with a hand. He said firmly, "You don't need to apologise. I don't want to mess around with your mystic whatsit, anyway."

Reassured, Rodimus Prime continued, "Nothing too loud," because this was Springer he was talking to, not Arcee, "no drugs, no energon overdoses, you should still use a firewall cap, and I would... I, er... I would like to get off at some point. You can tease me or make me beg for it, but at least once, please?"

Springer nodded his assent and added, "I won't leave you alone at any point. I might pretend like it, but I'll always be there in case Decepticons attack and I need to get you loose. We should have a safe word, too, in case it gets too intense for you. What's something we wouldn't normally say?"

Rodimus Prime ventured, "Opera?" and they both laughed.

"Yeah, I'd stop whatever I was doing to try to escape from an opera, too," Springer said, and his smile was crooked and yet so very handsome, "Now, c'mon, stand up under that overhead pipe. Did you know that both Roadbuster and Broadside can hang off of one of those pipes without breaking it?"

"No, I did not," Rodimus Prime said mildly, static-coughing, "and you probably don't want to tell me the rest of that story." Being Prime was something of a killjoy sometimes. He missed the best mayhem now, but when he was Hot Rod, he would have been causing said mayhem.

"Aw. Oh well. Hands above your head, wrists together," Springer directed, and in one leap, he jumped up to the overhead pipe. He curled his body around that lucky pipe and reached down with his arms. Springer wrapped the energy cord around Rodimus's wrists, which felt lovely. When Springer judged them securely wound, he tugged up, not quite taking Rodimus Prime off his feet. He could just keep the front portion of his feet on the floor, but the back portion was a lost cause, and he could not really balance. Suddenly, worries emptied out of his head as he was forced to focus on finding a stable standing position. Springer wound the rope around the pipe and then dropped back down with the remaining length still coiled in his hand. Standing behind Rodimus, he husked, "Open up and pop your probe out. The size 6 one in case I want to use it later."

Rodimus Prime did not miss the offhand implication that Springer might not even touch his probe, but then, the choice was not his right now. He had given it to Springer. He just had to have faith in whatever Springer was planning. Rodimus opened up and trembled as Springer stretched that cord around his port and then wrapped it around the base of his probe. He looped it around one hip and then criss-crossed it around his probe and port again. The energy rope felt so warm and enticing, like Springer was still there, keeping him secure, even after his hand left. Springer secured it over the other hip and then wound it off along the line going down his back from his hands. As Rodimus Prime struggled to keep his balance, the cords rubbed against him, suffusing him with pleasure. He bit his lip to keep down a whimper and then wondered why he bothered.

Springer ordered, "Now keep still."

"Still?" Rodimus Prime said dubiously, "I can't even balance!"

"That would seem to be your problem, not mine," Springer said pitilessly, and Rodimus just bet he had on a slag-eating grin. Rodimus Prime tried to keep still, but the natural pendulum motion of being tied to an overhead pipe and not being quite in contact with the floor rocked him back and forth, and he was forced to back-pedal to stop from swinging. Springer walked around in from of him and shook his head. He teased, "Still aren't very good at following directions, are you?"

"I'm trying!' Rodimus Prime insisted.

"Try harder," Springer said with a leer, and he gave Rodimus's probe a quick stroke, which was amazingly unfair when Rodimus was not supposed to move. Then he circled around Rodimus again. Rodimus automatically tried to twist to watch him, but Springer snapped, "What about 'keep still' don't you understand?"

"Sorry," Rodimus mumbled, and he returned to trying vainly to keep still. He started to feel a slow burn in his port and probe as the cord rubbed against him whenever he so much as twitched. He very much wanted to look back and see what Springer might be doing, but he resisted the urge. He had to keep still.

"Yeah, you sure are sorry," Springer teased with that cocky, challenging edge to his voice that Rodimus Prime loved so well.

Rodimus heard him jump and felt the vibrations in the pipe that meant Springer had grabbed it. He scrambled for his footing, and his probe started to stiffen from all the friction rubbing of the energy bond. He tried not to think about it. His wrists were starting to ache. Then he felt a loop of cord tighten around the left side of his spoiler, pulling him off balance again. Rodimus Prime groaned and looked up without thinking. He saw Springer fasten that loop to the pipe, and Springer glowered down at him. Rodimus sighed, "Keep still, right," and looked straight ahead.

Springer secured a loop around the other side of his spoiler, which threw off his precarious balance again but at least took some of the tension out of his wrists. When he was Hot Rod, his spoiler had the wind on it all the time, which meant it was not particularly sensitive unless he was already aroused, and then everything felt good. Now that he was Rodimus Prime, his trailer kept the worst of the wind off his spoiler, which made it much more responsive to a loving touch, like now. He whimpered and did not attempt to hold it back. Springer dropped a third line around the central spar of his spoiler, and Rodimus felt his knees weaken.

His arm pipes registered Springer's fingers stretched down them and stroking the length of them. If his hands were free, Rodimus might have decided that turnabout was fair play and gone for the fins on Springer's arms, but he did not have that option now. When Springer's fingers found their way down to the wheels in his arms and stroked along the rims, Rodimus Prime's optics widened. He gasped, thinking about how Springer must be posed with his strong, powerful legs wrapped around the pipe and his body hanging freely. Then Springer reached into his wheel wells for the axles, and Rodimus Prime lost his balance again.

His port twitched, wet and wanting, and his probe's interlocking plates stiffened more tightly, the hydraulic pressure increasing slowly but surely. Springer had barely even touched him there back when he was crisscrossing the bonds, but the cord was an extension of Springer's will, and it was always there no matter where Springer put his hands now. Whenever Rodimus Prime shuddered, like he did now with Springer's fingers cupped around his chin, his thumb brushing over his lips, the rope made sure that Springer was between his legs, too, tormenting him there.

Springer's thumb pressed between his lips and explored his mouth. Rodimus Prime forgot to keep still for a moment and eagerly licked the intruding digit, delighted to have any part at all of Springer inside him. Springer snorted, pulled his thumb out, and briefly ran the flat of his hands across Rodimus's spoiler. Then put his hands on Rodimus's chest and must have let go of the pipe with his legs, because in a quick moment, he ran his hands all the way down Rodimus Prime's chest, down the insides of his legs, and finished at his feet with a thump on the floor.

Springer stood up in front of him and shook his head. He said, "Slag, but you're bad at this 'keep still' business," but his expression was amused, like he was trying hard to keep himself from laughing, "Guess I have to punish you."

"Yes!" Rodimus Prime said enthusiastically, dreamily imagining what Springer might do.

Then Springer walked behind him and spanked him. Rodimus Prime squirmed and exclaimed, "Springer!" His aft smarted slightly, but the surprise got him more than anything else. Springer and Rodimus had messed around a little with spanking before, even as Hot Rod, if only because as competitive friendly rivals, their lovemaking had sometimes more resembled sparring. Right now, though, Rodimus Prime had been hoping for something as a 'punishment' that might help with the increasing stiffness and wetness he felt.

Then Springer cupped and stroked his aft, and Rodimus Prime automatically pushed back against the contact. A clang resounded when Springer smacked him again and little stinging prickling sensations spread across his aft, contrasting with how good and warm his probe and port felt. Stroking his aft again, Springer asked, "You like that, huh?"

"Yes?" Rodimus Prime said more hesitantly this time.

There was another crash of Springer's hand, and when Springer said, "Being punished?" Rodimus Prime whimpered his assent. He wanted whatever Springer wanted to do to him, because it was Springer. Springer would see him right in the end.

He felt Springer's probe pressing against the rim of his port, and he said, "I can turn off my dentata, but you have on a firewall cap, right? Right?" He wanted to turn around and look.

Springer said cheerily, "Oh, I'm not going inside of you, anyway." He slid his probe along the rim of Rodimus's port and under his probe, rubbing the both of them at the same time. "Keep your legs together."

"And balance at the same time!?" Rodimus asked, his fans whining. Having his legs splayed made it easier on him, but he squeezed them together like Springer wanted. Springer's probe was right there! He wanted it inside him, not just rubbing against his port and probe, so tantalisingly close. Rodimus was tempted to just change the angle of his hips and take Springer inside.

"Just one thing I'm asking of you," Springer reminded, and he nuzzled Rodimus's back at the base of his spoiler. He wrapped one arm around Rodimus's middle and steadied the other hand on his hip. Springer thrust hard and fast between Rodimus's thighs, and Rodimus hung his head and moaned unashamedly. So Springer added, "But one other thing. Don't come right now."

Rodimus Prime slumped as well as he could. His wrists, spoiler, and aft were sore, and his probe and port surged with unfulfilled desire, and there Springer was, teasing him to the merciless edge of climax without even taking him and telling him not to come. There was wet lubricant trickling between his legs and onto Springer's probe, and his own probe was painfully hard. Springer rubbed his hand on Rodimus's abdomen, just above Rodimus's probe, and he purred, "You want me inside you, don't you?"

Of course Rodimus said, "Yes!"

Then Springer said, "That table can support you, me, and Arcee, right?" Rodimus Prime had no idea what that had to do with anything. Then Springer dragged the table over under Rodimus and commanded, "Kneel on it for me."

That took the strain off his wrists and spoiler, and Rodimus Prime sighed with relief. Then Springer climbed on the table with him and pushed his probe between his lips. Rodimus exclaimed, "Mph!" and his optics widened. The taste of his own lubricant was on Springer's probe.

Springer smirked, "Need to be more specific about 'inside', Rodimus," and reached up to toy with Rodimus's arm pipes while he thrust into his mouth. Even that rhythmic motion made the cords around his port and probe move, stimulating him still. Rodimus tilted his head back and let Springer enjoy his mouth and throat however he would, imagining Springer was in his port instead. Seeing Springer obviously enjoying himself aroused Rodimus, too, to know that Springer could use Rodimus to give himself that expression of sheer delight on his handsome face.

His vacant port twinged, lubricant running down the inside of his leg. Springer was careful to stand splayed over Rodimus so that Rodimus's probe did not rub Springer's legs, touching nothing but air instead. When Rodimus Prime was sure that Springer was just going to come in his mouth and felt satisfied enough by the thought of pleasing his lover, Springer pulled out of his mouth. He cycled a few blinks, staring at Springer uncomprehendingly.

Springer snapped a firewall cap on the tip of his probe, which Rodimus hazily noted was size 8, just the right size for Rodimus. He remembered that finding a size 8 probe for Springer had kind of been a pain; most Autobots were only size 5, so that tended to be what was stocked. Gratefully, he murmured, "Thank you."

"What are you thanking me for?" Springer asked, his expression cheeky, and he vanished around behind Rodimus again. For a moment, Rodimus feared he had misread Springer's intentions. Springer reached one arm around Rodimus and stroked his probe, his fingers bringing sweet relief. Rodimus Prime leaned back into Springer, and as he did, Springer hammered the full length of his probe into his port.

If not for the bonds keeping his arms up, Rodimus Prime would have collapsed in a puddle on the table. His probe jerked in Springer's hand, and his port clenched tightly on Springer with greedy need. His fans whined louder than whatever sound he might have been making, and he was sure he was. Faintly, he heard Springer's voice, and his lover told him, "Aw, I think that's more than enough." One of his fingers stroked the tip of Rodimus's probe, the others along the shaft, his own probe heaving in and out of Rodimus. "Go ahead and come. You deserve it."

Rodimus Prime gasped with relief that he no longer needed to hold himself back. His probe came easily in Springer's hand, but his port came at almost the same time. Rodimus Prime felt dizzy, disoriented, and delirious from the sensory overload. He sagged against Springer, vaguely hoping that Springer would come soon, too. Rodimus Prime did not think he could handle coming again, no matter how ports were designed.

Soon enough, he heard a muffled, "Aw yeah," from Springer, and then Springer dissolved the energy bonds. Rodimus Prime buckled against him. Springer helped him off the table, holding his hands and allowing him to lean against him. He pressed sweet, soft kisses against Rodimus's shoulder and led him back to his berth, where he collapsed. Springer lay down beside him, stroked his arms, and kissed the flame design on his chest. He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, "You okay?"

Rodimus Prime sprawled out on his berth, visual feeds fuzzy, and collected himself. He said slowly, "That was... a bit intense."

"Sorry," Springer said, fumbling over the words, "I, uhm -"

Rodimus Prime shook his head and regarded Springer fondly. "Don't be. I asked for it. I wanted it. All of it. All of you." He reached an arm around Springer to hold him.

"Think I'll tone it down next time, for both our sakes," Springer mused, "but you know me. No concept of overkill." He laughed ruefully and snuggled in closer to kiss the side of Rodimus's helm. "I love you. I just wanted to impress you."

I love you, was just what Rodimus Prime had needed to hear from Springer, and he held him tightly. He whispered, "I love you, too. Thank you. I needed this."

"Next time, maybe we can just pretend that I'm still strong enough to pin you?" Springer suggested.

Rodimus Prime imagined that and felt flushed. He agreed readily, "Yes. Oh yes. Definitely. Hold me now?"

"Definitely," Springer said, and he did.

It was maybe half an Earth year before Springer managed to catch up with Emirate Xaaron long enough for recreational activities. They saw each other more often than that, and he stole a few kisses, but business had to come before pleasure, and business kept them very busy indeed. This time, Emirate Xaaron darted into Springer's quarters with him. If the posters on the walls bothered him, he did not say anything. Springer handed the control box for the energy bonds back to him and mumbled, "Sorry I couldn't get this back to you sooner, but you know."

Emirate Xaaron took the box back and checked it over before putting it on the table. He said breezily, "No worries," and leaned against the table with his hands on the edge.

Springer loomed over him, placed his hands over his, and said, "You know, I'm thinking that you're usually the one doing the binding, not the one being bound."

Emirate Xaaron did not cower before Springer but stood proud. He smirked and admitted, "You think correctly. You haven't lived until you've seen Impactor trussed up with the line for his own harpoon."

"No way!" Springer exclaimed in utter disbelief. He looked over his shoulder, as if the grumpy zombie might appear when his name was spoken. He poked Xaaron on the chest and demanded, "How are you not dead?"

"You have to catch him in a very rare mood," Emirate Xaaron said simply, as if it was just a matter of waiting for Cybertron's moons to be aligned just so, "Perhaps I could arrange it for you someday."

Springer decided that not pursuing that particular matter any further was probably the best thing for his continued health, even if the image of Impactor tied with his own line tantalised him sorely. Instead, he indicated the device on the table with a motion of his head and said, "I did want to ask you about that, though. Why you have it." He searched for the words. "Did Autobots really use that kind of thing to, uhm, re-enact Primus and the asteroid, I guess?"

His Emirate looked both amused and coy. He asked, "You mean, did I? Autobots assuredly did, which you seem to already know. Did some research in the pre-war records?"

"Kinda," Springer said. Listening to Rodimus ramble about fuzzy memories from the Matrix was about the same as researching pre-war records, right? He looked at Xaaron expectantly.

Emirate Xaaron explained, "I am interested in different methods of control. I think that should be obvious." He smiled, not entirely pleasantly, but Springer would have kissed those lips, all the same. "Religion is many things, but it can be used to control. Of course I studied it. Yes, even that particular sect. Did you want me to demonstrate?"

Springer thought about his Emirate's small hands all over him, stretching that energy cord across his frame with care, and he had only one answer, "Slag yes."

Author's Notes: Marvel Cybertron was indeed a patchwork of city-states with different government forms before the war. An Overlord was technically in charge of everything, but his health was failing, and his power was not what it once was. They were all called Autobots before the war as a generic term; the war made it into a faction-specific term. Optimus was indeed a security guard and an athlete while toting the Matrix around, and he was made leader of the Autobot army for his military skill rather than because of his magic jewellery. The Marvel characters also dealt with growing secularism. Bumblebee comments that he had almost forgotten about their god, Primus, and Hot Rod doesn't even know who Primus is. (He figures this out later.) Emirate Xaaron is singled out as something of a weird one out for remembering about Primus at all.

For this particular fanfic, polyamory (and also polyandry, though it doesn't come up) is fine and accepted in Autobot society (also Decepticon society, though that also doesn't come up). Cheating on one's lover, however, is not accepted and would be socially condemned, so clear communication is important. (For example, Springer's lovers all know about each other; they just don't necessarily want to hear what Springer did with those other Autobots. That's too much information.) Sleeping with one's superior is also accepted, though benefitting from doing so is not accepted and can earn censure and punishment. Bondage, though, is considered a bit on the kinky side and would get some strange glances from the average crowd. It is not exactly taboo, but it is not really considered 'normal', either. Grunts could get away with it without worries, but officers need to be a bit more concerned about their appearances.