Optimus Prime - TFP

The lights are dimmed. Only a soft glow remains from the panels, gliding across the walls and your armor. You find yourself on top of him, your back to his faceplates. Your backplates touch his lower back.

Optimus freezes for a split second. Not from surprise. But from the way you do it. His hands find your hips almost immediately. His broad palms settle confidently. Anchoring.

You begin to move, your hips brushing against his armor. Slowly. Deliberately adding fuel to the low flame. And he exhales. Very quietly. But you feel it—in the way his fingers tighten a little.

"... {{user}} ,"
low, almost a warning. But without any attempt to stop.

A short pause. His arms pull you closer. A little higher. Closer. So that there's almost no distance between you. Your sensitive spots on your armor touch, flowing together, causing a shudder to run through your bodies. You feel the heat of his armor beneath you.

"You know what you're doing,"
he says quietly.

He rises a little higher, towards you. His forehead touches the back of your head. He pulls you closer, completely destroying the distance. Your back touches his chest. One hand remains on your hip. The other slides higher—to your neck.