WARNING NC-17

Debriefed

by Phantom

rating: **+lp

Alita gazed around the table at all the solemn faces. This war had taken its toll on them all, but now that it had reached a stalemate, everyone's nerves were on edge. Sometimes she wished that the Decepticons would attack and get it over with. Now, however, the Autobots were going to beat them to the punch.

"Autobots," Prime said solemnly, looking at his highest-ranking soldiers, "something must be done. This stalemate has put us all on edge, and it won't be long before Megatron strikes. This is the perfect time to out-maneuver him and take the advantage." He paused, looking at each Autobot in turn, assuring that he had their full attention. "The Decepticons, as you know, are attempting to construct a second fortress here on Cybertron. This would serve to tip the balance of power considerably in their favor. The Constructicons are working overtime to meet whatever deadline has been set, but there still is time for us to intervene. A swift surprise attack should serve to cripple the base before it becomes operational."

Optimus outlined in detail which part each of his underlings played in his plan. Alita slowly allowed herself to relax as Optimus progressed around the room, addressing each in turn. The tension, thick enough to cut with a laser, slowly drained away. Now that they had a plan, something decisive to focus on, their feelings of anxiety subsided.

Optimus noticed their attitude becoming more relaxed and at ease. 'Good,' he thought. 'We've all been a bit on edge lately.' Now he could turn the briefing towards more mundane, every-day topics. 'Prowl, tell me our security status.'

Alita shifted in her seat restlessly as the briefing dragged on. Now that the palpable tension had drained away, she was becoming bored. Reports from the heads of the various sections of the army were essential to keeping things running smoothly, but nothing much had changed in the past few weeks, and the information was becoming repetitive. It probably wasn't necessary to extend this briefing, but Optimus liked to stay in touch with what was going on, and he also liked to stick to the usual routine.

Primus, this was boring. Her gaze drifted around the room aimlessly, finally coming to rest on the Autobot leader. He seemed to be totally engrossed in Perceptor's report, though he had to be bored out of his mind. He looked really cute to her, sitting at the head of the table and keeping things on course. He was in total control, in his element. There was nothing she liked more than to make that composure slip. She loved a challenge, and cracking his distant, authoritative persona presented a delightful one.

She struggled to keep a straight face, but deep within she wore a wicked, sly grin. She knew just how to get under Prime's skin. Sometimes he got a bit too serious, and she had to use all the charm at her disposal to loosen him up for his own good. It was strange how their private relationship filtered into their careers. Her position as leader of the Femme sub-group earned her a seat at Prime's right-hand side. He often needed to confer with her, and her imput was quite useful. Of course, every now and then she was tempted to take advantage of her position for less than professional reasons.

They really hadn't had much private time for themselves, and the little time they'd found had been spent with their heads together in the war room, racking their brains for any way to seize an advantage. Not very romantic. Their feelings for each other had simmered just beneath the surface, yet dampened by anxiety and fatigue. Well, she'd learned as the years went by how to grab a few personal moments, even if the timing wasn't quite right.

She allowed a slight smile to tinge the corners of her mouth. Right now could be considered to be a bad time, but both of them were as tense as wind-up toys on the point of snapping. Sitting next to Optimus, feeling his radiating warmth, occasionally brushing arms or legs, was more than she could bear. While Transformers did not give off a definitive scent, except to specially-equipped trackers, there was a unique sort of signature scent so faint that it mostly registered subconsciously. Right now this subconscious signal was working powerfully on her mind, making her almost painfully aware of his presence next to her. Every move he made, the gesture of his powerful hands, the tightening of each muscle cable, inflamed her hyper-aware senses. The over-stimulation of her senses, and the enervation of just sitting there, made her want to scream.

She observed how his gaze moved from the faces before him to his notes, the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but her. Perhaps he was feeling the same pent-up desire, but there was no torture on Cybertron that would make him confess to it in public. That somehow made it all the more tempting to tease him.

'I'm so bad,' she thought mischievously. 'He'll never forgive me for it.' But forgiveness was not on her mind right now. Her hand rose up under the table, almost on its own accord, and moved until it encountered sleek metal.

Optimus barely reacted to the feather-light touch. He was used to ignoring slight distractions, and over the years his concentration had grown so that he could focus entirely on the subject at hand while shoving minute background imput to his subconscious. His leg merely twitched slightly, automatically trying to shake off the touch.

'Oh, no you don't!' Alita thought. 'You're not getting off that easily!'

The touch on his leg, becoming a bit firmer, slowly wormed its way into his conscious mind. While his expression never changed, and his conversation with Ratchet never faltered, Alita could tell that he was finally registering her touch. He shifted position, but her hand remained in place, gently squeezing the knee joint.

While appearing to listen to the conversation around him, he turned a questioning gaze her way. She stared at the ceiling intently with an expression of angelic innocence. This was taken as she had intended, for Prime's optics widened. She could no longer suppress a gleeful smile. It was just so much fun to torment him.

'Oh, Primus, what do I do now?' he thought in shocked surprise. Alita knew just how much he disliked public displays of affection, and now here he was, being caressed in front of his most important officers. He flinched inwardly as her hand crept upwards, caressing his inner thigh.

Alita frowned slightly. From this position she could only reach his lower thighs. This just wouldn't do at all. But she knew how to rectify the situation. She was going to put her rank to good use. "I can't quite see the plans," she said sweetly. Optimus hastily handed them over, a dark premonition rising in him, but she shook her head and pulled her chair next to his. He shifted his chair to put space between them, but she simply followed suit. To the casual observer it would seem as if he was making room for her.

Alita picked up one of the battle plans and appeared to study it intently. Meanwhile, her other hand resumed its course of working its way up Prime's leg. He sat very still in his chair, not wanting to encourage her.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, pretending to study the plans as well. He didn't want to let on about the literally under-the-table activities.

"Why, nothing," she said innocently. However, her hand was doing some not-so-innocent things as it reached the sensitive area where his leg met his torso.

Prime barely stifled a yelp. His hands gripped the table, muscle cables flexing. In spite of himself, he was becoming aroused. Reaching down beneath the table, he tried to brush her hand away. But she would not be thwarted so easily. No longer hiding her grin, she grasped his hand firmly in her own and stroked it against his interface unit.

Optimus could not stifle the gasp that rose in his throat. He was fervently glad that robots did not truly blush, as he felt, with embarrassment, his interface unit begin to respond. Even his own body was betraying him today. He jerked his hand free, as if he'd been scalded. As her hand returned to torture him, he crossed his legs, attempting to halt her teasing touch and his own growing response.

Alita giggled slightly at his prim manners. "Don't make as if you don' t like it," she murmured. While she could no longer move her hand freely, it was still trapped between his legs, and she was quite content to keep it there.

Prime gradually grew more and more uncomfortable. Although Alita could no longer continue her torment, he was still acutely aware of her smooth hand nestled cozily between his legs. It radiated warmth against his body, making his unit throb in response. Shifting slightly in his seat only caused Alita's hand to move against him and fuel his desire.

He finally uncrossed his legs, somehow finding that still position even more uncomfortable than Alita's teasing. Alita chalked up another point for herself in her mind. "Do you want me to stop?" she purred seductively.

Optimus struggled to activate his vocal unit, to voice the single word that would put a stop to this whole humiliating situation. But, he realized with horror and embarrassment, a part of him, probably the one that was being stimulated below, didn't want the pleasure to end. "Mmm," he groaned, and while it most certainly was not the response he intended to give, it was the correct one nonetheless.

Alita shuddered in delight at his response, so obviously unintentional yet beyond his control. Her interface port began to moisten in anticipation. Groping her lover under the table in he middle of a briefing was such a naughty thing to do. She normally respected his desire to keep the physical aspect of their relationship behind closed doors, but every now and then her desire overrode her caution. Optimus professed to hate public displays of affection, and Alita had no doubt it was true, but there was a part of him that relished such covert hanky-panky. Alita loved to take advantage of his helpless, guilty feelings of forbidden arousal.

Her hand returned to its activity while Prime sat quietly, dumbfounded. "Stop it!" he finally managed to whisper, but not very convincingly, for at the same time he instinctively spread his legs a bit more, allowing better access. Understanding fully which cue to follow, she felt for the seams in his armor and unsnapped his cod piece. She watched with lustful optics as a powerful shudder tore through him at the sensation of air flowing around the exposed circuitry. Such direct stimulation was too much to ignore, and a low grow escaped his lips.

He realized in horror that all optics were upon him. 'Oh, Primus, they know!' he thought guiltily. 'They must think the worst of me.'

Jazz was the first to speak. "Prime, are you all right?" he asked, looking concerned.

Prime's jaw dropped. Was it possible that they didn't realize what was going on?

Perceptor rambled out a hypothesis. "While my evaluation does not profess to be a medical one, it is my opinion that, judging from your distracted responses and general appearance, you have taken ill, but whether your ailment is a rust infection or some other malady I cannot say for certain."

Ratchet, chief medical officer, did not look as convinced. Prime's uncharacteristic distraction, or at least the outward manifestation of it, was unusual and indicated that something was amiss. However the physical symptoms did not correspond with any illness he knew of. The answer danced in the back of his mind, but he just couldn't seem to put his finger on it.

Optimus wasn't quite sure what to say. Alita's hand had ceased its exploration, which gave him a chance to think, but still rested suggestively on his pleasure interface. He could feel it throbbing a bit, hungry for her touch, her kiss, all of her. "I'm really all right," he began, but another bolt of agonizingly exquisite pleasure shot through him, causing him to grimace behind his mask as his voice shook slightly. "But perhaps we should call this briefing to an end. I've already distributed the crucial information, and the rest of the reports can wait until our next meeting." Seeing Perceptor's crushed expression, he continued, "Of course, if there is any important information that you feel should be shared with me, feel free to submit a written summary." And hopefully, I can skim through most of Perceptor's, he thought with amused exasperation.

Prime's feelings of guilt began to engulf him as the others shuffled out of the room, each murmuring a get-well message. Ratchet was still rather confused as he headed for the door, the last one to exit besides Optimus and Alita. Optimus did not appear to be truly ill, but Ratchet wondered if he should coerce the Autobot leader to come in for a checkup. His confusion was cleared up when Alita held up Prime's cod piece, fortunately out of its owner's sight, and offered an explanatory wink.

"Well, I'll be damned," Ratchet murmured as he left, making sure that the red warning light outside the door was still lit, and the door was secure. Only then did he give in to his laughter.

Alita stood and turned to go, placing the cod piece conspicuously on the table. "You know, you *do* look rather ill," she said, barely stifling a giggle. "Perhaps I should leave you alone to get some rest."

Optimus stood and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Rest is the last thing I need right now, and you know it," he growled. "You seem to find it rather amusing to push me to the brink of madness, and then just walk away as if nothing happened. Well, I'm not laughing. You shouldn't have started anything in the first place if you weren't willing to finish it. He watched her reaction closely, hoping that she wouldn't take it the wrong way. He firmly believed that every woman had the right to stop whenever she wanted, with no explanations, but the two of them had been together for millennia, and he knew without a doubt that she had begun to feel him up today only to delight in his erotic torment.

Fortunately, Alita knew Prime practically inside out, and she understood what he was trying to say. In the initial stages of their relationship, she could have gotten away with such behavior, leaving Optimus grateful for what he'd gotten and never daring to ask for more. But now they had an understanding of each other, and Optimus knew quite rightly that she was almost as aroused as he was. She loved to pull the strings of his libido, and quite often he was eager to be her puppet. Still, a role reversal was welcome every now and then, and Prime was in the mood to take control.

"Optimus," she began, but her words were cut off mid-sentence as he ripped off his mask and kissed her passionately. One hand caressed her breastplate while the other slid down to her behind, pulling her against him suggestively.

His next move surprised the both of them. He knelt and placed an arm behind her knees, the other coming up to support her back as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the large table. This time she was the one who was at a loss for words as he draped her across its length and swiftly removed her armor. "Oh, Optimus!" she cried out as his mouth moved to her exposed breasts, stimulating the incredibly receptive circuitry, while one hand ventured between her legs to test her level of arousal.

She trembled as he realized how soon she was ready for their joining. She had been kept at a very low-key level of arousal for the past few weeks, instinctively responding to her mate's skillful ly restrained sexuality, yet held back by the call of duty. Her body had been like dry kindling, ripe to be set ablaze. But more than that was Prime's atypical aggression, full of frustrated desire. She was usually the one to take control during their lovemaking, and she wouldn't want Prime's forcefulness to become a habit, but the few times he had become desperate by her hand made her want him all the more. His amazing strength, enough to snap her in two, would normally be quite intimidating and cause her to fear him if he used it often, but he was quite fond of surrendering such power to her control, and it was exhilarating. Even more so was the rush she got on the rare occasions that he took the initiative, forcing her to submit to his hands and mouth. It was in these few isolated moments that she understood how intense the surrender to another could be, and why Optimus craved the cold steel of maximum-security restraints.

Optimus stared down at her voraciously, his normally baby-blue optics darkening to indigo with desire. He used both hands to stroke her breasts, pointedly ignoring her arched back and spread legs. "I'm going to show you how it feels to be teased," he growled. "I'm going to make you beg for it. I want you to tell me just how badly you crave my touch." He couldn't believe those words were coming out of his mouth. And that turned him on even more.

Alita was even more amazed. Their liaisons usually culminated with her making him beg for satisfaction, not the other way around. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time he'd talked dirty, and those explicit words coming from his mouth prompted a hot gush of lubricant to pool between her legs. Unlike him, though, she had no qualms about begging. She had no inhibitions in bed, and wasn't afraid to ask for what she wanted. "I want you so badly I can taste it," she panted, gripping his shoulders forcefully. "You can't wait much longer either, for all your posturing. Please, love, it's been too long for both of us."

'She knows me far too well,' Optimus thought, rather disappointed that she had called his bluff, yet not really minding. Their joining was the only thing he could focus on. Never had his beloved looked more beautiful to him, optics half-closed in desire, lips parted, metallic skin covered in a fine sheet of coolant. Overcome by a wave of love, he kissed her forehead tenderly, caressing her cheek. "I can't deny you anything when you look at me that way," he murmured.

She melted as he kissed her lips, the confrontational nature of their foreplay subsiding. She sensed the movement of his hips above her, then cried out against his mouth as his unit began to slowly penetrate her open, yielding core. Her head tilted back as she gave in to a long, deep-throated moan. The insistent throb that radiated through her pleasure interface was at last being answered. The sensation of being filled was almost unbearably delicious, and she voiced a half-sob as short bursts of electricity raced through her access port. It was surprising that a room so frequently filled with the anxious and the bored could be such an aphrodisiac, she thought half-coherently as he resumed his attention to the twin orbs so prominently displayed on her chest.

"By Primus, I can't believe how wet you are!" Optimus said breathlessly. This was the response that he loved the most. He moved within her effortlessly, bathed in her lubricant. The fluid also dampened his thighs, so intimately entwined with her own. It was being caressed with liquid silk.

Much sooner than he had anticipated, Optimus found that release was just a heartbeat away. Alita's knowing hands had done a number on him, and now the pleasure was taking its toll. "Oh, Lita!" he cried in abandon as his legs stiffened, every receptor circuit on fire. He stayed stock-still, poised on the very brink of climax, optics squeezed shut, breathlessly waiting. Then it crashed down upon him, carrying him away in one swoop. He collapsed limply onto her, burying his face in her shoulder as his whole chassis trembled. Alita stroked his head until the violent fit subsided.

As the tremors faded away, Optimus looked at her guiltily. He usually took great pleasure in bringing her off first, letting her breathless cries and molten core fuel his own quest for release, but this time he'd left her behind.

Reading the guilty expression, and knowing the cause of it, Alita hastened to intervene. "Don't you dare apologize to me, Optimus Prime. So your rocket went off a little too early, big deal. Like it doesn't happen to everyone. Now you can concentrate entirely on me. And if you don't finish fucking me, I definitely will never forgive you." A bit extreme, perhaps, but it brought Prime's mind back to the task at hand. 'He'd be so busy apologizing to me that he'd forget to finish the job,' she thought in amusement. This was one of the times when chivalry fell flat on its face.

Optimus returned to his task with whole-hearted pleasure. Hard as it was for some to comprehend, he liked giving pleasure as much as receiving it. He resumed the stimulation of the peak of one breast with his mouth as his hand stroked the side of her head. He began to thrust slowly, gradually increasing the tempo. His other hand slid between their slippery joined bodies to stroke the pleasure-receptive circuitry.

Alita's hands flew to his massive shoulders, squeezing once again. She could feel her inner muscles throb insistently, the exquisite tension building o a dizzying peak. Her cries built to a fevered crescendo, and she was fervently thankful for the soundproofing that made this the most secure room in the base. "Faster!" she urged desperately as her legs squeezed his torso. Her back arched off the table, and her head tilted back, exposing the long, sleek column of her throat.

While keeping his mouth at her breast, Optimus moved his hand from her head and stroked its twin, pinching the peak delicately. The hand between their legs ventured further, drenched in her juices, caressing the area where her access port ended and her rear began. This was one of her secret hot spots, which she had never dreamed existed until he had happened upon it quite some time after they had become lovers. "Oh, yes! Right there!" she cried almost incoherently. Her body was a massive pleasure unit ready to overload. "My god, I'm -- oh! oh!" Her jaw clamped shut, unable to articulate the overwhelming sensation. Her optics squeezed shut, rivulets of cleansing liquid trickling from the corners. Her fingers dug into Prime's shoulders, creating small dents, but he never made a sound of protest. To him, nothing was more beautiful than a woman poised at the threshold of orgasm.

The ecstasy swelled, then finally burst outward, her core ablaze with impulses of electric current. Her body jerked spasmodically as the rhythmic contractions gripped her. All she could see behind her shut optics was a dazzling array of stars.

She opened her optics and smiled at her lover. The smile showed slight signs of fatigue, but mostly conveyed her deep satisfaction. A proverbial roll in the hay always did wonders for both of their dispositions.

Optimus smiled at her tenderly. He wished that they could cuddle together for awhile, but a table was not always conducive to such activities. Besides, the room was scheduled for use in fifteen minutes. They'd have to clean up the rather conspicuous evidence, but for now he was content to lay there, holding her in his arms.

"Have you learned your lesson?" he inquired playfully.

"Absolutely," she replied. "I'll have to do this again sometime." She laughed at his horrified expression.

"Is that how you want to play?" he teased. "Well, I just might turn the tables and feel you up in public someday."

"Ooh," she purred, relishing the idea.

Optimus shook his head. "I should have known. You'd be able to orgasm in front of the entire senior staff and never give a hint."

Alita gazed up at him slyly. "Why should you let that stop you?"

"Oh, you!" he cried and began tickling her sides. As she squealed and tried to fend him off, he began to laugh. Perhaps he would treat her to the same torment, if only to get her soaking wet, which he loved. But that would have to wait for another day. Right now he was just too busy enjoying the sound of his own laughter.

The End

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