It was past midnight. The Ark had been locked down for the night and the systems put on standby. Optimus was almost in recharge. Almost.

His com beeped with an unfamiliar chime. The sender was unknown, the coordinates originating from somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Optimus stared at it, a heavy feeling settled in the bottom of his tanks.

He debated opening it. Despite obvious attempts at remaining anonymous the origin was quite clear to Optimus. Harassing him with unwanted messages in the middle of the night and disturbing his recharge cycle had Megatron written all over it.

There was a question of how the enemy might have gotten hold of such a supposedly secure channel, and if it would be worth bothering Wheeljack to have the frequency changed to prevent further communication. He certainly didn't want Megatron comming him all hours of the cycle like an organic adolescent with a cellphone and a crush.

His finger hoovered over the flashing 'accept'.

What could it possibly contain? A virus to glitch his systems? Perhaps a threat to ensure his compliance?

An overheard conversation between Jazz and Spike about a human phenomenon called 'Sexting' suddenly entered his processor, and his chest burned with annoyance. If he opened this message and an intimate, highly unsolicited image of Megatron were to pop up, he was going to march down to the Decepticon Headquarters and put an end to this buffoonery with a swift kick up that self important warlord's aft.

He hit accept.

36.1070° N, 112.1130° W. Meet me at 0300.

With a disapproving huff, Optimus deleted the message, coordinates and all.

There was a vague afterthought that perhaps he could have passed the information onto Prowl. His tactician would have staged an ambush. If Megatron had been stupid enough to expect this plan to have worked, he probably would have been stupid enough to come alone.

The Matrix stirred beside his spark. That sort of underhandedness was something the Decepticons did. Not them.

Glancing across the room to his desk, the stained blade he had frustratedly thrown across it earlier in the evening glinted at him. Like a teasing wink.

Optimus scowled to himself beneath his facemask, landing back against his berth heavily. The only thing that seemed to cool his mounting anger was the memory of Megatron's expression when he'd shoved that knife in.

He had the sudden, inappropriately crude thought, that at least now Megatron knew what it felt like to be impaled against his wishes too.

Optimus's com beeped for the fifth time in an hour, and Prowl paused mid sentence.

"Do you need to take that?"

Optimus was grateful for the mask obscuring his embarrassed expression. "No," he growled, deleting it without looking. "Please, continue."

Across from him Prowl turned back to his lengthy and exceeding boring presentation on the tactical advantages of establishing a secondary security base along the coast line. As it was so boring, the room's other occupant, Jazz, still seemed more interested in his Commander, than he did Prowl.

His comm beeped again.

Jazz's helm whipped around, his grin blinding, and Optimus had to restrain himself before he hit the table in frustration.

"Someone's gotta friend," his saboteur commented mischievously.

Prowl cleared his throat, servos on his hips as he fixed Jazz with a Look. "Do you mind?"

"Hey, it's his com," Jazz shifted blame quickly, pointing at Optimus. "He's the one distracting me."

Prowl's gaze snapped back to him, and Optimus moved to stand before he could even ask. "It's fine. Can we continue this another time? It seems I need my comlink... adjusted."

His Second nodded understandingly.

Optimus went to leave the room in relief, servo already automatically dismissing the last message. When another beep rang out. Jaw clenched beneath the mask Optimus looked down, half prepared to rip the damn communication device from his own wrist just to make it stop. Only to realise it hadn't been his com at all.

He turned, and Jazz was sat with his own com aloft, reading.

Optimus felt his spark drop out of the bottom of it's chamber.

But the saboteur met his gaze with pleased little smirk, "Ya know, I'd probably refuse to pass this on, on the grounds that I'm not Megatron's little messenger drone, but-"

He leant across the table, angling the message for his Commander to see.

"-he did say 'please'."

With great unwillingness, Optimus leant in.

Prime. 36.1070° N, 112.1130° W. Meet me at 2300 tonight. Please.

"Erase it." He snapped with unnecessary heat. Jazz didn't seem bothered, his servo moved to the comlink.

"Should I at least reply with a 'no thanks?'"

Optimus's response was to shut the door of the meeting room in his face.

The coordinates led him to the Grand Canyon. Optimus stood at the bottom between the high rocky walls; blaster out and ready, nervous energy building as every second ticked closer to the meeting time.

At present, the canyon was deserted. And Optimus had the sudden bizarre concern that he might be stood up. For an ambush/ meeting/ date, that he hadn't even wanted to go to.

He had turned back twice on his way before finally finding the perseverance to go through with coming, whatever the consequences. He was here to return Megatron's blade and to tell him to kindly go and frag himself, and that was all.

And perhaps shoot him; if he didn't behave.

His chrono changed to the hour, and Optimus's spark did a little spin as he glanced around him. No sign of-

The thunk of metal pedes against hard rock met his audials. He switched on his headlights, illuminating the rocky passage just as a shiny, silver form stepped around it, and froze in place at the sight of him.

"You came." Megatron's voice rasped in apparent shock.

Optimus lessened the brightness of his headlights, so they weren't quite so dazzling against the Decepticon's armour, and was struck with the bizarre realisation that, "-You polished?"

Megatron glanced down at himself as if he too was surprised. "Yes, well. I. See, Starscream- he-" he cut off, looking furious with himself.

His second-hand embarrassment was almost enough for Optimus to pity him. Almost.

He reached into his subspace and withdrew the blade. Megatron's optics brightened at the sight of it, hopeful. Until Optimus threw it down. It clattered to a stop between the Decepticon's pedes.

"That was a gift." He said gruffly.

"Do I look like I'm interested in your gifts?" Optimus responded harshly, optics blazing over the top of his mask. "Or anything else you have to offer, for that matter?"

Megatron's back straightened, affronted, "Then why did you come?"

"To tell you to back off!" Optimus's timbre echoed off the high rocks, impossibly loud in the empty canyon. "How many times do I have to say 'no' before it gets through your thick helm?"

Rocks tumbled as Megatron began to move down the slight incline towards him, shoulders rolling with his purposeful strides, "Back off?!" He snarled, "You started this-"

"Started what?" Optimus held his ground, lifting his blaster to dissuade his enemy's advance. "You started this nonsense. I made no such... Solicitations towards you, and I don't know what you're thinking to gain from this, but it stops. It stops now, Megatron."

"No 'solicitations'?" Megatron's expression twisted sarcastically, "Then what on Cybertron was that state you were in at that power station? Rushing into battle in the middle of a heat cycle, you were damn lucky you didn't-"

"Lucky?!" Optimus's energon ran cold at the memory; pressed into the ground, Megatron's hot, heavy armour on top of him, his cold crimson stare -the same stare the Decepticon was giving him now. He shook his helm furiously, brandishing his blaster. He was so angry he almost couldn't form sentences.

"That wasn't. I never went looking-!"

Megatron's expression was as tight and incensed as his was beneath the mask.

He lifted his blaster, aiming it between the Decepticon's narrowed optics, "I didn't consent to that."

"And you think I did?" Megatron's replied coldly. "Do you think I wanted to do that? That I enjoyed it? That I don't know what it feels like to be pinned down and-"

"Don't." Optimus didn't want to hear the rest of that sentence. He didn't want to know. And he was done reliving that moment in the power station. "It happened. It's over."

"Let me make it right." A large grey servo lifted and extended towards him. Optimus met the Decepticon's optics again, surprised by their sudden dimness, "Allow me to prove myself to you."

Optimus scoffed, darkly delighting at the insulted expression on his enemy's face. "I know all too well what sort of mech you are already, Megatron."

"I see," Megatron growled, his optics tracking up and down his frame disapprovingly. "The great and righteous Matrix bearer, Cybertron's chosen saviour, too pure to be seen consorting with Decepticon filth-"

"Your reputation is of your own making-" Optimus felt his temper rising again.

"And how long did it take to wash my touch away?" Megatron continued, "I'm surprised you didn't wear your off your paint."

Hours, Optimus's processor unconsciously supplied for him. He had been in the wash-racks for hours, fingers numb from the constant scrubbing, paint thinning under the assault. "Do not provoke me."

"You think this is provoking?" Megatron's optics blazed, his gestures growing aggressive. "How's this for provoking? Do you know what surprised me most about that day in the power station? Beside how much you moaned like a common drone when I spiked you, was that I didn't find that sacred valve of yours sealed, you sanctimonious prig!"

Optimus subspaced his blaster; he needed both servos to kick Megatron's aft.

He threw himself forward, swinging for the Decepticon's helm. Megatron caught his fist in his open palm, and squeezed, almost crushing it. Ignoring the pain, Optimus bent his knee, lifting his leg, and sent his pede slamming into Megatron's abdomen -right against a recently repaired stab wound.

Wincing, the Decepticon released him, air rushing from his intakes with a pained huff. He curled in around the dented armour, snarling, "You-"

Optimus didn't let him get the insult out, taking full advantage of the Decepticons winded state. He sent his elbow down against Megatron's exposed backstrut, and drove his knee up into the damage.

Megatron fell with a ground shaking crash to his knees, one servo catching himself against the ground, the other wrapped around his middle. Optimus loomed over him, ready to kick him even whilst he was down if he dared open that arrogant mouth of his.

Panting heavily, the Decepticon lifted his helm, a devious spark to his optics. "Feel better now?"

"Get up." Optimus rumbled, only because he wanted to knock him to the ground again.

Megatron did, slowly, like a wounded old mech. He stretched, arching his back to crack it, watching him very deliberately, "...Like what you see?"

Optimus's servo was around his throat before he could blink.

He shoved the Decepticon against the canyon wall hard enough to dislodge dust and small rocks that pinged against their armour like little drops of rain. He felt the air rush from Megatron's intakes, this time wafting hotly against his windshield.

Megatron leant into the servo clamped tightly around his neck, gaze daring, mouth set in a hard line. His servo lifted to curl around Optimus's wrist, but he didn't try to break his grip.

"What do you want from me?" Optimus demanded, servo tightening.

He didn't answer, tilting his helm forwards, lips parting to breathe. He moved in, closer and closer, intimidating with his proximity, but Optimus refused to lean away, spark picking up speed as it span.

Finally, there was a tiny ding as the tip of Megatron's nose met his faceplate. He breathed heavily against it.

Optimus's legs felt numb.

"Get this stupid thing out of my way," the Decepticon muttered, lips nudging the mask as he spoke.

There was a sharp click as the latches released and the faceplate parted down the middle. Optimus had just enough time to exhale before Megatron's mouth closed that half inch between them wetly, lips colliding harshly.

With a muffled snarl Megatron pushed off the canyon wall, surging into the kiss, sharp denta closing on Optimus's bottom lip and pulling until his intakes hitched at the sting. Energon on his glossa, Optimus shoved back, movements hurried as he tried to regain the advantage, pushing into the Decepticon's mouth with as much invasiveness as he himself was receiving.

Megatron smacked his servo away from his throat. Distracted, it went easily. Optimus almost stumbled, grimacing against his foes messy, assertive advances.

Megatron stepped closer, broad chest bumping his own. Two servos then somehow found his hips, and Optimus knew he was done for.

The kiss broke with a gasp of breath and Megatron's snarled, "Prime-", and Optimus caught the Decepticon's wide shoulders just as he was span, pedes tripping over one another, and thrown against the wall he had just been pinning Megatron too.

Their positions suitably reversed, Megatron closed the distance once again. This kiss longer, lingering just enough for Optimus to taste the oil on the Decepticon's glossa, to shudder at the slide of lips, the teasing nips at his glossa.

He stifled a moan, sinking back against the rock, hips twitching ever so slightly at the servos tightly grasping them. Megatron fitted himself close, weight resting against him.

"This is better, isn't it?" He heard Megatron murmur, a hairs breadth from his lips.

Optimus couldn't bring himself to respond, couldn't even find the strength to online his optics. He felt his way down Megatron's shoulders, down his chest, servos pressing against the thick armour, ready to push him away as soon as- as soon as-

Megatron mouth brushed his, slow and coaxing, drawing Optimus in, skilfully tricking him into initiating the kiss. He tilted his helm, bumping their noses, and he felt Megatron's lips curving.

He was forced to admit to himself that he had vastly lost control of the situation.

Megatron reached up and removed a servo from his chest plates, pushing something into his palm before closing his digits around it firmly. He drew back, "For you."

Optimus forced himself to online his optics, and was met with Megatron's deep penetrating stare. He watched him lean in, one last time, to press a firm kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Till next time."

He stepped away, leaving Optimus stunned, half slumped against a dusty canyon wall, face exposed and lips swollen. He couldn't imagine what a state he must have looked as he watched Megatron walk away into the night, strides long and purposeful, without so much as a backwards glance.

Optimus shuttered his optics, spark hollow and aching, and lifted his servo. He stared at the blade Megatron had pressed into it abysmally. This little scenario certainly wasn't going to help dissuade further romantic advances.

After what felt like hours of waiting for his legs to start responding to his processor, he pushed away from the rock wall, servo lifting to his tender lips. They came away damp with energon from where he'd been bitten.

His mask sealed back in place with a snap. Spark hardening, he straightened his back.

A tiny beep signalled a message arrival before he could take more than two steps though. Defeated and already embarrassed beyond realms he would have thought possible, Optimus didn't worry about opening it.

You're far too handsome to be hiding behind that mask.

Optimus thought about sending a strongly worded response back. But that could be seen as encouraging contact. He ignored the message.

But he didn't delete it either.

It was late enough that the corridors were deserted when Optimus returned to the Ark. He thanked Primus and anyone else that might have been listening that Prowl wasn't awake to lecture him. His Second had an eye for detail. It didn't matter that Optimus didn't wear any visible marks from what had happened. Prowl would just know.

He stumbled into his berth and sprawled himself across it, staring up at his blank ceiling.

Megatron's blade was still in his servo.

He hurriedly stuffed it under the berth coverings, out of sight, and tried to summon thoughts of the most utterly un-arousing things in existence. Vector Sigma, paperwork, the future of his entire species weighing solely on his shoulders...

The warm pressure between his hips didn't ease. His fingers curled against the berth's insulation covers.

With a furious noise, he rose. There was nothing for it, he thought with great resignation, he was going to have to take a cold shower, like a frisky adolescent with no outlet. It was that or the alternative, and he knew he didn't have the willpower to banish the recent memory of Megatron's servos, and lips, and glossa-

His array throbbed beneath his panel and he quickly ducked inside the wash-racks, yanking the temperature gage all the way down before slapping the spray on.

He braced, and half a second later ice cold solvent doused him, trickling between his seams and seizing his armour. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to remain under the spray even as it stung. He deserved it anyway.

He let his helm thunk against the wall with a deep sigh, arousal wilting but processor still spinning.

He needed to make absolutely sure that no one ever learned of this. Not Prowl, not even Ratchet.

His tank rolled with a sudden worry that Megatron was unlikely to be as exclusive with his own faction. Decepticons didn't seem the sort to keep intimate affairs and liaisons particularly private. He could only imagine what sort of gossip was being carried through the halls of the Decepticon's underwater base that very moment.

Seekers in particular -he remembered from his experiences in Vos as a much younger Prime- were terrible gossips.

He switched off the solvent spray.

Looked like some damage control might be in order.