His first night cycle as Prime, Optimus slept.
He slept dreamlessly, even in such an unfamiliar place. Much of what had once been Sentinel’s palace had been destroyed just that day; The dust had not even fully settled on the ruins. What hadn't been destroyed was still covered in explicit reminders of Sentinel and his own narcissism, which Optimus had been simply unable to handle, half dead on his own feet as he was from the day's events.
The havoc hadn't come close to ending. Returning all of the stolen transformation cogs had only been the start of it all. He had been swiftly bundled up by the remaining government officials (those who had not fled), and immediately been given a rundown on what he would need to do to get his new government in order. The Matrix had given him strong instincts and feelings on what actions he should take and what choices were best, but even those messages were exhausting to receive after joors upon joors.
No. Optimus hadn't been able to rest anywhere where the marks of Sentinel were still so clear.
He had found himself in the section of the palace reserved for housing the on-site employees. The housekeepers, the messengers, even the detailers.
Swaddled in the familiarity of the working class, Optimus finally shuttered his Optics and recharged.
His second night, Optimus could not sleep.
He was just tired enough that he knew he would not be able to overwhelm his processor more than he already had that day, and yet he was not so tired that his mind could not race.
His body. His frame.
It felt so unfamiliar. It didn't feel wrong, but it was not the frame that he had known since his onlining nearly 48 cycles ago. His frame that had not even been able to transform.
He had initially not even been sure what this frame should feel like. This had not only been his second day since his reformatting, but it had been the first day he had not fought with his new frame.
Ratchet, a no-nonsense but good doctor, had already given him his first tune up. The doctor had also worked with Optimus to engage every possible transformation and microtransformation his frame was capable of in order to make sure he was fully calibrated.
Heat had flooded to Optimus's faceplate as the doctor had, in an absolutely clinical way, explained the steps to transform away his interface panels.
Optimus was not even sure if his cogless body had had interfacing equipment. If it had, he would have had no way of accessing it without the proper transformation sequences.
His ever present curiosity had led to his current situation. He was tucked into some berth in some private room and was petting his own transformation seams.
He had never known how sensitive they could be. The lack of a cog had left the seams deadened for nearly all of his life.
Now, even a light touch with the tip of his digit practically had him gasping. He steeled himself before shoving a finger into a widened seam between two plates. He could unlock his plating and leave it gaping wide now. He could reach sensitive components and wires that had hardly even felt the air much less a gentle caress.
He tried his best to stifle a groan.
He could feel his interfacing equipment activating, but wasn't sure what he should do with all of that just yet.
This was more simple.
He hooked his finger into the seam that ran along the top of his thigh and gently slid the tip across a sensory wire. Somewhere in his processor, he knew that he had to hold himself still. He was worried that if he thrashed too much he would have an embarrassing finger injury to show Ratchet tomorrow. It was too difficult. He palmed another transformation seam along his neck and down to where his chest was able to part-
Optimus gasped and whined .
How could this have been kept from him? A snarky, deeper part of himself thought that preventing the cogless from knowing their own frames in such a way was a crime in and of itself.
In his chest the Matrix was warm, a thrumming, living thing. It didn't seem to disapprove of Optimus's exploration. Much the opposite, in fact. This was a gift from Primus. A gift to enjoy and give and receive pleasure with. In fact, there was yet more he had been blessed with…
Optimus rolled onto his side, running a hand down and into the large transformation seam along his flank. He heaved a vent before methodically, and clumsily, following the process Ratchet had shown him to free his interface array.
His spike was foreign to him, and yet it felt natural and right to hold in his palm. He hadn't been erect during his physical. He wasn't entirely sure what an average or proper size and shape were, but he felt he must be normal in that regard. The little interlocking platelets that formed the shaft slid through his hand on a downstroke, and caught deliciously on the matching upstroke. Red biolights softly glowed between the segments and around the base, broadcasting his arousal to his nonexistent audience in the dark room.
His other hand abandoned his seems to slip down between his thighs.
Ah!
This part, he still had not had a good look at. He rolled onto his back and curled his chassis as much as he could to take a peek. He had to pin his spike against his belly and finally he could see. Glistening protoform folds greeted him, with a red node nestled at the apex. He wanted to touch it. Gently, almost hesitantly, he ran a finger around and then over the slickened surface. His node pulsed and he gasped. It felt even better than his wires and seams!
Visual curiosity satisfied, Optimus flopped onto his back and set to work exploring his array with strokes and gasps. This felt amazing!
The Matrix continued to pulse warmth and assurance at him, and he finally shuttered his optics, allowing himself to openly pant into the dark.
He felt like he was climbing or building towards something, but what?
He was distantly aware of his thighs tensing and even shaking. He braced his pedes against the berth and spread his thighs some more. He experimented with sliding a finger into himself, not neglecting the steady stroking of his spike. After a few moments of exploration inside, he decided he liked playing with his node more. He ran this thumb over the head of his spike, feeling the wetness around his spike's output.
He wanted more.
Optimus tensed his thighs and set to work on firmly rubbing his node between two fingers and stroking his spike in earnest. He couldn't hold back his panting or gasping and felt his back arching.
Oh!
Oh, he felt like he was on a precipice!
The Matrix pulsed deep and warm and Optimus felt himself tumbling over the edge. He opened unseeing optics and thrashed .
His body was thrumming, throbbing, pulsing and he felt more wetness than ever.
After a few moments of white-out bliss, he felt himself coming back into his body. He sank back into the berth, all of his struts and limbs weak.
He couldn't help but chuckle. He never would have guessed he could feel like that! He took a peek down at where his hands were still on his interface array. He had a bit of cleanup to do. He hummed and brought his hands up to his intake and gave each of them an experimental lick.
Not bad.
He wondered what that could be like with a partner...