Knock-Knock (Patreon)

I wrote something with ThunderOP >:D
Wheee, another sleepless night was worth it UwU

All updates to it will be posted to the archive! Because of the future change of rating.

[2026-08-31] UPD: Chapter 3 is live!

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88842346/chapters/235766991

First chapter +2nd before it gets too steamy:

[Skybound spoilers, Issue 27 and up]

Chapter 1

Knock-knock.

“Optimus, do you have a moment?” A freshly formed Autobot peeked inside the newly acquired leader's office. A tint of sheepish hesitation in his smile, mixed in with giddy excitement in his bright, fiery optics.

They were gathering for their first mission together, with Arcee becoming a new Magnus, odds and spirits were in their favor and as high as never before since waking up on Earth.

Optimus sat at the table in the middle of a small room, — almost a closet, really — a temporal respite before they can spare more resources at fixing up Ark’s sections after both the crash, and Devastator’s visit. He lifted his helm from browsing the latest con activity, datapad in his servo. A smile bloomed at the corners of his sky-blue optics.

“Of course, Thundercracker. For you I will always find one.”

Thundercracker’s spark spun faster in its — now so tight, almost painfully so — casing.

“Just one?” It wasn't what he wanted to ask, but a piqued tinge of anxiety overtook his processor for a nano-klik.

“I only—” Optimus protested at the unintentional figure of speech.

“No, I'm sorry—” The Seeker fully came into view. Optimus scanned his frame, concern written on his faceplate, the one that even the battle mask can't hide.

“That's not what I wanted to say. What I mean. Thank you, Optimus. For trusting me. For giving me a chance to prove myself to you.”

If Optimus didn't know any better, he'd think there was personal admiration in Thundercracker's voice. Red mech relaxed his posture, relief overcoming the prior awkward wording.

“That is our way, Thundercracker. I am glad that it was you who made the final choice. It gives me hope for the future. For all of us.”

Both mechs stared at each other in silence. Either drained of speech, yet neither wanting to interrupt the moment.

The two pairs of optics darting, noticing smallest of movements in servos. A twitch of digits. A strained exvent. Lingering exploration of fresh finish. Pristine paintjob on smooth plating.

Optimus' mask moved, as if he wanted to lean in, say something, yet nothing came out. Or was it that the Seeker hadn't been listening, or his audials were malfunctioning?

Thundercracker’s frame moved forward, as if carried by unseen force. A pull on his pistons. Irresistible.

“Do you have a mate?” Surrounding sounds returned into existence. The Seeker's voice stood in the room as an immovable monument to his determination. Devotion to the cause.

“I— What?” Optimus' voice hitched. Confusion, disbelief settling in his processor. “No?” He cycled his optics, focusing on reading intentions on Thundercracker's faceplate. If there can be found any. The Seeker’s stoic demeanor was the answer he had been looking for.

“No, I do not have such a sparkmate, if that's what you're referring to.” The red mech slanted in his chair, Matrix feeling heavy in his chamber.

“What brought such a question? I believe anyone could have answered if you'd asked them—”

“No.” Thundercracker shook his helm. “If we were to court, I must know it for sure. From you.”

Prime’s intake was agape under his battle mask. Optics cycling one time after another. Internal notification asking to update Thundercracker’s Autobot signature to inamorato.

“I—” he tried to find a reason to decline the offer. They were at war. There is no time to involve oneself with such matters. Especially when everyone needs their Prime to be the pillar of strength for everyone. A very lonely pillar, that carries the weight of — now, — two worlds on its tired hexa-lateral scapulas.

“Yes.” The red mech stood up straight. Confidence emanating from him. Securely controlled EM field reached out in accepting, flourishing confirmation towards Thundercracker's restrained, yet hopeful one. “Yes, I'd like that.”

Chapter 2

He stood before him. Red, towering grounder against equally impressive, broad, blue Seeker. Two different words meeting in a confined space. Like sky bordering the horizon, never touching, gray servo hovered over the legendary windshields.

“May I?”

Optimus studied Thundercracker's expression for a klik: optics of a color of sunset engrossed with his core, resolute corners of his dermas, yielding softness of his cheek plating. Spark behind the Matrix of Leadership stirred in a longing long forgotten. Ache that was hidden so well, now unearthed.

Prime made half a pedestep forward.

Warm digits splayed over the hot chassis.

Thundercracker exvented in awe and relief, not realizing that he was withholding air circulation, hindering the cooling of his own frame.

It hummed.

Quiet, subtle vibrations that one could have easily missed if not for the proximity and stillness that surrounded them in this moment.

It was comforting. Like a distant melody caressing edges of his processor. He offlined his optics and listened in, small flares of static charges washing over him. Tugging at the lines, crawling under his plating, strangling his spark.

Before he realized what was happening, his jet engines purred along with the optimistic song.

Thundercracker's fans hitched as he tried to shut down his embarrassment and retract his servo from the other mech. Neither were a success, when Optimus caught his servo with his and pressed it back to his chassis.

“It's alright, Thundercracker.” His voice sounded different, more clear.

Over the sound of his own engine, the Seeker hadn't noticed the low rumble that was coming from the mech before him.

Thundercracker, as if fearing what he may find there, lifted his helm to face Optimus.

His battle mask was retracted. The most solemn, yearning, and understanding expression stared back at him.

“I— it's beautiful.” The Seeker wasn't sure anymore if he was referring to the Matrix, or Prime's revealed faceplate. He had never seen him without his battle mask, nor he even thought that it was retractable in the first place.

Pleasantly shaped olfactory led to most luscious dermas he had ever seen. Flawless, like everything else after Teletraan-1’s repairs.

Instinctively, Thundercracker's free servo reached up and cupped Optimus’ cheek plating.

A shadow of realization creeped on his faceplate.

Before another apology can intervene, Optimus leaned into the touch, his optics powering down. Helm nestling in with tenderness reserved for one’s Conjunx. His field projected safety and enveloped the blue mech like an all-encompassing shield.

It made Thundercracker's choking spark spin even faster. His field looping on itself as if he were in the sky, diving nose down too close to the ground.

Thrilling.

Bursts of shooting charges run up his backstrut.

“Would you…?” The Seeker exvented, voice heavier than anticipated. Palpable desire laced his fluttering field, as gray digits slid behind Optimus' helm, inviting him to lean down for a kiss.

Blue optics graced Thundercracker with their boundless presence.

He can drown in them and it will be worth it.

“If you allow me.” Optimus' expression softened, and he followed the direction, placing a chaste peck on Thundercracker's streamlined dermas.

The Seeker's HUD flooded with requests to retract his panels and pressurize the yearning equipment, not caring which one would be engaged. He'd like either. A thought shot up his processor, wondering if Primes possessed any different configurations. Or tastes, to that matter.

“Thundercracker? Is everything alright?” As if sensing Thundercracker's processor wandering, concern grew in Optimus' worried optics.

“Y-yes.” Heavy invents from the Seeker’s air intakes betrayed his overheated line of code. Coy smile curving his dermas, while optics hoped that his leader can't see what's being imagined behind the fire in them.

“Alright. Just say if…” Optimus' own fans overclocking, voicebox threatening to give out, mixing in the low volume and guttural static. “... it's getting too uncomfortable.”

Oh, that was it.

Something inside Thundercracker snapped, and he pulled Optimus in for a real kiss. Their dermas meeting in ravenous reciprocation, as if both mechs were waiting for the right cue to let their newfound fantasies loose. Sleek dentas tugged on pillowy shapes, while plump dermas tried to contain and explore the irresistible intake. Glossas meeting in a dance between earth and sky. Neither existing without each other.

Optimus put his servos on Thundercracker's midsection, roaming. Pulling him flush to his scalding frame. Bottom of his pelvis pushing on the upper section of the light gray one. Grinding.

It was Thundercracker who moved — his broad frame ramming the red one, making it retreat to the table behind.

A thud.

Prime fell aft first on the table, optics assessing the new position, and the slotted Seeker between his thighs.

The rest is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88842346/chapters/238643396#workskin