Chapter Text
Dai Atlas’ voice rang in Rodimus’ audials. He’d yelled orders, taking charge and commanding others back. While his own heavy plating could’ve taken the heat, he’d kept Rodimus pinned to his chestplate, safe from the fire and smoke.
Rodimus didn’t know what to do. His ship was in flames and he hadn’t fixed the shielding yet to protect the more delicate internals. He’d heard when the power cells had bursted, dark smoke billowing more as the chemicals burned. The exposed wiring would be burnt again and all the supplies he’d been using or hadn’t yet used would be destroyed.
He would have to start from scratch all over again and he didn’t know if he even could rebuild everything on his own.
Dai Atlas began to move, but Rodimus’ pedes were bolted to the ground. The bigger mech crouched slightly, sliding one arm under his legs to lift him up. Rodimus trembled in his arms, his plating rattling softly against itself.
He carried Rodimus away, sparing Star Saber a small glance as he passed by. They nodded once in understanding, Star Saber taking over Dai Atlas’ position. With his Prime in his arms, trembling and weak and so vulnerable, he walked to the Citadel.
He bypassed Rodimus’ room, going right to his own room instead. Only the natural light of the sun shined through the window, bright enough to illuminate his sparse room. His datapads were admittedly strewn about on his desk, but his bed was properly made and that was all he needed for now.
He sat down on the bed, the blankets rumpling under his frame. Rodimus’ trembling had quieted down and he clutched his hands together, his optics shut tight. His little Prime was calming, one invent at a time. His frame was cooling in his hands, his temperature lowering as time passed.
“Rodimus? How are you?” He kept his own voice low, careful to not rattle him any further.
Rodimus swallowed thickly, inventing even heavier. “I’m fine, I’m totally fine. Every - Everything’s going to be fine.”
Dai Atlas cupped his cheek and coaxed him to tilt his face up, looking into his beautiful optics. “Shh, it’s quite alright,” he murmured, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “Everything will be alright. I promised to always take care of you, did I not?”
Rodimus nodded slightly and pressed his face into his warm hand. “You did… I - I worked so hard.”
Dai Atlas nodded, still stroking his thumb over his cheek. “You did and I’m so proud of you, Rodimus. You’ve worked so hard and for so long, I could be nothing but proud of you.”
Rodimus nodded again, taking a deep invent. “I’m - I have to do it all over again…”
Dai Atlas shook his head firmly, his brow furrowing. “No, you don’t. You will not have to do it again.”
Rodimus’ brow furrowed and he parted his lips to respond, only for his words to be swallowed by Dai Atlas’ lips. Dai Atlas’ lips were on his and he was being guided out of his arms. The bigger, stronger mech had him on his back with ease, under his more powerful frame.
At the brush of a glossa against his lip, Rodimus made a soft noise of protest, pressing his hands to his shoulders and turning his face away to break the kiss. “Hey, stop it.”
Dai Atlas shushed him and pressed another kiss to his lips. “No, no, let me take care of you. I only wish to take care of you, my little Prime.”
Fear froze his spark and frame, his lips unresponsive to Dai Atlas’ slow motions. He couldn’t move, trapped as he was kissed. He couldn’t resist as Dai Atlas’ hands began to wander over him, down his sides and to his thighs.
His legs were pulled to Dai Atlas’ broad hips and his thighs tightened as they were spread, a failed attempt to protect himself. But Dai Atlas was stronger and he couldn’t stop him from spreading his legs. He couldn’t fight him, he was far weaker and smaller, and the emotional toll was becoming far too much to handle.
Dai Atlas’ hands were warm and big as they gripped his thighs, but he felt disgusted as he was pulled further under him. He was fully under him in one smooth movement, his legs were around his waist and their panels pressed together. Dai Atlas’ entire frame radiated heat, enough to burn an organic, and more than enough to not notice how cold Rodimus’ panel was.
Rodimus couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t stop Optimus from putting Megatron in charge, he couldn’t fix his own ship, he couldn’t make people even listen to him. He couldn’t save anyone or make their lives better, he couldn’t make people get along for anything. He couldn’t do anything right.
The only thing he’d ever done right was crashing on a planet where people actually liked him. Even if they worshiped the Matrix-bearer, they didn’t hate him for being a failure. They didn’t know his past, they didn’t hate him, whatever they did know didn’t sour their view on him.
He was loved here, whether that love was forced onto him or he accepted it.
Perhaps that was why he stopped fighting. He didn’t struggle as Dai Atlas manipulated his frame, as he pushed two digits into his valve and coaxed it to lubricate. He didn’t respond, either, as his lips were kissed and his hands were guided to his shoulders.
No, he wouldn’t give him that luxury. He wouldn’t give him the pleasure of hearing him moan. He wouldn’t call out for him as he spread his valve with his spike, he wouldn’t make a sound of pleasure or pain as his frame was turned against him. He wouldn’t dare let him get pleasure from this.
Dai Atlas grunted and groaned above him. His hips pumped and with every thrust, Rodimus felt the remains of his fight be forced out of him. Every thrust hammered in the fact that he would not be free from this place. He would never continue his quest, he would never find the Knights of Cybertron, he would never get to prove Optimus wrong
And, as Dai Atlas settled beside him, he didn’t resist nor did he lean into his touch. There was no more will left in him to fight. There was no reason to fight anymore.
He had a home, people who loved him without question or doubt, people who would give him anything he ever asked for. If all it cost was this - giving up his own personhood, his goals and dreams - then so be it. What was his insignificant life worth, in the grand scheme of it all?
The sunlight beamed down on him from Dai Atlas’ open window as the bigger mech murmured into his audial, his hips rocking again. His valve was already full of transfluid, what was more of it at the end of the day? If he could not lead or save others, at least he could bring them some form of pleasure.
Pleasure was a symptom of happiness, after all, and he could sacrifice his frame for their happiness. He’d given everything already, what else did he have to give? One frame for a city’s happiness, to fulfill their religious fantasies as their perfect Prime.