Chapter Text
It was the strangest thing, that moment when he realised what he wanted. Who he wanted.
Starscream cast it off as a result of the dry spell he'd been suffering. It was a by-product of his frustration, coupled with stress over Thundercracker's recent fling with one of the other pilots, that sickeningly loyal Skyquake. Urgh. He'd think someone genetically identical to him would have better taste.
Or perhaps neither of them had taste.
He couldn't help but stare over the top of his clipboard, watching as Megatron leant his superior strength to some of the engineers as they steered an improved engine into place over a jeep, ready to lower it in.
His greying hair had fallen from it's perfectly swept back, glued down rigid shape. His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, sweat dampening around collar and back, turning the white of his shirt translucent.
Starscream's gut coiled tightly when Megatron stepped back and swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, smearing a smudge of grease across flushed skin.
He really needed to get himself laid if he was desperate enough to start ogling Megatron of all men. He was hardly a catch. Pompous, stiff, old, scarred, and stacked with muscle like a mythological god-
Starscream turned away, clawed glove-tips scoring grooves into the back of the plastic clipboard.
"Star!" Skywarp came hurrying up to him, hair a disaster and uniform not much better. "You haven't taken role call yet, have you?"
Perfect, something to take his anger out on.
He spitefully drew a huge slash through Skywarp's name. "Late again, Skywarp," he sneered. "That's strike three. You're on ground duties for the week."
"Bu-" Skywarp's face fell, his eyes widening sorrowfully, "But Star!"
"Two weeks for insubordination!" Starscream smacked him in the chest with the clipboard. "Refuel my jet. I'll be taking your place."
He left Skywarp to curse behind his back, eye twitching with the effort it took not to stare at Megatron out of the corner of his eye as the man bent at the waist to inspect the engine he was working on- the fabric of his uniform taunt over his ass.
God, he needed to get laid.
He got laid.
By some nameless loser in logistics. Tall but lean, not quite muscular enough -nothing to grab.
Starscream only finished by his own efforts, on his knees, hand gripping himself as he waited for the inadequate idiot to get on with it.
It could have been better. Should have been better. He liked sex, but something just wasn't hitting the spot.
He stole a tub of ice cream from the mess afterwards, ate the entire thing, and fell asleep nauseous and miserable.
It was raining out -hellish jungle weather- so Starscream stood just inside the hanger, sneering at the heavy downpour flooding his airfield. There'd be no takeoffs today, and nothing to take his mind off the more menial aspects of life on this island.
He watched the inspection crew out on the tarmac, some of them crouched under a plane wing whilst others futilely shielded themselves with their clipboards. Megatron was with them. He was the one stubbornly stood unprotected from the elements, arms folded, letting the rain drench him.
The old fool was unlikely to catch phenomena in such a tropical climate, but Starscream hoped fate and karma made an exception for him.
The group turned and began heading back inside. While the inspection crew did their awkwardly embarrassing half-run for shelter, Megatron strode in even, measured steps behind them. The closer he came, the more Starscream's pulse quickened.
He was soaked through, his uniform stuck to every muscle, every edge and curve of his impressive physic, showing off a definition to the abs usually hidden under wool jacket and silk shirt that no man Megatron's age should have had.
His leader threw his head back as he walked, and time seemed to slow in Starscream's desperately horny brain as the motion tossed Megatron's sodden hair out of his eyes.
"Starscream," he growled, drawing level, and close enough now that Starscream could see water drip off the end of his broad nose. "Adverse weather is no excuse to shirk your responsibilities."
Starscream just nodded. He couldn't say anything else, and he couldn't look away from Megatron's face because the man's pecks were visible through the sodden material of his shirt. He was in serious danger of winning a spring-break wet t-shirt contest.
Satisfied, Megatron nodded and walked away. Starscream watched him go. Watched his ass, at least.
Maybe it hadn't been the dry spell...
Someone from engineering this time. Someone big, burly, and older than him, by as many years as he could physically stomach. Too much grey hair, and it'd be almost like getting fucked by-
No, he shouldn't think about that. Not as he was gripping the rickety bedposts of the engineer's cot, trying to get into a state of mind to actually enjoy himself enough to even bother telling his pick-up to try changing the angle of his thrusts if he wanted to find his prostate.
The hands on his hips were big and squeezing, palms rough with work. Starscream imagined it would be what a certain other man's hands felt like, that the deep voice behind him grunting was just similar enough-
A thick groan, and his partner slowed, fingers digging into his hips. The lazy thrusts suddenly felt a lot slicker.
"Oh, great," Starscream snarled, releasing the bedposts, rolling his shoulders where they ached.
"You finish?"
He scoffed. Of course he hadn't. His arousal had dwindled now anyway. He elbowed the engineer away, reaching for his uniform, tugging his trousers on.
"Yes," he lied, because he didn't want a rumour of impotence getting around the base. Then he'd never get laid.
He adjusted his uniform just enough to ensure he'd get no questions on his walk back to quarters and went for the door.
"Thanks," the engineer called after him, sarcastic.
Starscream just sneered and slammed the door on his way out. Thanks indeed.
One huge hand settled on Starscream's shoulder as Megatron leant over him to adjust a marker on the map with a thoughtful hum. It was late, and Megatron had removed his jacket, gloves, tie, and hat. He'd unbuttoned the top of his collar, and all Starscream could smell was gunpowder and boot-polish.
"It's late," Megatron's sonorous voice murmured distractedly as he frowned over his map. His hand squeezed Starscream's shoulder. "You can go..."
Starscream stood. The hand fell from his shoulder and braced against the table Megatron was bowed over. He swallowed thickly, but his leader noticed little about his flustered state.
He left wordlessly.
Ten minutes later he hadn't even bothered removing his uniform- unbuckling his belt with one hand and pulling off his glove with his teeth. He wrapped his bare hand around the base of his erection and it was over- over before he'd even thought about it.
He sat, slumped on the floor, cum splattered down the front of his uniform and dripping between his fingers.
Oh, Hell.
Subtle seduction just did not work with Megatron. He was too engrossed with his work to be anything other than completely oblivious to winks and smirks and casual brushes by in doorways. Starscream didn't know how many times he had tried to initiate a game of under table footsie before getting frustrated and just kicking him. But it was almost worth the threat of getting his booted heels confiscated just to have Megatron look at him, dammit.
He needed to be obvious. He needed to leave no doubt in Megatron's distracted head that he wanted the old fool to bend him over and give him a few inches of toe curling pleasure.
He downloaded the schedules, spent an entire night hacking into Soundwave's database to steal some of the encrypted door codes, tricked Skywarp into pranking some of Megatron's most enamoured stalkers with a sack of potatoes and unhindered access to the tanks, and downloaded God knows how much malware onto the main computer watching as much porn as the graveyard shift gave him time to.
That should sufficiently distract any attempted party-poopers.
When the night arrived, he let himself into Megatron's quarters.
His leader wasn't home yet. Good, gave Starscream time to set the scene, arrange himself into an appropriately seductive pose. Sprawled across the bed naked was probably his safest bet.
Or maybe he'd leave his boots on? His gloves too.
When the door pinged to signal an arrival, Starscream threw himself across the covers, stretched out on his back, one leg bent to show off the impressive heel of his boot, his gloved fingers tugging at the rim of his hat -which he'd also chosen to leave on, why not. Megatron wouldn't be able to resist-
Soundwave's dark mask stared across the room, a handgun held in front of him, muzzle pointed at his face.
Starscream stared.
Soundwave's grip faltered, and the mask suddenly flashed to show a zoomed in, blurred image of Munch's 'The Scream'- undoubtably a meme. Undoubtably the influence of his delinquent children.
A hand appeared on Soundwave's shoulder and the loyal lieutenant was turned aside to reveal Megatron. The scowl fell from his face as he stared in, mouth dropping open to betray shock.
Starscream tore the hat off his head before either of them could say anything, "Soundwave can watch, but he can't join in."
Soundwave's mask turned to Megatron and a big red X appeared across the screen with a negative sounding buzz.
Megatron shooed Soundwave away with a low rumbled promise that he could 'deal' with Starscream from here.
Starscream stayed where he was on the bed, heart in his throat, pumping hard with fear and exhilaration. There was a dangerous glint to Megatron's gaze, and he honestly didn't know if he was about to be torn or fucked to pieces. Nor which would hurt more.
Megatron walked around the bed, stopping before Starscream's feet. He took his boot by it's heel, lifted it, and wordlessly began to unzip from below the knee downwards. Slowly. Very slowly.
Starscream began to tug his gloves off.
"Leave them on," Megatron ordered, tugging the boot off before moving to the other.
Starscream toes curled as they were exposed to the cool air. Megatron straightened and began to unbutton his shirt, lips curving into a smirk.
Starscream felt himself harden.
A kiss of thanks was pressed to the nape of Starscream's sweaty neck. The mattress shifted, and Megatron left the bed. Bare feet padded across the floor and the bathroom door clicked shut.
Starscream lifted his empty head from the pillow. That was his cue to leave.
His neck ached with bruises inflicted by both fingers and teeth, and his thighs were tender where he'd overworked them.
He blinked away sated, blissful drowsiness, realising he couldn't remember where he put his clothes, or where Megatron had thrown his boots, or when exactly he'd lost his gloves? He found a shirt on the floor and already knew it was too big to be his. He pulled it on anyway, not wanting to overstay his welcome or to give Megatron a real good look at what he'd managed to do to his infamously unruly Second in Command.
He had cockily teased Megatron that he might be too much for his old bones.
And Megatron had bitten the shell of his ear and promised that he was well practised in 'taming the wild and the beautiful'.
And one thing Starscream couldn't fault was his leader's stamina.
The shirt smelt like Megatron, an aroma somewhere between the shooting range and depths of his favourite tank, not a particularly pleasant smell to one of sane mind, but it sent a thrill through Starscream's body, warming his blood all over again.
He left his hat and boots, hopping into trousers and fiddling with the belt. He haphazardly tucked the loose shirt tails into the waistband and fled out the door, arms tucked around what little dignity he hadn't thrown at Megatron's feet as he ran to his room.
Megatron was disappointed to discover Starscream's swift escape. The night was still young. He'd had no plans to sleep just yet.
The stupid boy had left half his uniform behind as well, Megatron noted, eyeing the misplaced shirt and boots. He had the image of Starscream running through his halls naked. He'd have to check the security cameras come morning.
Or perhaps not, he realised, turning on the spot in search of his own shirt.
Devious little brat had taken his.
Starscream looked no less immaculate the next day. Uniform his and all in one piece. Nary a perfectly straight hair out of place. His high collar and cape hid the bites and bruises marring his neck. Megatron regretted the uniform style. He'd have liked to see them again.
Perhaps he could, tonight...
"There is a matter of great urgency I need to discuss with you. Sensitive information," he told Starscream, pausing as he passed the pilot's table in the mess. "I trust you are free to meet me in my quarters this evening?"
Starscream's dark gaze was unreadable. His intimidatingly handsome face twisted into a distasteful sneer, "Is that an order?"
Megatron shifted his weight to his heels, fearing he'd over-read the terms of the previous evening. "No," he eased off, "A request."
"I'll check my schedule," Starscream said coolly, slowly stirring his coffee, "But I'm sure I'll find time. I left something behind after our last... Discussion."
Megatron ignored the heat pooling low in his gut, and nodded curtly before moving off. Only once he was well out of range did he allow himself a smile.
Starscream got up to leave, wincing with exhaustion, and Megatron caught his wrist.
Their eyes met. Stay, Megatron thought, thumb sliding over Starscream's skin, fingers squeezing. Starscream looked bemused, but didn't say anything, slowly settling himself back onto the bed. Megatron released him to seize the disarrayed bedsheets. He pulled them up to cover their naked, chilling forms.
Starscream dragged a pillow into his arms, hugging it like a child would a stuffed animal, before having the nerve to snort and mutter, "Sap."
Megatron hummed and let his eyes close, soothed by the soft breaths of the man next to him. He'd subtly frisked his second when he'd undressed him this evening. There'd been no smuggled weapons hidden in his clothes or otherwise, though there was a gun in the bedside table next to Megatron, but Starscream couldn't know of it's existence.
And Megatron was sure he would get to it first, should the need arise.
Starscream had earned enough trust to be allowed a night in his bed. After all, sleeping wasn't anywhere near the most vulnerable thing he had done in front of him tonight.
And he wasn't dead yet.